#inspiration has been sparse lately

[iguanodont]

Goblin Lord and his beautiful daughter

(For goblin week)

[buglaur]

simself college fits

[tonycries]

Haunting You - G.S.

Synopsis. A bIoody trail of vampire attácks, a political marriage, and four suitors you’re forced to choose from - all haunting you. But none as much as the mysterious stranger that makes everything in you scream that you might just be fated for the very thing your kingdom is trying to escape from.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! princess! reader, king! Gojo, vampire AU, he’s actually ÍNSANE, royalty AU, arranged marriages, creampíes, breéding, fated mátes, FÉRAL down bad Gojo, mentions of bIood and kílling, bíting, óral (fem receiving), spítting, marks (a LOT), fíngering, pórn with plot tbh, overstím, ínnapropriate use of powers, jealous! Gojo, slight inspiration from Persephone and Hades, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 15.8k (HUH???)

A/N. Was listening to Haunted by Beyoncé, and my mind went “ooo vampires.” Hope y’all have a lovely week <3

In all your years being carefully primed to take over the throne, there have only been two rules you were raised under:

You live by the crown, and you will die by the crown. No matter what. 

To stop the vampires - if your father, the king, fails to contain the bloody trail of killings before his own inevitable death, you have to. Or, more according to those tedious meetings with the table of elders, your husband will have to.

And it seems as if they were well and fully intent on enforcing that last rule as of late - with sharply increasing numbers of attacks on your local towns, the public was growing restless - and so was the royal court. 

You weren’t doing any better either - but for a wholly different reason.  

Maybe it was paranoia, but these days, you found yourself constantly catching a flash of crystal blue in the corner of your eye. Or hearing a sweet, sweet whisper in your ear deep at night. Maybe even a soft run of fingers down your spine as you were readied for yet another ball - hands much too large to be any of your ladies-in-waiting.

Like something was watching. 

Waiting. 

“And then I- your highness, are you listening?”

That familiar, grating voice snaps you out of your thoughts, and you’re gasping in embarrassment as you turn back to the prattling man in front of you. 

“My apologies, Lord Naoya.” you smile tightly, desperate to finish up yet another conversation about his latest cavalry expeditions. Nodding dismissively, “Just tired, please continue with your ah- wonderful tales.”

But of course, when he starts right back from the very beginning to “cover the key points you missed”, your stomach turns when you realize that you won’t be escaping any time soon. Great. Wonderful. Perfect.

God, future suitors your ass. You’d been taught that there’s no such company as “bad company” when you’re an heir to a kingdom, but this has been the fourth royal ball this month - and the biggest one yet. The fourth night you had to listen to another uptight lord show off his sparse battle medals, or another elder snide about how you’d be useless against the dangers of vampires.

You knew it was likely some coping mechanism with the grim deaths this week, but surely the nobles were tired of all this silly dancing? You sure were. 

Gauzy dress just a bit too tight, sighs just a bit too loud than was permitted for the princess, you let your gaze wander across the brilliant ballroom. Those intricate gowns, the huge reflective wall, those little pastries you really wish you could walk away from this conversation and-

Blue. 

Crystal blue.

“Wait! Did you see-” you startle, and it disappears as fast as it appeared. Your heavy skirts sway as you whirl around to uselessly track that odd burst of color, “Did you see that?”

“I know!” Naoya gasps, making you turn your head in excitement. “The light reflects off my medal so gorgeously! Oh, and this one-”

Dammit. 

All through your life, it was this same color that’d been flitting occasionally through your vision, now haunting you almost every day.

You didn’t know where to look to find that familiar blue again - and you didn’t want to stand here waiting to find out. At the very least, your ears have definitely been assaulted with enough talk about horses and how “absolutely enormous” Lord Naoya’s weaponry at the Zenin Estate was.

Compensating, you muse.

The thought helps you plaster on a grin to your face, humming in a saccharine-sweet tone, “It pains me to cut through, my lord.” It really didn’t. “And I’d love to chat more later, but I think I hear my lady-in-waiting calling for me.”

He sputters, breathing out a few profanities under his breath that you catch. An arm raising as if to keep you in place, “Now, wait a minute-”

You’re angling your body expertly to make your dash. Batting your lashes deceivingly innocently, “Oh? What was that?” you cup your ear. “I hear her again- I really do apologize, but feel free to recount your valiant um- fairy tales in a letter.”

“But your father-”

Not waiting to hear the rest of his response, you barely even bother with a polite curtsy before determinedly weaving your way through the stuffy ballroom. Nodding by the nobles greeting you, waving past the throng of young lords that wanted to reel you into more conversation. Your satiny feet taking you anywhere but here - anywhere but where you could feel the still, heavy gaze of something burning into your back as you escaped. 

You just prayed that it was only a miffed Naoya and nothing else.

It was around this time that the orchestra struck up another upbeat waltz, and with most people pairing off on the dance floor, barely anyone noticed you tip-toeing out of the ballroom. 

“God-” you’re letting out a sigh of relief when you reach the long hallway, rubbing at your throbbing temples. “The next ball they host, m’gonna conveniently disappear, I swear.”

You didn’t care enough for what matchmaking would happen in the future anyway, no matter what the elders may tell you. 

Your ballgown swishes with every urgent step through the quiet, dimly-lit corridors. Maybe a bit too quiet. 

Strange. You knew that not many nobles would be wandering around the palace during a ball but, surely you can’t be the only one here? Where were the guards?

Just then, a soft winter breeze puffs against your left ear - and you inhale sharply. “Wha- hello?” you shudder, gaze darting around. “Anyone there?” But when only silence greets you, you’re struck with the sudden thought that the windows along the hallway were closed. 

Where did the wind come from?

The realization has you taut with goosebumps pricking at your skin, your pace increasing ever-so-slightly. Gulping, you round the corner quickly, making a beeline for the closest haven you could find - the library.

Ducking past the towering stone archway, you hastily slam the door closed. It takes you a few seconds to get used to the darkness inside. With silvery moonlight ribbons filtering in through the curtained windows, you could just barely make out the rows upon rows of books you’d pestered your father into lining. Surrounded by heavyset tables, and your favorite, cushioned armchair. Luxurious, yet completely dwarfed when seating the lone silhouette-

“If this is an attack, then I surely don’t mind.”

“Fuck-” you scream, reflexively grabbing the nearest book spine you could reach to throw in the direction of the shadow. “Show yourself.”

Somehow, it’s as if the book bounces off an invisible forcefield, plopping down unceremoniously onto the velvety carpet right in front of the tall figure. 

“And here I thought princesses usually curtseyed.” that deep, honeyed voice cuts right through your heavy breathing. He makes a move to get up - languid, and torturous, as if he enjoyed your agonizing suspense. “Well, maybe I do prefer being pelted by a- hey, that doesn’t mean pick up another book!”

In a split-second, you were brandishing a weighty encyclopedia this time - holding it firmly behind your head in a ready stance to throw once again. 

“Show yourself.”

The man sighs, stepping into a channel of low light. It illuminated his stature - taller than you’d thought, towering well above most of the generals in the royal court. Muscled, yet lean - powerful, the thought strikes you. Magnetizing. 

Someone from outside the kingdom, you observe, otherwise you’d have remembered that cloudy white hair, strands falling over a strange, black blindfold stretched across the upper half of his face. Leaving you only a set of high cheekbones, and a pert, pretty mouth to admire.

One that curls into such a mischievous smirk of neat pearly whites, and a tiny dimple digging into his cheek. “Now, I’ve never had anyone this eager to see me.” He drops into a courteous bow at the waist, expensive blue fabrics rippling. “From the North kingdom, Satoru, at your service, princess.”

Your hand falters - partially because of the heavy weight, partially because you recognised that gold “G” insignia in the middle of this stranger- Satoru’s uniform. The Gojo family. 

That mysterious, estranged kingdom from the Northern part of the country that hadn’t been seen since you were young. You’d heard stories of them - everyone in this vast country had, it was impossible not to. Of their cruel winters and even crueler king, how blood stained every room in his palace. It was rumored he was a monster, and yet, no one ever saw his face - if they did, they never lived to tell the tale. 

You knew your father had invited the king to every single ball out of diplomatic obligation, but he’d never attended. Never even bothered to respond. 

So who was this?

“No one. Just a lowly attendant accompanying my king, your highness.” you’re jolting when he purrs, a brow quirking at just how he knew what you were thinking. “The question ah- showed on your face, my apologies.”

Finding your voice, “Um, I apologize, too, Satoru-” You note the lack of a last name, “-for the book. I can’t imagine being hit with Yaga’s 1001 Methods to Crochet was a very warm welcome.” And like a little truce, you’re placing down the encyclopedia in your hand. Flashing him your most practiced smile, “I bet you’re hiding out here for the same reasons as me, then.”

That draws out a pretty laugh from him, bubbly and boyish. “Mhm, the ladies just refuse to leave you alone, too?”

“Well, more like the lords there.”

He hums, something that sends a chill down your spine. Words just a little strained, “Not much for bragging about horses?” 

And suddenly, you get the urge to snark back, huffing in a way you know your preparational teacher would faint at. “Absolutely not. I’d rather face a vampire than listen to Naoya and the “absolutely enormous” weaponry he uses to-”

“-compensate!”

“-compensate.” the two of you finish at the same time. “I like this place a lot better, it’s quiet- though…” your voice trails off in wonder. “It’s strange, guests aren’t supposed to be allowed in the library unsupervised.” His jaw clenches when your eyes sweep him, “We are supposed to have a few guards here but I don’t know where-”

All of a sudden, it’s like you’re being splashed with cold water. And your words are dying on your tongue when the room drops a few degrees in temperature. 

Satoru is unnervingly still, yet he catches onto your slight shiver. “This damned wind, am I right?” And he’s gesturing at the windows with his head. The closed windows. Words tumbling quickly from those pink lips now, “Anyways- why don’t you sit down-” He prowls towards you, slow, confident. Large hands rest at your arms, they’re pale, surprisingly cold - guiding you easily to sit on the unoccupied armchair. “-since m’being nice enough to let you hide out here.”

His words drip with tease, and you still couldn’t see his eyes, but you imagined they’d be twinkling. No one ever dared to speak to you this way - it was always either thinly-veiled condescension or fear towards royalty. 

Surprisingly, you didn’t mind. 

You roll your eyes, trying to hold back your smile. “Yeah? Well what do I owe you in return for that, Satoru?”

His lips part, as if not expecting this response. Before letting out another sharp cackle at your expense, “Well, why don’t you-” You can’t tear your eyes away from his magnetic figure when Satoru begins unbuttoning his flowing coat to reveal a snow-white shirt underneath. Wrapping it snug around your shoulders in one, fluid motion, a hand of his tilts your head towards him. “-give me your soul?”

The Gojo emblem burns into your back, and Satoru’s deep, almost raspy tone rings in your ears. It sounded like a joke - but looking into his ethereal features, there was no trace of a grin on what you could see of it. And once again, you’re struck by the pure power radiating off of him. 

You hoped it was a joke.

“S-soul’s not for sale.” you manage to choke out, trying to make it look like you weren’t breathing in his metallic, peppermint scent. Heady. Pulling the soft fabric tighter around your cold body, “Steep price for a hideout, don’t you think?”

“S’a discount for you, flower.” his chilling breath fans your face. Letting out hushed, “Heh, you should see the prices I charge others.”

You’re reeling, face burning, “Flower?”

“Because you’re shaking like one, see?” The pads of his fingers move from under your chin to trace up, up, up the goosebumps on your exposed arms. Somehow, you can’t bring yourself to pull away.

Hypnotic. 

And his steps are soundless as he walks over behind you, the moonlight giving him an angelic halo. Haunting, almost. “And you’re just as gorgeous, like a wild rose. Way too gorgeous for the fuckin’ bastards out there, might I add, princess.”

The nerve!

Heart pounding, you turn around to- call him out for his disrespect? Snap back? Accept the compliment?

You don’t know - and you don’t get to find out, either. Because before your eyes can search for Satoru’s mysterious figure, the door to the library is slamming open with a deafening bang!

“Ah! There you are!” your lady-in-waiting’s relieved voice floods your ears. And she’s barging in with no comment about your sudden stiffness, or that foreign coat around your shoulders. “We’ve been looking everywhere for you, your highness. His majesty is just about to make his speech of the night and needs you there.”

Shit, out of all the scandals. 

“I- I can explain.” You’re desperately trying to catch Satoru’s eye to make up an excuse for why you’re alone with a strange man away from the ball, shooting from your seat to look around the library. “We’re just-”

The suddenly empty library. 

“Yes yes, I understand that the balls aren’t exactly your favorite pastime.” The oblivious girl is pushing you towards the door, brown eyes narrowed. “But we’ve got to get going now.”

Despite her wrangling you outside, you manage to sneak a few glances backwards, straining to see if he was hiding in the shadows. Only to be met with a now-rumpled armchair and the still, dark bookshelves. As bare as if Satoru never existed - the only proof of his existence being a sad copy of Yaga’s 1001 Methods to Crochet lying on the ground. 

And yet, you can’t help but feel a pair of eyes on you. 

You feel it all through the short walk back to the ballroom, Nobara’s excited chatter about how finely your all-new coat was made filtering through one ear and out the next. Even when you reach the edge of the dance floor, even when you feel every single other eye in the room on you - you feel it. 

“Um, Nobara.” you whisper, discreetly shuffling the coat off your shoulders. “Please take this to my chambers for me.”

The younger girl is positively bursting at the seams, murmuring conspiratorially to you, “So is this where you were? With who- The “G” what does that-”

“Ah! My daughter!” Saved by your father’s booming voice - though, you wouldn’t consider it too much of a salvation when you’re immediately being whisked away to the high platform your father’s throne was seated on. His arms spread wide to greet you in a hug despite stiff etiquette. 

“You’re late.” he whispers in your ear.

It’s all you can do to manage out a quiet, “S-Sorry.”

Without another word, he’s addressing the congregation in the middle of the dance ballroom again. More ruler than father at this very moment. “My people, we are gathered here today to dance, to sing, to forget about the horrors happening in our beloved nation.” To large murmurs of agreement he continues, “And despite it all, it’s a reality we must all live with. Me, especially, as your king, have a duty to fulfill.”

There’s a beat of silence, and you wonder where this is all going - your father never brought up vampires during a time like this. Never. 

Clearing his throat, “And as we all know, I’m not getting any younger here, unfortunately. Which is why-” He claps his hands once, and three figures - one of which being Naoya, amongst two other nobles you briefly recognized - step forward from the crowd. “Ah- there should be one more- Anyway, after thorough consideration with the table of elders, we have decided to go forward with the betrothal process for my dear daughter here. With the joining of hands will not only be the joining of kingdoms - but the joining of arms, and our people shall prevail as one over the vampires.”

You think you might stop breathing, eyes burning and trained firmly on the ground. This had been a topic of conversation - well, more the elders conversing while you skipped out on every meeting once this discussion was brought up. 

You knew this would happen. You knew. But now? At this very moment? All you can do is stand there and listen while he rattles off. 

“I know four of the- erm, three of the most eligible young suitors of the land will do their utmost to vie for her heart - and her hand. No easy task I tell you.” Your fists clench, head swimming. “And in a week’s time, we will hold the grand ball to announce my successor.”

Shit - a week. A week.

Somewhere in your line of vision you see - you feel that spark of blue. And you’re raising your head to cheers echoing from all around the room, and still no sign of where those eyes are. 

“The next time we meet, will be with the future king and queen!”

Fuck. 

---

That night was spent with a few too many tears, and a consoling Nobara at your side all until daybreak. And if you held onto that comforting, peppermint-scented coat through it all, well, you were only glad that you seemed too pitiful for her to question it. 

Feeling much more composed and only slightly less bitter about the prospect of being married off to a stuck-up noble you didn’t know, you made your way to breakfast the next morning. An affair usually spent with your father, or in the palace gardens - but this time, surrounded by four suitors under the guise of getting to know you. Sizing each other up, maybe. 

“Ah, your highness, good morning!” you sweetly reciprocate the greetings once you’re escorted into the dining room, taking your seat at the very end of the long, mahogany table. 

Sighing you take in the scene - on your left was Lord Naoya from last night, the same sharp grins and shifty eyes as you remembered. Seated beside him was the young duke of the Kashimo clan - hair striking, his battle staff laid out next to him on the table. Intimidating. 

But nothing in comparison to the hulking man on your right, it seemed as if his uniform was on the verge of bursting. Face sullen, letting his pink locks fall into place - Sukuna, you think you remember. 

“Your highness.” Ichiji bows, taking his place supervising the breakfast. “I am afraid our guests from the Northern kingdom will not be able to attend this breakfast today. He sends his deepest apologies. B-but-” His face-paled, looking scarred for life. “-he did have his um- attendant send this note-”

You’re gratefully taking the creamy scrap of paper before the words have even left Ichiji’s mouth, flipping it over to reveal slanted, beautiful calligraphy - Apologies for the sudden departure last night, flower. And I hope you forgive my king for not being here to deter the talk of horses - duty holds both man and beast from freedom. Worry not, we will be seeing your sweet smile again soon. But, for now, give those three bastards a rude gesture from me.

You giggle, tucking away the note. A tiny pang of disappointment hitting you out of nowhere at the lack of that gold “G” emblem anywhere along the table - and more importantly, the white-haired enigma that would follow.

All three men were glowering, yet begrudgingly plowing on with their conversation from before as you settled. Not having the energy to contribute, you listened in. 

“-this would never have happened in my estate.”

“Oh buzz off-” Kashimo interrupts Naoya, before throwing a guilty look your way at his crass words. As if you didn’t say worse. “Apologies, your highness. As I was saying-” he turns back to the man. “Don’t think we haven’t heard of those vampire killings in your court that you tried to cover up, your defense isn’t as impenetrable as you want it to seem, Naoya.”

That causes you to raise your brow - and evidently, Sukuna’s as well. “That so? Little fraud, aren’t ya, Zenin?”

The shorter man sputters indignantly, “You- you little- you call me a fraud and yet you’re the only one who didn’t bother to help investigate last night? Got something to hide, oh king-of-curses?”

“Tch, shut up.” That little nickname ticked something off in Sukuna, and his grip on his delicate fork tightens. Smirk intentionally bared to piss off, “It’s just because when the princess marries me, she won’t have to worry about vampires attacking guards in the middle of a ball.”

Wait, what?

“Yeah right, you and what army because I have an absolutely enormous-”

“What do you mean?” Your smooth voice cuts through their bickering, and all three men freeze, gazes snapping to you as if they’d already forgotten you were there. “I didn’t hear about any killings last night.”

If you thought they were tense before then you weren’t prepared for right now - shoulders raising in surrender, for all their blabbering, not a word was uttered after your accusatory question. After a few beats of silence, you scoff in frustration, turning towards your escort, squirming and avoiding your pointed stare at the very corner of the room. 

“Ichiji.” The man looked like he could positively give anything to blend into the meticulously hand-painted flowers on the wall. “Ichiji, tell me what happened.” 

“P-princess!” he yelps, adjusting his glasses. “I- I’m afraid the king said- please I can’t-”

“Ichiji…”

“P-please don’t banish me-”

You’re on your feet now, cornering the poor man. Mentally, you make a note to give him a raise. Eyes narrowing, “I won’t banish you, but as the future queen I have a right to know, don’t I?”

“...”

“...please?”

And the remaining men had been watching with morbid fascination as you worked your magic. They were already aware that the frail attendant was the weakest link out of them all, but what they certainly did not expect was exactly how weak. 

It only took a single bat of your lashes before his pale cheeks colored an almost-concerning pink. Eyes scrunching shut in embarrassment, as the words spilled from his lips. Neverending and slurring with haste as he speaks in one breath, “Th-three of the guards stationed near the outer corridor and library wing were found killed by a vampire last night before you retired for the night, your highness. Their b-bodies were disposed of, and this in combination with all the recent killings was why the king hurried the announcement for your engagement. B-but, his majesty decreed that this never be relayed to you in order to keep you in high spirits after the betrothal eep-!”

“Is- is that so?” you breathe, eyes wide. Taking one last look at the four speechless men, before walking out of the tall doorway. “I seem to have lost my appetite, I will be heading for my chambers now. I sincerely hope you enjoy your stay, my lords.”

Shit shit shit - how did you not notice? 

Maybe you walked right past the killer last night and didn’t even realize - who knows what could’ve been hiding in the shadows. How did you not realize? How did you not see?

Just then, a thought strikes you - did Satoru see?

---

It’s one of the whirlwind of questions ringing around in your mind even by the time you hear a steady knock on your door. Jolting you upright from where you splayed out on your plush, silken bed, rows upon rows of books on vampires haphazardly surrounding you.

Peering out of your large window, you notice the hues of pink and red painting the sky, a big red sun just dipping below the horizon - shit, when did you even fall asleep? 

“Come in.” you answer, voice scratchy. Rubbing away the sleep in your eyes, you could barely make out the hazy outline of Ichiji standing in your doorway. 

“Ah- your highness, I apologize for waking you up.” he bows. “But master Kashimo will be headed out for a late-night hunt at this very moment, and requested your presence shall you wish it. He noticed that you seemed upset at breakfast, and wanted to make it up to you.”

You take a moment to mull over the question - it certainly was rude for you to just ignore your guests all day. And considering you might just be marrying one of them, it wouldn’t kill anyone to actually get to know them.

“Alright.” you reply, voice even. And your answer seems to surprise the other man, “Tell Tsukumo to get my gear ready, I will be down as soon as I change.”

“Y-yes, princess! I will call for Nobara to help you get dressed.”

As the door shut once more behind him, you threw off your heavy blanket- and your coat? Satoru’s coat, which had evidently been draped around your upper half. Heart stuttering, you didn’t remember putting that on before…

Hm, you had to thank Nobara for that later.

---

Hunting with Kashimo was, unexpectedly, dull. 

“So…” you drag your words, trying to fill the tense silence. “What is it that we’re actually hunting for-”

“Shhh-” you hear for about the third time this past hour. A brow of yours quirking at the way it seemed like the two of you had been wandering the woods belonging to your kingdom’s estate for hours, and you still didn’t know what it was you were supposed to be looking for. 

Alright, perhaps hunting wasn’t the best opportunity to get to know your potential future husband. 

“My lord…” you call out warily, already aware of the duke’s affinity for hunting. “Maybe we should rest for a bit, after all, the stars are out already and the moon is so bright.”

He barely even turns to look back at you, “No time. The woods belonging to your kingdom have some of the rarest species of cursed animals in this country. I must make the most of this week in that case, your highness.”

You brighten at the closest shred of conversation in so long. “Oh, yes, I’ve heard! I also hear they-”

“Shh!”

So close. 

Letting out a resigned sigh, your eyes glaze over as you watch Kashimo trace his thick fingers over animal tracks on the dirt. Suddenly, gesturing for you to follow him as he sped off in another direction. 

It doesn’t take too long for him to stray out of sight. Meanwhile, your legs lag behind in protest - and pettiness, you realize. Grumbling to yourself about how you’d rather have watched paint dry as you’re sure the elders often did. Well, you look at the now-barren pathway, at least now you didn’t have to worry about someone shushing you all the ti-

“AHH!”

And then, all of a sudden - it felt like you were the hunted. 

It’s like every bit of blood drains from your body at the blood-curdling scream. Grip tightening on your bow, you’re jolting at the direction it came from - where did Kashimo disappear off to again? 

Yet, for how much you knew your kingdom like the back of your hand, it’s so dark. The moon barely peeking through gloomy gray wisps of clouds that you don’t know where exactly you’re running to - just that something was tugging. Reeling you in. No destination in sight until you’re crashing face-first into- a wall?

“Hey, flower, where are ya running off to this late?”

Your hairs raise, something visceral in your body jolting. 

Satoru - blindfold and all.  

“Wh- Satoru thank God you’re here.” you gasp, looking nervously over his broad shoulders. “I heard a scream, and I’m worried about Kashimo because he went somewhere over there and-” You’re pointing aimlessly in his direction, before clasping a hand around Satoru’s defined bicep. Tugging, “You have to help me, that idiot even insisted on no guards because of disturbing the wildlife and I’m so worried and-”

Before you can react, big strong arms are enveloping you. And you’re suddenly hit with the smell of peppermint and Satoru - something so sickly sweet tinging the air, it makes you droop limply into his firm hold. Your skin burns when he breathes in, deep. 

“Shhh shhh, I know I know, princess.” he hums, pulling you deeper against his chest. Until you could feel every dip and curve of his pectorals. “You must’ve been scared, right?” At your hesitant nod, “You did good. You did perfect- in fact. Especially putting up with that pretentious bastard.”

The shocked laugh that drags from your throat has Satoru sighing contentedly, an almost-pained grunt leaving him as he pulls away ever-so-slightly. You felt much the same. 

“S’alright, I’m pretty sure it was some animal.” he soothes. He clasps your hands with his, running a damp thumb over your knuckles. “I saw him trudging about disturbing more wildlife over there.”

You breath catches in your chest at just how close Satoru was now, his breath mingling with yours. Pretty plump lips so close - too close. Yet you’re leaning in closer, like you’re drawn by a thread. “Are you sure? Maybe we should-” You gasp, eyes widening when you look down at where your hands were intertwined - red. Or, what you assumed to be red, a saturated, patchy stain on your hands where Satoru’s met yours. He stiffens when he follows your gaze, trying to pull away, but you only hold your grip harder. “Satoru, are you bleeding? Or is this-”

“Not mine.” his voice is hard - and for a second you have to wonder whether this is really the same Satoru. And you swear there’s a little tremor in his words as he explains, “You see, I went out on a little hunt myself, flower.”

Even if Satoru didn’t have his blindfold on, you’re sure his face would’ve been unreadable. That almost-familiar grin of his is strained. Too strained. Yet, his movements are unwavering as he tries to wipe away the blood. “Must’ve forgotten to wipe down, I apologize for sullying your hands, princess.”

“Let me-” you mutter, taking a hold of the coat around your shoulders to wipe away the blood. Uncaring for what you were dirtying at the moment. “I swear you need to take better care of yourself, Satoru. Seriously.” 

And you didn’t see them - but somehow you could just feel the amusement dancing in Satoru’s eyes. Raising your confused gaze up to meet his, “What?”

He only flashes you a knowing grin, “S’jus’, you’re wearing my coat, your highness.”

Your movements pause, mouth gaping open while you try to pathetically spout out an excuse. “I- I didn’t mean to get this coat dirty, oh my god. I didn’t think-”

“S’alright.” he inches in even closer. A smirk grazing those sinful lips of his, “I actually prefer it like that, you look like mine.” Taking a deep breath, “You smell like mine.” 

