#so I gather all my strength and get to the kitchen only to find out that there's no more chicken

[murobrown]

.

[merlinssassybeard]

'Ex' Husband Gojo

Tags- fem reader x Gojo, swearing, angst.

Synopsis: The reader had a miscarriage and her husband wasn't there with her to give her support and now she's mentally shaken. Y/n decides to divorce him and but things take a way different turn...

Gojo and reader are married for 4 yrs and love each other profoundly but a terrible accident happened with reader and caused reader a miscarriage and was going through a very bad time. Reader wanted Gojo there to help mentally and emotionally but he was busy with curses...

"Satoru", you began with a shaky voice.

Your husband Satoru Gojo had all your attention the moment you said his name.

You had called up Satoru to the Tokyo estate, your marital home, for 'an important emergency talk'. These words were enough for Gojo to run from his busy packed schedules to run home to check up on you.

"Hmm?", Satoru hummed indicating you he's all ears. Both seated opposite to each other in the kitchen.

"Satoru, i-", you hesitated but continued, " Satoru, i want divorce...."

At first, he was unresponsive, still processing whether the words he heard were real or some weak residual cursed technique from cursed spirits left on him considering he came right after finishing a mission.

"Divorce?" Satoru came to his senses, "is this... some sort of.. joke my love MRS y/n? Cus' I'm really not liking it!", he tried to laugh it off.

But this wasn't a joke.

Not for you.

You're done.

Done giving him all of everything you have and receiving none.

You had your head slightly bowed down, unable to summon the energy, the strength to look right into his eyes. "This is not a joke, Satoru Gojo.", "i cannot live like this anymore".

Satoru knew it was indeed serious by the tone of it so he's demeanor changed as well.

"Why is it so y/n?", he mumbled in his soft husky voice while extending his hand towards yours to hold. "Is it something i did? You know you can tell me. I told you beforehand marrying me wasn't going to be easy, you remember?"

Yes he is right. He did told you a bazillion times when you nagged him for marriage anytime and everytime you saw him breathing around you. He had told you enough times that being his wife and also in a conservative society isn't going to be a cakewalk. 'Once married, there is no way out of the marital bond since its a holy bond, blessed by the heavens themselves' or as they said, but you didn't care, at that time.

"Reasons don't matter.", you flinched your hands away from his approach and passed the envelope with the papers and got up. "You'll find my signatures in there. Please be civil. Don't want any drama."

Satoru didn't knew what to say since he didn't even expected such a devastating and mind boggling news either. He had just finished his mission overseas and had taken only an hour of rest before being assigned another 'clean up' duty (messed/botched mission by another sorcerer) and in the middle of it he gets your call for an emergency meet up at the house.

He has been working all around the clock and came home to see you, hoping to receive kisses or you expecting souvenirs, which he had plenty just for you. But instead he got this ..... a farewell?

Gojo stayed seated there, watching you leave the kitchen to the room. He stayed seated there for a moment wondering what did he do, where did he go wrong, did he go wrong? Are you alright? Is this a cry for help? Is everything okay with you?

He wanted to check up on you so he got up to head towards the bedroom where you were but stopped dead in his tracks when it hit him, the reason....

"Y/n", you heard the door slide open and Gojo calling your name.

He opened the door and saw you were.... packing? God, you're really not joking.

"Yes?", you gathered the strength to look up at him for the first time in months! Due to his 'business trips' and you swear to god you would have fell down crying as your knees went weak.

"Is it...", he stumbled to say further but he knew he had to confront you with this, "is it because of that thing we talked about? On the phone?"

You knew you will burst out crying in front of him if he talked any further and because of that you couldn't speak either, holding tight onto lips to avoid the tears.

"Uh huh mmmhh mmmhh" you nodded and tried to avoid eye contact.

Oh no! Satoru knew he messed up. But he couldn't just let you... leave!? How could he? He knows and you too, that you are the only person who makes him vulnerable to the point he acts like child, only with you. You are the only one who actually makes him happy and content with his life in this miserable shite world. No words describe your and his relationship. So just how could he just let you leave?

"Y/n. I get it. You want kids." He mumbles, "then we'll have kids! Okay?" He declared.

You looked at him, and when he said that he looked as if he's been held under gun point, reluctant, yet... determined?

No! Yes, you do want children but the role of a father cannot be forced upon a man! That way the child will only be a 'burden' rather than a child born out of love and acceptance.

"No need." You announced and turned your back to him and started putting your clothes in the bag. "My mind can't be changed"

Gojo was left puzzled. He is ready to give you what you had been asking the day you both got married, what his and your parents wanted and the entirety of the Jujutsu Society had a keen eye on.

"I can't let you leave y/n like this", he said not knowing what to do either.

"Okay, I'll put on some fresh clothes.", you replied unbothered.

"No y/n i I told you once you're married you can't!", Satoru tried to come up with some reasoning.

"How the FUCK i cannot?" You yelled right onto his face, throwing the dress in your hand on the floor, annoyed at everything and anything.

"You just CAN'T!", Satoru tried to hold his sanity together.

"I AM FUCKING LEAVING! Divorce or NOT!", You snapped at him and went to pick the dress up and put it in the bag.

"Listen y/n, we can't go with divorce, it'll cause a lot of talk in the family and there's more but we just can't...", he tried to reason with you calmly but you were not in the mood.

"Why do you suddenly want me in your life when from the past fucking 4 years all you have done is being out on your trips?" You sneered and mocked, "Announcing we're going to have kids! Wow! That's not how it works Satoru!"

Satoru now lost it.

"Then what IS IT YOU WANT!? Haven't i given enough? You wanted this marriage! Not me! But i went for it because it was you! Went against my family for you and kept you away from them but what do you care" (your in-laws are toxic and would love to dance over your grave)

"Thats because i refuse to be your whore! You called me up whenever you felt like it. Might as well be your wife rather than just be some whore you sleep with on friday nights."

You recognized what you just babbled out and its disgusting. Your hands involuntarily moved and covered your mouth. You couldn't ever fathom the words you puked.

It is NOT like that! Not at all! You love Satoru, you Have been for a long time! And to have him as your husband is a dream come true! But how could say such lowly things.

Satoru just stood there. It was like one explosion after the other. So that is it? You came to him... for looks? For money? For sex? Goddammit! Satoru wanted to laugh because women of his family warned him not to marry some average human girl, saying further that you'll rob him of his money one day. But he didn't and just stood there watching the horror in your eyes unfold.

Satoru saw you as the only person in his life that made him actually understand the definition of love. Especially someone human, a non sorcerer like you. Thought of you made him content and calm, knowing he has someone waiting for him...... but not anymore.

He rubbed his temple as he'd been without an eye covering this whole time and his head ached a little with all this drama unfolding. He smiled through and looked at you, "that's what you think of me y/n?"

"No-no Satoru! Thats not what meant! Ugh! I don't want the divorce anymore!-"

He interrupted, "ah its okay, totally okay. I'll sign em."

Gojo was awfully calm and collected and you knew that when he's like this he would explode like a volcano if irked.

"No i will not let you!" You screamed and pushed him and ran out of the room in a frenzy to retrieve the divorce papers and tore the sections with your signature into tiny unrecognizable trash.

Satoru walked into the kitchen and just stood there. "You can have this house. I'll have Ijichi send down some papers later."

You eyes widened, "what..... papers?"

"Separation papers", he replied.

His gaze went around the house randomly and said, "since you don't wanna be a-" he stop and looks at you but continues.

"Since you do not wish to be a 'whore', you're free from me. I don't want chaos in both of our families so im suggesting separation. Yeah? Works in favor of both of us"

You were shook. You knew what you were doing when you brought the divorce papers but you didn't expected it to become so real.

"I'm leaving now. I'll send for my things so please don't throw my things just yet! Haha." Satoru was throwing jokes at a moment like this.

Damage has been done.

You ran out as soon as you saw him leave. You kept saying that its not what you meant and there's more to it and what not. But he just wore his blindfold and got into the car.

You saw him shut the door on your face and uttered his last words as your husband to you....

"Congratulations, Ms y/n. This'll be the last time you'll see me and when you think you're ready for divorce, lemme know!"

Part 2

Series masterlist

[honeipie]

Hi love! I love your works and writing style so-so much! May I please request Bakugou falling in love with a weak and sick fem!reader that is bound to hospital bed because of her disease (she can walk but she is too weak to do so). They could meet at the hospital while she still had strength to walk. Basically, he falls in love with her watching her wither away.My heart is craving angst and some soft Bakugou💔It's okay if you can't write it. Anyway, thank you!!! Sending you lots of love 🩷🩷

THE PROMISE

katsuki bakugo x fem!sickreader

synopsis: katsuki fell in love with you, but all good things must come to an end

author note: my first writing request i will treasure this forever!

cw: sick reader, the sickness is not specific, mentions of dying

“thank you for coming dynamite! the kids will be excited to see you here!” a woman in scrubs bowed in thanks, which katsuki only grunted at.

“don’t have to bow or anything, but you’re welcome” katsuki dipped his head a bit as a sign of respect. the woman held her clipboard with a smile.

“well aren’t you humble? come on now, the kids are right this way”

the nurse led him through a pair of doors that were decorated with stickers and kids names from top to bottom.

katsuki had decided that he would spend his volunteer days at the local hospital. it was either that or wearing a hairnet at the local soup kitchen. telling kids about some of his battles and even doing a damn craft if he had to.

now he had thought the doors were colorful, but the room was something else. children’s drawings were hung up all over the ceiling being held together by small clothespins and wire. there were shelves of toys and stuffed animals across just one wall, and a playmat for a safe area to have fun in.

though there were no kids on the playmat letting their imaginations run wild with dolls. neither were there at the easel’s painting a new picture to hang up.

they were all sitting at the table enthralled with something in front of them. katsuki was about to get their attention before he heard your voice.

“and then they came in contact with the evil king. he sat on top of his throne which towered above the hero and the princess”

“why’d he make his throne so high up?” one of the kids asked eyebrows scrunched together.

“because the king thought he was better than everyone. thought everyone was small compared to him, but that’s not the right mindset to have” the child nodded in understanding which allowed you to go on “then the king yelled out to the two-“ you looked up finally noticing the pro hero staring into your soul. your next words stopped in your throat at his presence.

blinking your eyes you gained your composure again sending the kids a smile “the king yelled out you’re gonna have to wait until next week to find out” all the the kids screamed ‘no!’ collectively, disappointed that their story time was being cut short. all you could do was laugh as they all gathered near your legs begging you to continue the story.

“i don’t think you’ll want to hear any more of the story when you see the special guest" all of the kids immediately turned around at your words now noticing the big pro hero that had been lingering behind them.

"dynamite!" they all screamed and went over to him as fast as they could. he was now being bombarded with questions and stories about himself.