And before you can ask about his cryptic message, he’s placing a hand at the back of your waist. A very improper hand that would definitely make the elders gasp in scandal. “We should head back to the palace, it’s getting late. I will escort you, m’sure that born hunter of yours is already halfway back too.”

“Carry me.” you blurt out, your body aching to feel more of him. And before you can retract your words - probably sputter a few apologies, you’re being cradled by a smug Satoru. One hand under your knees, the other supporting you like you’re weightless. 

“Heh, a princess carry for a princess.”

“Oh, shut up.” you grumble with embarrassment when he walks forward slowly, your legs swaying in midair. “Want my soul for this as well?”

And you can feel Satoru’s muscles ripple, you can feel the way his breath hitches in his chest ever-so-slightly. Rumbling as he drawls, “More than you’d know.”

“S’that a discount, too? You still didn’t tell me what you charge others.” you quip, remembering the conversation from the night before. 

“Oh, you’ll find out soon enough, your highness.”

You’re quirking a brow, something hot churning at the pit of your stomach at that ragged tone to his words. “I’m onto you, y’know.” You stare up at his clenched jaw, highlighted in the dim moonlight. His long, pale neck, the crevices of his blindfold. For a moment, you wonder what it would be like if you could peek under. “Onto you and your absurdly high prices, Satoru.”

He breathes out a shuddering, overly-dramatic shudder. “Mhm, flower, I should be worried.” Before looking up at the sky - and you wondered just how well he could see through his blindfold. “The moon is beautiful tonight, isn’t it?”

That night, you dreamt of long-winded star-gazing and blue, blue eyes. 

---

“What do you mean Lord Kashimo has left for his kingdom?” you hiss, feeling a faint stab of offense. Seriously, were you that awful at hunting? “He didn’t make any indication of it last night.”

And if your careless words made Nobara beam with slight embarrassment, you didn’t take note of it - too caught up in what you’d just heard. Enough so that it takes her next words to bring you out of your stupor, “Exactly what I said, your highness. The lordship and his court have all vacated their wing, leaving behind only a letter of forgiveness for ending the festivities early.”

“Still.” you murmur petulantly. Setting aside another one of your books on Vampire: Mates, Murder, and More. “It’s strange, I thought he was here for the hunting sprees, if not for me.” Your tiara weighs heavy on your head as you turn to your young lady-in-waiting. “I would like for Ichiji to catch up to Kashimo’s traveling party, make sure they’re safe, and send them my well wishes.”

Ha! Take that elders - you’d show them you’re fully capable of holding diplomatic relations as a ruler. 

“As you wish, princess. Additionally, this-” She’s holding out a small pouch of blue fabric that you’d never seen before. “-was found by your bedside when cleaning and I wished to give it back safely.” Before her polite smile drops into a much more devious smirk, “A gift from one of the suitors, perhaps~?”

You gesture for her to hand it over, the silk casing soft under your touch. Detailed. One-of-a-kind, from what your tedious lessons in the history of fabrics had taught you. You didn’t recognize the patterns sewn onto it as something typical for your kingdom - or any other you’d learned about, really.

“M’not sure.” you whisper. Opening the little purse to reveal a flash of gold - a necklace. Thin and intricate, holding a sapphire pendant in the shape of an eye. 

Blue.

A blue you knew too well - the same one that peeked out from every dark corner, that you saw before you slept at night. The one that’s been by your side for years.

Constant. Now coming to haunt you. 

Chills run down your spine, and your fingers tremble at how life-like it looked. Burning into your very soul. 

“Would you like for me to help you put it on?” Nobara asks, mistaking your shock for difficulty. And yet, you don’t correct her - body moving before your mind to simply nod. 

There was only one clasp on the chain - leaving you to worry about the fit. But when it was hooked around your neck, you found that it fit you so perfectly. Like it was tailored to you - and only you. Why was it so perfect?

Why did it capture the exact color you’d been chasing after your whole life - since before you’d even formed memories? Since you were nothing but a surly, teary-eyed little girl that was crying about the dark, babbling about that “blue flash” that no one else ever seemed to see.

“If that will be all, your highness. I will take my leave.” With a nod and a low bow, you’re left all by yourself in your sprawling chambers. Wondering, somewhat in amusement, whether you’d be let off this marriage pact if all the other suitors suddenly left as well. Hell, maybe you could marry whoever got you this necklace since they apparently know you so well. 

And you swear - maybe it was the fatigue from trekking last night, maybe it was the stress from the past month - but you swear the wind picks up in its chilly bite. Howling just low enough that it sounds like a deep, taunting cackle. 

The necklace doesn’t leave its palace around your neck for the next few days. You still didn’t know who’d gifted it to you - right inside your chambers for god’s sake - and if either of the two suitors remaining knew, they didn’t make any indication of it either. 

Three, technically, but it seemed that the more the days passed, the less you saw of the mysterious king of the Northern kingdom. 

While Sukuna and Naoya had taken it upon themselves to woo you by joining you in your daily activities, he hadn’t even shown his face to you yet. You were sure your father would’ve had him humiliated and thrown out of the palace already if he wasn’t afraid for his life. 

But you didn’t mind, because you saw enough of Satoru to make up for King Gojo and Kashimo. The man seemed well and fully intent to stick by your side, talking yourselves well into the night. 

It was on a night like this - sprawled out along the plush armchairs in the very library you’d met, only a few days after Kashimo’s departure - you asked, “Satoru, what color are your eyes?”

That makes him pause in the middle of his extremely animated story about how he’d caught Earl Yaga in the middle of an artistic dance routine. The baritone of his voice cracking so uncharacteristically as he responds with, “Wh-why do you ask, princess?”

“Because.” you roll your eyes. “In four days m’gonna be marrying, and it might just be your king. Yet, I don’t even know his attendant’s eye color - what type of good queen would I be then?”

You knew it was a flimsy excuse, truthfully you just wanted to see Satoru. All of Satoru.

“Not many have wanted to look into my eyes” 

You tilt your head, “How come?”

“Well, I can assure you that they aren’t half as alluring as yours.” Satoru pushes back your tiara ever-so-slightly to reveal your face to him better, fingers dancing down to fiddle with your pendant. “You’re a strange one, aren’t ya, flower?” he chuckles, face inching closer to yours - and for a moment, you think he might do something else. “Tell me, how are the wedding preparations going?”

Ah, right - the wedding preparations. Your wedding preparations, to someone else. 

Did you want him to do something else?

“W-well-” you pull back from his hypnotic presence. Heart lurching, necklace burning cold into your skin. “Sukuna keeps trying to teach me his very particular diet, I swear I’ve spent much more time with Uraume learning it than with him- they’re a sweetheart though, I can’t complain.” Eyes trying to avoid the intensity of his gaze, “Oh- and Naoya still talks about his weaponry, however, I think his Zenin elders had a word with him because he asked to meet me in the gardens tomorrow evening to actually get to know me for once.”

You brave to take a look at Satoru at the end of his spiel - only to be met with a face you never thought you’d see. His mouth a tight gash, jaw ticking, and you could almost hear the grinding of his teeth.

Terrifying. Magnetic. 

Powerful. 

The library was always cold - but you fail to suppress a shiver at the sudden grip in the air. “S-Satoru?”

And suddenly, at the mere sound of your voice, everything clicks back to normalcy. You’re staring that familiar grin painted onto his face again, musing slyly, “How much d’you wanna bet he’ll ask about your weaponry instead?”

“Oh, shut up.”

It’s only much, much later at night when you’re forced to retire early - Satoru slipping past the library earlier than usual with groans of his “attendant duties” that you realize - he didn’t answer your question. 

---

“P-princess, will you be alright going alone? I don’t think-”

“It’ll be alright, Ichiji, I’m just meeting Lord Naoya.” you wave off the stammering man. Tugging your velvety coat snugly around your body, “Honestly, you act like I haven’t been out in the gardens alone before.”

And it was true, since returning from his little meeting with the Kashimo court, your jumpy attendant seemed even more so - and you didn’t even know that was even impossible. Always peeking cautiously behind corners of the winding hallways, always hovering close by you even when his duty didn’t require it. 

He’d told you - in that quiet, shaky voice of his - that Kashimo was well, and headed straight for his kingdom to fulfill emergency duties. To which you’d accepted - you understood the gravity of responsibility, after all. 

“But- but, your highness!” he gasps, pulling you out of your little reverie. “I don’t think- with the way he-”

A spine-chilling breeze rustles the nearby tree, sending shivers down your spine. Howling in your ears. You squint your eyes against the cold, “Sorry, what was that, Ichiji?”

But the man in front doesn’t speak - fuck, you didn’t even know if he was breathing. Face a sickly pallor, mouth gaping open and shut like he wanted to say something - he needed to say something. Yet, he wasn’t even looking at you, wide eyes locked on something over your shoulder. 

“Are you-” Your body holds you back, feeling two burning eyes on you - and you have to force yourself to look over your shoulder. Only to see- nothing? “-are you alright?”

Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, you’re turning back to face your attendant - only to see him sprinting back down the entrance as fast as his knobbly legs could carry him. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then!” you call, hoping it echoed far enough to be heard.

Strange. 

It’s all you can think about for the next half an hour you’re seated on that dainty, painted bench in the middle of the palace gardens, waiting for your potential future husband. And for the next hour. And the next. 

It’s by the time the sun has fully set, when twinkling stars are dotting the night sky that you settle with the conclusion that yes, it seems that Naoya has already made his decision about the marriage. And no it doesn’t end with a wedding. 

“Dammit.” you spit, running a hand through the hair you had Nobara fuss about with. “S’not like I wanted to marry you anyway, bastard.”

And you didn’t - you really didn’t. Whenever you dared to imagine walking down that decorated aisle, Naoya was the last person you saw.

But seated alone and abandoned, trying to cover yourself from the biting chill of the night, you never felt more like an unworthy heir. Fuck, if no one wanted to marry you how would you even dare to think of taking over the throne?

Maybe you should just-

“We have got to stop meeting like this, flower. S’like you’re haunting me.”

“Satoru!” you gasp, throwing yourself into his embrace. You’re reaching up to loop two arms around his neck, “Oh, you wouldn’t believe it. That asshole had the audacity to stand me up.” Pulling back so your face ghosts his, “I got all dolled up just for him to leave me like this. As if I wanted to be with him, I was just trying to be a good- a good h-host and-” 

Suddenly, you’re struck with the realization of how close you two actually are. You could count every crease on his blindfold, pinpoint exactly where every dimple at the corner of his grin was. 

Your hands slide their way down to his sculpted chest, pushing slightly. “-I apologize, this was forward of me.”

But his arms only tighten around your waist - when did they even get there? Large and steady, pulling you back to nuzzle his face into the crook of your neck, your racing pulse. “Stay.” he groans, and he sounds slightly out-of-breath, heavy exhales tickling your ear.

“We can’t be caught like this, Satoru.” you breathe, but that familiar little tug has you shuffling closer. Breathing in that familiar metallic sweet scent you’ve grown to love, “I- I’m getting-” Bile creeps up at the back of your throat, and you laugh bitterly. “I think I’m getting married in three days, y’know? To Lord Sukuna, I assume, since two of my suitors ah- ran away and the other refuses to even see my face.”

His thick fingers dig deeper into the extravagant corset at your waist, “I know. Fuck- don’t I know.”

It’s a steady beat of silence, so still. So tense you could hear every stuttering heartbeat of yours, and strangely enough, you had the nagging feeling that he could, too. 

“You could just marry me.” Satoru’s abrupt confession breaks the silence, and you find yourself sinking deeper into his soft coat. Wrapping yourself up in his heady presence. “Be my queen. You wouldn’t have to worry about duties or elders or- or vampires.”

And the night was still. So still. 

Despite the way your heart races, eyes blinking up in disbelief, you find it in yourself to deadpan, “F-funny. Do I have to give you my soul for that as well?” Oh, some stupid little part of you think you might just have.

And you’d expected Satoru to crack a laugh, to give you a teasing smile while he carried on that little inside joke between the two of you. You’d expected him to no sooner shove you off and talk about it being late. Hell, a part of you even expected this to be some elaborate set-up from the elders to get you caught in such a compromising position with the no-longer stranger from the Northern kingdom. 

But, no. It’s anything but that - everything but that. 

Because the taller man only rasps, nose-to-nose now, “No.” Sounding like his sanity was slipping away from him with every breath, fingers making their dance down to twirl your sapphire pendant between them. “I’d give you mine.”

You can feel his breath fanning your cheeks, head dipping slowly - so torturously slowly. As if he was giving you ample opportunity to run away if you wanted to. But you don’t think you could move for the life of you. 

Instead, you’re dipping closer, gliding the tip of your thumb over his defined cheekbone. Mere millimeters away - just one push. Another hand of yours steadies at the back of his neck, feeling those snowing locks under your fingers. 

One. 

Your thumb dips just under the seam of his blindfold - unwillingly. 

“Your highness.” Satoru’s voice is cold, his fingers lacing with your own even colder. Something eerie. And even with the delicate touch you could feel the power thrumming through Satoru’s body. “This is for you.”

You can only stand there in shocked silence as the moment shatters, and he produces a wild rose as if out of thin air. “Consider it from King Gojo.” Touch searing against yours when he hands it to you, you feel drunk off of him “Perhaps the night is late now.”

Right. The king. 

When you’re walking back in the directions of the palace’s warm lights, you don’t think you’ve ever felt safer. Strangely enough. 

“Satoru.”

“Yes?”

“I’m onto you.”

“You’re onto me.” he’s tucking the bloom over your ear. Before stepping back into the inky pool of shadows beside the entrance you came from. “Sweet dreams, flower.”

That night, when you tuck yourself into bed, you swear you hear a faint whisper of those same three words lulling you to sleep. Over and over. 

Sweet.

Dreams.

Flower. 

---

Floral preservation was one of the lessons you’d been forced to attend growing up in the palace, but even you didn’t know how that wild rose Satoru gifted you hadn’t wilted yet. 

It remained as fresh and prim as the night it was picked, bluish pink petals never fading. You didn’t keep it safely in a bowl of water amongst the other plants and flowers in your bedroom. Somehow, never out of place, always tucked safely behind your ear in the days that followed. Perhaps it was improper to keep it on you even when you were being fitted into an engagement gown to be promised off to another man. But Satoru didn’t complain, and you didn’t either. 

With Kashimo departing for his kingdom early, and Naoya apparently following in his footsteps due to “irrevocable differences”, it was now almost confirmed that the future king was to be Lord Sukuna. Not like King Gojo had made any effort to reach out - and Satoru hadn’t mentioned it either. 

Satoru. 

Things were…the same after that night, and you didn’t know what to make of it.

It must be done, you sigh, wincing at the pinch of the flowing white dress being suited onto you by the bustling tailor. At least it could be worse, even if you’d rather…

“Honestly, young people these days.” Yaga speaks up from where he was fussing with the silken hem of your gown for tomorrow. “I heard of that Naoya brat leaving out of nowhere, princess. My condolences.” 

“Ah-” you startle, not expecting to be addressed. “It’s not your fault, we likely didn’t mesh all that well. I just wish he left a note- Honestly, I’m lucky to even have a suitor left after these six days.”

Another grimace leaves you when you feel another tweak of pins pricking at your skin. The other man hums lowly, “Don’t say that, anyone would be lucky to have you. Anyway-” He gets up from his position kneeling, towering over you to admire his own work. “How do you like it, your highness?”

You let out a gasp when you face the floor-length mirror, “Oh my god, it’s perfect.” The dress was regal, decadent. With flowing tresses resembling a petals, and gilded gold and blue weaved into the fabric. 

Blue. 

“I fashioned it after that necklace and flower of yours.” You unwittingly reach for that familiar pendant, “I ah- forgive the assumption, but I assumed you would be wearing them both at the betrothal ceremony tomorrow, princess?”

Taking another long look in the mirror, you nod, “Yeah. I will.”

---

“I knew it.” he laughs shrilly. “I fuckin’ knew there was something wrong with you. As soon as I saw you butterin’ the princess up in the library, I knew you were a fuckin’ freak.”

The other man only responds with ominous silence, letting labored breathing cut through the bone-chilling air. Clearly unsatisfied, “What? Not gonna talk now? Aren’t ya just in it for the crown like me? Have the bitch, just give me the crown.” Goading now, “I bet you’re not even an attendant are ya- I know what you are-”

His words are cut off with another choked-up gasp, followed shortly by a strained growl. “I know- what you are-”

Red stains the marble floor - a problem for later. 

“I know, King Gojo.” And it’s the last thing he sees. “And you’ll reap what you sow, she’ll never love you.”

Blue. 

“You’ve haunted me too long, flower.”

“Satoru–!” you scream, throwing your soft bed sheets off your body. 

It was burning - you were burning, gasping for the cold lungfuls of air that filled your empty bedroom. Mind bleary, distantly, you register that it’s around daybreak - tiny fingers of golden sunlight just barely dipping through your window - your open window. 

Hastily, you’re tumbling out of bed to slam it shut. Heart still pounding when you take in the mess of flower petals from those congratulatory bouquets you’d gotten. Ruined. Only the stems left in the vases after that sudden, chilling wind. 

“What-” Your eyes dart around to look over your dresser, where you always kept Satoru’s wild rose. And a shiver creeps down your spine when you realize it lay snug tucked behind your ear, safe and sound. Exactly where you didn’t keep it. “-happened?”

You couldn’t settle back into bed after that - couldn’t even think about it. So you find yourself reaching for your wardrobe of dresses, running your fingers along the intricate gown made for your engagement ball tonight. Your engagement to Sukuna. 

If this was the nightmare, and tonight was to be the dream - why did your stomach turn so?

---

It was difficult convincing Nobara to let you keep the wild rose on after getting ready. 

“But that’s so last season.” she bemoans. “No offense, your highness, but even old lady Ogami wouldn’t be caught dead wearing flowers in her hair these days.”

You’re giving her your best puppy dog eyes, “Please, Nobara?”

“No.”

“I’ll let you raid my exclusive wardrobe the next time you want to play dress-up?”

“...”

Which was how you found yourself shoved into a dress that was way too gorgeously palatial, barely even having the time to admire the lush gold and blue decorations around the sparkling ballroom before you were being ushered next to your father on his throne. 

You fiddle with your ringed fingers, feeling more and more like a lamb sent to slaughter - a very opulent slaughter - with each step. 

“I am so proud of you for this week, and you look absolutely divine, my love.” your father whispers into your ear once you’re up on the crushed velvet platform. “I hear from Ichiji that you know, I apologize we couldn’t go through with this marriage under better circumstances.”

You shake your head, giving him a calm smile - you’d already forgiven him, sometimes there was duty far greater than any man. 

“My people, as promised, we are gathered once more to celebrate the joining of two hands - and two kingdoms.” The king projects his voice out to the eager crowd, “Together, these two young loves will face their duty. They will face the dangers. They will face our future.”

The thought had you clenching your fist into the soft fabric of your gown, looking down at your feet in a bow. 

“As I did with my father before me - God rest his soul - the future king and queen will oversee their responsibilities to protect our people from those treacherous vampires. The elders-” he stops short, eyes widening at the empty seats on the balcony - where the table of elders always sat. Abandoned. Chilling. “...have decreed, in accordance with our princess, to introduce my daughter to you all as our future queen-”

Your father gestures a hand your way, and you step forwards to cheers, still not daring to look up. And all you could see were two, gold-toed boots stepping into your field of vision.

“-and our future king!”

“Look up, flower, this is the best part.”

Gasping, you raise your head - Satoru.

“Y-you?” 

He smiles that pearly smile at you, one that makes your knees weaken, “Me.” Before leaning down conspiratorially,  “Better get moving now, the king just declared that the big bad Northern king and the precious princess will have their first dance as a couple.”

It felt like you were moving through a dream as you slip your hand into his, flinching at the feeling of his cold lips meeting the back of your hand.

The crowd of whispering nobles part to make a path for the two of you, and Satoru is so gentle when he leads you into the middle of the dance floor. Weightless on his feet, swiftly placing a burning hand on your waist - just below where the elders would consider proper. 

The other intertwining with yours, you barely even register the slow, romantic tune playing from the orchestra. 

“I bet you have questions.” he whispers, breath fanning your cheeks. 

You take in his tall figure, the rows of medals, gleaming only half as bright as the smile that makes its way onto your face. Hissing, “That doesn’t cover the half of it, King Gojo.”

“I-I apologize. I can’t apologize enough but-”

“Though, I did have a nagging feeling about the fifth time you talked yourself up.” you smirk.

Satoru throws his head back in a loud cackle, echoing through the hushed crowds - no doubt gossiping about this being the Northern king, that fearful beast that ruled over the Gojo family. “I know.” His hand comes up momentarily to brush over your sapphire necklace, “And I’ll spend our entire lives making it up to you, flower.”

Goosebumps dance down your arm, your spine, right down to where Satoru held a firm grip on your hip. You two waltz around the edge of the dance floor, perfectly in time. Through the crowd of grumbling lords, the orchestra, past the table of foods.

“And exactly how long would the rest of our lives be, Satoru?”

Slowing right in front of that huge, reflective wall. 

You couldn’t see his eyes, but his biting gaze was all you could feel. 

Lingering on the blue pendant nestled at your chest, the everlasting wild rose tucked behind your ear, the mirror to your right - where the twin image of you shone. Powerful, gorgeous, everything that a monster like him could never have because he wasn’t standing there right next to you. His kind never could. 

In the back of your mind, you registered collective gasps sounding all around you - the rest of the ball attendees that’d also taken note of the lack of Satoru’s reflection. But your eyes stay locked on him. 

A thumb hooks under his blindfold, and he grimaces. “You really were onto me, huh, flower?”

Tugging. 

Your fingers tighten around his, unable to let the most fearsome of creatures escape from your grasp. “You must’ve been onto me, too, Satoru.”

Pulling. 

All you see is a flash of a regal nose bridge, and the flutter of thick white lashes - before every single chandelier in the ballroom snuffs out at once. Cloaking the room in unnatural darkness, it sends every single knight and noble into a frenzy. 

And then, he opens his eyes. 

“IT’S HIM-”

“A body! A BODY FOUND IN THE ROYAL GUEST SUITE–

“VAMPIRE! STAY BACK-“

Oh, it’s blue. 

That crystal blue. 

And then it’s black.

---

SLAM!

“If you must kill me.” Satoru’s voice sounds from somewhere above you. You blink away the darkness, feeling your bleary gaze try and adjust to that unfamiliar high ceiling, the outlines of hauntingly beautiful paintings on it. His ragged breaths cut through your thoughts once more, hastily folding your hand to grip your pendant. “If you must kill me, then I prefer you do it with your own hands, princess.”

You can’t tell whose hand is trembling more - yours or his. Distantly, you realize you’re being pushed up against a luxuriously padded wall, one you’d never seen before in your life. 

Where were you?

“The Gojo palace- Please-” he reads your mind, voice breaking at the end of his plea. Gasping - and you can discern two elongated teeth at his canines. Fangs, you realize with a shiver. “You may leave if you want to, you may kill me for what I’ve done. My life is in your hands.”

“Satoru.” you soothe in a hushed voice, despite the way your head was reeling. The Gojo palace? “I won’t kill you.”

“But-”

“Satoru, what does this necklace mean?” You beg, and at this point, you’re not surprised that the necklace is from him - because it was an exact replica of the two burning eyes staring back at you. The only source of light right now, glowing a blue you’d finally found after a lifetime. “Why did you-” you gulp, heart lurching. “Why did you hand me your…life?”

Soft lips play right over your rapid pulse, murmuring into your skin, “S’my soul.” A long, pale index of his plays with the pendant. “The only part of my soul that’s living, gilded into a necklace to be kept in the safest place I know. You.”

“But-” you cry out, trying to get another look at his eyes - but your fiancé only kisses deeper at your neck. Nibbling at the thundering beat just below. “But why did you give it to me?”

“Who else would I give it to, if not for my mate?”

Mates - there were a thousand and one books and official documents detailing everything from a vampire’s killing pattern to the aphrodisiac toxins found in their blood. But the research on a vampire’s mate was far and few between.

Perhaps owing to the lack of willing mates that can come out without persecution, or perhaps due to the vampires’ intense rumored mating rituals. But it didn’t go without its own gossip, you were no stranger to the ladies of the court tittering about how morbidly “romantic” it was that mates were akin to soulmates - how it was an invisible string connecting two people to share a life, a soul. 

A vampire’s one and only mate.

Satoru was pinning you harder to the wall now, his pink tongue darting out to lick over your pulse. The fingers holding onto the necklace were now tilting your chin up at him, “Speak to me, flower.”

“I’m your mate?” you whimper, your lips ghosting over his. Already knowing the answer, but fuck you needed to hear it from him. “What does that mean exactly?”

He lets out a pained grunt, pressing his forehead gently against yours. “It means you’re the other half of my soul. My only one, I was born for you.” Pressing a chaste peck on there - and you swear you could feel the nip of two sharp canines against your skin. “The one I’ll fight heaven and hell for, until the very last beat of my cold, dead heart.” Your fingers curl at his shoulders when his mouth moves to the shell of your ear. “The one I’ll kill for, take out every measly scum that thinks they can get with my mate.”

He huffs out a burst of cold laughter when your breath hitches, probably reading over the thoughts running through your mind - Satoru killed them. The guards, Kashimo, Naoya- fuck, maybe even Sukuna. He killed them. He killed them. He killed them. He killed them. 

You shiver, “A-and all the wind? The whispers? I thought it was just you these past week b-but- All my life, that was you?”

You know. You knew. 

Another kiss - this time to the corner of your eye, and Satoru licks a long, content stripe up the big fat tears unwillingly welling up behind your eyes. He groans at the salty taste of you, taking in a long, drawn-out breath. “Yes.”

All it takes is that single word for your entire body to collapse, thankfully onto an awaiting Satoru. He holds your entire body weight with one hand around your waist, the other coming up to swipe his thumb under those tears rolling down your cheeks now. 

He kisses your cheek, “All your life.” The corner of your lips, “And all of mine.” 

Run away run away run away run away-

But you can’t - you don’t want to.

Your lips wobble when he nuzzles down your face, leaving a trail of hot kisses with his cold, cold mouth. “As soon as I learned to use my powers - was just a brat you see - I just had to see my mate. To smell her scent.” He’s inhaling deeply again, hands groping over your engagement gown. “Lo and behold, there was you. A cute lil’ princess around my age, tuckered out and fast asleep.” Lingering at your jaw, the hand tight around your waist pulls you painfully closer. Satoru’s knee wedging itself between your trembling thighs, “Imagine my surprise when she took one look at me and cried. Scared me enough to teleport outta there as soon as you opened that smart mouth, flower.”

And the thought of Satoru - tiny and determined - teleporting halfway across the land only to be yelled at by you has you huffing out a shock of laughter.

“So when I heard through the grapevine about your potential engagement, fuck- I couldn’t have ran out of this palace faster. Was so excited I fuckin’ forgot to teleport, too. Even if you were afraid of the ‘cruel Northern king.’” 

Fuck - that’s right. He must’ve heard your thoughts that time you met him in the library. 

Satoru’s tone drops to a low simper, so close now that you could feel every slight curve of his grin. Every twitch of his fingers sweeping up and down your exposed skin, feeling the delicious thrum of your veins. He could bite you right now - easily.  “And luckily, as I grew up, so did my ability to blend in with the darkness.” Eyes boring into yours, something so vulnerable in them now. “But you found me, you always did.”

“Satoru.” you angle your head upwards. “Kiss me.”

And how could he ever deny you?

You wince at the slight pinch of Satoru’s teeth - his fangs - as he crashes his lips into yours in a greedy kiss. Sliding his tongue over to taste those candied lips he’s been dreaming of for years. 

“Fuck-” he breathes out through his nose, jaw sagging open further to kiss you deeper. “Fuck, princess.”

Strong arms pin you harder against the wall, and you’re blindly reaching out to reciprocate even a fraction of Satoru’s neediness. Just dragging your hips up and down his muscled thighs. Sinful. 

Shit, it was so endearing to him seeing you struggle to touch him this way. And with a flick of a wrist, the candle chandeliers hung high above your heads are lighting up at once. “S’that better, flower?”

It takes every bit of will in you to manage to pull away, yet the thought of seeing Satoru - of really seeing Satoru is what spurs you to break the kiss. Delicate strings of saturated spit snapping in the non-existent air between you two, you take a long look at your new husband.

Fuck, he was so pretty.

You always knew he was. 

But even with his face tilted downwards, within the soft light tinting those snowy strands a sunset yellow - you could make out the pretty pink flush all the way from his glossy, ravaged lips, up, up, up to his delicate cheeks - he looked like the last thing from a monster. 

“No you’re pretty.” he hums, and you’re still not used to him reading your mind. Head nodding downwards, “Just look, grinding on my thigh like such a slut.”

What met you was a dark pool of slick saturating his trousers,  just peeking out over the hem of your dress. It makes you give another lingering, experimental grind.

“Satoru—” you’re letting out a honeyed drag of his name, reveling in the way it makes him swallow heavily. “You can hear my thoughts, right?” Look at me. 

Slowly - but surely - familiar blue meets yours. Half-lidded, pupils blown, and if you didn’t know any better you’d have said there were tiny sparks of lightning at the corners of his long white lashes.

You’ve been haunting me my whole life, Toru.

And it was an accident - it really was, your freshly kissed brain too hazy to slur out Satoru’s full name. But the impromptu little nickname has him dragging forwards like he was magnetized. 

A low growl escaping when he’s kissing you again. And again. And again and again and-

“Say it-” Two hands are tugging at those tedious ribbons tying your decadent gown together. Pulling. “Say it again f’me.” Ripping. 

The more his lips are assaulting yours, the more the dress slips further and further down your shoulders. Tattered. The soft satin leaving goosebumps down your spine as it reveals your neckline - all that skin for him to ruin. To mark. 

“Oh-” you’re squealing when one of Satoru’s fangs prick a bit too hard at your lip. Feeling a hot flow of crimson bleed out, the feeling has you so weak. So drunk. “Quite eager, aren’t ya?”

“You have no idea.” he groans again. Soft tongue moving from swirling around your own to lazily pool your blood on it. And you can’t imagine what about the metallic taste would be so euphoric, but he’s letting out his loudest drag of your name yet. Eyes rolling to the back of his head like he’s just tasted a personal slice of heaven. “Fuck- fuck you have no idea.”

You moan into the kiss when he bites down again on your already-bruised lower lip, “I’ve always wanted to do this-” Slow, slow hands kneading up your waist, at a dizzying tempo matching his mouth down your jaw, your neck. Hips bucking, you feel the outline of something so hard between his legs. “-to kiss you. To-” Tethering on the sensitive area of your pulse, “-bite.”

In a split-second, you’re sinking down into plush silk sheets, swallowing you whole in a king-sized bed you didn’t even realize was in the room before. 

“S-Satoru, did you teleport us again?” you gasp, eyes adjusting to the intricate paintings on the ceiling that you hadn’t gotten to admire before. Of white-haired youths and roses, of cold, dark palaces and- and you. 

You - when you were younger, sleeping peacefully while a little boy watches intrigued from the corner. You - passed out in the library after a long night of reading, two pale hands wrapping a blanket around your shoulders. You - your brows furrowed, head cocked while you pushed past nobles to search for that flash of his blue. You, you, you.

You. 

“I can hear the gears in that pretty head turning.” Satoru grins, still kissing you in a languid graze of lips. “And as much as I love it when you hah- admire my lonely paintings, I’d rather you pay attention to-” A low groan curdles at the back of his throat when he’s grinding his massive clothed erection against the syrupy spot at your core. “-me.”

There’s a dark little huff of laughter and with one last bite at the side of your neck, Satoru’s unapologetically tearing right through the middle of your gown. 

And you know it’s made with the finest fabrics the country has to offer, you know that no normal man should be able to even rip a tiny shred through your dress - but Satoru is no ordinary man.

Your spike of disappointment is quickly overshadowed by cold breath hovering over your exposed tits. “Oh, so perfect f’me.” he’s groaning, deep and primal. Biting down on your hardened nipple, “Ya think those uptight elders your court has- ah, had would appreciate me desecrating their precious princess before marriage?”

Through gasps, you peek down at his wicked tongue, swirling around the sensitive spots of your areola. “Who- who gives a shit.”

“So feisty.” The peaks of your tits are left coated in him as Satoru pulls away. “So addictive.” Pinching your soft flesh between his teeth - just hard enough that you worry he’s out to draw blood again. “So- so-” 

Words are failing Satoru’s sharp mouth as he kisses his way down your body. The valley of your chest, your stomach, your hips.

Down, down, down-

“Fuck, Satoru-” you’re hissing when he easily pulls the pathetic remains of your dress off and onto the floor. The rest of your inner skirts easily following afterwards. “Are you gonna…”

“M’afraid not.” he licks sloppy circles at the skin of your thighs. Tasting, nipping, leaving little marks with his fangs for later. Sloppily soothing his tongue over the tiny droplets of blood beading from the bites, he murmurs stubbornly, “Not until you address me correctly.”

Hesitantly, you reach out a limp hand to thread through his dampening white tresses. Tugging softly to lock those devouring blue eyes with yours, “Please, Toru?”

You get absolutely no warning when he kisses right through that flimsy excuse of your drenched panties to slide his tongue up and down your sopping wet slit. Up and down up and down up and-

“Sh-shit, Toru-” you moan when he’s just dipping the very tip barely past your puffy folds. The fabric of your underwear still sticking to you, “Stop being such a tease, goddammit ngh-”

“Why?” Of course, he toys with your patience even now, addicted to those needy whines falling from your lips. “I jus’ wanna play with my princess’s pretty pussy. What am I getting out of it?” 

You smirk, not even having to move your pretty mouth to know you had him in the palm of your hand already. I’d be your mate for life. 

It’s all you can do to watch with satisfaction as the great Gojo Satoru gasps - gasps. Slick-glossed lips falling into a soft oh! Hazy eyes widening almost-comically, and at full heady attention while he takes a few seconds to mull over your words. 

RIP!

In an instant, your soaked underwear is ripped clean off to bare your dripping cunt for him, wrapped tightly around Satoru’s fingers and disappearing down below to where your imagination couldn’t handle. 

“Oh, such a pretty pussy.” he coos, thumbing apart your puffy folds to admire your lewdly winking cunt. Glistening and so so needy, you jolt when he bullies two long fingers past your sloppy entrance. With your greedy hole swallowing every slender inch of Satoru’s fingers easily, “So needy too. This all f’me?”

As if to prove his point, his pink lips wrap around your throbbing clit, grinding his tongue over the ravaged tip. The harsh texture of his tastebuds rolling over every inch of you he could reach.

“Y-yes-” you squeal, hips bucking down mindlessly to try and match his relentless tempo. “S’only for you.”

“Tha’s what I love to hear-” Satoru’s cheeks hollow when he sucks on your sensitive little nub - hard. “Sweeter than I even imagined, shit-”

Every pump of his merciless fingers in and out of your cunt drags along your gummy walls. Deftly curling to prey at those hidden sweet spots of yours he just knew would wrench out such throaty moans from you - and fuck, Satoru thinks- no, he knows that the sound is is favorite song. 

“You’re makin’ me- hah making me fall in love all over again.” he gruffs out into your cunt. The pads of his fingers pressing into the cushiony ends of your pussy. “Because look how messy you are- how loud.”

You didn’t know if he had mind-control powers on top of mind-reading, because it’s as if you’re on auto-pilot when your lolling head is whirling down to look at the absolute sin made of you below. Satoru - running his mouth a mile a minute to send white-hot vibrations along your clit. His milky fingers buried knuckle-deep to stretch out your poor cunt. Your sweet sweet juices drooling all over them in such an obscene sheen down his palm, his wrist. 

He whines, “Makin’ me wanna-” You jolt when he’s biting down so dangerously around your clit. “Wanna-”

Satoru doesn’t end up finishing his sentence - and he doesn’t have to. 

Because he’s pausing his make-out with your clit to spit once. Twice. A thick thumb swiping at the intentional splatter of saliva marking your skin, before surging forwards even deeper - you didn’t even think that was possible. But Satoru has the tip of his nose rubbing methodical circles against your clit, jaw grinding at the base of your pussy, tongue flattening out your pussy lips.

Messy. Harsh. 

“Oh- oh my god, Toru-” you’re keening at the feeling of his wet muscle trying to squeeze in past the fingers still continuing their assault on your entrance. “It- it won’t fit–”

“Shhh shhh, s’okay, princess.” he hushes, letting another round glob of spit wet your clingy pussy. “You can take it. You will - otherwise how are you gonna take your husband, hm?”

That little comment has connotations that make your plushy walls clamp down vice-like around his fingers - his tongue. And you’re angling your head just right, blinking away the lustful haze in your eyes to spy down at the rapid, jerky movements of his other hand. Devouring gaze dropping down to-

Oh. 

Oh fuck.

It was difficult to even look at the sight below - your panties, soaked and completely see-through with slick and precum, wrapped prettily around what you could make out to be Satoru’s aching cock. Standing proud, twitching wildly with every drag of his fist up and down his glistening length. 

“Fuck-” he groans, taking the opportunity to devilishly slip his tongue past your feeble entrance. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck- y’like this, huh?” Drawled out little praises now muffled as he fucks you on his tongue the way he wished he could with his cock. In and out in and out in and out. Pulling back to eye your gaping hole, “I can feel y’getting wetter for me is it because-” Before surging back forwards, as if he’s addicted. “Because-” Again.“Fuck don’t clench around me that way. Was hard enough trying not to fuck you stupid right there in the middle of the ballroom.” 

You whine, tears flowing down freely at the sheer pleasure at this point. “Y-you-” you gasp, your five fingers splaying out over Satoru’s head. Pushing even harsher, “You hngh- talk too much- m’so close-”

Partially because you really needed those pretty lips back at your heated core, partially because every word tumbling from his mouth had you throbbing embarrassingly, your slick spreading a glossy sheen on the sheets underneath you. 

“Oh yeah? Heh, anything for you, flower.” Satoru grins such a sly, sultry grin and you feel it against one set of your swollen lips. “Absolutely anything.”

In and out in and out. He has his brows furrowed now, concentrated on having every flick and divot of movement pushing you closer and closer towards the edge. Faster. Sloppier. You have half the mind to wonder whether it didn’t hurt - whether Satoru’s tongue wasn’t cramping up from how fast he was going, whether his fingers weren’t tired already.

Out of the corner of your spotty vision, you can see those stuttering squeezes of Satoru’s hand speed up. Trying desperately to match each bullying push of his tongue and his fingers into your overstuffed pussy. 

The thought makes you whine, “Oh my god- Toru, m’gonna cum.” And shit, at this point it’s too much. You couldn’t think - you couldn’t even breathe. “M’so close please.” Barely able to even register anything but Satoru Satoru Satoru-

It’s why you don’t even realize at first when you’re finally cumming - Satoru does, though. He feels it in the way your heavenly walls are closing down on his fingers, clenching around him so tight that it was almost difficult to fuck you through your orgasm. Waves of electric pleasure crashing into you and you think you’re drowning.

“Tha’s it.” he rasps. “Cum f’me like that, tha’s it- thaaat’s it, such a good lil’ wife- a perfect mate.” 

The fingers stuffed deep inside your pussy are being pulled out in a flash - not letting you waste a moment of your heady high before he’s toying ravenously with your swollen clit. Pinching, and rolling between two soft fingers. 

“O-oh fuck, m’-cumming? M’cumming m’cumming-” you moan deliriously, mind just now catching up. Your hips drag your sloppy pussy all over Satoru’s pretty face. Just drenching his noble features with your gushing mess. “Feels too ah- good, Toru.”

And he takes it like it’s everything he needs - everything he’s ever wanted. 

Jaw falling slack to let your juices slide down his throat, tongue lolling out flick your spasming cunt through your high. Unstopping. Unwavering. 

Even when your vision stops tingeing with black at the edges, even when you think you’re sane enough to form a coherent thought. Even when your climax is bating enough that every flick of Satoru’s tongue only sends almost painful thrums of pleasure down your spine.

“W-wait m’done-” you sob, tasting the salty stream of tears splashing down your face now. “S’too sensitive- ngh-”

When he doesn’t show any signs of stopping anytime soon, you try again - this time thinking the embarrassing thought out loud. I…I really want you inside me now, Toru. Please?

And he pauses - jolting, as if some dark, primal part of him had just been called back to life. Tongue still hot on your cunt, fist still greedy around his rock-hard shaft. 

“F-fuck you’re gonna be the death of me, flower.”

And before, you couldn’t get enough of those striking blue eyes, but now you couldn’t escape them.

With inhuman speed, he’s shuffling up the soaked sheets. “An absolute fuckin-” Slick-glossed lips meet yours, smearing along the combination of juices till the lower half of your face was as dripping wet as Satoru’s. “-minx, y’know that?”

“Wh-what can I say?” you tilt your head with a smirk, lips a bit too loose than you’d like - but it didn’t matter anyway, he was in your thoughts. Your mind. “I’m your mate, after all.”

He falls back onto his knees at that sinful little sentence of yours, throwing his head back in a guttural groan. “Fuck- you’re mine alright. See what you hah- do to me? See how this is all your fault?” 

If Satoru expected an answer, then he doesn’t receive it. Because every snippy little retort on the tip of your tongue melts when you get a long, hard look at the angry shaft in his hand. So red and angry. Thick enough that you felt your cunt quiver already.

Delicate with prominent veins that glistened and throbbed down his long, long length with each slew of his vigorous fist. And his tip- fuck, blushed your favorite shade of weepy pink, slobbering a sheen of precum all down his wrist, his tufts of cloudy white. 

And you realize with a jolt that he still had your panties wrapped around him - looking so tiny around Satoru’s massive cock. 

Wordlessly, your hand replaces his.

“W-woah- fuck-” His toned waist flexes with the effort to fuck up into the soft cushion of your palm. “How the- ngh how the fuck does your fuckin’ hand feel this good?”

“You’re so big- fuck, don’t know how I’d- Wait you never imagined this?” you bat your eyes up with faux innocence. A thumb gliding over that deep divot on the very tip of his fat head. “Because I sure have, Toru.” 

Satoru’s heavy balls smack against your arm when he shuffles down his pants even further, now fully letting you go ahead with your agonizing torture. “Shit-” he yelps, eyes screwing shut at the image. “Don’t- don’t say that, holy shit.”

You toy with your scrap of panties, massaging every ridge and curve with it. Just dragging your hand up and down. “Would you rather I think it instead?”

Within milliseconds, two sharp fangs are poised right above your rapid pulse, a hand around your throat. “No- no no no no-” Satoru gasps, sounding like he was at the end of his rope. And it takes him a few blinks to realize his position, immediately moving his lips up to nip at your jaw. “Fuckin’ no.” Hard enough that another red pearl of blood drips out, instantly being sucked up greedily by your fiancé. “Gonna make me lose it before I-I ngh-”

With a pained growl, he suddenly has you sitting so prettily on his muscular lap. Your legs splayed out like such a slut, needy cunt slobbering all over where you were sat right on his demanding erection. 

By the time you’re realizing your helpless position, it’s too late - and Satoru’s already shrugging off the rest of his pants. Buttons hitting the floor when he just tears his flowing dress shirt off. 

“Sh-show off.” you breathe, hands mapping out every dip and curve of the plane of defined muscles displayed before you. So mouthwatering. 

“Can tell that you- ngh think m’mouthwatering, flower.” he grins. One hand kneading and groping the flesh of your ass to steady your drooling cunt to kiss at his thick tip. The other keeping one of your palms stuck to his washboard abs, up, up, up to press at his sculpted left pec. “N’ I know m’heart’s not beating, but I’m much the same. Very- much the- same.”

And Satoru’s spent years waiting, yearning - so he doesn’t waste even a second more when stuffing his cock inside your snug cunt. 

“O-oh. Satoru- Satoru please oh-”

The stretch - fuck, the stretch. The stretch is so much that it feels like you’re being split apart. Just the bare tip of his fat cock being bullied in short, determined half-thrusts. 

And it takes only one, lucky collision into the bullseye of your g-spot and you’re already falling apart. 

“Wait- wait wait wait m’gonna-” you gasp, your nails running down his broad, milky back in jagged red lines when you’re cumming once more. Toes curling, hips convulsing wildly on top of a smug Satoru. “Oh my god, ngh- what’ve you done to me, Toru?”

“Now, let me ngh- let me tell you a little secret, hah- princess.” His hand comes up to cup your jaw, gifting a sweet kiss on your swollen lips. “The best thing about mates?” Sharp fangs catch onto your delicate skin, “They feel sex on a whole other level.”

And then he’s bringing down both hands to spread apart the globes of your ass. Your puffy folds are stretched to their limits when he thrusts up once. Muscled thighs flexing underneath yours. Harsh. 

Ignoring your pleading keens and the slight resistance at the intrusion of his intimidating size, “Hold on, princess- hold- fuuuuck.” Lips latch onto yours, drinking up every heady whine when your poor cunt is being fed every inch by fucking inch. “You’re taking me so well.”

And that you were - your pussy lips bulging and struggling to accommodate Satoru’s monstrous size, but still taking him in so greedily. 

“There we go.” he grunts out, punctuated with heavy rams of hips. Up, up, up until you could feel Satoru’s sobbing tip graze against your cervix - your lungs. “Theeere we fuckin’-” Pushing and pushing until there was no more, until your neglected clit was scratching against his snowy pubic hair. Ass coming to rest at his twitching balls. “-go.”

“You’re in so deep-” you’re blabbering, cockdrunk already. The last few dredges of your high still not wearing off, it takes you a few seconds of Satoru still trying to squeeze his cock even deeper to manage to raise a hand about midway up your stomach. Feeling for that vertical bulge that was him, “-can feel you right here.”

“Oh yeah?”

And like he was testing your theory, Satoru fucks up into your gummy hole in another bullying slam. Watching in wonder at the way that little divot in your stomach crashes around the same spongy cervix he was. 

“Fuck- you’re right.” he hisses. Addicted now. Immediately rocking into you with reeling, long rolls of his hips. “You’re so- fuckin’ right.”

You can’t find the energy in yourself to even yelp in surprise when Satoru immediately changes your positions so that you’re now laying fucked-out on the mattress. His domineering hips pinning you down to use you like some little cocksleeve. 

“God-” he pants into your open mouth, tongue swirling with your weighty one. “God- fuck fuck fuck if heaven is real then this is it.” Each little profanity is decorated with a smoldering crash of his tip into your sweet spot. “You’re the heaven I don’t ngh- deserve, flower.”

That neat bitemark on your thigh is being jostled with the amount of ragged movement, and you wince with pain when it starts flowing again. 

“Oh- oh.” 

Satoru’s like a predator that has cornered his prey, and is spending hours tediously unraveling every single bit of you. 

Sliding two smooth palms underneath your legs, they’re urgently thrown over his large shoulders to fold you down, down, down into the meanest mating press you think you could handle - handle without fucking breaking, that is. 

“So good t’me.” he breathes, long tongue easily licking up that sweet nectar of your blood. “Y’know your cute lil’ brain s’too scrambled to even read right now.”

“H-how can I think when you’re ah! Like- like this, Toru?”

The sudden change in angle makes you scream. It makes you clamor for the headboard, the sheets, your husband when that obscenely perfect upwards curve of his dick is massaging every nook and cranny of your cunt. 

“Yeah? Feels good? Now now- don’t run- away” he’s dragging you down those drenched sheets by the legs like some ragdoll, stuffing you more and more with his painful cock. Fucking you so relentless, like he was trying to worship every little hidden sweet spot inside your dripping cunt. “Say it- no no no, not in your head. Say it.”

And you do - a little over fifteen times when his thick hilt pecks your pussy lips over and over with each thrust when Satoru bottoms out, hitting all the way into the back of your cunt - your cervix, your g-spot - like he couldn’t decide which one to bruise more. 

“S’too good-” you’re gasping. Your overstimulated pussy being molded like clay to the girthy shaft kissing down your cunt. Stretching out your elastic walls until you could almost feel them take shape to his swollen cock. Feel every sensitive spot inside you being overstimulated at once with every burning massage against them. “You’re fuckin’ me way too- too good- ngh- can’t even think.”

But that wasn’t enough for him.

Dipping a thumb down to circle around your clit, white-hot pleasure shoots up your spine when he lets out a deep rumble, “Think I fell in love with you when I- fuck, right then and there when I first- hah saw you all those years back.” speeding up with the sloppy staccato of his rude cock. Satoru’s words slurring now, messed up and half-prepared like the accelerating half-thrusts being bestowed upon your ravaged cunt. Like he couldn’t bear to pull out completely. “The first time you saw me, you were so afraid. Look at you- fuck, jus’ look at you now, princess.”

Each word is like a brand onto your sticky skin, accompanied by harsh smacks of Satoru’s balls against your ass, his sharp hip bones digging into your thighs. Him.

“Toru–” is all you can manage to whine out, a limp hand pulling his face closer to yours. You’re jumping with each swipe at your poor clit. “Toru m’here.”

“And- and yet-” he’s still blabbering, still pussydrunk while he fucks you so menacingly. Fingers sopping wet with their assault on your sensitive nub, “And yet I just- fuck-” He cuts himself off to give your messy hole another thick stream of spit. Coating his long, raw shaft - rubbed red with the way your gripping walls were massaging him so right - making it easier to slide in and out. “And yet, I just had to see you, to see the gorgeous mate I don’t deserve. I couldn’t live without you.”

A single overstimulated tear glistens a track down Satoru’s pretty face - one you kiss away as quickly as it appeared. Nudging open those teary, blue gaze to bore down on you. 

Oh, he looked an absolute wreck - white hair mussed up, stray strands sticking to his forehead. Glossy lips parted, drool pooling at the corner, broken grunts leaving him with each smash of his tip back into your cunt. So blissed out. 

Jolting at your eyes on him, Satoru feels his balls tighten so painfully. Abs burning when his pace stutters with need. 

“You’re haunting me, just as much as I was haunting you, Toru.”

The candles go out. Instantly. 

And shit you’re feeling it first when when hé’s cumming and cumming so hard that it almost hurts. Flashes of white startling behind his closed, glassy eyes. “Shit- shit shit shit shit-” Hairs on your body raising as Satoru’s fingers draw circles on your clit so aggressively. Dragging out your high. Forcing it. “Take it- take it all, my flower. Let me paint this pretty pussy all white.” Violent, almost.

So, really, it makes sense that your third orgasm of the night was the same. 

Just shivering, sinful tingles running from your overstimulated mind right down to where Satoru was stuffing thick white ropes of potent seed deeper and deeper down your tight channel. 

Overspilling with each calculated ram, his cum is oozing out of the corners of your puffy lips with each furious clench of his balls. Too much. 

And it’s all you can do to sit there and take it, feeling the sloppy dredges of cum make a mess slobbering down your thighs and his. Starting up blearily at the blurry paintings on the ceilings. The paintings of you - of a still Satoru that looked down at you with only half as much intensity and pure swirling emotion as he was right now.

Something that couldn’t be painted - but would make such a pretty picture, when his fangs bite into that racing junction at your neck.

You scream a soundless scream of his name, eyes rolling to the back of your head as something warm fills your entire body. 

Leaving your words unheard, your ravaged hole loose to let out slobbering squelches of Satoru’s cum. Blood racing and flowing right into Satoru’s greedy mouth. 

“Princess-” he gulps. Tongue licking up every crimson bead his crazed eyes could spot, body aching when he dares pull away from that heavenly taste. More. “Princess princess princess- you- hngh you’re mine. All mine now.”

And he’s letting out more thick globs of cum straight into your waiting cunt. Body bowing even harder to let it seep into your elastic walls, your womb. So much more than you can take and he just keeps giving. 

It seems like forever when Satoru finally pulls away - and within the glowing blue of his eyes, you can see the red staining his lips, dripping down those fangs, his chin. Staining the silk sheets below - staining you with so much more. 

Before you can stop yourself, you’re reaching up to catch his lips in a bloodied kiss. Your own elongated canines catching amateurishly on his lips. 

Satoru hisses - but he likes it. And you can tell. 

You can read every single hypnotizing thought whirling behind those crystal blue eyes - how he wants to ravish you again, how he wants to worship you. To make you his all over, to have you make him yours. The thought makes you smile as you whisper, “I’m onto you, Toru.”

“You’re onto me, flower.” Catching your lips in a sweet, sweet red kiss. “Forever.”

A/N. This was SOOO fun to write omg y’all have no idea. If you made it this far then you get a sloppy smooch from me mwahhhh.

Plagiarism of work not authorized.

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Phantom's Keep

Sim File Share (currently slow due to Simblreen traffic. I will upload a few days after the event so check my Downloads page for updates.) Dropbox

Welcome to Phantom's Keep, where the only thing spookier than the décor is your Sims' cooking skills! This charming little castle boasts one bedroom for all your witchy needs and a secret door that leads straight to the potion pantry - because who needs a grocery store when you have bat wings and eye of newt? Perfect for those late-night spellcasting sessions, just watch out for the occasional ghostly roommate. Get ready for a Halloween treat that’s simply to die for!