"guys c'mon! let him breathe" you walked over giving him a smile "sorry, they're just really excited"

katsuki shook his head at your words "it's fine. better then damn villains attacking me-"

"he said a bad word! y/n he said a bad word!" the kids started feeding off of each other's energy until it turned into a full on shouting match.

"i heard it everyone don't worry, but dynamite is an adult so he's allowed to say the bad words" you gently tugged the kids away from dynamite so he could collect himself. some part in you hoped he had something planned, but he just seemed to stand there awkwardly. this was nothing like the hot-headed hero you saw on the television. he shifted his weight from one foot to the other looking at the kids, then up at you again. catching the memo you nodded.

"why don't we all introduce ourselves to dynamite, yeah? go find a seat and then we can start"

he watched as all of the kids followed your instructions without further push back. katsuki sent a subtle nod your way in which you returned "right this way dynamite"

you led him over to the chair you were sitting in "you can sit right here then we can go over names" katsuki sat down in the chair, but had to scoot up to the edge of it. between his hero suit and wide hips fitting in the chair simply wasn't going to happen.

for the next hour you directed as the kids introduced themselves and were able to ask the hero questions. katsuki answered most of the kids questions, well the one's that weren't 'do you have a girlfriend?' or 'why do you look mad all the time?'. your personal favorite being 'why do you sweat so much?'. as soon as it came out of the kid's mouth you burst out in laughter.

dynamite rolled his eyes not even looking at you "glad you found that funny"

"sorry! just- just wasn't expecting that"

by the time the last question was answered it was time for them to go back to their individual rooms "everybody say thank you to dynamite!"

"thank you dynamite!" they yelled out before filing out of the room one by one. there was a smile on your face as you turned to clean up but immediately jumped at the sight of the pro hero that was now particularly close to you.

"hi!" it came out in such a high pitch you had to clear your throat to make sure you were alright "thanks for spending time with the kids. they really enjoyed it i could tell"

"good"

his empty response only left you more confused. blinking away the confusion you put back on that polite smile of yours "well i'm just going to go clean" you stepped away from him walking over to the table. you had gotten the bright idea that each kid should make colorful nametags and give them to the pro hero.

"what was i doing wrong?" he asked quickly, but you still caught it.

"excuse me?"

"what was i doing wrong? cause some of the kids were looking at me like i was stupid when you walked in"

a smile crept onto your lips hearing his words. the katsuki bakugo asking for feedback.

"well i know you're a blunt man, so let me be blunt with you. when you walked in you kinda looked stupid. like you just got shocked by lightning and couldn't move. correct me if i'm wrong. that's probably because you don't have much experience with kids"

he scratched his chin a light stubble growing on his chin. he hasn't had much time to shave "i don't"

you could tell that there was more that he wanted to say, but couldn't bring himself to say it. taking one of the pencil boxes you slid it back into place "if you wanted to visit again. i could teach you some of the things i've learned along the years. i could take you on a walk around the hospital" his eyes stayed glues to the floor making you just a bit nervous "i didn't want to assume but the kids really had fun. plus i know they would love if you came back"

taking his fingers off of his chin he looked up. there was no way the paparazzi was catching him in a hairnet "okay, let’s go, show me around the hospital"

you raised your eyebrow at his swift demands and stepped aside to show him the mess on the table "i know you're some popular pro hero, but here? you're a volunteer. so what we're going to is clean this place up. then we'll see about that walk" you went over and gave him a pat on the shoulder "welcome to the team"

the next two months went by pretty quickly. he would come to hang out with the kids and you'd help him with how to interact with them and setting up activities. and after all the festivities were over you would take him on walks around the hospital.

this was the third month he had come, and you were showing him the gardens. the two of you had established your own kind of relationship with each other built on respect. he even let you call him bakugo now.

"sometimes i like to bring the kids out here and teach them all about the plants and how to garden. they don't like it because they're learning though. they like it because they're big dirtballs and love to play in the flowerbeds"

this made katsuki let out a stiff chuckle. he would take this to his grave, but he was genuinely enjoying the time that he volunteered here. his manager didn't have to threaten him with late night shifts just to blindly pick up volunteer hours anymore. there was some sort of fulfillment he got out of hearing the kids call "mr. dynamite" when they had a question. or when they laughed so hard their tiny stomach's hurt just because he called them "little brats". he watched as you went to sit down on a nearby bench going to make sure that the flowers next to them had been watered recently.

plus, he didn't mind spending alone time with you either.

he sat down next to you moving his focus over to your hands "you know a damn lot about this hospital. how long you been a volunteer?"

you stilled at his question, and he was one to notice details. you pulled your hands away from the flowers going to face him "i actually don't volunteer. i'm a patient" you didn't like people asking questions, so you prepared a speech every time someone asked "i don't know what illness i have. doctors have been running tests for years and they still can't seem to understand. at random times i'll just get things like flareups, or my body will become absolutely exhausted out of nowhere. there’s other symptoms too, but i don’t want to bore you with the details. they won't let me go because it's like every time i walk out of the walls of this hospital something bad happens and i need to go right back to bed rest"

katsuki did something that a lot of people who asked about your sickness didn't know how to do. he listened. he was attentive and never let his eyes leave your face as you explained.

"i've been in and out of here since i was a kid. that's why i know the hospital and the workers so well. that nurse that brought you in the first day? she was just my nurse years ago, but now she's head of the pediatric floor"

it was all coming together now. the way you showed him the most secluded hallways. how you knew what times they would be doing building wide activities. and he was finally making sense of your words that you had told him on his first day.

"you have to know the hospital to really understand the kids. i know it sounds stupid, but this is their home, and some people can't understand that. most of these kids spend more time in the hospital than they do in their own house. so know this hospital. have enough respect for them to at least try and understand what they're going through"

you had felt so deeply about this because you had gone through the same exact thing, and you weren't going to have someone mistreat these kids.

“cool”

your eyebrows raised at his response.

“cool? i just told you about my lifelong sickness and you’re gonna say cool?”

“well whaddya want me to say? you want me to treat you like a fucking dying plant?”

“no”

“then i’m going to say cool and we can move the hell on”

“wow! is the number two hero dynamite really being a sweetheart?”

with one hand he gave you a playful shove “fuck off” he mumbled taking that arm and letting it rest behind you on the bench “and call me katsuki”

as the months pass, katsuki grows more comfortable with the children, and with you. he decided that he should come more frequently. once every month turned into every two weeks. then those two weeks turning into one. the two of you never really defined the relationship. you didn’t need to. all that you needed to know was he cared for you, and you him.

it only took one week to change everything.

katsuki walked onto the children’s floor heading into the room. all of the kids were doing their centers, but you were nowhere to be found. he saw the nurse though, helping one of the children with a computer game. when he walked over he ruffled the hair on top of the kids head “sup brat. mrs. harada, ‘s y/n here?”

mrs. harada’s expression grew soft. she placed a hand on the child’s shoulder letting them know she’d be right back. gently she grabbed katsuki’s forearm and walked him to a corner of the room.

“y/n relapsed. it was a two days after you came to volunteer. she was fine, about to head out from cleaning then just collapsed”

katsuki felt his blood running cold. how the hell could this happen? he just saw you. you were just fine.

why didn’t you call him?

mrs. harada placed a gentle hand on his shoulder “i’m sorry. i know you two are close, and i'm sure you don’t know how to feel. i can tell you her room number so you can see her. i’ll step in for both of you today” she smiled writing it on a sticky note and handed it to him. he gave her a nod then went to storm out “bakugo” she called out to get his attention “i understand you might be feeling betrayed, and you’re allowed to feel that way, but y/n is feeling a lot at the moment. she finally thought she was getting better and- and here we are. so please go easy on her”

katsuki thanked her, then headed out the door.

he walked through the hospital on a mission. he didn't stop to greet anyone or take autographs. the only time that he stopped was when he saw your room number.

the door was cracked open, but he couldn't see you from the angle where he was.

it was strange.

katsuki has trained for more hours than he could count. he had been facing villain's since he was at least fourteen years old. he had been through a whole damn war for crying out loud. and yet, as he stood there he felt a weight he had never felt before.

you glanced up seeing katsuki walk through the door. your heart started beating faster as soon as you saw him. even if you tried to put up a facade about it, your heart monitor gave everything away.

“you found me”

“ ‘s not like you gave me any other choice”

you watched as he stood in the doorway. hand stuffed in the pockets of his sweats. you had recommended that he didn't wear his hero suit since it would probably get uncomfortable after a while.

"katsuki you can come in-"

"why didn't you tell me as soon as it happened?"

"it's complicated"

"then fucking explain it to me" he stared at you his face unmoving.

"fine" you sat up wincing slightly at the pain shooting up your spine. katsuki almost faltered seeing your face contort from the pain "I don't know why I didn't tell you okay? The thought crossed my mind about a thousand times, but I just couldn't do it" a shaky sigh left your body and you tried to fight back the tears "there's just a lot going on.. and- and-"

the door clicked softly behind him, but you hadn't noticed. katsuki had made his way next to your bed and was already climbing in beside you. the bed let out a groan because of the added weight. he wrapped one arm around you and wiped your tears with the other. his thumb had a rough texture from all the explosions they've let out throughout the years. but they were gentle for you, and only you.

"you don't gotta say anymore. i've got you"

you leaned onto his shoulder letting the dam of your emotions break onto him. tears ran down your face, but you let them flow this time.

so you cried, and you cried, and you cried and cried and cried.

and katsuki let you.

it had been a while before you could compose yourself again. the room was filled with comfortable silence and the occasional snuffle from you.

"do you feel better?" he asked turned his head to face you.

"yeah.. 'm sorry you had to deal with that"

"don't fuckin' apologize for crying"

you chuckled at his words going to grab a tissue to wipe any excess. he tilted his head some analyzing a spot on your face closely.

"you got somethin' right.. there" he swiped a piece of tissue that had gotten stuck on your face.

you faced him getting a better look from up close. blond hair stuffed under a black baseball cap. bags under his eyes from all of his night shifts.

katsuki couldn't handle you looking at him like that. eyes still puffy from crying. your tongue running over your lips.

fuck it.

katsuki's hand slid from your cheek to the back of your neck. he pulled you close as gently as he could. your foreheads touched before anything else.

"you don't want to kiss me. my face is disgusting" you whispered making him laugh, genuinely laugh.