Price Furnished: 131,371 Price Unfurnished: 62,298 Lot Size: 20x30 Lot Type: Residential Store Content: Click here CC Used: Click here File Type: Package Min. Required Game Version: 1.42 Packs Needed: The Sims 3, World Adventures, Pets (Wallpaper), Generations (Wallpaper and Stairs), Late Night and Seasons

Hello and welcome back to my blog!

As a final treat for this year's Simblreen (@simblreenofficial), I'm excited to share a house inspired by the spirit of the season! While the name of this lot may be a nod to Danny Phantom, unfortunately it isn't a replica of Pariah's Keep. Instead, it's designed to be a home fit for a modern-ish witch and I've included as many Halloween-themed CC items as I could.

I had a lot of fun building it and I hope you enjoy exploring it! If you missed the first and second treats, click the #Simblreen tag to check them out.

Click on the ’Keep Reading’ below for more information and pictures on this lot.

I’ve been considering getting the Supernatural expansion pack but something has always held me back into doing it and working on this house has made that temptation even stronger. Since I don’t have the pack, all witch-related objects are purely decorative. You can replace them with Supernatural objects like cauldrons, wands, etc. which can be stored in the hidden witches' potion pantry in the tower.

As a reminder, 📣 please note that the store content and CC included in the lot are not included on the download file. The lot may seem a bit sparse from above based on the floor plan pictures but this includes around 79 CCs. These are not required and will be automatically replaced in the game but if you want it to look the same as in the pictures, you can always go to my WCIF Navigation page, where I’ve compiled a list for those interested in downloading them separately.

I placed three fog emitters outside the house to create an eerie atmosphere, especially at night and as long as your game is patched to 1.42 or higher then you won’t need the Ambitions expansion pack for this to be available. However, the Generations and Pets expansion pack are required due to the build items used in the lot as stated in the Details section above.

If you want to check and/or remove the fog emitters, enable “testingcheatsenabled true” and “buydebug on” after.

This lot has been play-tested and let me know if you experience any problems on your end!

[honeypiehotchner]

Will you be my Valentine? (Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- one shot

Happy (belated) Valentine’s Day! This one shot turned out to be a lot longer than I was expecting, hence why it’s being posted today instead of yesterday 😭 (Also the first scene with Garcia is 100% inspired by a TikTok I saw and the idea just spiraled from there)

Summary: Each time a new member of the BAU figured out Hotch had feelings for you...and when he finally told you.

Warnings: tooth-rotting fluff babes. It’s vile how cute this is

WC: 3.6k

Everyone knew Hotch had it bad from the first day you started working at the BAU.

There was a case on your very first day, so introductions were sparse before you boarded the jet. You met with Hotch, and the two of you talked briefly about how things work in general, though he said you’ll pick most of it up from actual experience.

The case was in Arizona, and it was a long one. But it didn’t take long for Garcia to see right through Hotch.

“So, um. How’s it going with the new agent?” Garcia asked, twirling her feathery pen back in Quantico.

Hotch shrugged. “Why are you asking me?”

“What is that in your voice?” Garcia said. She grinned. Say it ain’t so, she thought. Hotch, the Unit Chief, having a crush? This is too good. “Oh my god, you think she’s pretty.”

“Penelope--” he tried to stop her, to tell her she had it wrong because that would be wildly inappropriate, plus, his thinking that you were pretty had nothing to do with--

“Oh, you totally do!” Garcia giggled, ignoring his protests because he was deep in denial. Finally! A crush! “PG out, lover boy.”

He shook his head as she hung up on him, but he knew the blush was evident on his cheeks. He could feel it, so he knew everyone could see it.

Even you, who walked in a second later to ask him a question.

You saw the red tint on his cheeks, but thought nothing of it as he steeled his face once more before listening to your question.

+++

A few months passed since you began at the BAU, and still Garcia was the only one privy to Hotch’s secret. He thought.

“Have a good night,” Hotch said quietly as he passed your desk. You were gathering your things to head out for the night.

“Don’t stay too late,” you teased, shouldering your bag. You noticed he had a fresh mug of coffee in his hand. “You need sleep too, you know.”

“I’ll try,” he said with a smile as he bounded the steps up to his office. “Sleep well.”

Rossi watched (and heard) this interaction from his office. He waited until he saw you disappear into the elevator before he knocked on Aaron’s door.

“Come in,” Hotch said, not looking up from the paperwork at his desk until he realized it was Dave. “Hey, heading out for the night?”

“Not yet,” Rossi said, sinking down into one of Hotch’s chairs. “So…what are your plans for the weekend?”

Hotch eyed Rossi suspiciously. Every time Rossi began with that, it meant one of three things: 1. He genuinely wanted to know what Hotch had going on this weekend, 2. He wanted Hotch to do something with him, or 3. He was digging.

Digging for what exactly, Hotch never knew. Until Rossi caved and outright asked.

“What do you think of Y/N?”

Hotch shrugged. He continued working on the paperwork to distract himself. “She’s doing really well. She adapted quickly. I’ve been very impressed. Strauss has too.”

Rossi hummed. “Well, that sounded rehearsed.”

Hotch looked up from the papers, giving Rossi a tired stare. “What?”

“I asked what you think of her,” Rossi repeated, smiling smugly. “Not how she’s doing at her job.”

“What’s the difference?” Hotch returned to signing off reports.

“Oh, come on, Aaron,” Dave sat forward, tapping the desk. “I’m not that dense. And neither are you. You think she’s cute.”

“She’s very pretty,” Aaron answered without hesitation, regretting it immediately because it only gave Rossi more ammo.

“I knew it,” Dave grinned, sitting back again and clasping his hands together. “Well?”

Finally, Hotch put his pen down. “Well what?”

“Are you going to do something about it?”

Aaron grimaced. “You make it sound like it’s a problem.”

“It is if you never tell her,” Rossi pressed. He had lectured Aaron many times on the dangers of never telling a woman how you feel about her. Especially when it was clear she felt the same way.

“It’s inappropriate,” Hotch said, reverting to his usual defense.

“You’re both adults, clearly capable of making your own decisions,” Rossi replied with a shrug. Aaron knew that Rossi was the reason the No Fraternization rule existed, but he also knew Rossi was the first to say how much bullshit that rule was ladened with. “I don’t see the problem.”

Hotch glanced back down, scribbled a signature on Morgan’s report and tossed it aside, opening yours. He paused. “For one thing,” he started, flipping open your folder. “I don’t know how she feels.”

Dave stared at Aaron, wondering if the man across from him was being serious. As it turned out, Aaron was.

“If you saw what I did earlier, then you’d know she does,” Dave said.

Aaron shrugged again. “She’s nice to me because I’m her boss.”

“She’s civil toward you because you’re her boss,” Rossi clarified. “She’s nice because she feels the same way you do.”

Aaron sighed. He knew Dave meant well, but it was exhausting to listen to him. Aaron wanted to say something to you, but at the end of the day, he was your boss, and you his employee. It didn’t sit right with him. And if he ever did say something, that would be the first topic of conversation. It was too complicated.

Not to mention, he had only known you for a few months, and all of that time consisted of work settings -- save a few nights at bars or restaurants with some of the team.

“Ah, I see,” Dave said, nodding slowly. He stood up to leave.

“See what?” Aaron asked before Dave made it to the door.

“You’re too far in your head about this,” Dave said quietly. “Once you get out, you’ll know what to do.” And he left.

Aaron stared down at your report, your perfect handwriting. It looked far better than his, and miles better than Reid’s. It was very clearly yours, too. It fit your personality.

He closed the folder. The rest could wait until morning.

+++

Not long after Hotch’s talk with Rossi, Morgan was the next to put the pieces together -- and say something about it.

On the jet returning home from yet another case, everyone slept, except Hotch, Morgan, and Rossi. Reid curled up on the couch. Emily and JJ fell asleep in their seats, and you had taken over two other seats to stretch out. No one minded. Morgan gave you his jacket, against your protests. Hotch wished he had given you his, but Morgan had beat him to it.

Morgan noticed Hotch watching you wistfully while you slept, looking up every now and again from his tablet to check on you. Hotch’s eyes shot toward you impossibly fast every time you moved, watching for a moment to be sure you were alright before he looked away again.

After watching this for an hour, Morgan moved from his spot by Rossi to sit in front of Hotch.

“Hey,” Hotch said, nodding to Derek. “Can’t sleep?”

Morgan shrugged, biting back a grin. “I got a cat nap in. You?”

“I’ll sleep better in my bed,” Hotch replied. “I’m a little too tall for these seats.”

“Yeah, you always looked scrunched up,” Derek teased, jokingly mimicking the position Hotch once tried to sleep in. He woke up with one hell of a catch in his back. “Can I ask you a question?”

Hotch looked up, suspicious and a little scared. “Sure.”

Derek opened his mouth to speak and you shifted in your sleep again, causing Aaron’s eyes to shoot over toward you. His eyebrows drew together as he watched you, waiting for you to settle back down.

By the time Hotch looked back over, Morgan was smirking.

“What was your question?” Hotch asked.

“That right there,” Morgan replied, lowering his voice a little just to be sure you wouldn’t catch any of it. “What’s goin’ on?”

“What?” Hotch asked, feigning innocence, but he could feel the heat rising in his cheeks, and the smile he wasn’t able to hold back. “I don’t, uh-- What do you mean?”

“You should tell her,” Morgan said, starting to grin. “You really should.”

What Hotch didn’t know is that exactly two days before this, you confessed your feelings to Morgan. Only because he caught you smiling at Hotch, and you knew he wouldn’t give it up. Also because you were starting to go a little crazy, holding it in. But you called it a stupid crush and said it would go away. Derek didn’t believe you.

“No,” Hotch said, but he kept smiling. “I can’t.”

“Why not?” Derek shrugged. “What’s the harm?”

Hotch stayed quiet, looked back down. He shook his head.

“Hotch, you gotta put yourself out there,” Derek whispered. “And you gotta do it before you’re too late.”

Hotch nodded slowly. He should’ve known you’d have someone else on your horizons. You’re much younger, far prettier than he ever thought to be real. No wonder someone else took notice. No wonder someone else was ahead of him.

“Seriously,” Morgan pressed a little further. “Valentine’s Day is coming up, y’know. Perfect timing.”

Hotch chuckled softly, shaking his head at Morgan’s wicked grin. “Alright.”

+++

Emily and JJ realized it at the same time you did, though you told yourself you were overthinking and making it all up.

Hotch had bought your coffee.

It didn’t seem that strange, or romantic even. You happened to be at a coffee shop down the street, waiting in line to order when Hotch got in line behind you.

The two of you talked while you waited. What a happy coincidence, both of you were there before work. Your heart fluttered with every word he said, every smile he showed and laugh he let slip. Even his jokes, you were flustered beyond belief.

And then he got your coffee for you.

He asked, and you were so shocked that you said yes. You couldn’t stop smiling and neither could he.

Truthfully, Aaron was over the moon. His heart was beating like crazy, and he wondered if you noticed his nervous laughter. (You did.)

When you got back to the BAU, walking in together caught Emily and JJ’s attention. Reid was in the middle of a book, and Derek was nowhere to be found (probably off with Penelope). But Emily and JJ immediately tuned in.

“Hey you two,” you smiled, walking around to your desk.

“Hey yourself,” Emily grinned, keeping an eye on Hotch as he walked up to his office, smiling to himself. “You’re in a good mood.”

“A very good mood,” JJ echoed, propping herself up on the corner of her desk. “You and Hotch got coffee?”

“Yeah,” you replied, thinking nothing of it. “I just ran into him at my usual place.”

Emily and JJ shared a look, raising their eyebrows.

“Just ran into him?” JJ asked, shrugging her shoulders.

“…yeah?” you laughed. “What about it?”

“Did he buy your coffee?” Emily asked quietly, biting back a grin. “That’s…” She cocked her head, giving you a look.

“It’s what?”

“It sounds like he likes you,” Reid piped up, eyes still focused on his book. “It was a romantic gesture.”

Reid had known for a while. He kept it to himself, though, because nine times out of ten, when he first picks up on these things, no one else has yet. And if he mentions it, it’s often invasive and people get defensive, because it’s something they don’t want to think about.

So, he’s kept it quiet. But he has noticed. And now it’s getting obvious.

Your mouth remained open in shock. Hotch? Having a crush on you? That seemed ridiculous. Impossible, even. He’s your boss, for crying out loud. Not to mention, older and…does he even date? He doesn’t talk about his personal life. You know he’s divorced, but that’s it.

“No,” you laughed awkwardly. “I mean, I buy my coffee for my friends all the time. I’ve bought you guys coffee,” you gestured to Emily and JJ. “It’s fine, right?”

“It’s fine,” Emily shrugged. “Yeah, it’s fine, it’s not anything serious.”

“Just a coffee,” JJ agreed, although both of them still didn’t fully believe you.

It was friendly, sure, but the kind of friendly that had romantic undertones and intentions.

But you didn’t want to think about that because it felt impossible. They were reading too far into it, that’s all.

It’s a running joke that joining the BAU is a death sentence for your love life, so it’s a regular conversation, that’s all.

That’s all, you told yourself. That’s all.

+++

The BAU rang in February with a new case, this one in Alabama. It took a week or so to solve, and by the end of it, you were all exhausted. Yet you needed to eat, so the team went out for dinner.

Somehow — you never really know how this happens — the conversation veered toward Valentine’s Day. Derek brought it up, purely because he and Penelope are planning to spend it together watching the worst rom-coms imaginable.

“I don’t know, it just kinda bums me out. I never look forward to it,” you said, expecting to be in the majority at the table, but you weren’t.

“What?” Derek said. “We’ve gotta change that.”

You smiled at him, though it felt like he was pitying you.

“Why does it bum you out?” Hotch asked earnestly.

You hadn’t expected him to say anything, let alone to ask you a question. “Because,” you started. “I guess I just see all these happy couples, and the cards and balloons and flowers and chocolates and it’s— It’s just too much to look at.”

“You know, most of the happiest couples on Valentine’s Day are actually struggling in their relationship,” Reid said, mid-chew.

“What statistics back that one up, pretty boy?” Morgan teased.

“Just an observation,” Reid shrugged, swallowing.

“I know,” you replied. “I know statistically — also just from experience — that they’re not that happy, but still. They still look it. And it’s, you know, it’s sad.” You paused, not wanting to finish your sentence but you knew you had to because you dug this hole for yourself. “Because…I know that I’ll never have that.”

“What makes you say that?” Hotch asked, his voice quiet with concern.

“Yeah, Y/N,” Emily said, her face sad as she shook her head solemnly. “You don’t know that.”

“But…I do.” Your smile was a soft, sad one born from acceptance. “I never have had it, and it just seems so unlikely for me. Besides, I don’t want to be pretending to be happy and in love. That would be worse than being single.”

“Not everyone is pretending,” Hotch said, his eyes soft.

“Maybe,” you shrugged. “I didn’t mean to take over the table, guys. Let’s— JJ, what are you and Will doing?”

The conversation went back into safer territory, as JJ told the table that her and Will would probably do something small after Henry went to bed. Or maybe a dinner, after Spencer offered to babysit.

“Yeah, or I could babysit,” you offered. “You guys should have a date.”

“Uh, you should too,” Emily said. “You’ll find someone.”

“Considering Valentine’s Day is in three days, I doubt it.”

The table was silent for a moment, but Rossi broke it. “You’ll find someone,” he said with his small smile. “You’ll see.”

You rolled your eyes. It wasn’t unlike Rossi to talk like a fortune cookie.

+++

Aaron wanted to throw up.

Well, he wouldn’t go that far, but he certainly was nervous. He didn’t even know if you’d show up.

But he waited. Inside the coffee shop, at a table by the window, he waited. The barista kept giving him this look, like she pitied him because it was Valentine’s Day and he was sitting at a table for two. Alone.

He texted you and asked if you wanted to grab coffee, but you hadn’t texted him back — yet. Still, he needed something to do today, so he came anyway.

Why did he give everyone the day off? He felt ridiculous.

What Aaron didn’t know was that a few miles away, you felt even more ridiculous.

“It’s not even a date!” you cried over the phone. “What the hell am I so worked up for?”

“Because you like him!” Penelope gushed. “And he clearly likes you. Oh, I knew it, I knew it, I knew it!”

You laughed at her as you worked your boots over your heels. “Relax, Pen.”

“I won’t!”

“Okay, well, I need to go because he texted like…an hour ago and I’m not even on the way. God, what if he’s already left? I bet he—”

“Shush! No more! You have a hot date and no room for self-doubt, now go!”

“Fine, fine, I’m going. Let me text him that I’m leaving— Penelope.”

Your heart dropped out of your ass. There, staring back at you, was your text message that you meant to send an hour ago. You forgot to hit send.

“I forgot to hit send!” you screamed, flying toward the front door. “I’m such an ass!”

“No you’re not!” Penelope yelled back. “Call him!”

“I can’t!”

“I will literally add him to this call right now if you don’t—”

“Don’t you dare!” You promptly hung up with her and called Aaron. “Come on, pick up. Pick up, please, pick up—”

“Hello?”

“Hi!” you sounded out of breath. “Hi, I’m so sorry. I’m such an idiot. I meant to text you back, but it didn’t send, and I know that sounds like a stupid excuse, but I swear it’s true—”

“Y/N—”

“If you’ve already left, that’s okay, God I feel so bad—”

“Y/N,” he said again. He sounded like he was smiling. “It’s okay,” he chuckled. “I haven’t been here that long.” He had. But you didn’t need to know that, because it was irrelevant. He would wait years for you.

“I’m on my way now, I swear to god,” you said, laughing a little. “Give me five minutes and I’ll be there.”

“Do you want your usual?” he asked.

Your heart skipped a beat. He knew your order. Your usual. “Yeah,” you said. “Please. Thank you.”

“No problem,” he replied, still smiling. “I’ll have it waiting for you.”

Relief. “You’re the best.”

By the time you made it to the coffee shop, Aaron did, in fact, have your coffee waiting for you. Along with your favorite pastry from their bakery. Today, it had a pink heart on it.

He stood to his feet when he saw you come in. You looked flustered, yes, but beautiful beyond measure. He didn’t know if he was going to be able to stop himself from fainting.

You felt the same way. Seeing him out of the suit never ceased to amaze you. He wore a nice black button down today with jeans. He still looked unbelievably handsome, his hair fluffier than usual, not as slicked down as he does it for work.

“What’s all this?” you asked, sheepish. A red rose laid across the table, your favorite pastry sat next to your coffee. It was all so…sweet. “Aaron, you didn’t have to…”

He shrugged. “I wanted it to be special.”

He sat down after you did, his stomach doing somersaults. He didn’t want to point you in the direction of his question so blatantly, but he was getting impatient. He just wanted to blurt it.

Before he could, though, you turned your cup toward you and saw the writing on the side. There, in Hotch’s unmistakable all-caps handwriting, was one question: Will you be my Valentine?

You gasped, then pouted, shocked by it all, but so, so happy. Deep down, you wanted this to happen, but you never let yourself believe that it really could or that it really was.

“Really?” you asked him, looking up from the writing.

He nodded slowly, a soft smile spreading across his lips. “I know you said you don’t like the holiday, but I thought you at least deserved to have a happy one. At least once.”

You didn’t know what to say. “That’s… That’s so sweet, Aaron, wow, okay. Yes.”

His eyebrows furrowed. “Yes what?”

You grinned. He’s so cute. “I’ll be your Valentine.”

“Oh!” he laughed. “Right. Sorry, I’m so nervous.”

“Me too,” you confessed. “I was on the phone with Garcia before I came-- She knows, by the way. She insisted this was a date, but I told her not to be delusional and-- Is this a date?”

“If you want it to be,” he said. “I’d like that.”

“I’d like that too,” you murmured. “A lot.”

“Would you like to…” his voice trailed away. “I am so bad at this.”

Instinctively, your hand reached across the table and rested on his. “No you’re doing great!”

He smiled, his cheeks flushing red at your touch. He turned his hand over and clasped his fingers around yours. “Would you like to do this again? I don’t want this to just be today. I’d like to…see where this goes.”

“Me too,” you breathed, so relieved you could almost cry. “I’d love that.”

“And,” he added, enveloping your hand in both of his. “Penelope was the first to know. She saw right through me.”

“When?” you laughed. It was hard to imagine Penelope Garcia cornering Aaron Hotchner on something like this.

“I think it was your first case,” he admitted, the blush seeming permanent on his cheeks now. “I guess how I spoke on the phone gave me away.”

“The first day?” Honestly, it gave you a bit of an ego boost.

He nodded. “The very first.”

“That’s…adorable.” There was nothing else to it.

[viviennevermillion]

poisoned veins

✧ notes: first work for my "autumn remedies" event! i'm doing the commonly triggering topics first before moving on to my more soft prompts. stay safe while going out and look out for your friends as well. here's an article about how to recognize drink spiking if it happens to you or a friend and what to do in this situation.

✧ synopsis: sampo protects you and takes you to natasha's clinic after your drink has been spiked, waiting in worry for you to wake up. (hurt/comfort), 3.1k words

✧ now playing: bad things — breathe

✧ warnings: drugging, medical emergency, vomiting, seizure, needles

Entertainment was always sparse in a place like the Belobog Underworld. It was almost a little ironic that a Masked Fool like Sampo found enough amusement in a place where most people spent their free time in fight club and meeting up in backalley taverns. That's what pretty much every establishment in Boulder Town was like in the late evenings. You could hardly expect a fancy restaurant in a community that had been sealed off and short on resources for such a long time. But people still made the best of it. Most bars and taverns had enjoyable menus, so people didn't mind coming back on their weekends. It was not Epsilon XII and hardly comparable to the joyful atmosphere Sampo knew from the Masked Fools taverns, but it was the perfect place to get some inspiration for a new scam.

He didn't expect to find you there when he entered the tavern late at night. He had helped Wildfire out with procuring a couple of necessary items and had gotten back late; deciding he wasn't in the mood for half-burnt scrambled eggs that he tried to make while tired and with a hardly commendable attention span. So take-out food was the way to go tonight. He sat down on the stool next to you at the bar. "Hey, fam!", he addressed you with a cheerful smile on his face, "do you come here often?"

You chuckled at his remark and took a sip from your drink. "Why does this sound like a cheap pick-up line?", you raised an eyebrow at him as Sampo ordered the weirdest food on the menu. "It's not, I swear!", he held up his hands defensively and laughed, "I was just curious, is all." You shrugged. "Well, to answer your question, I don't really go to places like this all that often but I was in the area and I really needed a drink. I'm exhausted." Sampo didn't know what you had been doing beforehand, but he could guess that it probably had something to do with helping another poor soul in need or just not understanding what an appropriate time to stop work was. A common pattern around here, really.

"What a coincidence, I just came here for a meal as well", he smiled at you but was a bit annoyed about having to yell over all the background noise. He felt like you were a little uncomfortable with the atmosphere at the bar. "You don't seem to like the place a lot", he remarked, earning a glare from the bartender who probably thought it was out of place for someone to declare loudly that a person didn't like his establishment. But you seemed almost relieved that someone pointed it out. "Yeah it just isn't as safe and comfortable as I'm used to", you nodded, taking another sip of the drink, "had to shoo away some idiots who were getting a little too comfortable being in my personal space before you arrived."

Sampo took his plate with the chocolate sauce burrito into his hands and got up from the stool as soon as it was brought to him. "Well, if you need their money as compensation, you know where to find me", he winked and nodded his head towards the front door, "wanna sit outside where it's a little more quiet?" Pondering on his words, you noticed you were more than ready to leave this place.

So you followed Sampo Koski to sit on a small bench under a lamp post across from the tavern.

There were a few guests outside and Sampo kept his distance from them as he walked through the dining area. Meanwhile you seemed to struggle a little. "Watch where you're going", an older woman hissed as Sampo turned back and saw you getting a little dizzy, bumping into the sitting customer and causing her to let go of her fork which promptly dropped down to the floor. The waiter made his way inside to get her a new one. "Sorry...", you mumbled and seemed a little bit out of it.

Sampo walked back to you and wrapped an arm around your shoulder for support, guiding you over to the bench. "Don't need to hold onto you, really", you sighed and sat down, your words sounding a little bit slurred. He wondered how much you had to drink. "Friend, are you doing okay?", he asked with a smile on his face. "Mmmh...", you replied, feeling the wooden surface under your hand as you sat down, almost missing the bench a couple of times, "...just a little tired."

Sampo raised an eyebrow and there was a look of concern on his face but he brushed it off. He knew how a person could get with enough sleep deprivation. Besides, he was there to look after you when you got too drowsy. It was late and he made a mental note to walk you home when the time came. For now though, he thought he'd just sit under the moonlight with you for a while, letting you take in the fresh air and clear your senses. Maybe he'd get to talk with you a little bit and finally find the courage to ask you out. He had done so a couple times, always hiding his true feelings behind his goofy facade. You had thought he was joking and he didn't have it in him to correct you thus far. He couldn't blame you, really.

The downside of being a jester could very well be that people struggled to see that there was a person with feelings just like everyone else underneath the mask. Sampo gazed up to the stars with a helpless smile on his face. He remembered when he made you laugh and how his first thought had been that maybe this had been the reaction he had been looking for all along when he committed to his shenanigans. That seeing you giggle about his endeavors made it worth running from the Silvermane Guards every once in a while. Ever since the border between the underworld and the overworld was reopened, they had been patrolling in Boulder Town as well, which made Sampo's line of work even more difficult. He wondered if you could love someone who had an arrest warrant on his back. Perhaps he'd always be a coward when it came to letting you see what was in his heart, he mused.

"Well, maybe it's time to head back for us. It isn't long until the night patrol passes through here and I wouldn't want to run into the guards tonight. How about I walk you back home?", he sighed but his heart seemed to stop for a second when he looked at you again. You were slouching, your hand pressed to your head and Sampo noted that you looked a little sick. "Y/n?", he called out your name and tapped your shoulder multiple times. You were unresponsive. "Y/n?", he tried again and grasped your shaking hand as you leaned over to your side to empty your stomach into the trashcan next to you. You missed.

"Hey, maybe we should stop by Natasha's clinic before we get you home, alright?", he spoke softly but there was worry evident in his voice, "you don't look like you're doing too well..."