"i've seen some disgusting shit and this isn't one of them"

you smiled before closing the distance between the two of you. there was a nice contrast to the kiss. between the roughness of his palm on your neck and his soft lips pressed against yours.

you could stay this way forever.

katsuki sneakily moved his tongue over your lips and pulled away. he made a face shaking his head "salty as shit"

"shut up!" you pushed him playfully making the both of you fall into laughter.

you and katsuki went on like this for months. constant visits, playful kisses, and when he was tired from patrol, he'd even let you read to him until he fell asleep.

but with the good, also came the bad.

your body had been getting weaker throughout the months. it came to the point where you couldn't get out of the bed unless you had help. katsuki had offered to take you on walks by putting you in the wheelchair, but you always refused. that is until you got the news.

"kats" you said causing him to lift his head from your shoulder "i wanna go on a walk"

he was confused at first. the sudden request to do something that you never wanted to was strange. though he didn't ask any questions as he went to get your things set up.

katsuki wrapped his arms around your torso lifting you up to be placed in the wheelchair. he had studied how the nurses did this thousands of times. you were embarrassed that he had to do this for you, but he'd do them a million times over it if meant walking with you.

there were no questions asked on where you wanted to go, you both knew.

katsuki pulled your wheelchair right next to the bench, but ended up putting you in his lap. you leaned against his shoulder looking at the cherry blossoms.

"when i die-"

"y/n don't start with that shit. you're not gonna die. you're gonna come back from this"

your one hand weakly played with the hair on the back of his head "we all die kats. it's okay if i talk about it"

"yeah, but you're talking about dying soon"

with a sad look in your eyes you watched his eyes follow the falling blossoms.

"can you at least promise me something then?"

"yeah"

"when i die, take care of the kids for me. you're so good with them and i don't trust just anybody handling it up there"

katsuki's eyes stayed glued to the trees in front of him.

"I can do that"

"and also-"

"idiot you said one promise!"

"hey! i'm dying i can make as many promises as i want" you smiled weakly at your own joke, but he didn't think it was too funny.

"promise to take care of yourself"

you saw his throat bob up and down at your words.

"you take care of so many other people and don't make time for yourself. learn how to rest kats. i can't have you dying either okay?" you placed a soft kiss on his cheek for good measure "you promise?"

katsuki rubbed one of his hands up and down your arm. a slow, shuddering breath leaving his mouth.

"i promise"

knowing that he would be okay you could finally rest, forever.

[zorrasucia]

this is carmenberzattosgf on my main!

Biggest congrats on 300!! Can I request 28. “your cheeks are so red” and 31. “why are you squeezing your eyes shut?” for Carmy?

Hello, Olive! Thank you so much 💜😊

This is set in Carmy's pre New York era, whenever that is - the timeline is so confusing lmao I hope you like it!

"Shit," you mumbled to yourself, realizing that the zipper of your dress was stuck halfway and wouldn't budge.

Your makeup was done, your hair was down and semi presentable, your friends were already at the club a block away... And here you were, in the locker room of the restaurant, dress halfway down your shoulders because of a fucking zipper.

You covered yourself as much as you could and peeked inside the kitchen, maybe the hostess hadn't left yet... The only person still there was the new guy staging, Carmy, cleaning his station with laser focus. You inhaled deep and braced yourself for a little embarrassment.

"Uh, Carmy?"

He turned, blue eyes shining bright in the fluorescent lights.

"Chef?"

"Would you help me with my, uh, my zipper? Please."

"Sure thing," he said, diligent, following you to the locker room, drying his hands on a dish towel.

"Thank you," you turned around, gathering your hair out of the way. "I would have asked Angela but-"

"She left twenty minutes ago, I think," he said, his exhale hitting the back of your neck. "Night out?" he asked.

"Yeah, uh, it's my friend's birthday," you explained.

There was a tense silence as Carmy's fingers tugged carefully at the slider, then with a little more force.

"It's not, uh, working," he mumbled.  "I don't want to, like, break it."

"Maybe if you pull it down and then back up?" you offered.

"I can try," he said.

He tugged downwards twice and the zipper opened all the way down, near your tailbone. You heard a sharp intake of breath and realized he had probably gotten an eyeful of your black, lace panties and your matching bra. He recovered quickly and closed the dress all the way up with a little more strength and urgency than was necessary.

"There you go," his voice was choked.

You turned around to thank him and found him flushed to the tips of his ears.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to look-" he gestured vaguely at your body.

"It's fine. It wasn't on purpose," you appeased him. Still, you couldn't help but laugh a little. "Sorry, it's just that- Your cheeks are so red. Like you've never seen lingerie in your life," you smiled, hoping he'd join you and laugh a little but he stood awkwardly, avoiding your gaze.

Oh.

You knew he was a little younger than you but that still meant he was in his early twenties, good looking, and in the restaurant business... It would actually take dedication to not get some.

"I didn't mean to-" you started, unsure of what to say to make things lighter.

"I should get on with cleaning," he interrupted. "You look really nice," he added, something soft and adoring in his eyes.

Fuck.

"Thanks," you said, biting your lip.

You thought about the disappointing men you'd probably find at the club - not one of them would look at you like Carmy did just now.

You stopped him as he was about to leave.

"Carmy... Would you, uh, would you like to see it properly?" you offered, feeling lame and vulnerable at the same time. There was no cool and elegant way to say something like that.

"See what?" he tilted his head, genuinely confused.

"The, uh, lingerie... Would you like to see it properly?"

It was your turn to flush all the way down to your neck as he walked back to you.

"I- uh- I would. Yes," he mumbled.

"I'm gonna need help with the zipper again," you whispered.

He reached for it without you turning, strong arms rounding your frame and reaching behind you. He opened the dress and let go. You peeled the fabric slowly, staring at his face as more and more of your skin was bared.

"Fuck," he whispered.

You let the dress fall to the floor, his eyes caressed every inch of skin, lingering on your breasts and your hips, adorned in delicate lace.

You realized Carmy's hands were fidgeting with his apron.

"You can touch me," you said softly.

Slowly, he reached out, palms on your hips, then ghosting your sides, over your waist, and up your torso. You shivered at the sensation, his calloused hands careful on your skin. He cupped your breasts, a thumb over your nipple, and you hummed, squeezing your thighs, getting aroused. If the bulge underneath Carmy's apron was any indication, he was enjoying it too.

"Have you ever-?" you let the question float between you, Carmy's eyes wide with the implication.

"Uh, only hand stuff, you know?" he smiled shyly,  "We don't need to do anything," he added as an afterthought.

"Do you want to?" you emphasized.

"Yeah," he said, breathless.

You grabbed his shirt and pulled him into a bruising kiss.

Suddenly, his hands were all over you, squeezing your ass, bringing you closer. He kissed with the same intensity that he cooked: focused, every part of him engaged.

You untied his apron, palming his erection through his trousers.

"Shit," he hissed and cornered you towards the lockers. "Fuck, you okay?" he paused, the sound of metal crashing a little too loud.

You giggled, arching towards his body. "I'm okay. Kind of hot that you're so into it."

"Yeah?" Carmy smiled.

You nodded, kissing him again, feeling one of his hands leave your hip and move down your thigh and back up to cup your pussy. You moaned, the sensation of his fingers through the lace clouding your senses. You opened your legs wider, giving him access. He kissed the side of your neck eagerly. Your hands, that had been busy carding through his hair, went under his shirt, marveling at the firm muscle you found.

"Can I see?" you asked, voice low.

Carmy seemed confused but he obliged by removing his shirt and letting you look, your eyes lingering on his tattoos and the trail of hair that led to his belt. Your hands traced the lines of muscle. He seemed uneasy with the level of attention he was getting from you.

"You really don't know how attractive you are, huh?" you brought him back closer by the belt loops of his trousers.

"Dunno what you're talking about," he mumbled, more comfortable now that he could hide his face in the crook of your neck and his hand between your legs.

"Fuck," you exhaled, his middle finger landing exactly on your clit, the extra friction of the lace delicious and satisfying. "Right there."

Carmy kept rubbing, right hand on your pussy and left hand thumbing your nipple. Your moans started becoming louder, more needy.

"Sound so nice," he panted, forehead pressed to the side of your face.

"You make me sound like that," you praised, raking your nails through his hair. "Oh! Just like that."

"Mhmm."

His desperate exhales tickled your neck. It was intoxicating - him enjoying giving you pleasure so much. Before you knew it, you were right on the precipice, riding his hand eagerly, pulling his hair a little too hard, rolling your eyes.

"Fuck, Carmy," you whined, your pussy clenching around nothing. He looked at you, a proud expression adorning his face. You needed him.

You led him backwards, his legs hitting the bench between the lockers. With an extra push, he relented and sat down, that adoring look back in his eyes as he looked up at you. Without breaking eye contact, you shimmied out of your panties and straddled him. His hands caressed your waist as you unbuckled his belt; Carmy sighed with relief when his erection was finally free. You caressed his length and the head of his cock, soft, leaking with precum.

"Jesus Christ," he groaned.

You reached for your handbag, conveniently close to where you were sitting and took out a condom.

"Want me to put it on?" you offered gently. He nodded, hypnotized with the sight of your hands on his cock. He gulped when you shifted to hover above him. "Still want to?" you confirmed.

"Please, fuck," he grabbed at your back needily.

You guided him inside you, lowering inch by inch, feeling him stretch you in the most delicious way. You tilted your head to check in with him and found him with his eyes closed, frowning.

"Why are you squeezing your eyes shut?" you whispered, caressing the hair by his temples.

"Trying to make it last," Carmy replied, voice strained. "You feel fucking amazing."

You settled on his lap. "No pressure," you kissed the side of his face and caressed his shoulders, reassuring. "Wanna make your first time good."

"Already so fucking good, you have no idea..."

He exhaled through his nose, deep breaths as he squeezed your waist.

Finally, he opened his eyes, his pupils were blown and fixed on you.

"Alright?" you asked.

"Yeah. Fucking wreck me," he said with a smile.

"Yes, Chef," you smiled back and started riding him.

He followed your movements, pliant and eager as you set a pace. You held his face; he wasn't close enough to kiss but you caressed his lips with your thumb - he surprised you by sucking on it, drowning a groan as your pussy squeezed his cock. His hips snapped up, the head of his cock hitting your G spot.

"Fuck," you arched your neck, feeling him twitch inside you. "You gonna make me cum again, Carmy? You're gonna make me scream your name?"

His eyes widened. You didn't usually attempt dirty talk but you were past any sense of shame, and you were trying to give him the whole experience. At least that's how you rationalized it.

And it worked.

He doubled your rhythm, making it frantic, hitting just right in every thrust, panting desperately between your breasts.

"Oh my God," you moaned, worked up from your last orgasm, getting whiny and needy as he fucked into you. "Carmy, Carmy, Carmy."

You muffled a scream into the muscle between his neck and his shoulder, pussy throbbing as he chased his own pleasure. You pulled on his hair and kept him close, riding him on autopilot until he let out a primal groan, squeezing your waist even tighter. Somewhere in the back of your fuzzy, fucked out brain, you wondered if he was holding you hard enough to bruise. He exhaled, your hair all over his face.

"Fucking insane," he panted, arching his neck to kiss you sweetly.

When you finally met your friends at the club, they were several shots in, loud and carefree with alcohol. You were glad. None of them noticed your messed up hair and barely-there make up, or how you tugged nervously at your dress every few minutes, your soaked panties safe inside Carmy's pocket.

[pretty-batty]

Return to Skull Rock

Eddie x Original Female Character Pt 6 of Eldath's Priestess 4184 words

Warnings: SMUT (18+ only), descriptions of bodily injuries and scars, borderline grotesque facial deformities, Monster F*cking (Eddie is not quite human anymore), reunion sex, oral (m receiving), fingering (f receiving), p in v, unprotected sex (oral contraceptive implied), creampie, body worship. Now on ao3 Thank you again to @anakinkshamer as my beta reader.

Summary: Judy's trip with the old "Silly Simon" leads her to Eddie's location. But he is no longer the Eddie she knew.

Notes: This is my magnum opus. I hope you enjoy our new Eddie.

Judy had returned to the void she had tried to forget, walking through the nothingness.

She continued to think of him, her Eddie. From when she closed her eyes, she focused solely on him. How he smelled, how he sounded, how he looked at her with warmth and wonder.

The air grew colder, smelling of burned trees and rot. In the distance, she saw it, a rounded rock formation known by the youth of the area. A common make-out spot that she had yet to see in person. Eddie never took her there, insisting on being closer to the lake itself.

“People are assholes,” he’d explain, “and I don’t like sharing your attention with assholes.”

She approached the rock, gazing upon the newly killed animal, mauled beyond recognition. Her heart sank as she instinctively brought her hand to her chest, face crumpling in sorrow.

Her attention was brought to a hoard of screeching from high above. Still nothing to be seen, but she still followed the noises. The ground began to slant down beneath her feet, she found balancing to be easy as she made her way, the cold soon growing damp. A cave, most likely near the grave of lover’s lake, along the shoreline.

A shaking sigh echoed from within. She continued, rushing into its craggy stone mouth. There had been doubts through this experience, the biggest being the ghost of Joey’s death. But all of those fears melted away when she saw a trembling Eddie, or at least a mop of filthy curls hanging over a huddled body. She reached for him, touching his warm shoulder before being yanked away.

Judy snapped awake, being shaken by her aunt’s hands and voice. She shot upright, meeting her aunt’s gaze. “What?”

“Oh, thank fuck, you stopped breathing for a second.” Margie sighed, wrapping her arms around Judy and bringing her into an embrace.

The others had gathered due to Margie’s panicked attempts at waking Judy. They now watched as the young woman pried herself from her aunt and take a deep breath.

“South of skull rock, along the tip of Lover’s Lake, there is a cave. He’s alive, scared shitless but alive.” Her voice regained its strength, bolstered by the excited and relieved exhales, “but there are things in the trees. I don’t think we can risk navigating at night.”

Judy gave the parameters, but her brain was not in a position for strategy. The shrooms were still affecting her, as she wondered into the kitchen and laid on the tile. It swam like white water. She liked that.

It had been some time before they had hammered out a foolproof plan. All that was left was for Judy’s trip to end, which took longer than desired.

Late in the afternoon, it was time to put the plan into action. 

“If we’re going to get him, we have to be in teams. One to locate the cave, the other to extract him.”

Judy, Robin, Steve, Dustin, and Lucas would start at Skull rock and find the cave. Upon doing so, they would radio to the pickup team and wait for extraction. Hopefully, Eddie was still there.

The plan seemed straight-forward and simple, get there and get out. Judy wasn’t sure if it was the shrooms still lingering or if she was incredibly naïve, but she was confident in their ability to carry this out.

That was before she was met with Skull Rock and turned south. Trees. So many trees. The creatures were quiet, no doubt sleeping. She had hoped for a straight shot to the cave, as her walk through the void was. But she stumbled through the woods all the same, trailing behind Steve and Robin who took point, makeshift weapons at the ready.

What took mere seconds in her dream took a half an hour, and the sun was beginning to set. They reached the mouth of the former Lover’s Lake, the ground slanting into its smoking maw.

“No way in hell we’re reaching that.” Steve said, stopping amongst the grass, “you sure it’s here?”

Judy rubbed the back of her head, as if to stimulate a memory from her trip. But nothing. She saw nothing else. Her back to the rock, she walked, the ground slanted and the trees shrieked, the cave was wet. 

Wait. the cave. It was wet. Damp. So, there was moving water near it.

She looked to the two younger boys, “Can you use your boy scout senses and find water?”

Lucas shrugged, “I can use my eyes.” He motioned to a deer slowly making its way through the woods. “It’s either going towards water, or away from it. My money is on towards.”

Without a doubt, Lucas was right. With each step they took through the thin tree line, the earth began to soften, plants flowering in the path of the moistened earth. Within ten minutes, they had reached it. Along a brook, beneath a small cliff, there was the craggy stone mouth of the cave. 

But the anxiety froze Judy, barring her from going in. “I’ll call the location,” she insisted.

Dustin handed over the walkie-talkie before following into the cave behind the others. After a moment of conveying their location, reading the numbers off the notepad in her hand, and receiving assurance that it was received, she turned to the mouth of the cave.

Silence. 

How far did it go? 

How far had they gone?

Taking those first few steps, the cave felt as it had in her dream. Passing through the threshold, she could finally hear their voices. Very distant but discernable. 

“Jesus christ,” said Dustin. 

“What happened to your face?” Lucas questioned.

“Why the hell didn’t you come back?” asked Steve.

“Wayne’s been a mess.” Robin added.

“I couldn’t go back.”

Judy breathed a sigh of relief.

Eddie. 

“How the fuck do you think I could come back to them? I mean look at me.” His voice grew louder as she stumbled through the cave, hands running along the walls to navigate. In her desperation to reach him, she had forgotten to pull out her flashlight. Still, she made her way to the voices of her friends, and to her Eddie.

“You know she was blind, for like…a month? When we first met, she was seconds away from having a seizure. Then she was blind. But I didn’t care. I read to her. I helped her. I liked her. Then those guys came in, took her away for days. One morning she was back and,”

Judy finally reached them. His voice came loud and clear from behind the wall of teens, flashlights pointed at the back of the cave.

“She could see again, and she looked at my face…” Eddie cracked a smile, hidden behind his black, necrotic fingers, “I knew I wanted her to look at me like that for the rest of my life.” He ran his hands over his face and through his matted hair, “but not like this.” The young man turned to face his former allies, bringing his now grotesque visage into the many flashlight beams.

Two stitches, about two inches long, from each corner of his mouth. Two more from his top lip, reaching an inch below each eye. And the final one, down his chin, black and filthy. It looked as if it were formed from a Demogorgon-like maw into a mouth that could speak again. The mess took away from his eyes in the darkness of the cave, a striking yellow swirling where the deepest and kindest brown had once resided.

“What are you talking about?” Judy, incensed, pushed through the group to take her place at the front. There was a lull in her movements, as if to gage the danger, but the ache in her chest took over and she plowed another two steps forward. “Show me.”

Eddie instinctively shrunk away before she cupped his face in her hands. He softened in her familiar touch, immediately tucking his chin down to hide. Her grip forced him to meet her gaze.

The flashlights gave her a clear view of every grody stitch, stale sweat on his skin, his eyes glowing back at her. Her thumb ran along his cheek, right beside the highest stitch, as if trying to wipe the grime from his skin. “Eddie…”

“Mm?” He managed to hum, jaw clenching back a cry. 

Her hands moved from his cheeks down his arms, taking his taloned hands in hers and bringing them to her shoulders. His blackened grasp clutching to her as she released them, returning to his cheeks, bringing his gaze back to hers. “You can touch me.” She whispered. His hands softened, running down the front of her jacket, over her buttons and homemade patches, before settling on her hips.

“Should we…. go?” Robin asked.

“No. It’s okay…” Judy sighed, smiling up at Eddie, “let’s get you out of here.”

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

Eddie stepped out of the shower, the warm plush mat beneath his feet. He couldn’t bring himself to look in the mirror, fearing the horror he’d face in its reflection. The commotion downstairs had quieted down. Judy’s voice was absent. His darkened fingers and thickened claws gripped the fluffy pink towel and held it to his face, taking a deep breath. It smelled like her, like home. Using it to dry himself off, he was able to take inventory of his healed wounds. A massive chunk of his right leg was gone, the memory of crawling on his belly through the Upside-Down came to him, shown by the scars across his chest. Then there were his two matching wounds, now forming inch deep pits over each hip, discolored but smoothed by regenerated skin.

At least he smelled better.

He wrapped the towel around his hips and exited from the bathroom, swiftly ducking into Judy’s open bedroom and closing the door, clicking the lock behind him. Only to be met by his lover’s wide eyes, a smile creeping across her face.

The butterflies in Judy’s stomach reached into her throat, forcing out a “um…” 

She took him in, drinking up his form and trying not to cry out in joy. She simply closed her lips, tamping down her smile, “your jammies are in the same drawer they’ve always been.”

“Kept them?” he asked, voice slightly croaked from the shower steam.

“Of course I did. You know me, can’t let go.”

He fished out a pair of Hawkins Tigers sweatpants and the old Led Zeplin shirt he had given her. “Can’t believe you talked me into buying these school spirit pants like a chump.”

“That was when I thought we would graduate together.” Judy turned away, facing the curtained window at the far end of her room, giving him some privacy.

She heard Eddie’s casual footsteps approach her from behind. “After all the things you’ve done to this body, you still worry about my modesty.” He reached out, running the back of his claws along her arms, just as he had without them many times before. His fingers slowly traced down to her hands, enveloping them in his. She felt his gentle breath against the back of her ear, lulling her to close her eyes. He brought one hand to his lips, pressing a kiss on her wrist. The other hand guided behind her, pressing her open hand against his naked cock.

Her eyes snapped open as she whipped around to look at him, slipping her hands from his grip and placing them on his chest, scarred, pale, but just as warm. 

“You dropped your towel…” She brought herself closer to him.

“Oopsie.” He smiled, his stitches separating slightly to make his grin a little uncanny. Judy’s fingers reached up to his face, ghosting over his stitched mouth. His smile faded slightly, grabbing her hands and pressing them to his flesh. 

“Do they hurt?” she whispered, a tremble in her voice.

“No, baby,” he lied. “Just feel a little weird, is all.” 

In truth, the pull was the least of his worries. It was the splitting that occurred when he needed to feed that caused him the most pain. The stitches kept his Demogorgon maw in the shape of a human mouth, but the skin would still split along the seams, the edges becoming fresh each week. 

But Judy didn’t need to know about that, not yet.