Sampo saw you reach for the drink next to you with unsteady hands, struggling to hold onto the glass as you lifted it to your mouth. A realization seemed to cross Sampo's mind. He took the beverage from your hands before you could take another sip. Something inside you seemed to protest, and you tried to reach for the glass again in confusion, knocking it out of his fingers by accident.

It fell to the floor with a loud shattering sound, startling you. Sampo saw tears forming in your eyes from the shock. You seemed scared and confused but unable to communicate. "Come on, let's get you to a doctor", Sampo whispered in a comforting voice, helping you up, "I'm sure someone will clean this up, don't worry about it. Can you walk?"

He got his answer when you collapsed and your legs gave in. Luckily, Sampo was fast enough to catch you before your head hit the pavement. You stared up with wide eyes but didn't seem to look at anything in particular. It was like you were staring right past him. Your muscles tensed and you tried to point at something that Sampo couldn't see. He called out your name a couple more times in panic, gently tapping your cheek multiple times as if hoping you would just snap out of it. His heart had sunken in his chest and a shiver ran down his spine, seemingly freezing his bones. You looked like consciousness had left you; clenching your jaw and moving it like you were chewing on something.

Sampo swallowed his fear and picked you up, ignoring the concerned stares of the nearby tavern guests. Natasha's clinic was only a few streets away from here. He could make it in 5 minutes if he ran. Running with you in his arms proved to be a challenge as your body continued writhing. The movements reminded Sampo of a new-born baby tossing and turning in the crib and grasping for nothing in particular. Definitely not something that should be happening to you.

You looked dead inside. The image sent a feeling of panic through Sampo's heart and he was hoping his own legs wouldn't give in due to the shock. He needed to be strong for you now. Memories flashed through his mind of the last time he had met you, grabbing a coffee with you in the overworld and joking around about his newest scam. Everything had seemed like fun and games during a time where the possibility of losing you had never crossed his mind. But now it did. And it terrified him. As the cold air of the night seemed to burn in his lungs as he kept running, a quiet voice inside him wondered what would happen if he never got to see your smile again. He could only guess at what had put you in this state but he didn't know what it actually meant for your health. Were you going to see the dawn? Were you going to stay like this? He probably shouldn't think about that for now, he mused.

He opened the door to Natasha's clinic with such force that it sounded like he had kicked it down as he called out for the underworld doctor. He recognized her by the sound of her heels on the floor as she made her way towards him. "Sampo Koski, how many times have I told you to keep your voice down in my hospital-", Natasha stopped in her tracks when she saw Sampo holding you like this, trying to keep you still as to not drop you, "oh god." She hurried over to the emergency section of the clinic and got a stretcher ready for you. "Put them down here", she instructed Sampo, who carefully lowered you onto the stretcher. Natasha noticed there were tears in his eyes and he was shaking. She had never seen him this concerned about anybody.

"Will they be okay?", Sampo bit his lip and tried to calm down, taking deep breaths while simultaneously doing his best to keep your arms and legs on the bed so you wouldn't hit them against something and injure yourself. "Probably", Natasha calmed him down and brought her medical equipment to your bedside, "I've had cases like this before and so far none of them died on me, so have a little faith, okay?" Sampo nodded. "Would you help me keep their arm still? I need to take a blood sample", she asked him. He firmly but gently pinned your arm down with both hands while Natasha took a sample of your blood and then put you on an IV. She brought the tube with your blood to the laboratory while Sampo held your hand in his to make sure you didn't move your arm too much with the catheter in it.

Seeing you writhing on the stretcher made his heart break. Neither trying to comfort you with his words nor swearing that whoever did this to you was going to pay for it seemed to bring you back to him. He felt helpless. The time Natasha took to get results from the blood test, administer medicine to you and ultimately cause your body to relax again felt like an eternity to him. It eventually just looked like you were sleeping, which allowed Sampo to calm down as well. "They need rest now", Natasha said eventually, "I need to attend to the other patients but you can stay here if you'd like to... though I do have the feeling you wouldn't leave even if I kicked you out." She gave him an encouraging smile, having noticed how much you meant to him. Sampo just smiled back weakly and let her continue with her duty as a physician.

When you woke up your head hurt. You felt confused and didn't know where you were. Images flashed through your mind of you talking to Sampo at the bar counter. That was the last thing you remembered. So it was confusing to you to open your eyes and find yourself in a hospital bed with a catheter in your arm and an annoying beeping sound coming from the machine next to you. Natasha had noticed you had woken up and came over to your bed.

"I see you're awake", she remarked with a soft voice and sat down on a chair beside you, "how do you feel?"

You cleared your throat and noticed how dry your mouth felt. Natasha already had a glass of water ready for you. "Can you hold it?", she asked and carefully handed it to you, keeping her hand on the bottom of the glass in case you dropped it. You managed to hold onto it and take a few sips from the water. "Thank you", you mumbled with a weak voice and sat up, feeling a bit of your strength return already, so you kept drinking.

Natasha allowed you to take your time to gather yourself. "So... how did I end up here?", you asked, your voice still sounding a little hoarse. Natasha sighed. "What's the last thing you remember?", she asked you. You took a moment to reply. "I was sitting at the bar counter, talking to Sampo", you explained and chuckled weakly, "he ordered this horrible chocolate sauce burrito... seriously who eats something like that?" A small smile found its way onto Natasha's face. "So, what happened?", you asked quietly.

"Well... it seems someone mixed something into your drink...", she started, seeing your eyes widen, "nothing more happened but you collapsed in front of the tavern and had a seizure. Sampo brought you into my clinic." "Oh...", you mouthed, your thoughts scrambled all over the place as you tried to process what Natasha just said. She nodded towards the other side of your bed and your eyes followed her gesture, finding Sampo passed out on a chair next to you with his crossed arms and head on your nightstand and a blanket draped over him. He was drooling a little and even though he was asleep, you could tell he seemed exhausted.

"He stayed here the whole night", Natasha told you, "...refused to leave your side even when the guards wanted to take him into custody because they suspected he did it." "He didn't", you retorted immediately and Natasha stopped you. "I know. They found that out after investigating the tavern and hearing from other witnesses that you had that drink before Sampo even entered the tavern." You sighed with relief. The last thing you wanted was for the man who brought you here and made sure you got the medical treatment you needed to be arrested.

"Honestly, I've never seen Sampo so scared before", Natasha remarked, "he looked like he had seen a ghost." Your hand reached for your sleeping companion and your fingertips gently carded through his dark blue strands of hair, stirring him awake in the process. Sampo yawned and opened his eyes with a tired expression but as soon as they met yours, he felt wide awake once more. "You're alive!", he exclaimed with a relieved smile on his face and reached for your hand, holding it in his own, "Sampo Koski was so worried about you!" You squeezed his hand. "Thank you for looking out for me."

"There's absolutely nothing to thank", he told you, sounding more sincere than you had ever heard him, "I'm sorry I couldn't do more..." Those last words were more of a whisper but you picked up on them anyway. "You did everything you could", you insisted as Natasha did some further testing to make sure everything about your condition was stable.

"You're going to need to stay here for further testing for now", she explained to you, "you will likely be fine but it's best for you to remain in the hospital and be monitored for today." You nodded. "Don't hesitate to call out to me if you need anything", Natasha continued, "as for everything else, I'm sure Sampo doesn't mind keeping you company while you're here." You looked over to him and he nodded to confirm what Natasha had said. "If you don't mind, of course", he added awkwardly. "I don't", you reassured him and held onto his hand.

Sampo remained by your bedside until you were discharged in the evening, aside from the time he went out to get lunch for the two of you, surprising you with a meal you had mentioned liking. He was ready to answer any question you had about the time when you were unconscious and the things amnesia has made you forget. He made sure to let you know that whenever you needed to talk or just didn't want to be alone after this, he'd be only one call or text away. Whether he had a 'business meeting' or not, according to his words. He doubted he fully knew how to deal with the situation but he swore he would do his best to make sure you'd be okay. You didn't know where the future would take you and how this situation would affect you in the times to come, but you found comfort in the fact that, come what may, you wouldn't have to deal with it alone. Perhaps that was all the confirmation you needed to understand how much you meant to Sampo. Maybe words weren't even needed anymore...

if you liked this fic, keep an eye out for the other works i have scheduled this month. reblogs and comments are appreciated! 👍🏻

any support for my event would be greatly appreciated! 💕

[nateezfics]

kind of long post, so apologies in advance. just want to give a little update as well as talk about how my blog will be functioning moving forward. you don’t have to read of course, but if you do, it’s very appreciated!

for starters, i want to say how thankful i am for all the love and support i’ve received during my time here. running nateezfics has been fun, and i’ve enjoyed posting, and making a handful of sweet mutuals! i will always cherish the time here.

the above statement makes it sound like I’m leaving. i am not, rest assured. however, i am saying that my presence here will decrease. i’ve always been pretty regular on posting, mostly just posting whatever random thought i had on my brain (usually always regarding a certain captain lol). though recently i have had little to no desire to post on here at all. and it’s been an even longer time that I’ve felt like writing consistently. also it’s been so hard for me to find the energy to interact with anyone here; for the last couple of months i have felt very detached from ateez, and kpop as a whole. to be quite honest, I’ve barely kept up with this recent comeback/album. this has affected my want to post here. i feel like my interests may be moving elsewhere, and that i am not as interested in ateez/kpop these days. this may just be a temporary thing, but as such, my presence here will be sparse. i won’t force myself to post or write if i don’t want to. so i will just simply be posting when i have the desire or energy to.

thus my requests that i have waiting in my inbox will be unfulfilled. i will be erasing all the requests in my askbox, with the exception of a few that i might feel inspired to complete. i have wanted to do this for some time and now is my opportunity. i have struggled with even responding to basic asks, so fic requests have been even harder for me. i am so overwhelmed with the amount of requests that i feel like I cannot get through them all; and i just feel so guilty because so many of them have just been sitting there incomplete for ages. so i feel like it’s best to just come out and say i will not be doing them and will never again take any more fic requests. i honestly feel much better after making this decision. thank you to everyone who has requested from me, and thank you to everyone who sent in an ask in general to me. as for any of my own wip’s, they too will probably never be completed. lately the fics I’m most motivated to write are ones i come up with spontaneously, while my planned wip’s have been rotting away. i had a lot of fics planned, but i just simply don’t have the desire for them anymore. i am not going to pressure myself; writing should be fun and not feel like a job! so i am giving myself a clean slate. hope you can enjoy the fics i may post in the future!

all this to say, i am taking somewhat of a hiatus. I won’t be too active here, yet i may hop on when i feel like it or post a fic or two when i am able! if you’d like to reach me, best place to reach out would be by messaging me on insta @ ateezink. again, thank you everyone for all the support! it means a lot!

— nat 🧸

[rinneroraito]

it could be the alcohoL

Maybe I deserve a break. Maybe, just maybe, I need to loosen up, because things had gone painfully awry when we started putting up cameras and wiretaps in Light Yagami’s room only for them to be removed shortly.

I was so sure we’d at least get something out of it, just something to move the investigation along. First it was the FBI agents, and now this. We were at a dead end again and it just stressed me out. Every waking moment that Kira was out there sowed fear deeper into the hearts of concerned citizens, and also a cult following of people who thought he was a god.

Staring up at the off-white ceiling, mulling over the events that transpired throughout the whole investigation, I sighed. It was all that consumed me for a while, every bit of energy I had had been directed towards this case. The mattress felt comforting, but I needed something else to take the edge off just a little bit, so I got up and grabbed the telephone by the bedside table, dialing Room Service.

“Hi, do you happen to have alcohol?”

—-

L was typing away at his computer when I shuffled into his room with a can of beer. The reason why I came here is lost to me now, only remembering that I wanted to see him. I’ve already finished 3 cans and was obviously inebriated at this moment and I figured if I had a drink then I might as well just enjoy myself. An aspirin, loads of cold water, a carbonated drink and some hot broth in the morning would fix me up.

The screens glowed in his dark office, and I could see his back as he crouched on his seat, the keyboard clicking as he continued to type. His head slightly bobs up and down, left and right as he looked at his screens. I drag my feet to him.

I stood there right behind L, looking at the screens first, then down at him, or at least down at the back of his head and the nape of his neck covered sparsely by his dark hair.

“Miss Uehara, I can smell the alcohol from here,” L says, not looking up at me.

“I’m off duty at the moment, aren’t I? Don’t worry, I’ll be alright in the morning, I have a regimen for this.” I replied, putting an arm on the back of the chair he was sitting on and leaning towards the back of his head. Reaching the other hand holding the beer out to him, I asked. 

“You want some?”

“No thank you, I’d like to keep a clear head while working.”

“I figured. You’re such a workaholic, Detective. Such a workaholic.”

“Your speech isn’t slurring yet so I assume you’re just buzzed. Were you pressured by the events as of late? I didn’t expect you to be the type to drink alcohol, actually.”

“Oh, you didn’t, did you? Well, it has been stressful, but I can manage. This helps.” I brought the can to my mouth and took a long swig from it, exhaling after. “And I guess, in some way, you’re helping me, too.”

L was very much aware of the effects of alcohol and how it lowers down a person’s inhibitions significantly. The way I was approaching him right now was more daring than usual and he knew it. I drank down what was left of the drink in the can. “Would you please elaborate on that, Miss Uehara? Besides helping out with the Kira case and that small encouragement I gave you some time ago, I don’t suppose I’ve done anything of significant help towards you.”

A small chuckle escaped me as I leaned closer towards him, resting my forehead on the back of his head. I felt him shift slightly as I made contact with him, but I could still hear the keyboard clicking so he didn’t seem too distracted at all by what I did.

“Because you’re an inspiration to me and well, I like that you’re here, World’s Greatest Detective. It’s like, a biiiig deal to me that I get to work with you, you know?” I ramble.

“You speak rather highly of me, Miss Uehara, I’m touched, thank you.” He speaks in his usual monotone voice and in my inebriation and the fact that I couldn't see his face, it was hard for me to  tell if he was actually flattered or was just responding out of courtesy.

“Also, I think I actually like you, L...”

The keyboard’s clacking stopped as the words escaped my mouth. I dropped the usual honorific I called him by, likely influenced by the alcohol. He was still, and I continued to ramble on in my intoxication.

“I like the way you stare at things like you’re trying to dissect them before you, your piercing glare so intense that I feel like if you had lasers in your eyes I’d be bisected right in front of you. I like the way you daintily hold things with your thumb and forefinger, and it makes me wonder just how strong your digits are.”

He shifted slightly forwards, and I brought the arm that I had resting on the back of his chair around to rest on his shoulder.

“I like the way you eat your sweets, it’s nice to see you enjoy them. I like how I can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic or you’re just being blunt at times, and it sends the rest of the Task Force in a state of confusion whenever you say something.” I chuckled, pressing my cheek on the top of his head.

“I like your face, the seemingly permanent shadows under your eyes, your sharp jawlines and how long your neck is, your lanky frame… I like how you’re so smart and you know that you’re the smartest guy in the room but you give everyone the benefit of the doubt because of the way you look.”

“Miss Uehara…”

“I don’t know, Detective, maybe I do like you or maybe it’s the alcohol.” Hair strands fell off my shoulders, caressing the nape of his neck as I lowered my face on the back of his head, his hair  brushing against my cheeks. “Your hair smells nice.” I say, feeling my breath bounce off of the nape of his neck and I felt him bend forward away from me just a little.

“While I am flattered by your words, Miss Uehara, I have my reservations over accepting them due to your current state. Were the things you just said truthful and you’ve been harboring a fondness for me for a while or were they just a product of the mock confidence induced by alcohol?”

My eyelids fluttered as I listened to him and I tilted my head so my cheek was pressed into the back of his head again.

“If I remember all of this in the morning and start acting awkward around you, then you’ll know..”

“Would you kindly stand up so I can move away, please? I’ll have Watari assist you back to your room.” Exhaling slowly I did as he requested and leaned away from him. “Can I sleep on the couch over there? I don’t..” I swayed slightly on my feet.

He turns around and looks up at me, his wide eyes illuminated by the electric lighting of the monitors before us. I could swear there was a gentleness in it, but it could be the alcohol. “I don’t want to be alone tonight. I just want to know that there’s someone else within the 4 walls of the room I’m in.”

“Very well. I’ll have a blanket brought up here for you.” He gets out of his seat and walks around his chair to my side.

“Thanks, Detective.” I stepped back so I could walk to where the couch was when the rest of the alcohol I just drank suddenly hit me and I stumbled backwards. L, who had been perceptive of the entire situation, was able to grab me by my shoulders before I could lose my balance even more.

“Easy. It seems like the rest of the alcohol you drank is starting to run its course, please hold on to me and I’ll walk you to the couch.”

His grip on my shoulders was firm and secure. I leaned into him and he brought one of his arms around my back as he walked me to the couch by the other end of the room where I promptly dropped myself onto. The couch felt more comfortable than my hotel room’s bed for some reason.

My voice comes out a little ragged as I pull my feet up onto the couch.

“Hey, Detective..?” 

“Yes, Miss Uehara?”

“I still have the lollipop stick from that day we met.”

If he ever replied, I couldn’t hear it anymore as my eyes swam and sleep took over me.

[shybunnie20]

Bearded Eddie: @eddiemunsons-missingnipple

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

★Invitation ★My Masterlist

Summary: After nine years of living separate lives and carrying the weight of unresolved emotions, destiny intervenes when you and Eddie unexpectedly cross paths at your high school reunion.

Author's Note: I've been working on this since February and I'm so proud of how it turned out.

1994 AU with no Upside Down. No use of Y/N. Established past relationship. Reader & Eddie are roughly 28 yrs old. POVs are first told separately, refer to the time stamps! Reader is depicted as introverted but it's a minor detail.

Word count: 11.4k

Warnings: MDNI 18+! Substance consumption, mentions of sex, contains profanity.

You’re not sure why you came here tonight, it’s not like high school was particularly memorable for you. Be that as it may, you’ve been feeling homesick lately and you needed an excuse to be in Hawkins. What better way to satiate a craving for nostalgia than to attend the class of 1984’s ten-year reunion?

As you stride through the double doors and enter the gymnasium, you’re taken aback by how dated it looks. Even though the light fixtures and basketball hoops have been replaced, it looks just as it had when you were here last. Judging by the meticulously buffed floor, it’s evident that the basketball team continues to receive the majority of funding.

The glossy court is dotted with circular folding tables that are draped with forest-green plastic runners. Each table has a bundle of balloons that are secured by gold foil weights. The decorations are fairly tacky but you expected nothing less. On the far end of the gym, the makeshift dance floor in front of the DJ booth lacks participation.

At the welcome table, you use the provided Sharpie to sign a sticky name tag. You blow on the wet ink to expedite the drying time because the last thing that you need is a jet-black stain on your favorite top. It feels silly to be wearing a name tag at a reunion but the harsh reality is that the majority of your graduating class doesn’t know your name; very few bothered to learn it in the first place.

While scanning the sparse crowd, your eyes land on a petite woman who is waving you over. You catch up with Mary, your junior-year lab partner. She introduces you to her husband but you swiftly lose interest in the interaction because they’re droning on about how difficult it’s been to get their son into a good preschool.

You hadn’t anticipated feeling this drained from a single conversation. You politely excuse yourself from the mind-numbing chat and scour the room for an available seat. The one that you choose has three people seated on the opposite side and they eye you while you pull out a chair. They look vaguely familiar so you flash them a polite grin. They resume their discussion without further acknowledgment of your company.

In front of you lies a pamphlet with “Go Tigers!” printed across the front in large block letters. Thumbing through the pages, you glance at the various pictures of high-achieving students who have since created prosperous careers for themselves. You look closely at the photos and then search for the individuals in the room, seeking to compare their old appearances to their present ones. It occurs to you how much beauty and fashion trends have changed in the past decade.

Most of the women here have abandoned their Aqua Net and mousse-finished perms. There are multiple pixie cuts, but what stands out the most are the emulations of the choppy and layered “Rachel haircut” from that new show Friends that your pals force you to watch with them.

You push air through your nose when you get a load of the self-appointed queen bee of your class. She’s wearing a gown that is unquestionably inspired by Princess Diana’s revenge dress. She looks ridiculous compared to the sea of casual attire surrounding her. It doesn’t surprise you though, she came from money and she likely married rich too. If anything, it would be out of character for her to be wearing jeans.

The booklet’s various snapshots make you wonder who achieved their goals or started families. Who peaked in high school and hasn't found any purpose in life? Who’s been arrested or fired from their jobs? As you reach the last page, you’re caught off guard by a large hand being placed on your shoulder. It makes you jump in your seat but when you turn to see who it is, the tension is alleviated from your body.

Scott Daley beams at you with his remarkably pearly whites. The five years of braces paid off and he’s obviously gotten professional whitening done. “Is that who I think it is?” He withdraws his hand from your shoulder and takes a half step back.

You’re enlivened as you get to your feet. “No way!” The hug is brief but not awkward. “How have you been?”

His blonde feathered brows arch gleefully at your reaction. “Not too bad,” Scott motions to the seat beside yours. “May I?”

“Yeah, of course!” After returning to your seat, you take notice of his gel-slicked waves and the ironed Polo shirt that clings to his broad shoulders.

Scott angles himself to face you and shamelessly checks you out. “You look phenomenal, truly.”

Warmth spreads across your body because you’re not used to men being so forward with you. Although, this isn’t a stranger. Scott moved into your neighborhood when you were eleven. Your mothers became close friends so naturally you wound up being the best of friends. You didn’t sit next to anyone else on the school bus or at lunch; you were practically attached at the hip.

Scott wasn’t always this handsome. When you met him, he was nerdy and excelled academically. He may have been scrawny but his competitiveness made up for his shortcomings. He was motivated by receiving awards like trophies and plaques. Scott Daley had his eye on the prize, which was attaining a perfect report card and being elected as class president. He had an insatiable hunger for success and that was something you found fascinating.

After you became freshman at Hawkins High, you grew apart. You didn’t have any classes together due to Scott being in advanced courses. As one would expect, you fell into different social groups. Rather, he joined the tennis team and buddied up with the jocks while you faded into the background and kept a low profile. There weren't any hard feelings because you naturally grew apart.

You listen attentively while Scott fills you in on his experiences. He graduated summa cum laude from the University of Notre Dame. This isn’t shocking in the slightest, it’s a very prestigious school and he certainly has the brains to thrive in such a setting. He mentions having invested in a starter company that took off and now he gives entrepreneurial seminars around Indiana. Scott also mentions that he’s divorced with no kids.

It’s a relief to hear that the relationship with his high school sweetheart didn’t work out because you’re in the same boat, minus getting married and divorced. You’re glad that you’re not the only one here who’s companionless. It’s embarrassing to attend get-togethers like these as a single person but you’re feeling less insecure now that you know Scott has already had a failed marriage by the age of 28.

When he begins to gab about the parasailing classes he’s been taking, you gradually zone out. You don’t mean to but you can’t listen to the rambling any longer. Even though you’re visibly on another planet, Scott obliviously continues with how great his life has been. You immediately regret glancing away.

Your lungs are packed to the brim with fine sand and your throat fills like the stem of an hourglass. You didn’t anticipate seeing him.

Eddie looks older, even from a distance. The deeply set lines under his eyes make him look tired but the dark scruff brings an enticing liveliness to his fair complexion. His boyish charm is long gone but he’s a sight for sore eyes nonetheless. Eddie’s charcoal dress shirt is undone four buttons from the neck, revealing the band tee he’s wearing underneath it. An eyebrow and nose piercing is a tricky look to pull off but it suits him. The array of black tattoos that adorn his veiny forearms is on display from his lazily rolled-up sleeves.

His left arm is slung around the shoulders of a dark-haired woman while he converses with two other people. When Eddie flashes his signature smile, your heart is carved from its rightful place in your chest. You’ve tried so hard to forget how much you missed being the reason he beams; back then, he only smiled like that for you. Up until now, you were fully convinced that you’d gotten over him. Yet, being merely fifteen feet away from Eddie causes bitterness to unearth. The resentment was buried but it never decomposed.

The woman can’t possibly be his wife because you vividly recall that Eddie didn’t subscribe to the concept of marriage. It’s not that he thought there was anything wrong with it per se. In the midst of one of his innumerable non-conformist rants, Eddie expressed that neither a ring nor ceremony is necessary to prove your devotion to someone. He made a good point because signing a certificate doesn’t lower the chances of a devastating breakup. Scott can certainly speak to that.

It wasn’t a big deal to you and if anything, you were indifferent toward his take on the topic. You agreed that vowing fidelity doesn’t have to be lavish and elaborate. But there was a small part of you that imagined a special day where you get to feel like a princess. The desire wasn’t all-consuming and by no means something that you strived for. Even so, it stung to know that wasn’t what your future with Eddie was going to look like. All in all, he wasn’t the marriage type and you accepted that.

A pair of binoculars would be awfully useful to check this lady’s finger for a ring, just to be sure. You’re struggling to put a name to the face. Her hair color is modern but her crunchy roller-curled bangs are a blast from the past. That’s the detail that yields the recollection of her identity.

Karie West. You had classes together but you never saw her and Eddie exchange so much as a glance. She was at the bottom of the upper-crust crowd because her family has run the local hardware store for generations. Not exactly brag-worthy but it made her somebody. Eddie and Karie are an odd pairing but maybe his preferences changed. To be fair, she’s pretty and you don’t recall having an issue with her back in the day. She wasn’t anything to write home about but she was nice enough. The real question is, did he raise his standards or did she lower hers?

Is Eddie sweet to her like he was to you? Do they talk about the future like you and Eddie did? He used to insist that you’d join Corroded Coffin on the road when they inevitably made it big. Over the years, you kept an eye on the tabloids at the supermarket to see if his band made their way onto the front covers.

Initially, you arranged to start your lives together after graduation but the plan was squashed. You walked the stage to get your diploma but Eddie didn’t. You stayed in Hawkins for another year and worked odd jobs while you waited for him to finish school. You sacrificed your personal goals to support him but Eddie didn’t graduate in 1985 either.

When it came down to it, you couldn’t bear to continue setting your aspirations aside when Eddie showed no initiative to pursue his diploma. In due course, a letter came in the mail informing you that you’d been awarded a full-ride scholarship to the university of your dreams. 

You and Eddie talked about a community college that was three towns over but that wasn’t what you wanted. You knew you wouldn’t reach your full potential if you went that route. There were a lot of things that you wanted for your future and Eddie was one of them. At the time, you assumed that he would be ecstatic to hear the news regarding the incredible opportunity you’d been presented with.