The feeding frenzy was at the will of the hivemind. At the will of Vecna, as the bats and monsters were. But he had more control than the others. Sleeping in Judy’s bed, hearing her sweet voice and heart-wrenching sobs through the veil had forced him to stay. There was hope that once the Big Bad was defeated, it would be over. He’d have control and would most likely die. 

But Judy didn’t need to know that either. She just needed to know that he was here, with her, for as long as possible.

“Tell me honestly, buttercup.” He took one step back, opening his arms and releasing her fingers from his grasp, “is my dick weird?”

She finally looked at him, all of him. The scars and abrasions healed over, purples, magentas, and blacks. Her eyes scanned down each extremity, hands and feet, fingers and toes, were now a dark purple, no longer a necrotic black as they had been. The tips of his fingers and toes, along with his talons still remained black as pitch. His eyes looked more jaundiced than cadmium yellow. It was almost as if being separated from that hellish dimension was healing him.

His cock, however, remained the same. She smiled softly, “not any weirder than it already was.”

He wiggled his hips slightly, his member rocking side to side, making Judy hold back a snort. She forced the corners of her mouth downwards, nostrils flaring. But she was losing the battle. Her eyes darted to her ceiling, but Eddie’s approach guided her gaze to his face. He walked forward and took her hands in his, placing them on his face and taking a deep breath, smelling her palms.

Judy pushed her hands up into his hair, his curls combed out in the shower. Her body pressed against his. He was the naked one now, vulnerable in his lover’s arms. And Judy sheltered his body with hers. She gazed into his big brown eyes, resting their foreheads together. “Hi…” she muttered.

“Hi…” Eddie answered.

“I missed you.” She blinked, her lips finally opening into a smile, “I missed you so much.” Her eyes began to burn as her vision grew blurry.

Eddie snaked his arms around her, walking backwards and drawing her to her bed. “I’m here now, Judy.” The mattress hit the back of his knees and he sat down, his face against her middle, nose to navel, the crown of his head skirting just below her breasts. His grip stayed around her, pulling her bare belly to his face, and pressing his lips against her skin. He closed his eyes, burying his face into the softness of her tummy. A sigh escaped his lips.

“Glad I decided to wear my cropped shirt,” she muttered, running her fingers through his hair. She heard him sniffle, then a broken sigh, knowing it well. Her chest ached, pleading softly, “Lay back, baby.”

He finally separated from her, eyes wet from tears. Slowly, he laid back on to her pillow, grateful that the bed remained unmade. Judy followed, pulling her shirt over her head and tossing it to the side. Her breasts dropping back into place, Eddie’s lips parted in a delighted smile, glassy eyes shining up at her. “God you’re somethin’ else, Judy.”

She dipped into a kiss, before traveling down to the scars on his neck. “Tell me if I hit something that hurts.”

“Mhm,” Eddie closed his eyes, his muscles relaxing as his nerves began vibrating with anticipation. Though he had made the mistake of getting his dick sucked by other people, it was never as good. There was something she did that no one else bothered to do. She savored every inch of skin, took her time. Her lips and tongue would latch onto his tenderest parts, lap at him, breathe him in, leave him reeling. She didn’t just suck him off. She went down on him and made him feel like a god. He was glad he snagged her before someone else did.

His treasure. His princess.

Eddie’s grip on her hair relaxed Judy in a way she couldn’t explain. She finally reached the matching scars on his torso, whispering blessings against the pits that were left behind. They were soft, as new skin tended to be, and tender beneath her lips. Her lover squirmed slightly, causing Judy to stop.

“You okay, Eddie?” She asked, “did I hurt you?”

He shook his head, damn near nonverbal as his cock stood, leaking for her.

“You want me to keep going, or just to suck you now?”

The grip in her hair tightened, regaining his composure. His eyes opened, dark and stern. His gaze flicked to his cock, a quiet command. “Your lips, there, now,” and Judy did as he said.

She left out a giggle, almost bouncing as she made her way between his legs. He stopped her half-way, ass pointed at the wall, knees against his scarred thigh. His hand released her hair, running his claws down her back and down her ass, gathering her shorts and panties as he went, pulling them down.

“What? You wanna pet my pussy while I take care of you?” she asked, kissing from his hip to his mound. His scent smacked her in the face when her nose rested on his dried curls, setting her in a hungry trance. It was muted from his shower, but it still lingered.

The back of his talons ran down her naked folds. She took that as the command, her hand taking his shaft, lifting it, and diving to the base of his cock, sucking at the warm crook between the base and his velvet sack. Her nose nestled in his curls fully, breathing him in. She let out a moan. Eddie opened his mouth, gasping for air for a moment before resting his head against the wall, lips curled in a cheshire smile, gazing down his nose as he watched Judy enjoy his cock.

And she did, drooling on his shaft as she ran her tongue to his tip. Her lips wrapped around the head of his cock, tongue running across it, lapping up his release and swallowing it. Her fist softly stroked his shaft. God, she missed the taste. He was perfectly sweet for her, and according to Eddie, she was just as sweet for him.

He ran his fingers along her pussy again, gathering her slick before bringing his claws to his lips. He hummed, satiated, like a bear with a pot of honey. His hand returned to its place, gently slipping his middle digit in her entrance, worried his new manicure would scratch her.

She moaned and opened her mouth more, taking him into her mouth almost fully. Her head slowly and gently bobbing along his length. Her tongue extended along his shaft, allowing him to slide into her mouth and grace the back of her throat. Spit pooled at her lips and ran down to his curls. Her throat clicked around his cock, a gentle whimper accompanying it.

Eddie’s left hand finally gathered her hair in a makeshift ponytail, letting him get a better look at her final few bobs. Their eyes met. “That’s my girl. Suckin’ me so good.” He whispered.

She lifted off his cock, jaw aching as she passed his shaft along her slightly parted lips. “Missed your cock, Eddie.” She whimpered, finally pulling away to catch her breath. In the calmness, she realized Eddie was three fingers in her pussy, knuckle deep. She was so soaked and soft that she hardly noticed. A rarity for her.

“You have been sucking and clenching around these fingers the whole time, buttercup.”

She shrugged, cheeks growing red with embarrassment. “I just…missed this.”

“My cock?”

Judy’s lips tightened, sitting up from her place, shaking her head in earnest, “You know it’s not just-”

“I know, Judy. I’m just lightening the mood.” He smiled, drawing his fingers from her with a wet shlick. He brought his claws to his lips, sucking each one while gazing at her.

Her gaze softened. “You want me to finish you off?”

Eddie shook his head, opening his arms. “C’mere,”

Giddy, Judy bounced back up to his lap, swinging her knee over him, resting her soaked pussy on his skin. “Fuck you’re so warm.” She smiled. Eddie grinned back, talons running through her hair before yanking her down into a sloppy kiss, flavors mixing on their tongues. All it took was a roll of his hips for her to slide down half-way on to his cock. Her pussy swallowing him whole as she eased the rest of the way down.

The valley of her breasts met his maw, open to accept her soft skin beyond his teeth. His tongue swirled around the bruise that was sure to form. His lips migrated from one breast to the other, his cock aching inside her. His hands ran over and gripped her curves. Judy cradled his head to her, smile pressed in his slowly drying curls. Joyful tears slowly slipped down her nose and onto the crown of his head.

Her hips began to move, gliding up and down his cock. The head sliding across her most sensitive zones, each pass along her walls bringing her closer to her peak. She groaned hungrily in his hair, picking up her pace, taking his gasps of pleasure as motivation.

Finally, Eddie managed to speak. His broken voice muffled against her skin. “So…good. Gonna cum.” There was a twinge of shame in his admission. He would have lasted longer, but given the circumstances, his mind was blown from Judy’s lips alone.

Judy understood, chest aching for him to fill her like he used to. Her voice vibrated in her chest as she purred, “It’s okay baby, cum in me. It’s okay.”

He crossed his legs beneath her, his grip on her plush hips tightening painfully as he took over and slammed her on his cock in short pumps. The thrusts growing desperate to stay as deep inside her as possible. His mouth dropped open, spit dripping down his lips as he pulled back to meet Judy’s gaze.

Her eyes were puffy, dried tears sticking on her skin as she bent back, hands bracing herself behind her. All she wanted was more, and she knew with all her patience and diligence, she wasn’t going to get it. Eddie’s gaze was completely lost, staring at the point of their union, and in a few more thrusts she felt that wet heat fill her. His lips parted in a spent groan, before twisting up in a grin. His clawed thumb reaching gently to rub circles over her clit, hips slowly regaining their pace as he fucked his cum into her.

He'd be damned if he let her go without a leg shaking orgasm. 

“You still on the pill?” he asked, punctuated by his grunts as he slid in and out of her. A bit too late of a question, but he already knew the answer.

Judy felt her walls flex in more sporadic intervals, managing a simple, “uh-huh.”

“Lost for words, baby girl? Not so in control now.” He smiled, “your turn, lay back for me.”

Without a second thought, Judy leaned back. Eddie gripped her thighs and pulled her up the bed. Her head finally resting on her sheets. One clawed hand on her hip, the other still stroking her clit, Eddie held her still, hips at an angle to keep his cum inside her.

Judy could feel herself spasming, drawing his cock closer inside, holding it and milking the already sensitive organ. The need made him double over, burying his face in her neck, pounding his cock inside her, soaking the sheets beneath them even further. Chest to chest, trapping his hand against her sex. He didn’t think he had anything left, but he was so wrong.

Judy’s entrance clenched around him, a burning ring around his cock as she felt lightning clap through her body. She slammed her head back and let out a gasp, her smile gleaming. Her release streaming down her lips and thighs, covering his as well. Eddie cried out in her neck, cum dripping from his abused cock. Tears pricking her eyes, pushing him off her before he finally removed his thumb from her clit, sliding himself out of her and watching his cum leak from her. A beautiful sight he could never get enough of.

Eddie and Judy gazed at each other, in wonder and relief. Judy managed to whisper his name once before he leaned back down, all of her limbs clamped around him, bringing him back to her chest, cradling his head to her neck, hand splayed out through his hair, still damp.

“Oh Eddie, my Eddie…” She whimpered in his ear, “my Eddie.”

Whew! That was a crazy ride! Our lovers are finally reunited. Thank you for reading, my loves!

Tag list: @loserboysandlithium

[itsagrimm]

He Who Comes from under the Water

Chapter 6 - Safekeeping

Monster!König X she/her afab Reader

CN dead fish

Notes for better understanding at the bottom!

Beta-read by @queenquazar. She is a writer as well and does amazing work which you should definitely check out.

2,3 k words

Masterlist

The water ran playfully past your bare feet dangling in the little stream. You had taken off your shoes, sitting at the grass covered bank while watching König fish. It was shallow, but you could not bring yourself to go deeper than this. König of course did not mind the water, hip deep, and comfortably towering as he straightened victoriously like a tree surviving the flood to pass you one sorry little flapping creature after another, asking you with much elation if that sorry thing would do for lunch.

“A Pike? Yummy.”

“No, not the Rodd. Too much bone.”

“Please don’t make me eat a snail.”

“Another Pike! How did you manage to catch a second one so quickly?”

As the caught fish collected in a basket next to you, waiting to be gutted and prepared, you leaned back on your elbows. It had been a… strange morning.

König had come inside your home for breakfast, only to reveal you might die due to the dangers of being his underwater queen. His words had felt like getting pushed back into a dark pit you had barely managed to crawl out of moments ago. Every time you gathered back your strength, something happened, and you were back where you started. But unlike you, König was not as quick to give up and dragged you back up once again from the pit.

 In fact, you wondered why he had not given up on you, just leaving you to find himself a better, more suitable, queen? No, König was bent on keeping you alive, jumping up from the kitchen table declaring ‘I have an idea’ and running out, shouting for the Heron. Confused, you had stayed where you were, only for König to run back in again, lifting you up in a surprising hug accompanied with a ‘you will live, you will live’-chant. You had squeaked in surprise, and he nearly dropped you on the floor, mumbling an excuse before running out again and returning what felt like no time with a bit of fresh birch bark, asking you for a knife.

“Why?”

“It is to write a letter.”

Confused, you passed him a kitchen knife and he started scratching symbols into the soft bark with it. The little blade looked so ridiculous in his large hands, like a dainty daisy in a bear’s claw. Despite it all, you laughed. A desperate little laugh fighting its way out of your lungs.

He looked up.

“What is it, Bride?”

“Nothing. Your hands are so big and the knife so small. That is all.”

He leaned back.

“Would you prefer to write yourself with this tiny knife in your tiny human hands?”

“I can’t,” you replied shortly, still giggling. What a stupid question.

“Why? Can you only use a knife to chop fish?”

“Yes,” You dead panned and smiled softly, the easing laughter helping you with your heavy mood, “I can’t read. Women do not read or write. Don’t you know? Only men can and Ivar, the village teacher, never allowed girls, despite my brother being a student of his and practising at this table next to me. I still was never allowed to attend.”

König frowned under all the messy tangled hair.

“We should change that. Downstream in the cities, everyone knows how to read and write - man, woman or whatever you humans can be. It would be good for you to learn it - but not today. The Heron will not be able to guard you. They have to deliver this letter and hopefully give us the help we need for you to stay alive.”

He paused, his eyes shifting from the pragmatic to a soft questioning gaze.

“Would you like to spend the day with me instead, Bride? I promise, I’ll keep you as safe as the Heron.”

And that was how you ended up wandering the forest with König. Watching him search for trees to fall for the palace with his big axe, while you followed collecting berries and harvesting herbs with your little, tiny kitchen knife until you grew tired and rested at this little stream.

A little splash of water to your face made you squeal in surprise, and you opened your eyes.

König stood before you, a huge catfish under his arm struggling to get free and splashing water everywhere.

“Don’t fall asleep in the sun, Bride,” König chided softly. “You will get a headache from it. The old man complained about it all the time.”

You giggled. “Yes, grandfather liked to have naps but never chose a good spot for it.”

You got up to move into the shadows of a willow for a quick nap.

König nodded approvingly, the catfish under his arm joining in in an attempt to get free.

“Can you make a fire before you nap? It is not my strong suit and, unlike me, you don’t eat raw fish.”

Surprised you turned to König. The man who appeared to be able to do anything – scare away Ivar, summon speaking animals and swamp lights, catch fish and lift heavy wood – did not know how to make a fire.

“No fire under the water, remember?”

You paused before nodding.

That made sense.

The catfish nodded too before finally wiggling out of König’s grip and slipping back into the water.

With a curse König dived after it, leaving you to make a fire.

With practised ease you build a little pile before lighting it up and feeding it more air and dried bark until it was big enough to sustain itself.

Casually you grabbed a few sticks, sharpened them with your knife, gutted and cleared the caught fish and skewered the pike meat wrapped in some of the herbs. It would make for a great meal and you felt your body going from tired to awake enough for food and an eventual nap afterward.

König emerged from the stream and stepped on land, his unhuman appearance mostly covered by a dripping cloak except for the shimmery wet skin from the water and the sunlight.

“No catfish?”

He grumbled something in defeat before sitting down next to the fire.

“You need to teach me how to do this fire and cooking thing, Bride. Could be useful.”

“Oh yes, I will,” You promised, “Who else is supposed to make meals while I sleep?”

He chuckled.

“You humans are so delicate – always needing rest, food, shelter, air, water – but only the clear sweet waters and none of the green or salty ones. I wonder how you make it through the day laughing. Your lives are so harsh.”

“It is pretty okay being a human.” A grin spread on your face as you shrugged. “Better than coming from the water and having to munch raw catfish. Oh wait, the catfish got away. Guess you’ll go hungry, love.”

The word slipped out of you before you could think - a little treacherous word telling of little, treacherous dreams in your little, hopeful heart.

Love.

You looked down, pretending to concentrate on the fire and picked up one of the sticks to grill the fish.

“Be kind and do not let me starve, maiden.” König called out playfully and picked up one of the prepared sticks. “How do you do this?”

You showed him how to hold the fish without burning it, reminding him he had to turn it once in a while, so the fish will be cooked from all sides, and explaining how you used the herbs on the meat.

“And no bark?” König asked after your explanations.

“No bark.”

“Hmpf.

You looked up at him, his features hidden by his hair and hood. Except for his mouth with gleaming sharp teeth turned down in an unhappy frown.

Very sharp teeth.

You shivered, the reality of your fiancé’s inhumanness hitting you in the face like water from the struggling catfish desperate for life.

“Humans do not eat bark but if you like it so much, do what you want.” Your voice went thin as you spoke, a strange lump of fear and worry weighted down deep in your gut.

“Say, König,” you started. “What exactly is so dangerous about me becoming your wife?”

There, the words were out.

Hanging in the air like the skewed fish over the fire, slowly burning and sizzling away skin – painful and inevitable, unless doing something to prevent it.

König sighed.

“My brother,” he explained with a defeated tone, “Can be very pessimistic. He said I might accidentally kill you by drowning. But,” He looked at you, his eyes clear as ice piercing through any doubt. “I will not do that. I promise you are safe with me and there might be someone who can help with removing that danger. Also,” He continued as a careful, toothy smile grew on his face. “So far I have at least somewhat succeeded in keeping you safe, right? You are here and not hurt or hidden away in the house. Not saying I’ve done it perfectly but…” His voice rippled off in waves, making your eye brows narrow slightly

“It is good enough for now… right?”

You stared into the fire, thinking about König’s words. Yes, you were afraid. His otherness sometimes confusing you, or making you withdraw from him in fear. But never had he done anything to harm you.

At least not willingly.

Yes, there were accidents and mistakes. But, he tried to keep you safe and looked out for you. You could not remember anyone being so honestly interested in you and your well-being. Not the villagers who dropped you the moment you became uncomfortable for them. Not the boys you had kissed in secret, or girlfriends who had stopped visiting you when you started to cry more than you laughed from all the death and misery in your life. And certainly not your family who loved you, but kept you as their obedient child to help at home and carry any expectations they placed on you without opposition. That included your beloved grandfather who promised you to someone without asking your permission, counting on you to just follow his command. Love was complicated. You missed your family, your friends and old life. But there was bitterness thinking about them now. The old house had become as much a sanctuary as it was a prison.

Being with König was not that different: like an axe to build a new palace or yield as a weapon.

Yes, it was unfortunate how you had come to be the Bride of the King from Under the Water.

And maybe it would be your death.

But so far, your engagement has come with much more grace than you had ever known.

“Do not worry, my love,” You whispered those words with a grim dedication to all that it might include. “I know you are keeping me safe, and I trust you will continue to do so.”

The silence of your words weighed heavy as you stared into the fire without seeing the flames.

A hand touched yours and you jerked up. König had moved closer, carefully lifting your hand with the skewered fish up and away from the heat.

“I am not much of an expert on fire but this looks like you could light yourself up like that,” He declared with a soft ring as if trying not to smile. “You said it yourself - ‘turn it so it does not burn’. I would do a poor job keeping my bride safe if I let you burn your fingers now.”

You blinked in confusion, before adjusting the grip on the stick in your hand under his large right palm.

“Thank you,” you mumbled.

He kept his hand around yours - warm, strong, pleasant - and you hummed in approval as his other wandered around your shoulder and pressed you closer to his side.

My bride. My bride.

That’s what he had said.

The words rang pleasantly in your ears as you nuzzled into Königs chest.

XXX

Cultural context notes:

König writes in Old Church Slavonic. Old Church Slavonic is the basis of many the Slavic languages written form. It was ‘created’ by two monks named Methodius and Cyril (That’s why the modern alphabet is now called Cyrillic) who were tasked with helping to convert the Byzantian Slavs in Moravia to Christianity. To do that they translated several religious texts, most importantly the Bible, into Old Church Slavonic which could be understood by the Slavs. Old church Slavonic is really cool and can still be understood by many modern speakers of Slavic languages despite coming from the 9th century. Also, the Polish band Batushka / БАТЮШКА sings in Old Church Slavonic if you want to know what it sounds like.

XXX

shoot me a message if you want to be tagged as well. (-:

@thesinsoflust @kdkj122920 @die-prophetin @lillianastuff @1234ilikecowsthanyoumore @fatedeniedhope @queensidillasworld @agspgrwasb @silelda @unlikepoltergeist @matcha-flavored-cake @blvkwondaland @diamondnightdreamer @brooklyn-1918 @thorns-x @icepancakes

[bloodandthestars]

𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐄𝐘𝐄.

priest!suguru geto x fem!reader. a part of JUDAS, a kinktober drabble series.

tw: talks on religion, smoking :: edit: UPDATED

wc: 2k :: masterlist :: previous part

Sunday went as smoothly as he’d mull over in his head. The sermon was made to be a continuation of the previous one: where to find strength through God in the path of life’s obstacles. With Suguru moving voice and emphasis, the communion consumed and praised Him to be.

Wednesday rolled around, and it was a night of Bible study but more importantly, the potluck everyone was waiting for. Mrs. Kaskai and a few other church women set the picnic tables outside in the courtyard, her husband getting the lights to work around wooding postings. Mr. Weren brought propane for the grill, excited to be cooking ribs he had marinating in the church’s kitchen for a week now. With the Father’s help, they worked together as one to make it all happen for their community.

Suguru clicks a spoon to his glass to gather everyone’s attention. It was once simple click and heads turned without a second wasted. Children were hushed to soft murmurs and babbles, and all eyes were on him. Like they always were. And as always, he presented himself with a smile.