It was a toasty summer evening. and like most days, you were lounging around and basking in the adoration you had for one another. His heavy-lidded mocha eyes studied your face while you snorted at his jokes. On your twin-size bed, Eddie was laying on his back with you nestled comfortably under his arm. He was sharing the ideas that he had for his next tattoo. You drew the concepts he described onto the velvety skin of his forearm with your fingertip. Eddie’s eyes fluttered closed as your featherlight touch painted your interpretations in his mind. At some point, you excused yourself to use the bathroom. Upon your return over a minute later, your heart stopped when you saw the cream-colored paper in his grip. “Are you shitting me?” he boomed with a piercing glare. “You’re fucking leaving?” “Hold on, let me explain-” You stepped forward to capture his free hand but he yanked it away before contact could be made. “I don’t see anything that needs explaining.” Eddie’s eyes had never looked more ablaze. “This school is hundreds of miles away. What happened to our plan?” His nostrils flared and his jaw clenched as he boomed. “God, all you ever do is think about yourself. What about me, you’re just gonna leave me here?” Your red-rimmed eyes conveyed the harm done by the biting tone of his voice. “Why would you say something like that?” The blood in your veins began to boil and your face became feverish. “You don’t need to get so upset. We’re gonna make it work, we’ll talk on the phone every day and you’ll come to visit me during the holidays.” Eddie scoffed and crossed his arms with no regard for the letter being crumpled under his bicep. “You’ve convinced yourself it’ll be that easy, huh? You’ve lost your mind if you think being this far apart will be a piece of cake.” “I need to take this scholarship,” your eyes welled and your voice began to break. The defensiveness withered away with each word that you spoke. “This is a huge opportunity for me.” “I had no clue that you wanted to get outta here so damn bad.” Eddie’s voice dropped to a growl. “You weren’t even gonna tell me, were you?” You bunched the bottom of your shirt into your fist and squeezed so hard that your knuckle cracked. “I was going to but I was afraid of you reacting like this.” Eddie’s frown deepened. “Y’know what? I’ll make this easy for you then.” He crushed the letter into a ball and dropped it at your feet. “Since you’re doing what’s best for you, I’m gonna do what’s best for us.” Eddie stepped around you and stopped in the doorway. “We’re through. So uh- good luck with everything.”

In 103 seconds, the years you’d spent together were thrown to the wayside. You couldn’t wrap your head around how easily he threw in the towel at the mere proposal of attempting long distance. Apparently, you weren’t worth the trouble.

From thereon out, every waking moment was nothing short of hollow. For a week following the event, you stayed near the phone; but when it rang, it wasn’t him. You half-expected Eddie to show up with a teddy bear or a bouquet but he didn’t. Despite not being the one who ended things, the guilt picked at you like a vulture until your bones were clean. You didn’t mean for him to feel like you were putting your career before him.

Leaving the house was a rare occurrence given that you rarely got out of bed. Taking care of yourself wasn’t a priority. You were either eating too much or too little and the same went for your sleep pattern. Everything was in excess or deficit with no in-between. There were so many tear-soaked tissues on the floor around your bed that it looked like a gathering of white doves surrounding your place of blubbering. It was ironic, really. Doves are often seen as a symbol of tranquility and you felt anything but at peace.

Before then, you thought it was cliché when heartbreak was described as losing a part of yourself but you finally understood. Beneath the layers of blankets, you were splayed out as though your mattress was a sidewalk and you’d just plunged from the top floor of a skyscraper. Miraculously, you were alive but the impact left you broken in every way possible.

There were a few times that you picked up the receiver but you stopped yourself before dialing his number. Consequently, no contact was made for the two months leading up to your departure. In the fall of 1986, you left Hawkins and didn’t look back.

Being each other's first love, you and Eddie shared an irreplaceable bond. He was your reference point when it came to matters of the heart. In a world full of options and roads to take, you could’ve been anything but you wanted to be his again.

It took a while but you got back in the saddle. The mediocre dates outnumbered the satisfactory ones. You had a handful of boyfriends but none of the relationships got serious enough for you to meet their folks. You struggled to fully invest yourself even when they were the perfect gentleman who cared about you. They were nice but they weren’t Eddie.

You knew that you’d be okay someday. It took two years for the ball and chain to rust through entirely. While the ache may resurface from time to time, it has dwindled to a dull throbbing. Whenever the pain begins to swell, you remind yourself of how much you’ve achieved on your own. Hell, brushing off the hurt has gotten you this far.

Seeing Eddie canoodle Karie is driving you to question if you ever healed at all. Perhaps you merely fooled yourself into believing that you moved on. By the looks of it, Eddie is fulfilled being with her. You’re curious about what he remembers. Does he know your birthday or the color of your eyes? Has he forgotten the nickname that he called you so frequently that it made your real name sound unfitting?

With a subtle shake of your head, you concentrate on Scott, determined to divert your thoughts away from Eddie. As Scott continues his story of riding Vespas in Italy, you nod and grin, doing your best to feign interest and play it off as though you have been fully engaged this whole time. It’s difficult to fight the urge to sneak another glance at Eddie.

Despite your best efforts, your eyes betray you. They dart back in his direction. His curls, once a beloved characteristic, look soft and shiny. The chocolate coils cascade around his features like the delicate branches of a willow tree. Your mind conjures images of him carefully tending to them with care.

Eddie looks down at Karie and says something to her. In response, she kisses the hand of his that’s dangling off of her shoulder. Eddie and Karie's interaction, their seemingly effortless interaction, twists your guts like a saturated towel being wrung out until it’s bone dry. You wish she’d rip the look of contentment off of his face.

The overwhelming urge to avoid any potential encounter with Eddie intensifies. You don’t know what you’d say to him. As the pain of seeing Eddie persists, you use Scott as a lifeline to anchor yourself in the present. His animated gestures and stories offer an escape from the thoughts that threaten to consume you. He's going on about how your moms are still good friends and they started a book club together. As Scott mentions their current choice of reading material—a steamy romance novel—you can't help but feel a flicker of amusement at the wiggle of his eyebrows.

After your laughter dies down, Scott continues to ramble. His incessant words enter one ear and exit the other without leaving a trace. He’s like a chattering teeth toy that’s been wound up too tightly. You're acutely aware of Eddie’s proximity and it’s like an invisible weight on your chest. The mere thought of him conjures emotions you've been desperately trying to keep at bay. It's a delicate balance between acknowledging his existence and avoiding the sorrow that accompanies it.

The intro of "Heat of the Moment" fills the air, sending a jolt through your body. The song paints the picture of a time when it was your anthem, the soundtrack to your relationship with Eddie. But now it feels like a cruel twist of fate to hear it playing. As the thumping beat reverberates through the speakers and the lyrics echo around the room, it becomes harder to maintain your composure. You can’t remember the last time you heard it but it surely hadn’t hurt this much. In great need of space to collect yourself, you place your hand on top of Scott’s. The touch halts his self-absorbed rambling.  “Would you excuse me for a moment?”

Sensing your distress, he looks at you with concern and his self-centered demeanor fades. “Sure thing,” Scott nods before sparking up a conversation with the trio seated across from him.

You weave around clusters of people until you find yourself in a less populated area. The sound of chatter and laughter recede into the background as you approach a short table adorned with generic-looking tiger decorations that are undoubtedly meant for children’s parties. The three-tier stand has been picked over but there are a few remaining cupcakes that have H’s messily piped in orange frosting on top. Across the backside of the table is a tri-fold presentation board with photos taken by the yearbook staff stapled to it. Yet again, you look at the faces of people who didn’t give your existence much thought. While you look closely at the images, you don’t realize that you’re humming along to the song.

The two asshats conversing with Karie are as uninterested in Eddie as he is in them. Rather than actively engaging in the dialogue, he adopts a passive approach by making occasional sounds that mimic agreement. He’s trying to make this experience as painless as possible.

He’s in attendance against his will but he’d rather be here than to have Karie on his case about her feeling humiliated for attending by her lonesome. Unlike her, Eddie doesn't place a great deal of importance on his reputation or what others think of him. It's one aspect of his character that remains unchanged.

Eddie observes the lively scene unfolding before him. He watches as people mingle and sip generic brand punch from disposable cups. His line of sight sweeps the seating arrangements and he does a double take. It feels like an arrow spears his chest and his heart is the bullseye. “Apple,” He breathes out with his mouth narrowly agape. Apple of my eye.

As Eddie looks you over, he takes note of how your appearance looks effortful and your jewelry pairs perfectly with your outfit. The subtle differences that time has brought make him yearn to acquaint himself with them. The dark circles below your eyes defy the light layer of makeup that’s been applied to conceal them. Your hair, styled in a way that accentuates your features, beckons his fingers to play with it.

He marvels at you, his eyes tracing the contours of your form. Eddie knew that you wouldn’t look the same if he saw you again but your mature beauty is throwing him for a loop nevertheless.

You’re talking to someone. He looks familiar but Eddie isn’t sure who he is. Sam? Brett? Who the hell cares, what’s for certain is that this dude is a hunk. His shirt is immaculate, devoid of any wrinkles. His facial hair is precisely trimmed to create a sharp edge along his jaw. Eddie's hand instinctively glides over his scruff and he regrets not touching it up while getting ready.

Judging by the way you’re engaging with him, it’s plain to see that this guy is your boyfriend or maybe even your husband. But since when are you into the athletic type? Obviously, the man is mindful of the food he eats and has a consistent workout routine.

Eddie looks down at his bicep, which rests behind Karie's head, and a wave of insecurity washes over him. He convinces himself that he is not toned enough to meet your preferences. You used to love the slight pudge of his belly but you probably wouldn’t find his physique attractive anymore. Ever the hypocrite, Eddie grits his teeth when your hand grasps the man’s forearm. Your laugh cuts through the noise and sends a pang through Eddie’s core.

He feels selfish for wanting the meathead to kick you to the curb and leave you so heartbroken that you come crawling back to him. Eddie could save the day and treat you well like he always intended. Is this guy keeping you comfortable and ensuring that your needs are met? Does he spoil you with gifts and shower you with affection?

He hates that he hasn’t seen or made you smile like that in so long. He tried to forget how much he missed the little things. He can’t remember the way your perfume smelled but he reminisces about the way it used to fill him with light. It was invigorating to smell, touch, and taste you. You had a way of flooding Eddie’s senses that was borderline addicting. You were oxygen to him and you breathed him back to life when he felt deflated. Throughout the years, Eddie had been holding his breath as he navigated life without you. Finally, seeing you as beautiful as ever, he feels like he can breathe again.

He wonders how you’ve changed. Above all, he hopes that your infectious laugh, with its distinctive snort that he adored, hasn’t gone away. He’s itching to walk over but Eddie finds himself restrained by Karie. He feels a sense of restlessness from how badly he wants to engage with you.

Karie looks up at him and asks a question but he doesn’t comprehend what she says. Eddie clears his throat, “Yeah, that’s true.” He throws in a light chuckle and that sells it. She kisses the top of his hand and he feigns a grin at her affectionate gesture. The sensation of her lips pursed against his hand makes his skin crawl more than it usually does. Eddie imagines that they’re your lips instead. He knows that her gesture is for show. She’s not remotely this lovey-dovey behind closed doors. Karie is portraying the image of a stable relationship for people who could give a shit about her love life.

Eddie believes that you left Hawkins because you didn’t have faith in his third try at graduating. You left because he wasn’t good enough of a reason to stay. The argument you had flipped on the defense mechanism switch in his brain. It was a means of self-preservation and he protected himself in the only way he knew how. While this impulsive act may have prevented you from initiating the breakup somewhere along the line, it didn't diminish the pain of losing you.

When he got back to his trailer shortly after the fight, Eddie tore his bedroom apart to frantically collect any item that had anything to do with you. Within the jumbled mess of hair accessories and mismatching socks were the tangible reminders of your shared attachment—a skull ring you had given him on his previous birthday, folded notes, and Polaroids that were once lovingly taped to his mirror.

Eddie couldn’t bring himself to throw any of it away because it all meant so much to him. He simply couldn't bear to have any reminders of you lingering around. The keepsakes were dumped into a wilted shoebox and stuffed in the far back corner of the hallway closet. By stashing it away, Eddie was shielding himself from the sharp sting of abandonment that he feared would accompany their presence. He hoped that by removing the mementos, he could somehow free himself from the emotional burden that they carried.

Eddie may not have fit the mold of a traditional Prince Charming, but he regarded you as his princess in the imperfect fairytale that you lived in. Truthfully, he was flawed and so was the relationship. Some arguments started over trivial matters such as Eddie chewing with his mouth open after you asked him to stop countless times. There were instances that you reminded him politely but sometimes you were less than patient.

That’s one of your flaws that drove Eddie up the wall. It seemed that no matter what he did, there was a sense of dissatisfaction or criticism. Be that as it may, he accepted that it was part of the exchange. You hated shit that he did and he felt the same way toward your bad habits. No romance is without its trials and tribulations. The various points of conflict proved that love is not smooth sailing at all times. It requires effort, compromise, and understanding from both parties.

Occasionally, you would go to sleep mad at each other. When that was the case, Eddie insisted on saying “I love you” and exchanging a goodnight kiss. It didn’t matter if it was brief, on the cheek, or over the phone. He made certain that you never went to bed without a manifestation of his devotion. These acts of reassurance served as a testament to Eddie's refusal to let negative emotions overshadow the deep affection he held for you. Eddie ensured that you didn't spend the night in your respective bedrooms drowning in tears or overthinking every word that had been said in the heat of the moment. The first and only time he broke that commitment was the day he discovered the acceptance letter.

Despite not handling the situation well, Eddie wasn’t usually immature. He always listened intently when you spoke to him. He nodded and maintained eye contact to make certain that you knew he heard and supported you. One thing Eddie had to learn how to do was to stop giving unsolicited advice. It was a habit that stemmed from his discomfort with unresolved problems. It was challenging for him to refrain from trying to find solutions when handling a situation that seemed potentially fixable. However, Eddie gained awareness of his shortcoming when he realized that you stopped confiding in him about the girls who teased you in PE.

It was a love of such great intensity that many adults struggle to comprehend, let alone handle it if they are fortunate enough to find it.

After the season transitioned from crisp to bitter, Eddie went looking for a new way to keep himself warm. You were the only partner he’d had and he would’ve been content rolling around with you for the rest of his days. But you gave up on him, so he did whatever he had to in order to keep the loneliness away. To the best of his ability, Eddie avoided the memory of you by sidetracking himself with pretty faces. Engulfed in a string of one-night stands, he found himself desperately chasing the elusive feeling he experienced with you.

No rebound was going to help Eddie get over you. He realized that if he was going to live without you, he’d be miserable at best. Engaging in casual encounters did little to alleviate the emptiness within him. Instead, it merely provided a temporary surge of dopamine. This fleeting pleasure offered a brief distraction until he moved on to the next woman and endured yet another night without you.

Your lips left a watermark that couldn’t be washed away with time. Your touch was delicate as if you were scared he would shatter in your palms; but it wasn’t your touch that could break him, it was the loss of it. Eddie has been nothing short of broken since. You hold the key to the vulnerable part of his being. Behind a heart-shaped padlock lies his compassionate, goofy, and gentle side. A side that has remained locked away since you left.

Fortunately, Eddie earned his diploma on his third try after shedding blood, sweat, and tears. Regardless of his initial determination to leave Hawkins following graduation, Eddie didn’t take the leap. He realized that if he left, you would have no way of finding him. Despite the painful way things ended between you, he made a sacrifice, forfeiting the opportunity for a brighter future in the hopes that you might reappear in his life someday.

Sleeping around became tiresome so he reluctantly agreed to go on a blind date with Karie. It would be a stretch to say that he actively chose to continue seeing her. Following their dinner together, Karie became an unabating presence in his life, akin to a persistent house fly buzzing in his ear. She frequently called him, making her pursuit of him abundantly clear. Eddie found himself lacking the motivation to address and shut down her behavior, indifferent to the situation that unfolded.

At first, he was confused by her persistence because what would someone like her want to do with someone like him? She had run through all of the eligible bachelors in Hawkins, only to drive them away with her insufferable behavior, leaving Eddie as her last option. They’ve been on and off for so long that it’s merely routine at this point. He has no desire to try his luck dating other women. No matter how unhappy she makes him, it’s better than being alone. With Karie, the good times are okay at best. She has a tendency to instigate senseless arguments, seemingly for the sheer thrill of drama.

On top of that, the sex isn’t mind-blowing by any means, which hardly makes it worth it. For Eddie, it’s emotionless and strictly physical relief. He couldn’t get invested if he tried because of how controlling she is, inside and outside of the bedroom. When they’re in the car together he doesn’t get to tune the radio to the station that he likes. She dictates his plans and makes sure every moment of his free time is spent with her.

Eddie chose mistreatment over being lonely and longing for the girl he pushed away. Karie is a welcome distraction, albeit a toxic one, from what he really wants. Even if he could only be your pen pal or someone you get coffee with while you visit on occasion, he’d take the chance in a heartbeat. He’s bruised from years worth of kicking himself for letting you go.

Part of Eddie knew that you were unlikely to return to Hawkins, but he couldn't help but hold onto a glimmer of hope. Each year, he would check the phone book and search for any sign of you. It was wishful thinking but he couldn’t let go. On occasion, Eddie asked around town in the hopes of gathering any tidbits concerning your whereabouts or how you were doing. His inquiries yielded no substantial leads or insights that could provide a glimpse into your life.

Eddie wonders how much time passed before you moved on. He can't help but hope that you touched yourself to the thought of him, that you cried into your pillow pretending it was his chest instead. He hopes that hearing your song kept the memories from eroding.

The absence of your light cast a shadow over Eddie's days, leaving him immersed in a perpetual state of darkness. He found himself trapped in a world of thunder and gray skies, where the vibrant colors of life had faded to muted shades. At night, as he lay in bed, Eddie's thoughts would inevitably drift back to the way it felt to hold you in his arms.

It shouldn’t have been goodbye, it certainly didn’t have to be. The discovery of the letter hit Eddie like a punch to the gut. It was a farewell, one that would unfold gradually. He was confronted with the painful truth that people inevitably walk out of his life. It was an inevitable pattern, one he had encountered time and again. Friends had drifted away, relationships had crumbled, and now it seemed you that you too, were going to outgrow him.

As the years went by, Eddie thanked himself for holding onto the shoebox of keepsakes; it was all that he had left to cherish. You were god knows where doing god knows what. The only place Eddie could find you was in his dreams and in that box. The selfishness didn’t falter as the regret heightened. He crossed his fingers for your plans to go up in flames, for you to flunk your classes so that you would have no choice but to move back home. If by chance you did return, he intended to do everything in his power to show you how sorry he was.

Eddie zoned out while a cyclone of feelings tore up his ability to stay present with Karie under his arm. He’s been so caught up in his head that he’s practically vibrating. As if the universe has decided to spare him, “Heat Of The Moment” begins to blare from the speakers. Eddie’s eyes snap to your table but you’re nowhere to be seen. His panicked eyes scan the floor for the pair of legs that never failed to make him drool.

As if luck is on his side tonight, Karie’s voice cuts through the noise. “I need to use the ladies' room.”

“I’ll be here.” Eddie shrugs and watches Karie walk toward the restrooms. He spots you hurrying past a group of people. In this charged atmosphere, surrounded by the whispers of what could have been, Eddie has to make a decision. Is he going to take the leap and risk further heartache or let the moment slip away, forever wondering what might have been? Apparently, Eddie’s feet have a mind of their own because he’s going after you at a moment’s notice.

His scuffed sneakers squeak against the polished floor as he weaves with determination coursing through his veins. Eddie mutters, “Excuse me,” when he bumps into someone but he doesn’t stop moving until he finds you checking out the snack table display. As he steps closer, he gets déjà vu from being drawn to you the same way he was the first time he noticed you.

On a gloomy Friday in September during sophomore year, Eddie was in U.S. history when he was hit with inspiration. Ideas for a campaign flickered in his mind and he needed to capture them before they slipped away. While he scribbled, Eddie momentarily tuned out the ongoing presentation that was being delivered by his classmate. He was fully immersed in the realm of his imagination as he jotted down strategies and visual concepts.

Not long after his pencil hit the paper, Eddie felt a tap on his shoulder. Looking up, he saw Mr. Gatlin standing beside him with disapproval stamped on his face. Eddie tried to explain that he was taking notes for his own project, hoping to avoid any consequences. Mr. Gatlin was unconvinced and wrote him a detention slip.

In the designated classroom for the disciplinary measure were three other students who, like him, were slouched at their desks. Eddie kept himself busy by filling out the form that he needed to submit to start a new club. The blank space on the paper seemed to mock him, taunting his inability to come up with a clever club name. As Eddie's thoughts swirled around, he was abruptly brought back to reality by the sound of your voice softly greeting the teacher. With a lifted gaze, Eddie watched how you interacted with her, offering a respectful salutation instead of presenting a dismissive attitude like the average disgruntled student would.

His eyes traced the contours of your profile while you settled into a desk near the door. He couldn’t recall seeing you around, you seemed detached from any particular social clique. Eddie could tell that you didn't dress to conform or uphold a particular image. There was a refreshing authenticity about you. It was clear to him that you weren't shy. Rather, you preferred to avoid unnecessary attention.

It was as if a dormant part of him had suddenly awakened and the self-consciousness gnawed at him. His hair, which he had been growing out, was at an awkward length as it fell just above his earlobes. He frowned at his reflection in the nearby window, noticing the acne that bespeckled his complexion. He examined his shirt for any visible signs of wear and tear. The insecurities crept in, making him question whether his appearance was enough to catch your eye.

Eddie spent the entire hour utterly captivated by how cute you were. As the teacher announced dismissal and you gathered your belongings, his heart sank. He had the chance to make a move but his nerves got the best of him and he was rooted to his seat. The desire to go after you to introduce himself tugged at him. Eddie was stuck on all the reasons why he shouldn't. What if you didn't want to be approached? What if you had somewhere to be or you weren't interested in getting to know someone new? He berated himself for letting his insecurities hold him back.

That following Monday, Eddie was tardy to fifth-period study hall and when he lifted his eyes from his shuffling feet, his heart leaped in his chest. There you were in the far back corner of the classroom. As it turns out, you’d been in his class the entire semester. The teacher asked Eddie to take a seat. He swore under his breath and smoothed down his frizzy hair while he sauntered over to the available desk beside yours.

Eddie settled and a creak resonated through the otherwise silent classroom. You remained in your own world, engrossed in the act of doodling. He respected the reminder from the teacher to maintain silence, understanding that this was not the opportune time to introduce himself.

He stole glances at your notebook, intrigued by the abstract shapes and lines that decorated the page. They held a certain allure, a reflection of the intricacies of your mind. It was as though he was stepping into your dimension, one where vulnerability and creativity intertwined. Eddie felt a connection with you. He understood that sometimes, amidst the pressures and expectations of daily life, it was important to allow yourself to breathe and simply be. At the end of class, Eddie once again watched you gather your things and leave. Instead of being hard on himself for letting you go once more, he became eager.

The next morning, Eddie got out of bed early to spend more time on his appearance. He aimed to look and smell his best because he was finally going to put himself out there. Bouncing through his day with a spring in his step, Eddie made his way to the classroom. As he settled in the desk next to you, he intentionally made more noise than necessary. He rummaged through his backpack and shuffled the contents but you didn’t pay him any mind.

As Eddie tore a sheet of paper from his notebook, the sound echoed through the classroom, drawing disapproving glances from your classmates. With his slightly chewed-up number two pencil, Eddie wrote a message on the first line. He held his breath as he slid the sheet onto your Trapper Keeper. For a few heart-pounding seconds, everything else seemed to fade into the background. He had yet to exhale, watching as you picked up the note and read Eddie’s messy penmanship.

The furrow in your brow softened. In that instant, the ice that surrounded you began to melt. The brief moment of eye contact felt electrically charged. He swam in the hue of your irises as he looked past your initially withdrawn disposition. When your toothy smile took shape, it tugged on his heart. To him, you were more than just a pretty girl; you welcomed him with open arms, free of repulsion or fear.

The minutes ticked away while the paper was passed between you like a messenger. It was a blank canvas transformed into a heavily graffitied wall. High school had been nothing short of cruel to him so far, so he needed a friend. When the bell rang, Eddie folded the paper and tucked it away into his backpack where it would be safe. From thereon out, a mute dance evolved between the two of you on a daily basis. The restrictions of the no-talking rule seemed inconsequential as you found other ways to communicate, transcending the need for talking.

In times of solitude and introspection, Eddie has sought solace in those pages. Like a worn-out book, he knows them by heart, having reread them countless times. Whenever he opens that shoebox and unfolds those precious notes, he’s transported back to the time when his life was in technicolor. They became more than ink on a page. Each word, each scribble, carried the significance of your history.

It’s quieter by the snack table. The closer Eddie gets to you, the wetter his shirt feels. His palms begin to tremble as the adrenaline in his system kicks up. The sensation feels eerily similar to the pre-show jitters he used to get back in the day when he and his bandmates would take the stage at The Hideout. Eddie takes another step and now he can hear that you're quietly singing along to the song. He can’t stop himself from singing with you.

As his familiar voice reaches your ears, a mix of emotions well up within you, causing a lump to form in your throat. With a quick intake of breath, you turn around and put on a mask of surprise as if you hadn't been staring at him with his girlfriend. “Eddie!”

“Hey, you.” He purrs, casually holding his arms open. He wishes he’d taken a second to rehearse what he was going to open with but there’s no going back now.

At first, you’re rigid when he goes in for a hug. But once his hands find your waist, you instinctively wrap your arms around his neck. Eddie's embrace tightens, lifting you slightly off the ground. Being lifted onto your tippy toes ignites a playful giggle and you bury your face in his silky curls. His chuckle rattles against your chest, the sound creating a soothing vibration that rolls deep within you. You nuzzle up to him as you melt. Being wrapped in each other's arms feels like a balm for the wounds of the past.

Eddie is a little too high to be on his best behavior. Your natural scent evokes a sense of nostalgia and comfort. The fragrance of your perfume adds a layer to the intoxicating mix, its fresh and mature notes entice him. Your bodies feel different pressed together but just like puzzle pieces, they only fit with their corresponding piece. Being chest to chest, your hearts dare to relink.

He guides your feet back to the floor and loosens his grip, splaying his palms flat on the small of your back. When your eyes meet, you feel like you’re anywhere but in the musty gym. You don’t miss the way his gaze flickers down to your lips and you can’t help but do the same.

“Edward,” Karie says loudly, her voice laced with possessiveness as if she’s his mother.