“There’s no doubt in my mind that the food we have here today isn’t like any other. Practically have a few five start chefs among us.” The crowd laughs heartily.

“The effort is seen and worth appreciating, especially with the succession of the bake sale!” Claps and cheers could be heard all around, including the father’s. They simmer down for him to continue. “It’s worth the celebration, so here we are, to bless and be blessed. Let us bow our heads.”

Small groups crowed around the food tables to get their pieces. As Suguru gives a nod of gratitude for Mr. Everest putting some on his place, he glances down to the array of foods. Each with their own signed cards of what was made and by who. His eyes glance over the varied names. His steps slow as they narrow in concentration, wanting to be sure he was seeing things correctly. A dark chocolate cake sat in front of him, with your name signed at the bottom. Did you come through here already? How come he didn’t see you?

He glances around, searching for your face in the crowd. When he came up empty-handed, the priest moves to allow the line to flow again.

The night went on as lively as ever, talking with each smiling patron after the next. He’d smile back, laugh with their jokes, but feel as though he was much farther from everyone than he really was. His words were half-hearted at best. Every now and then his glance takes him outward, looking to his surroundings. After the third or maybe fourth glance around, he eyes figure sitting on top of the hood of a car. A figure he’d recognize from his distracting thoughts.

“Are you alright, Pastor?”

He nods, blinking himself back into conversation with an older woman and her daughter. “Yes, my apologies.”

Those eyes wonder about again after the reassurance was made. Suguru knew the real answer to that question, and the one thing he could do to fix it.

The church parking lot only had about four street lights. You were under one of them, sitting atop your car, with a scent that he knew as clear as day. He shouldn’t approach you. If you looked like you wanted to be left alone, the result would have been just that. But his dress shoes keep their path, walking in your direction. Your head turns when you seemed to notice him approaching. Eyes glance at him up and down, he surely wasn’t mistaken on that. “Evening, Father.”

He greets you back with a mention of your name. Glancing away, he catches how you has a good view of everyone in the courtyard. Looking back, he asks. “Not one for these kinds of things?”

You blow out smoke to the side with a scrunch of your lips. “Not particularly.”

“May I ask why?”

Your smile feels like fingers crawling up his back. “Aren’t you off the clock, Father? No need to try and pull a confession.”

A warmth spreads on his cheeks, causing him to look away with an embarrassed chuckle. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to-“

“I’m only teasing you.”

What you pull from your pocket causes Suguru’s mouth to dry. A pack of cigarettes with a slight dent at the top. You pop open the carton, pulling out a stick. You look to the pastor, who watches your hands until he catches your gaze on him. It’s like you’re getting even worse for him to ignore— trading one slight for another.

He nods his head in your direction and you give him the pack. He hears the flicker of a lighter as he puts a cigarette on the trim oh his mouth. It parts, about to ask you for the light, until he feels something grab his shirt. Suguru looks up to catch the end of your cigarette with yours. Your eyes focus on making sure his lights, while his eyes can’t seem to turn away from your face. Not when you were so, so close. His heart picks up in light patters, hoping— praying, it was masked in his breathing.

He could only find himself to relax just as you finished lighting. You pull your head back, hand holding your sitting firm up from behind. Suguru leans his weight against the car with his back to you, entirely quiet.

There he was swirling in a spiral of water that never seemed to end. Why did you do that? The lighter was right there. He was just on the brink of being swallowed whole in your proximity. If only you ate a bit more.

He pulls the cigarette from his lips with shaky hand, blowing smoke off to the side. The silence remained so, but surprisingly to him, his shoulders begin to slack. His exhales become heavier as they roll out every stress of just that week. All in the intimate quiet you two shared.

“I suppose this was a much needed break.” He speaks up behind another inhale. You let your cigarette hang off your mouth as you glance to him. “Even you need breaks from all that religious zeal, Father?”

You were teasing him, he caught on it this time. Suguru laughs quietly, letting smoke follow after. "Of course I need a break," He replied. "As the head of this community, I feel responsible for everyone's well-being. Sometimes it's difficult to look after so many people at once.”

You both took a drag from your cigarettes. Your eyes look to the sky, watching as your smoke dissipates. Once again, you felt yourself be honest on holy ground. “I can’t imagine having to listen to them. Trying to solve every problem they have with a book older than the earth itself.”

Suguru didn’t know if he was supposed to take offense or not. But you weren’t exactly wrong. He knew how the people in the congregation operate. “People don't realize how much they project onto these ancient scriptures," Geto replied, nodding his head in agreement. "They don't consider the context of when they were written and how it may apply to their own situation."

He took another deep drag from his cigarette, exhaling the smoke. You slight your head in agreement. "Some people love to rely on something outside of themselves to tell them how to feel and how to live, I suppose."

What was that that felt like a wound in his chest? Pride?

“You don’t exactly sound like a believer.” He huffs.

“Neither do you.”

Something twists in his stomach. The same feeling of having your hand caught in the cookie jar as a child. He lashed his head to you, you and your calm expression that gives him even more whiplash. You shrug, pulling the tobacco tab from your lips. “Promise,” You finger traces an X over your chest. “I won’t tell a soul.”

Suguru catches your witty smile. Another tease, at least he had hoped with the hard swallow down his throat. Still, you did manage to get an amused exhale out of him.

“I…” He begins, only for his eyes to fall to the ground. His words change. “I just see things a bit differently than some of them.”

“Well?”

The pastor takes a quick inhale. "I believe a priest should listen to the scripture and offer guidance where needed, but also try to instill their own values and morals into the teachings."

You arch your brow. “That just seems…normal.”

He took the cigarette from his mouth, holding it in one hand as he leaned his back against the car further. "Some members think that's a blasphemous way of looking at it," he added. "That I'm perverting their precious lessons."

He laughed, exhaling a puff of smoke.

"I say, what's so blasphemous about using your own brain?"

Your brows quirk together, turning your head to the lively scene ahead of you both. “I didn’t know there were some in your congregation that find you that way.”

"I've learned a lot about my own congregation," He explained. "The members who are devout to the scripture are very sensitive to my every action. Any perceived flaw is bound to become a rumor in these circles."

Suguru paused, taking another drag. "Thankfully, I've managed to build up a good reputation within this community."

He glances over at you, eyes doing a once over before speaking. “To which you seem all the more distant from.”

You scoff, a cloud of smoke harshly pushed onto the air. You take your eyes back to the lively scene. The children playing in the grass, the sun setting behind the fumes of a grill. Chatter and booming laughter. It all seemed perfectly cut out for a holiday card. “I’m doing all this for my mother.” You murmur. “And I know when I don’t belong somewhere.”

He looks back to the ground. Those words sounded like ones that were temporary. He hoped not but the idea of you being here permanently didn’t seem too right.

A nudge of his neatly dressed shoulder snaps him out of his thoughts. His head bounces up to look at you. You were already half way down your cigarette when you talk. “Speaking of…you should go back.”

Maybe those words were his saving grace. A holy light appearing in the confusing darkness, perhaps a blessed creature creating a path to redemption. A way for his thoughts to distance themselves from your consumption. Perhaps your words were a moment of actual divine intervention.

"I think I'll stay with you." He states, almost confidently. “I…enjoy your company.”

The ends of your lips quirk up. Your hand pats a spot next to you on the hood of the car. Suguru looks between before obliging. Once he gets himself situated, he sees the view that she has of the social event. The congregation was in bursts of small groups. There was one person however, going from one group to the next with a slight of urgency. That group looks between each other, one straying off to act like the first— questioning and questioning. Suguru only let out a sigh, not a doubt in his mind what they were looking for.

You notice, turning your head to look at him. Huffing, you throw your finished cigarette on the gravel. He reluctantly goes to stand, running a hand through his hair as your hand pulls another cigarette. You place it at your lips. “Seems that’s your-“

That evening air beginning to settle in seemed long forgotten. You’re frozen in place as you’re met with his cigarette lighting the end of yours. His hands were placed on either side of you on the sleek hood. Suguru stood still between your legs to ensure that it would light— that he wouldn’t throw up his own heart. He simply just— moved. Jumped at the opportunity when it was clear for him. His tab was much shorter than when yours in the beginning of your smoke session, making your faces all the more closer. He could feel your breath tickle his face, just as still as he was. His eyes slowly look up to yours, that have been staring at him this whole time. The look within them changes. One that makes his throat too dry to speak.

“Careful there, Eve.”

tags: @getousrep

[gimmiesophiebaek]

VBPS (Benedict’s Wedding)

Rated: G Staring: All of the Bridgertons + partners (Daphne’s married, Colin’s married, Francesca’s married)

Party #6: Benedict and Sophie’s Wedding (2019)

“It’s my wedding day!” 

Benedict shouted at the top of his lungs, bolting out of bed as though he hadn’t just spent half the night sketching by the nightlight. 

His voice echoed through the corridors of "My Cottage," the quaint Wiltshire home that he and Sophie had so lovingly restored. It was their haven, their perfect slice of countryside, and today, it would witness their vows.

From downstairs, a collective groan rose up. His family had come to expect this kind of early-morning enthusiasm from Benedict. Ever since he and Sophie had gotten engaged, it had become something of a tradition. Every family gathering began the same way: Benedict’s exuberant announcement that it was his wedding day—whether it actually was or not.

"Benedict," Colin called out in a tired, teasing voice, "for the love of God, it’s too early for this."

Undeterred, Benedict threw on his dressing gown and practically skipped down the stairs, finding his mother in the kitchen, overseeing preparations. 

"Mother!" he exclaimed, rushing to give Violet a kiss on the cheek. "Is everything in order? Sophie will absolutely insist on doing everything herself if she thinks for a second—"

"Everything is under control, dear," Violet interrupted with a soft smile. "Sophie is taking care of herself this morning. You needn’t worry."

"But I’m the groom! I should be helping!"

"Benedict, love, if you help too much, you’ll only make a mess of things." Violet chuckled. 

That earned a hearty laugh from Francesca, who had just walked in, carrying a tray of breakfast pastries. 

"She's right.” She asked as she placed the tray down. “You’d trip over yourself and ruin the whole affair."

Benedict feigned offense, but the excitement still lit up his face. Francesca gave him a rundown of the day so far. 

"Everyone is here except Eloise. She’s staying at the inn with Sophie and Posy for the night."

"Posy is here?" Benedict blinked. "Well, that’s a surprise."

"Indeed," Francesca smirked, "but as for Anthony—" She didn’t need to finish. The family shared a knowing laugh at the mention of their older brother, who, true to form, was running late.

"Hyacinth mentioned he’s getting a haircut. At a barber," Francesca added with exaggerated shock, her eyebrows arching. "Apparently, he wants to look decent for the photos."