Promptly pulled out of his lustful trance, Eddie releases you and steps back. A rough clearing of his throat breaks the stillness. He turns to face Karie and consciously composes himself by donning an innocent expression, aiming to hide the intensity of what just transpired. “Yeah, babe?” The pet name tastes sour as it rolls off of his tongue.

Karie loops her left arm around his right one and tugs him close. “Who’s this?” She doesn’t blink once while she looks you over from head to toe.

You nearly scoff because you refuse to believe that she doesn’t remember you. The audacity to pretend that she doesn’t know you were his girlfriend for four years. You can see right through her poised and cordial exterior. She’s intimidated because she knows how much you meant to him, and you’re not wrong about that. One day, Karie was being nosey and snooped around Eddie’s trailer while he was outside tinkering under the hood of her car. The desire to uncover any hidden secrets of his past compelled her to dig deeper, disregarding any boundaries of privacy. She came across the stash underneath his bed, nearly camouflaged by dirty clothes and junk food wrappers. The shoebox, once a privately kept capsule of young love, laid open before Karie. She knew exactly what she’d found.

Before Eddie can give a proper introduction, you outstretch your hand to her and do it yourself to see how long she’ll play dumb. You refuse to let Karie's facade deceive you, remaining steadfast in that she’s well aware of the impact you’ve had on his life.

Eddie scratches the back of his neck and stares down at the floor while Karie repeats your name as if it tastes familiar but she can’t quite place it. She’s drawing out her performance but Eddie hasn’t picked up on it in the slightest. He isn’t any good at detecting subtlety. When you were together, he had to be told how you were feeling because he’s “not a mind reader.” Poor thing, he truly thinks that Karie has no idea who you are.

Her burgundy-painted lips curl inauthentically, revealing her somewhat crooked teeth. “Oh! We had algebra together, right?”

You let out a sound that resembles amusement, though the irritability with her bitchiness is evident. “No. American Literature, actually.”

She considers arguing that you’re the one who’s misremembering but Eddie pipes up before she has the chance. “Would either of you ladies like some punch?”

Karie says “No,” without taking her eyes off of you.

From the heat of her stare, the moisture in your mouth has evaporated. You meet Eddie’s gaze and grin warmly. “Sure, I could go for some.”

He leans in and winks, “Want me to spike it?”

You giggle and nod in reply. Eddie shoots you with finger guns and then walks away to the nearby table that houses the beverages. In his absence, it becomes apparent how much he was buffering the tension. It skyrockets and Karie’s glare is unwavering. Regardless of how uncomfortable she’s making you, you offer her pleasantness to glower at. “Well, it looks like you’ve been taking care of yourself.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She snarls while folding her arms across her chest.

Thankfully, Eddie returns with the two cups of fruit punch and he hands them both to you. You hold them steadily as Eddie pulls a small flask from his sneaker. With practiced precision, Eddie adds a dash of the mystery liquor to one of the cups, while the other receives a more generous pour of two shots' worth. Oblivious to Karie's scoff and eye roll, Eddie remains focused on his task, unaware of the disapproval emanating from her.

Eddie takes the stronger cup and taps the lip of it against your own. “Cheers,” He grins before chugging the entirety of the concoction.

You take a small sip and watch as the flushed sunset crawls across Eddie’s neck. As you go to take another sip, Eddie gently lifts the bottom of your cup to encourage you to swig instead. Your eyebrows lift in surprise but you do what he wishes while he smiles goofily at you.

Now that you’ve swallowed enough to really taste it, you can tell that his palette has evolved. The bitter scald sends a shiver down your spine and you squeeze your eyes closed. A cough bubbles from your throat, bringing the earthy pine flavor back up with it. Eddie pats your back through your coughing fit as if it’ll help but he knows it won’t. It’s simply an excuse to touch you.

“Thanks,” You clear your throat. “That’s some strong stuff, pretty different from your Blue Ribbon days.” Back then, Eddie swore that Pabst’s Blue Ribbon Beer was the nectar of the gods and he vowed to drink it to his grave. Eyeballing the remainder of the tainted punch in your cup, you try to think about anything other than how awful the aftertaste is.

 “Y’know, that’s forty-five dollar gin you’re choking on.” 

Your eyes widen slightly. “Woah, big spender over here.” Without thinking, you poke at his belly, sharing a laugh while the liquor warms both of you at your cores.

Unbeknownst to Eddie, Karie is seething beneath her carefully curated surface. She taps her foot and looks around the room with her arms still crossed. Though she has been listening to your conversation, Karie has chosen not to participate. She perceives herself as being above Eddie's antics. But there's an underlying fear that lingers; she recognizes the depth of the bond that you have with him and she‘s threatened by it.

You’re getting a rise out of her by entertaining his spontaneity and it’s rather satisfying. The steam blowing out of her ears is just below Eddie’s emotional awareness radar. When your eyes meet hers, a nonverbal conversation ensues.

What the fuck is your problem, lady?

I don’t like you and he’s mine, so don’t even think about it.

Meanwhile, Eddie is bobbing his head to the music while the combination of substances takes him up into the clouds. Your focus is brought back to him when he resumes the conversation. “What about you? What’ve you been wetting your whistle with?” He continues to ignore Karie and neglects to include her. “Are you more of a chardonnay or champagne girl?” Eddie’s brows scrunch together. “Wait, what’s the difference?”

You giggle at his genuine puzzlement and it makes his breath quake. There’s something about the way you beam so dazzlingly while he’s making a fool of himself. Except, he saw you smile similarly at your boyfriend. Eddie can feel his temper ignite at the thought alone but that’s not the only source of heat. He’s drawn to you like a moth to a flame, unable to resist the pull of your radiance. Yet, he’s aware of the potential burn and consequences that may arise from getting too close.

Karie is tired of watching the spotlight be on you. She nudges Eddie and he grudgingly acknowledges her. “I’m going to go catch up with the Reynen twins.” At last, Karie has given up on doing her best to intimidate you.

“Tell them I say ‘hi,’ I guess.” Eddie’s mouth forms a straight line and he shoves his hands into his front pockets. When he looks back at you, joy returns to his face. Partially due to the buzz overtaking his nerves and because the wicked witch is gone. A silence hangs in the air while he thinks, God, she looks fucking incredible, but he forgets to say anything.

Your eyes land on the familiar necklace peeking out from beneath Eddie's dress shirt. The guitar pick dangles there, a symbol of his lifelong enthusiasm for music. “I’m glad to see you still play.”

Eddie sucks his teeth and flips the guitar pick between his fingers. “Uh- yeah, not so much anymore.”

“What, why not? You used to play every day.”

“I know.” Eddie murmurs, "Just been busy, y'know?" He’s making a feeble attempt to cloak the depth of his emotions. The timeline he recalls was the turning point when his love for playing began to wane.

Not only did Eddie lose his first love but you were his muse as well. After the split, music didn’t feel or sound the same. Sure, he listened to his favorite albums but to this day, playing feels meaningless. He tries picking up his Warlock on occasion but he never gets past strumming a chord before he gets too heavy-hearted and puts it back in its case.

Losing you immediately caused a rift between him and the other members of Corroded Coffin. Their disbandment was swift due to the altered dynamic. There was no passion and he had completely given up. As cold as it was for his bandmates to reciprocate his hostility, he did nothing to preserve his tight-knit friendships with them. Eddie had already lost the most important thing in the world to him and losing his buddies wasn’t going to hurt more than that.

“That’s a shame, you were so talented.” You shift your weight between the balls of your feet with a blend of shock and disappointment on your face. Feeling that this is probably the moment you should walk away, you muster the courage to give parting words. "It's been fun catching up, but I should get going." Your voice carries a tinge of sadness.

“Wait! I was thinking, uh- do you wanna go to The Hideout?” He licks his lips. “Like old times?” Eddie’s chocolate saucers search your eyes while twists the ring below his middle knuckle. “I’d love to hear about what you’ve been up to.” Eddie is terrified that you’re about to slip through his fingers because this is his chance; this is what he’s been waiting for.

You bite the inside of your cheek at his pleading expression. “Are you sure? What’ll the missus think of that?”

Eddie dismisses your concern by blowing a raspberry with his tingling lips. “Pfft, I’m a grown-ass man. I can do whatever I want.”

“I don’t know,” Your mouth goes dry again at the thought of revisiting the watering hole that holds innumerable memories. It becomes impossibly difficult to deny him as his eyes reflect the light.

“C’mon, let me buy you a drink,” He pouts.

You close your eyes and mull it over for a moment. The sound of Eddie anxiously tapping his knuckles together is enough to convince you. “Okay, fine.”

”That’s what I'm talking about!” he pumps his fists but then he pauses. “What about your beau?” Eddie motions to Scott who is still conversing at the table that you were previously sitting at. Buff blondie seems to have forgotten about your return.

You look between Scott and Eddie. “I’m here by myself.”

As much as he tries, Eddie fails to fight the cheek-aching smile that forms. His heart is thrumming so hard that he wouldn’t be able to stop it from bursting through his ribs if it went flying. “My mistake.” Eddie pulls his car keys from his back pocket and spins them around his index finger. “Wanna ride with me?”

Your mouth opens but instead of words, a squeak of agreement is all that comes out. You turn to walk toward the exit and without missing a beat, Eddie instinctively moves to your side, matching your stride as you make your way toward the exit. His smile is so deeply engraved on his face that he’s going to need to ice his cheeks later.

On your way out of The Hideout, Eddie holds the heavy metal door open for you. The clouds had opened up while you were inside and they’ve left the air dense with the scent of fresh rain. It mingles with the aroma of tobacco smoke drifting from the bar's door. In the street, puddles form small mirrors that reflect the pearlescent moon above.

You delved into conversation with ease and traded stories of the lives you’ve led since your last encounter. Tales of success and misfortune spilled forth, weaving your individual journeys into a tapestry of shared experiences. The interaction was a dance of subtlety, an unspoken agreement to move at a pace dictated by each other’s ever-growing willingness to explore. A brush of fingertips here, a gentle touch on the arm there—small gestures laden with hope.

Cars roll through flooded potholes and splash the curb with a wave of pavement fragments. The mist hanging in the air makes the streetlamps and neon signs glow. Eddie leans against the dampened brick and you echo his position, standing shoulder to shoulder. You frown when Eddie pulls a stray cigarette out of his breast pocket and balances it between his lips. “I kinda hoped you’d have quit.”

“I did for the most part.” He mumbles. As Eddie lights his cigarette, a wisp of smoke swirls lazily from the tip, blending with the haze of the earlier downpour. After taking a long drag and smoothly releasing, he looks at you. “I really only smoke when I’ve got a lot on my mind.” On the come down from his weed high, he’s combining nicotine and alcohol to combat the intense feelings of attraction stirring within him. It’s occurring to him that this night is coming to an end.

Eddie looks like he’s battling to stay in the present while actively seeping away. For a moment, you listen to the water drizzling off of the tattered awning and hitting the ground. Music escapes through the door as patrons go in and out of the bar. “So… Karie West, huh? How long have you two-”

“Don’t do that.” Eddie bites off the end of your sentence.

You turn to face him fully. “Don’t do what?”

Eddie huffs and flicks his cigarette. “Don’t bring her up. She’s the last thing I wanna talk about.”

“Okay,” You sigh barely above a whisper and glance away. The sting in your chest shoots to your fingertips at his sharp tone, not unlike the one he used that fateful day.

Eddie takes a shorter drag but holds it this time. He allows it to char the inside of his lungs before exhaling the plume of smoke. The events of the evening are rippling through his mind, the conversations and laughter seamlessly melding with the good memories he’s held onto. “I was gonna propose to you.” He states very matter-of-factly as if that isn’t a huge bomb to drop on you. 

“Nu-uh.” You blink rapidly in utter disbelief.

“Yeah huh. I carried the ring box on me for like three weeks.” At this point, he can’t tell what’s what. Either his emotions are so strong that he can’t feel his toes or the booze, nicotine, and traces of weed are causing him to short-circuit. “But then I found out about-” Eddie stops himself, unwilling to relive it out loud. He flicks his cigarette and brings it back to his mouth.

“Wow,” There’s that stabbing sensation in your chest that you know all to well. Tears flood your vision because what could’ve been seems better than the life you wound up living without him. Due to the way you’re dodging his eye contact, he fails to see how glassy your eyes have become. You sniffle, your nose reacting to the drop in temperature and your emotions running high. The weight of disappointment settles heavily as you grapple with his statement. “Did you give it to her instead?”

Eddie tosses his cigarette to the pavement and stomps it out. “Fuck no,” His laughter is accompanied by a shake of his head as he entertains the absurdity of the notion. The very idea of such a fate makes his stomach churn; the mere thought could induce physical sickness. “Not a chance in hell.”

“Then why are you with her?” You wish you hadn’t blurted it out, but if he’s so miserable then why does he stick around? Considering what you went through, you know damn well that Eddie isn’t afraid to leave when something no longer serves him.

He adjusts his back against the wall which causes the change in his wallet to jingle. “It’s complicated.”

Your persistence to know the truth causes the tears to spill over your waterline and drag streaks of mascara down your face. “Do you love her? Is that why?” 

Looking into your eyes right now brings him right back to that day and he’s watching you shatter all over again. “Absolutely not.” The insecurity in your tone is obvious enough that Eddie picks up on it. He loses his train of thought in knowing that there must be a reason behind you asking that particular question. Eddie looks down before meeting your gaze again.

“D-Did you love me?” You nibble your bottom lip and watch the way his expression softens. At the time, it felt like he did but with all of the overthinking you’ve done, your view of the past has been distorted.

He can’t tell if he’s breathing right now, you look so beautiful with the streetlight reflections turning your tears into gems. “Did I love you?” Eddie chokes out, “Of course I did. I never stopped.”

Your lips part a sliver as your brain begs for more oxygen to cope. To soothe yourself, you begin picking at your cuticles but you can hardly feel the pinch.

“You were everything to me.” As Eddie steps closer, his scent overtakes you. His hand trembles as he swipes at your dampened cheeks. “I couldn't stop thinking about you,” he whispers, “Every day, every night, you were constantly on my mind.”

You’re frozen in place, fidgeting ceased as you stare back. You gulp at the way his hair flies behind him in the brisk twilight gust. Eddie takes your hands and the heat of his warms your own. A sense of intimacy flows through you, interlacing the past and present. “I thought about you too.” You look down at your joined hands, watching his fingers rekindle their connection with yours after so many years apart. 

You trace the lines of his palms with your fingertips. It's as if your hands remember each other, relearning the contours and textures that were once so familiar. Eddie's eyes remain fixed on you, his gaze dripping with tenderness and longing. He guides your hands to rest on his collarbones and you can feel the strength of his body through his shirt. He gently caresses your ribs and slides his hands down to your waist. You respond eagerly by stepping closer and your navels touch.

His bated breaths mirror yours, both of you caught up in how it’s as if the universe has conspired to bring you back together. Eddie can’t bear the distance much longer. He rests his forehead against yours and it creates a bridge between your souls. You share the air, recycling each other’s breaths. The hovering of his lips causes your heart to pound against your ribs. But as his lips draw closer, you find yourself compelled to stop him. “Wait.”

Eddie pulls back ever so slightly to provide space for your voice to be heard. He can tell exactly what you’re thinking. “I don’t want her, I want you.”

You look away, feeling conflicted. Eddie guides your chin back to his and he strokes your cheekbone with the pad of his thumb. Meanwhile, his other hand applies comforting pressure to your hip. He studies your face while you lean into his touch. “I need you, Apple. I don’t wanna lose you again.”

His mind begins to race when he’s met with nothing in response, fearing that exposing his heart to you isn’t enough. After his words have soaked in, Eddie notices the shift in your expression, and relief rids him of the fear of being rejected.

“You won’t,” You hum and breathe as deeply as you can.

Both of your eyes fall closed and your lips brush with hesitance. It’s you who caves first; your lips interlock, pillowy soft, and sweet with a boozy burn. The kiss breaks. Both of your chests heave and your eyes remain closed. The briefness has you weak in the knees but your hold on his shoulder has tightened to keep you upright. Eddie tugs you impossibly closer and kisses you like it’s the last time he’ll ever get to. He has to make this count.

A groan rumbles in the back of his throat and his nose presses into the plush of your cheek as he deepens the kiss. It’s both a declaration and an apology, conveying everything that should’ve been said a long time ago. Your movements are slow, intentional, and the definition of pure bliss. There’s no rush or urgency, just the desire to savor each other. Your hands find their way to the nape of his neck and your fingers gently entangle themselves where they belong. The nine-year gap between the last kiss and this one evaporates.

When you pull away to catch your breaths, aching smiles overtake your features. On the day of the fight, you saw nothing but indignation in his eyes. And now, all that you see is the promise of forever.

Reblogs are greatly encouraged and appreciated! ♡

★My Masterlist

★Ko-fi ♡

tags: @tlclick73 @nj01

[butchsophiewalten]

there has been ANOTHER kyle-martin twitter space and i missed all of it :( do you happen to have any info on what was in there??

I was there the whole time! But because this wasn't a Q&A style space like the one from last week, I didn't take as many notes. A lot of it was just Kyle and Martin talking about their own personal interests and life anecdotes, which I found really interesting and enjoyed listening to, but felt uncomfortable writing down as like, Walten Files News, y'know? A lot of it was pretty candid and personal, not really something I want to be sharing as a Series Fun Fact.

The stuff I did jot down is pretty sparse, but here it is anyway:

-Martin mentions that he's actively working on a scene involving Rosemary while he's in the space. He talks about how he saved a lot of the Rosemary stuff for last, because he's excited to work on it.

-Martin says "No, I love the fans but I don't trust them with fucking Jack and Felix plushies". Kyle mentions an anecdote about how Martin didn't want to make human plushies because he didn't want people tormenting the Felix one.

-They spoke a lot in very vague terms about scenes in TWF4. Many distinct times of someone going "Hey, you know the thing about This scene? Hold on, I'll DM it to you" as a launching point for a different conversation, with few or no additional details about the scene in question. Late in the stream Martin mentions finding it funny to imagine the twitter space audience trying to 'peek into the room' to see what they're talking about, like a kid trying to peek at their Christmas presents.

-Martin talks about a scene in TWF4 which is inspired by a real nightmare he had that woke him up in a cold sweat.

-They mention how Showbear was retconned, and Martin talks about how the role Showbear was going to fill in the series has been broken up and split between two separate characters who supersede him, one of which is another white bear named "Mr. Snow".

-Martin talks for a bit about storytelling techniques he's learned from his favorite media/artwork. He brings up Better Call Saul a lot here, speaking mostly about the things it's taught him in the way of subtlety in storytelling and characterization, and how it's often much more effective to convey something in few words than to over-explain it in the hopes of absolute clarity.

-Martin mentions that when he inevitably has to recast Felix, he is not going to open auditions for him, he's going to hand-pick the VA himself, and it's most likely going to be someone he's already worked with or someone he knows through someone he's already worked with. He says that his concern is less to find someone who can emulate Coker's Felix voice, and more to find someone he thinks is most appropriate for the character.

-On the topic of Felix, Kyle brings up a vision he has in his mind of a post-crash Felix leaving Brighton for years, and coming back having gained a lot of weight and otherwise in a significantly poor state. Martin says that it's actually true that Felix gains some weight later in his life. (The implication here I imagine being that 1982 Felix is heavier than 1974 Felix was.)

-There's a pretty long conversation here about a fear Martin has of a specific scene in TWF4 starting a Fandom Ship that he really doesn't want to exist, and on the topic Kyle brings up the first random Terrible Walten Files Ship Idea he can think of, and lands on Jack and Susan. Martin has a very visceral reaction of disgust.

-Martin then starts talking about how he hasn't really fleshed out an idea for what Susan and Jack's relationship is like, but he thinks it'd be fun if they teamed up to scare people, since they're both pretty tall and intimidating.

-Martin ends the stream saying that he didn't finish the Rosemary scene he was working on, but that he's tired and wants to go to bed. He also goes "FUCK Rosemary Walten, man, why does she have so many fucking scenes."

[dustbunsinspace]

So I know there’s probably not that many interested in this, and I really wonder if I should just make a separate blog for the AU related things, but here’s a little about the relationship between Karasu Tengu and Yui’s auntie 🐦‍⬛🐇 in my Chronicles / Rise au (Once in a Blue Moon)

The description in under the cut 🧡✨ (Sorry if some of it might be worded weirdly, English is not my first language. Feel free to correct me).

Miyamoto Kana was a second in line, rebel-child of the family. Inspired by tales of her ancestor’s adventures, she spent most of her time and money travelling and getting into trouble. In her late 30s she got herself attacked while trespassing on a yokai forest and that’s when she met its guardian- Karasu, the Tengu of Justice, that for many centuries has been keeping an eye on the forest and the mystic portal hidden inside it. In the past, once their world became more and more hostile towards the yokai, Karasu used to use said portal to send some of the yokai to the once sparsely populated human world (if they passed her judgement). Karasu, who’ve met Miyamoto Usagi during the Tengu War, once she learns of Kana’s ancestry, allows her to briefly stay in exchange for stories from her travels. The brief stay gets a little longer as Kana has apparently A LOT to say, and she eventually learns Karasu hasn’t left her forest in hundreds of years. She also learns that the portal she’s protecting, opens only for a few weeks, every six years (when the Blue Moon appears) and starts convincing Kara to leave for a little while and join her in her travels.

And that’s basically how they become friends. Karasu shape-shifts into a less threatening form (and sometimes takes a shape of a tall, black hare, that still stands out a lot), and travel together whenever Karasu isnt watching the portal, and they grow closer for years.

Until one year Kana decides she’s kind of tired of having no home of her own (her family home hasn’t been that for a loong time) and asks Karasu to build a dojo with her, just outside her forest. She wants to take in a few kids with nowhere to go and help them get a good start in life. So they do that. The trouble is, they have vastly different idea of how to raise them. Karasu’s insistent on training them so they can help her take care of unruly yokai, giving them a good purpose and respect from the local people. Kana thinks that makes them no better than Neko Ninja- stealing kids to train them into soldiers.

So they fall apart. They find kids new homes, Kana moves out far away and settles on a little farm, and Karasu stays in her forest, still keeping the dojo intact.

(They do see each other every once in a while and eventually become kind of friends again, but it’s really not often. But when Hana’s niece is stuck in a locked-down city, she calls Karasu to help her. But that’s kind of another story : D (a sad one, but it has cute baby Yui in it, so it’s not so bad. I have seperate little comics for it, so it’ll have to wait).

[mysticstarlightduck]

Song of Thorns - WIP Intro/WIP Wednesday

Jumping on the OPEN TAG by @little-peril-stories (here), and @kaylinalexanderbooks tag (here) because I was really inspired and wanted to give it a try! I tried to give my twist on the same format, because it was really cool!

(Also, I had been wanting an excuse to do an actual intro for this WIP for a while now, even though it's not my main one and is a much smaller side project lol)

By the way, if you like this, please reblog, it helps a lot 💕

Rules: Pick a WIP. Post something about it. On a Wednesday. Or whenever! It can be literally anything! (:

WIP INTRO - SONG OF THORNS

Title: Song of Thorns

Genre: High Fantasy/Dark Fairytale

Tags: #wip song of thorns #song of thorns

Synopsis/What Is It About?

Roselyn, a teenage girl from a backwater fishing village on the edge of the continent, moves to the kingdom's floating capital with her siblings - Jasen, her older brother and a brilliant aspiring sorcerer, and their 12-year-old younger sister, Portia - after Jasen gets a prestigious apprenticeship in the mystical city.

However, after a while, it becomes apparent that something is not what it seems in the city of legend. In fact, something is very wrong. When Jasen mysteriously disappears without a trace, trying to find out what happened reveals the true facet of the up-til-then-welcoming nobility, and gets her falsely accused of treason.

Sentenced to death for reasons she cannot understand, Roselyn finds her second chance when the royal family's youngest prince, the nephew of the King, sets her free in the middle of the night with a proposal - helping him stop the full extent of his family's schemes and save the city before it is too late.

With the help of the now-exiled prince and a couple other outcasts, Roselyn will expose the city's corruption and save her brother before it is too late. All the while she starts falling in love with the charming though lonely thief (Renn) who has stolen her heart. But with strange forces being tampered with and magic swiftly changing, time is slipping away disturbingly fast.

Tropes and Nice Stuff! (Or, a.k.a. What you can expect in this book!)

Friends to Lovers! (Renn x Roselyn, Prince Alaric x Jasen)

Eldritch horror, dark fantasy, and blood magic. The royals are basically fantasy mad scientists and it gets complicated...

The perfect city has some really fucked up secrets that nobody was supposed to find out. Ever.

Epic heists (or as I like to call it: these fools doing absolutely everything wrong but failing successfully)

Fantasy creatures, enchanted forests, a derpy giant talking cat. You name it! There are loads of peaceful sea monsters too, and some very dangerous creatures I've invented as well!

Sad, absolutely heartbreaking scenes and some goofy, silly scenes!

Goth thief who is actually very nerdy and not at all brooding.

An aro/ace druid's apprentice! A bit unhinged and admittedly clueless about the world outside, but the sweetest character ever"

An actually Good Stepmother! (Subversion of the Wicked Stepmother trope)

Enemies to Friends (that's a spoiler!)

A villain who may act childish but is actually not stupid at all and is the most threatening MF you'll ever meet

Whump! (Potentially)

Medieval/Renaissance period with a touch of Fantasy Science

A soft magic system

Siblings, family bonds, and intrigue!

Sometimes the villains kinda win and it is scary (but don't worry the heroes find a way to fight another day so it's not all doom and gloom, almost, but not.)

And more!💕

Meet The Main Cast! (The good guys)

Roselyn Lethia

A curious and opinionated teenager, Roselyn finds herself dragged into a net of intrigue, lies, and bloodied secrets after her beloved older brother suddenly goes missing without a trace, and the kingdom tries to convince her he never existed. She is kind, brave, and determined, though she can sometimes take on more than she can realistically handle, and needs to rely solely on her book-earned wits and sparse fighting skills to get through her fears. Her greatest motive is keeping her loved ones safe, but she also, deep down, yearns for some adventuring.

Prince Alaric of the Hyghsummit

Naive and slightly arrogant without realizing it, Alaric is the youngest prince of the reigning royal family. He is the nephew of the King and was largely raised by his stepmother Catallinah, a motherly but no-nonsense woman trapped in an arranged marriage to his uncle after the death of her husband, Alaric's father. Most of his other relatives from his large family consider him a weak link and most don't even bother with him at all - but Alaric is much more than the capital's "failed prince". He is a brilliant and well-read young man who has spent most of his time honing his abilities to bring down the lies of his corrupted family. He falls in love with Jasen, who became his friend after the latter started working as an apprentice to the court's High Sorcerer.

Renn Atrius

A foreign noble from beyond the royal lands, he was forced into the lifestyle of a thief from a young age, after being orphaned when his father was murdered for refusing to obey their neighboring kingdom's crown. Learning the art of disappearing into the night and taking valuables from the land that took everything from him and colonized his nation, Renn quickly became quite the nuisance for the King. But thankfully to his connection to raw blood magic, his slight vampiric abilities ensure no human soldier ever proves a real threat to him. He starts to fall in love with Roselyn, having become friends with her after trying to steal her coin purse (having mistaken her for a tourist from the capital).

Jasen Lethia

Roselyn's older brother, Jasen is a brilliant and highly ambitious student of the arcane arts. Their home village never provided much chances for his studies, but he kept practicing until he was good enough to earn a highly prestigious apprenticeship at the capital's Evocation Order. He is pragmatic, soft-spoken, and painstakingly patient, and though his studies are important to him, raising his sisters has been his top priority since their parents were killed in a bandit raid to their village when he was twelve, especially because their grandmother was too frail to really do much to raise them when she was alive. Jasen becomes close friends with Prince Alaric, who is around his age, though Jasen dismisses his own personal romantic feelings, believing that he would never be deemed worthy to love a noble and saying anything would only ruin their friendship, when in fact Alaric feels the same. Jasen went missing after discovering the truth about the King by accident.

Oriana Whisperleaf

A quirky and extremely talkative druid's apprentice, Oriana was neglected by her birth parents, who did not care for her. When she was five, she wandered into a local meadow and into the woods - no one came looking for her. She got really lost, but thankfully, she met the mysterious druidic witch who lived deep in the enchanted woods of the realm, a beautiful woman who took her in and raised her as her daughter and apprentice.

Portia Lethia

Roselyn and Jasen's youngest sister, Portia is a very quiet and often sensitive 12-year-old kid, who prefers to spend her time in the company of animals rather than people and wants to become an animal healer when she comes of age. She is smart, perceptive, and polite/well-behaved for her age, though sometimes she has a prankster streak!

Plot Points .... or not🙃 (so far, because this WIP is still early in creation)

"Peace and Quiet and All Things Nice - wait what tf is that in the water? Eh. Probably just a sea monster, it's likely nothing."

"You're saying we're going to the capital - a city literally built in the mountains floating in the sky?! Count me IN dude I am hyped!"

"Traveling. And traveling. And traveling some more. Gods, does this goddamn road ever end -? Oh, and we're there."

"Two unsupervised teenage girls explore an unknown city and shenanigans ensue. Also, meet this suspicious royal High Sorcerer dude who will mentor their older brother and is totally not gonna betray him at all. Trust me."

"Things are looking great! I'm having fun, this is nice!"

"OBLIGATORY ONE-YEAR TIME SKIP"

"I have the feeling some sus bullshit is afoot but I don't know why. And I don't know if I wanna know. Everything's fine! Right?... right?"

"BREAKING NEWS: Watch how an entire kingdom tries to gaslight a teenager!"

"...Why are there bloodstains in the castle? What are those gooey-looking branches? Oh, hell to the nah~"

"So apparently I've been arrested. That's new. They have yet to read me my rights."

"So either I'm gonna be executed or have my mind erased. That's new. How about neither? No? This is not how I saw my weekend going."

"Breaking out with the prince. I don't know which of us is more confused. We're totally not gonna die in like two days at this rate."

"Getting lost in a very cursed-looking forest and finding out that the kingdom is slowly dying. At least that druid looks friendly - if she doesn't try to kill us. Yet again."

"Meet this 100-year-old lady who looks 30. She's nice. A bit crazy though, I think, but nice? Real talk, I'm not sure if this is tea or poison, or if she knows, but I'm too concerned to ask."

"So your insane family has sent assassins to kill us? Neat. And you didn't think that was a priority to mention, why exactly..? OF COURSE IT WAS A PRIORITY YOU GILDED DIMWIT!"

"This goth mercenary guy did just try to rob me, but he did save my life, so. Plus he does look handsome in this light, ngl. Why does he look so cute, tf is wrong with me?"

"🎶And I'm never gonna sleep again, sleep again, lalala, what the eldritch hell did I just see -🎶

"Rival civilization! Finally! Pls tell me there's not an insane guild of blood sorcerers in this town my dude. I need a break desperately and I'm not sure if my sanity can handle any more - Oh thank goodness. It's just horrifying monsters beyond my wildest dreams then. I'd take that any day. How much does an inn cost here?"

"Group of dumbasses tries to pull off complicated plan. Proceeds to forget said plan halfway through and ends up improvising an entire heist. Also, that's a talking cat. Why is there a talking cat."

"Finding out your prince best friend has been in love with your older brother since they met. Pt 1"

"Not-so-Evil (actually the nicest) Stepmother jumpscares teenagers and feels bad about it. She has cookies though so that's okay though."

"The King throws a massive hissy fit, Special Edition (:"

"So. This is bad. This is bad. Thisissobad. I'm traumatized. I regret all my life choices and I think I'm going to throw up. This is so bad."

"We need a plan. A better one to be exact."

"Absolutely not! We are not breaking into that place, oh Hells no! No. Absolutely not-" (shift scenes, deadpan tone) "We broke into that place and I regret everything."

That's it so far! I'm still workshopping the ending from here (:

Playlist

Runaway - AURORA

Only Teardrops - Emmelie De Forest

Shadow - Livingston

Elan - Nightwish

Bad Feeling - Jaguar Twain

Tagging (gently, no pressure!) @kaylinalexanderbooks @littleladymab @cabbojage @lassiesandiego @little-peril-stories @oh-no-another-idea @thepeculiarbird @rickie-the-storyteller @crowandmoonwriting @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @gummybugg @forthesanityofstorytellers @doublegoblin @aalinaaaaaa @starlit-hopes-and-dreams @elshells @illarian-rambling @clairelsonao3 @conkers-thecosy @anyablackwood @diabolical-blue @cowboybrunch and OPEN TAG for anyone else who wants to do their own spin in this challenge!

[thesoftboiledegg]

Welcome to the merchandise roundup. During this 420 weekend, I thought I'd share head shop finds from the past few weeks!

This isn't the greatest picture, but it looks like a scale with shifting images. That second one is gruesome even for Rick and Morty.

I guess that "IT" crossover still hasn't gotten old.

Mats and coasters! Apparently, Rick can hit the bong and use his portal gun at the same time.

Smoke in style with this Louis Vuitton-inspired pipe.

I love the juice box design. The text helpfully reminds you that he's Pickle Rick.

That's it for head shops. Later, I went to Walmart for craft supplies, not expecting to find anything, and I stumbled on this poster!

I got my oil changed at a different Walmart location. As I wandered around, I spotted this poster and party cups.

No luck at the mall, but Pickle Rick finally has his own shelf. Meanwhile, Coraline terrifies the Rick and Morty cube.

Aside from that, new merchandise has been pretty sparse lately. I still see Rick and Morty products everywhere, but no fresh designs. Christmas and new seasons bring the biggest merchandizing blitzes. Until then, I guess we'll have to content ourselves with Pickle Rick. 🥒

[bories]

masterlist ⋆｡˚☆

can you guys tell i love werewolves?

quick background info: i like to imagine reader as charlie's "adopted shortly after bella left him" kid. so she's close w bella but also kinda lagging behind when it comes to hearing about whats going on around her. this also takes place in eclipse <3

!!! i took some inspiration from @the-wolf-moon-diaries' Hold a Light Back to My Soul and the idea from @lunajay33's My Beast and i highly recommend their stories!

i definitely gotta write a pt 2 where we meet up again, don't i? damn

weird dog ... seth clearwater x reader

word count: 1512, warnings: swearing, running away, giant wolf?? a tad boring

Some days can be rough as hell around here, and dealing with them can be just as hard. There's not much to do in Forks, besides drive down to La Push, or wander in and out of the small stores around town, or even wander the hiking trails. But regardless, you need out, you gotta go.

Everything keeps piling up, looming over you, and it's all about to come crashing down. You're sick of hearing about some vampire army, and Bella's stupid love triangle, and now even werewolves--so you decide to leave. Slipping into some boots, you run out the door, barely caring if you make noise.

Not sure of where to go, you just pick a direction and run. You break out into a sprint until you get stomach cramps.

Slowing down, you walk and catch your breath as you reach the entrance to a hiking trail. It's far too late into the night for anyone to be out there unless they're camping, and even then they'd be holed up in their tents for the night. Regardless, though, you deviate from the path and just wander through the trees, not wanting to run into anyone.

Never slowing down, you begin to think about your safety in the forest so late.

It'll be fine, you tell yourself, Besides, if I get lost, someone'll just come find me like they found Bella that one time. With vampires and werewolves, it can't be that hard.

You roll your eyes at the thought of both species of weird being unable to track you down.

Your stomach stops hurting and you keep strolling through the forest, dodging trees and hopping off any big rocks you find. Taking in the forest around you, you start to wonder how long you've been gone.

No more than, like, half an hour. Maybe 45. D'you think Dad has noticed yet? you ask yourself. Definitely not.

After a few more minutes worth of walking and avoiding thinking too much, you stop in a little clearing. It's less of a clearing and more like trees getting a little more sparse, but you don't mind.

You sit on a rock and look up. The trees here are far apart enough to get a small, but clear shot of the sky.

"Nice," you smile. And for a few minutes, all you do is stare at the stars in silence.

Your eyelids start to feel heavy as your body really relaxes. You slide off the rock so you're sitting on the ground, leaned against it, still looking up.

I mean, this isn't the most uncomfortable pillow I've used. And I don't think I'd make it home anyways, you think, justifying sleeping against that rock to yourself. I'll go back in the morning if no one finds me by then. Sounds like a solid plan.

You yawn and close your eyes while turning onto your side against the rock. The quiet sounds of the forest lull you to sleep as your mind wanders. It wanders from the Cullens, to La Push, to how you miss the beach, to how you might go there next time you want to run away for a night, to how you'd even get there alone.

Being nearly asleep, you don't pick up on the fact that the forest is suddenly void of sound. Any animals around you have left, the leaves having stopped rustling, even the wind no longer blowing. But it's not until you hear the crunching of twigs behind you that your eyes shoot open, wide and aware. You hear panting, slow and steady, and you don't dare move.

Shit, is it a bear? 'If it's black, fight back,' right? We only have black bears around here. God, should I get up? Playing dead only works on brown bears--shit. Mind racing, your eyes squeeze shut until you come to a decision.

You abruptly stumble to your feet and start screaming, trying to scare away whatever's behind you, until you actually turn around. Your scream shifts from "trying-to-assert-dominance" to "trying-not-to-die-tonight" as you register what's found you. Not a black bear, but a brown wolf. A huge brown wolf. It even pulls away from you, startled by your screaming.

"Holy shit! Holy shit!" You stagger backwards and trip over a small rock, falling on your ass. You curse to yourself and look back up at the beast. It watches you, and for a moment, you two just stare at one another.

Your eyes are full of fear, mouth open, ready to scream, chest rising and falling with every uncertain breath. The wolf huffs and its head dips down towards you as it sniffs you. In response, you weakly try to shuffle backwards, unsure of what to do. It lets out another huff, backing away, never breaking eye contact.

To your surprise, it sits. It sits there and just looks at you.

You take a deep breath in and out and try to calm yourself. "Hoo... Okay," you're cautious to speak, afraid of what might happen. "Hey there, uh, buddy?"

It doesn't move. "You, uh--you won't hurt me, huh? Right?"

It huffs. "Great. Very trustworthy."

Standing up slowly, you're wary of the wolf still watching your every move. You relax as the wolf seems uninterested in attacking you.

You sigh, "Now what? One wrong move and I might as well scream for the Cullens to come bite me."

You start talking to yourself, "This is what you get for being stupid. 'Oh, it's just the big bad trees. What's the worst that could happen?' I said. Yeah, right. Idiot."

The wolf's head cocks to the side as you scold yourself.

"And you," you gesture towards the wolf, "what're you gonna do? God, what am I doing? Threatening a giant wolf? I really am a genius."

You stop rambling and take a breath. "Okay. This is fine."

Your shoulders finally slump as you take in the wolf. It's as tall as the average human, taller even, with brown fur that looks darker at night. It's eyes are brown and captivating, almost unnaturally humanlike. Regardless, you can't help but find it beautiful.

"You're not that scary, are you?" You flash it a weak smile, "I bet you're just like a big puppy. You're so big that if you were red I'd call you Clifford," you laugh.

Taking slow steps towards the wolf, you raise your hand as non-threateningly as you can. "Can I pet you?" It watches you with curiosity.

"That's kind of a dumb question, isn't it? You can't really," your hand is inches from its head, "...respond." It leans into your touch as you begin softly stroking its fur.

"See," you chuckle, "you're not so mean."

It huffs and lies down. "What, you're tired? I bet you had a long day of scaring campers, didn't you?" You sit down beside the wolf, "I'm tired, too, you know? You actually kind of woke me up."

It watches you blankly. "I accept your apology, don't worry."

With a yawn, you start petting its fur again. "Pretty soft for a wild wolf," you mutter.

Your eyes start feeling heavy again and you lean against the wolf. "You don't mind, right?" Your words come out slowly, tired.

A huff in response. "Great, thanks. You're a much better pillow than that rock was," you trail off and close your eyes.

As your body relaxes against the wolf, the pace of your breathing matches the wolf's, and your mind starts to wander again. Wandering from how warm the wolf is, to the sun, to how you used to stare at the sun as a kid, to how you miss sunbathing on the beach, to planning your next day at the beach.

You barely mutter a "G'night," and drift off to sleep.

Throughout the night, the wolf watches over you as you sleep curled up with it. At sunrise, it stands, leaving you lying on the ground, and it begins to nudge you awake with its snout. You're startled awake by the wolf in your face and sit up, finding your bearings.

"Oh," you say, rubbing your eyes. "Right, good morning, I guess." The wolf pants at you, mouth open. "God, I really spent the night out here... Shit--has dad noticed?"

The wolf watches as you stand up and look around, looking for the direction you came in. Once you recognize the way home, you turn to say goodbye to the wolf. It stares at you, tall and unmoving.

"Don't look at me like that, I'm about to be in huge trouble."

Its tongue licks its nose. You smile with a sigh and shake your head, "I'll miss you, too. Don't scare too many people while I'm gone, alright?"

It bows its head as you pet it goodbye. "I'll find you again. I'll come back, tonight or tomorrow. And you better be here."

You turn and begin walking away, thinking to yourself, Weirdest dog I've ever met.

You look back once and it's gone. As silently as it had snuck up on you the previous night, it had gone.

[chosen-hero-inari]

Whumptober Day 28: Denial

Windows of Opportunity

“No, you can’t go out,” Sensei says. “You’ve been running off too much lately.”

Yusuke’s stomach drops. He needs to meet Joker and the others to discuss the calling card, but Sensei is blocking his path outside.

“Whatever do you mean?” Yusuke tries. He's certainly not acting suspicious, it's normal for him to run off in pursuit of inspiration, and normally Sensei wouldn’t think much of it.

“We haven’t had time to discuss what happened in the basement.”

Yusuke’s blood runs cold. “I can’t apologize enough for that. That girl had agreed to model for me, but she kept wandering around. After she left I informed her if she was seen around here again, then it would be considered trespassing and I would call the police.”

Hopefully that’s enough to placate him, convince him that whatever Yusuke’s reaction had been, he would put his Sensei above all, like always.

“She’s already trespassed,” Sensei says. “What’s her name, I'd like to report her.”

“I did invite her in in the first place,” Yusuke says. “She wasn’t trespassing, there's no need to waste anyone’s time.”

“She wasn’t allowed in the basement!” Madarame says. “And neither were you. Give me her name.”

“No,” Yusuke says.

“No?”

Yusuke’s fought countless monsters in the last few days, but this makes him feel small. “S-sensei, I just think–”

“I didn’t ask what you think. Since when do you know more than me?”

“I thought you wouldn’t want the attention.”

“The only source of unwanted attention has been you, Yusuke. Constantly causing a scene everywhere you go.”

“Then I’ll be quieter from now on,” Yusuke insists. 

“Then give me the girl’s name.”

Yusuke bites his lip. What does he do? He can’t give up Ann and the others.

The silence lasts a beat too long, and Madarame turns livid. He shoots his arm out and grabs Yusuke’s wrist, squeezing tightly.

He’s deceptively strong for on old man (or perhaps Yusuke’s just weak outside the Metaverse).

“Sensei, you’re hurting me,” Yusuke says.

“Your phone.”

Yusuke takes his phone out of his pocket and hands it to Sensei. The old man seems satisfied, and Yusuke hopes he’ll be able to get out of this situation, but Madarame drags him down the hall and throws him into his room, locking the door.

“Sensei!” Yusuke yells, banging on the door. “Sensei let me out, please!”

“Perhaps I will in the morning,” Madarame says. “If you remember your place.”

Footsteps continue down the hall, and soon disappear completely.

Yusuke takes a deep breath. He changed his phone password at Morgana’s suggestion immediately, so Sensei won’t immediately be able to find his chats and everyone’s information, but still, he has to warn his friends.

He takes stock. The room is sparse, but it does have a small window Yusuke can wiggle through.

The unfortunate part is he can’t use sheets or anything to climb out, and he’s on the second floor.

Still, the atelier is old and its wooden walls are uneven. If he’s very careful he might be able to climb down.

Yusuke swallows. He’s a Phantom Thief now, he has no time to be scared.

The old window takes a bit of effort to pry open, but Yusuke sucks in his stomach and squeezes out, then starts climbing down.

At first he goes slowly, sticking his fingers into the wood and holding on for dear life.

Then, when he’s about halfway down, he starts picking up. He can do this, he can–

Suddenly a rotten piece of wood gives way under his foot, and Yusuke comes crashing down to the ground.

He can’t breathe for a second, but forces himself into his feet and starts limping away from the shack.

No matter what, he has to warn his friends.

[midnightlitterateur]

Our Lady of the Lash

Pairing - Abdirak/oc m/f

Summary - A late night confession gets a little out of hand.

Warnings - bdsm, whipping, restraints, oral sex (fem receiving), penetration, voyeurism, bleeding, aftercare.

18 +

“Do you have a moment,” an uncharacteristically nervous Leah asked as she lingered in the doorway of the Pains makeshift chapel. The wreck of a room was sparsely lit with candles, just enough to make out the face of the priest of Loviatar.

“Of course, I have time for all of the penitent. Come child, sit.” He shifted over on his bunk and made room for her to sit beside him, brushing the blanket clean and placing down the book that he had been reading. “You are a true soul, yes?”

Leah nodded and took the offered seat beside him, “I was here earlier and I heard what you said to Tav about…”

Abdirak nodded sagely “I remember. Our eyes met briefly but I saw your pain. Your need for the lady's grace,” his voice was soft and it invited her to trust. “Unburden yourself.”

Leah cleared her throat and tried to find the right words and once she found her voice they began to tumble out, “I was…I gave myself to someone because I thought that I would die if I didn’t. That this person would kill me…They took me - roughly. At the time I was disgusted with myself for letting it happen but I couldn’t stop thinking about it - about him… I went back for more - I mean, they told me to…the things I let him do to me…things I would never have thought that I could…It’s almost as if I was - am, frozen, like I couldn’t feel anything unless it was with him. I think about him - a lot. I know I should hate him but I don’t. I want to but I just can’t. And that’s it really I just can’t feel anything.”

The priest placed his hand on her shoulder, a look of concern clouding his features. “Oh, my dear. I will gift to you the kiss of the lash, child. It has a way of releasing those…emotions that we have trouble giving voice to. As we offer our pain to our lady of the lash so she releases us from it”

She understood his meaning entirely. It was similar to what she had shared with Gortash. After the cruelty, after the sex, it left her bare and she had sobbed openly into Gortashs hairy chest and he had held her close until she fell asleep. It was what she needed, it was what she missed. “What do I need to do?”

Abdirak bade her to stand and disrobe, “we must come to our lady Loviatar naked and willing, dear one.” she did as she was told and allowed him to shackle her raised arms, elongating her lithe body. “Yes, just like that,” he positioned her body as he whispered and murmured to his goddess, covering her naked back in blessed oils he began to pray. When he had finished he took Leah's hips in his skilled hands and pulled her close, “are you ready?” he whispered, his warm breath tickling her ear.

“Yes,” she breathed, steeling herself for what was to come.

Leah sucked in a gasp as she almost jumped out of her skin at the first lash of the flail. She knew he was holding back, testing her tolerance for the pain but this was not her first joust - so to speak.

“Breath deeply, child! Let her love wash over you like a cleansing wave.” His eyes lit up with religious fervour as he delivered the willing penitent to his goddess.

He struck again and this time she cried out, the sting of the nine tails igniting the same arousal that Gortash was able to inspire. Sweat broke out on her pale skin and she moaned as she felt the next lash of the whip. It was far more savage than the last, it made her scream and sob in agony, it lit a raging fire between her thighs, “Again, yes! Again” she wailed.

“Yes! Yes! Sing her hymns my child! Offer yourself to the maiden!” The final lash of the flail was the fastest. It made his penitent shake the chains that she hung from as she screamed her devotion. He noticed with an erotic satisfaction that her skin had broken and thin stripes of crimson began to appear. The blood began to flow in narrow rivulets down her toned back and his balls tightened. She was utterly impressive and the shudder that ran through him told of his goddess favour.

Leah was so ready to be fucked into the middle of next tensday. Usually Gortash would take her further at a slower pace but the priest had given her what she wanted and now she needed to be finished off. She felt his hands slide down her ribcage and grasp her hips. As he spun her around to face him her erect nipples scraped torturously across his flail ornamented chest. “Praise the goddess,” she sighed and smiled at the skilled torturer.

“Oh you are a pious little treat, aren’t you?”he remarked as he held her close. She could feel his cock through his robes, it poked insistently into her in her belly. He was incredibly aroused and of course so was she.

“I am so wet right now,” she whined, begging him to use it. Her gaze flicked between his eyes and his lips as she leaned in to claim them.

“Sex is not how this ends, sweet one.” He made no move to extricate himself from her willing body though.

“You’re solid as a fucking rock, priest. Don’t tell me you don’t want it.” Leah moved her body, using it to provoke a reaction.

Confliction clouded his features but he tried to remain stoic “keen arousal is often a by product of worship but we must not give in to the temptations of Sune,” he swallowed, passing a dry tongue across his lips as he stood captivated by her heaving breasts. His actions however, belied his words as his clammy hands cupped her generous tits, weighing them approvingly in his palms. Seemingly making up his mind he leaned in.

His mouth covered her pink nipple, drawing it into his mouth. Sensually devouring them each in turn as his penitent gasped in pleasure. “Oh, sweet child,” he breathed “you are a gift, surely.” The Lovite met her lidded gaze and sank down to his knees beneath the beauty of her naked form. He parted her folds with his thumbs and pressed his face to her cunt. Placing a chaste kiss to her swollen bud and inhaling her perfume deep into his lungs.

“Mmmm” she hummed as he suckled on her clit, her teeth grazing her bicep as she nuzzled her skin, losing herself in his tender ministrations when he began to lap at her vulva. Fervently exploring her with his tongue he let the delicious tang of her juices cover it.

Leah gripped the chain above her head and arched her neck, “Uhh, so good,” she sighed and gasped with untold pleasure as he worshipped her cunt. Using her body as a profane altar to sinful delight he held her hips and lifted her onto his face with ease, forcing his tongue inside of her. Eliciting a guttural groan of pure lust as the Pain tongue fucked her hole. It jabbed and swirled within her, making her hips buck as she rode his long, sinuous oral digit to a raging climax.

Leah couldn’t take much more, “I need your cock, priest.” She loudly gasped, desperately needing to be filled by his rigid dick. She whimpered pathetically as his hot mouth left her aching cunt. “Fuck me…please,” she wailed, as she watched the priest stand to shed the robes of his order.

His naked body scarred by years of worship pressed against hers as he cupped her cheeks reverently, his grey eyes searing his desire into hers. They panted heavily against each other’s mouths but he denied her the taste of his lips, letting her wait before he plundered her mouth the same way he had done her cunt. Their tongues glided and danced over each other in an erotic frenzy, sloppily licking open mouthed in a filthy display of explicit profanity. It was disturbingly beautiful to watch. When he tried to pull away Leah bit his lip hard before she let him go, licking his blood from her lips.

He lifted her thigh and held it against his hip, letting her feel the slippery head of his cock against her before he gripped it in his fist and shoved himself in, wasting no time in finding his stride. He set a savage pace but it was nothing she couldn’t handle, she simply wrapped her legs around him and met his every thrust. Moaning in bliss as he bottomed out inside her. He was good - so good she forgot where she was and let herself go. Cursing and screaming her intense pleasure, howling profanitys between deep passionate kisses and bites.

Abdirak himself was not given to loud displays of sexual pleasure but he matched her volume and more as he ploughed her mercilessly, so much so that they had drawn an audience.

“Yeah, go on priest! Give her one!” The small crowd of goblins gathered at the door followed their mouthy leaders' cue and began to catcall the illicit couple. At the back Astarion and Shadowheart were gawking open mouthed as they enjoyed the pornographic tableau before them.

Leah was too far gone to care as was Abdirak. Their cheers only spurred him on as he fucked his captive lover with wild abandon. She screamed for him over and over, into the cold air of the ruin and into the heat of his mouth until he approached his own peak “Out,” he commanded breathlessly to the small pack of onlookers and he cast darkness upon them. This moment was not for their eyes but for hers. “Look at me, dear one” he asked, desperately trying to hold off until she unscrewed her eyes. Those sad, beautiful eyes that had caught him so off guard earlier that day. Her eyes flickered open and she smiled triumphantly, watching him pull out and spray his seed over her belly with exquisite intensity, grunting with every pump of his cock.

Gently he unshackled her wrists and put her down carefully, making sure that he was steady on his feet before he scooped her up in his arms and placed her on the narrow bunk. Leah's arms wrapped around his neck as he lay beside her and she quietly sobbed into the crook of his neck.

“Let it out, dear one,” he crooned as he stroked her damp hair, “Let it all out, you are safe here in her glory.” As he spoke he bestowed upon her the full blessing of his goddess, hard earned and well deserved.

“Thank you,” Leah sniffed, “for everything.” Abdirak smiled benevolently and kissed her sweetly on her forehead, “The pleasure was all mine,” he whispered.That night she slept safe and sound in the Pain of Loviatars warm embrace.