"Perfect!” Benedict clapped his hands together. “A clean-shaven Anthony is a sight to behold. I hope someone’s ready with a camera."

He wandered over to the window, gazing out at the rolling hills that Sophie so dearly loved. The lush, green landscape stretched out before him, reminding him once again of why they had chosen this place. Sophie, with her country roots, never felt at ease in the bustling chaos of London. She’d grown up in the Norfolk countryside, and the idea of a big city wedding never appealed to her. She wanted their day to be something that reflected who they were, not a grand spectacle but an intimate celebration in a place that felt like home.

Benedict understood. His art could be made anywhere. But Sophie—Sophie was the very center of his world, and this place, with its quiet beauty, was her sanctuary.

His thoughts turned to how much they’d been through together. Sophie had faced down her stepmother, Araminta, and secured her rightful inheritance with grace and strength. She’d fought hard for her independence, carving out her own path while standing by his side, not as his shadow but as his equal. Benedict couldn’t help but admire her more every day.

And yet, she still found time to help him with his commissions, offering sharp insights and critiques that only made his work better. She was more than his muse; she was his partner in every sense of the word.

"I can’t believe it.” He turned back to his family, his grin widening. “Sophie Baek is going to be my wife today."

"Yes, we’ve heard," Colin teased from the doorway, still bleary-eyed but amused. "And if you shout it one more time, the whole of Wiltshire will know, too."

Benedict didn’t care. It wasn’t every day that someone fell in love at first sight and then actually got to marry that very same person. He had found his match, his muse, his best friend.

Continue on AO3

(note: Sorry I didn’t post a couple of chapters but I will post the invites for those chapters shortly)

[alwritey-aphrodite]

Hi again! I am very much in my fall feels and trying to fill up your blurb list. Please forgive my terrible sense of humour, but I would like to request 3: baking PIES with our Jaime TARTT

#sorry not sorry

-M

Me at my own joke:

2023 Fall Blurbs

In your opinion, the only thing about autumn that’s better than all the seasonal treats and flavors were all the holidays, all the opportunities to gather with the people you love and spoil them with food and attention. You loved to host, loved getting to plan a menu and decorate, loved all the anticipation of waiting for your favorite people to arrive to spend time with you and enjoy your food.

“Babe, I almost got into a fight with a sweet old lady for this pumpkin stuff,” Jamie announces as he throws open the front door, arms laden down with grocery bags and his cheeks tinged pink from the wind.

“Well, thank god you got it,” you shout out with a smile, too focused on not burning all of the food to greet him properly. Jamie doesn’t mind, though, knowing how focused you need to be and planting a kiss on your cheek before he unloads all the groceries.

He just stands and watches you for a few moments, eyes full of love and awe as he watches the gentle way you transfer the crust into the pie tin after using all your strength to roll it out. He loves seeing you like this, completely happy and completely in your element taking care of people.

“Need any help?” Jamie asks, even though he already knows the answer.

“Not in here, but you can make sure everything’s tidy if you’re looking for something to do,” you speak without looking up from your work, now focused entirely on making the filling for the pie with the ingredients Jamie brought back from the store.

The two of you exist comfortably in silence for a while, the only sounds are the ones of you baking in the kitchen and the festive music you have playing quietly. It’s nice, just being able to be near each other and not need to scramble to find something nonsensical to fill the empty space in the air. Jamie finishes one last sweep of the house to make sure everything is as perfect as you deserve before returning to stand with you, happy to be an extra pair of hands if you happen to need him.

“Can you grab that for me?” You ask, almost whispering as if you want to keep the comforting blanket of silence. Jamie springs into action, opening the oven so you can place the last pie inside, and he beams when you smile with satisfaction as he slides it shut.

“Do we need four different pies?” Jamie asks, sliding his arms around your waist now that you’re done in the kitchen, even though you need to clean your mountain of a mess before your friends arrive. You shrug in his arms, leaning back against him and relaxing in his hold.

“We’ll have leftovers, and everyone can take some home, and I can’t remember what everybody likes,” you explain, as if you haven’t done enough with hosting and cooking and baking at all.

“Smells good,” he says, pressing a kiss to your hair as you squirm out of his hold, setting about cleaning the kitchen with the minimal time you have left. Jamie gets to work with you immediately, happy to finally help.

[mbakuetshurisprincess]

From My Headphones: Mountains

AN: Hello my loves! I really just wanted to write something today so we went back to old faithful and pulled something from my song inspo playlist. This thing really is like a quick writing palate cleanser for me in full honesty, hence why it’s so short lol. I really didn’t even wanna put a tag list on this one cause it was so short lmfao. 

Summary: Who else would Shuri turn to in her time of need?

Pairing: Shuri x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Cussing, mentions of injury that’s it I think.

Word count: 1,068

Part 1.  Masterlist.  Taglist.

Suggested listening: Mountains - Charlotte Day Wilson

“Up on the mountain (up on the mountain) Searched through the valley (searched through the valley) You hear me calling (you you hear me calling) Won't you come find me? (Won't you come and find me?) Please don't forsake me (please don't forsake me)”

It had to be easily two or three AM when the familiar sound of a certain someone knocking at your door came. Groggily throwing a large fur over your shoulder and slipping your feet into your slippers you opened the door, greeted by an injured Shuri. She stood sheepishly there, staring down at your feet waiting for you to say something.

“This is the third time this month Shuri.”

“Does that mean you’re going to leave me out here? I mean, I trekked all the way up here in the snow.” The young Queen rocked on the balls of her feet, pulling her bottom lip into her teeth.

You stared at her for a moment, contemplating if denying her to teach her a lesson would be best in this case. But as much as you wanted to, your heart said no. Here Shuri was, feeling comfortable enough with you to come to seek your aid when she was at her most vulnerable.

No, you could never turn her away when she was like this.

Stepping aside to let the poor girl in, Shuri breathed out a thank you. Appreciative that your thin patience hadn’t run out just yet.

At this point you two had turned this whole ordeal into a dance, knowing the ins and outs and working with each other to make sure you had all the materials you needed. While you pick out an incense stick to set the room, Shuri grabs the matches from the cabinet above you. Making sure to breathe ever so slightly down your neck when she, leaving goosebumps in her path.

As you clear your small kitchen table of its wood decorations, Shuri strips out of the thick over-layers that she wore on the climb up here. Leaving her just in her sports bra and leggings. You try not to oggle at the sight, this was about healing Shuri, not praising the God’s for giving her a perfect body. Shuri however was amused at the way you pulled your eyes from her quickly as if you’d seen something you weren't allowed to.

This dance you two did ended with Shuri laying on her back on the table and you standing over her, a bowl filled with various herbs in your hand. There was only one injury Shuri came to you for, the one thing she didn’t trust anyone to try and heal; her injury from the fight with Namor.

Looking down over her as you gathered some of the mixture in your hand you analyzed the wound. Clearly, she’d reopened it doing God’s know-what and tried to get it to reseal by itself with no success. “What did you do to it this time?” You distracted her with a question as you applied the first layer.

She groaned slightly when your fingers made contact with her skin. No matter how gentle you seemed to be, that area was always extra sensitive. “I was helping with the rebuilding efforts in the River Tribe, moving things, stuff like that.”

“Mhm,” You encouraged her to continue on as you applied the second layer thicker this time.

Shuri’s eyes studied all of your movements. How focused you were on the task at hand, how every movement seemed filled with intention and you allowed not even a drop to go to waste. “I was playing with some of the children, showing off my strength.”

This pulled your eyes away from her stomach and up to her own. Giving her a look that let her know you were not pleased.

“What!” She cried out in mock defense. “They’re small children, what was I supposed to do? Not pick them up?”

You rolled your eyes. “Uh huh yeah whatever. So you pick them up and then what?”

Shuri lets out a sigh, moving her hands from her side to rest interlaced behind her head. This put her toned upper body right in your face and it took everything in you not to feast on what she was so clearly dangling in front of you. “Well of course when I feel my stitches rip, I can take a good guess that picking up all twenty of them was not the best idea. So when I got back to my lab, I whipped something up quickly to deal with it and went about my day.”

You shook your head as you wiped the last bits of the mixture onto her skin, encasing the previous two layers with this one. “That’s your problem.” You declared as you cleaned up your workspace, Shuri sitting up from the table and looking down at your work.

“What’s my problem?” She asked as she hopped off the table and followed you around the kitchen. Not giving you a lick of space to yourself. This was on purpose and you knew it, Shuri didn’t get a lot of time to spend with you. With your house being situated deep enough into the Jabari Land mountains your own brother M’baku had famously declared he would never make the trip. And Shuri’s newfound responsibilities being Queen and Black Panther, time just wasn’t on you two’s side.

But that didn’t stop Shuri from coming to you anytime she was injured, using it as an excuse to turn up at your doorstep at odd hours without invitation. Knowing you’d never turn her away.

“Your problem,” You turned around to answer Shuri but found that she was right behind you. “Is that you keep expecting a machine to heal something that only you can.”

Shuri sighed at your words having heard a variation of this speech before a million times. “I’m serious ihunanya (love).” You reached out and ghosted your fingers over where the paste had now completely dried to her skin. “You can’t use technology to heal this, nor can you expect me to with my herbs. Your body will heal once your mind has.”

You looked up at her hoping that maybe this time your message had gotten through to her, but you couldn’t tell.

“Can I stay here tonight?” Shuri’s request came quiet, it wasn’t unusual, but it did come as a shock to you that she asked. Typically you would just go to bed normally and she would join you, no questions asked just a mutual understanding. But tonight you had a feeling this was about more than just sleep, Shuri was searching for connection.

“Of course.”

Taglist:  @shuriszn @sokkasbae25 @verachii @cuddl3s4shur1 @takeyaki @jinnie10101 @letitias-fav-deactivated2023040 @sweetalittleselfish-honey @beautybyfire @6-noir @mocha-aya @yvxmpire @mysticalmarss @ziayamikaelson @youralphawolf72 @n7cje @inmyheadimobsessed @shurisjournal @shurisbigtoe @saintwrld @pinkwright @chatitajens @playhousedistee @motheroffae @injeolmiee @tchhairbandhere @._mrqs @msudaku @lppriceisright @bratydoll @blackqueengold @iheartsolo @cafehyunji @abenomeiiii @naomis-daydream @ilroachsworld @locoforshuri @nrc-06

[mirthlxss]

Hello my dear, I was so sad when this blog went a little AWOL due to the gross anons, miss mam you can't leave me hanging like that... seeing you slowly coming back made me SOY excited, I hope you find the time/strength to get back to Off To the Races... In the mean time, could I please request some general Price content? I love how you depict him, do you have any general headcanons for the big guy > :£

Sincerely, your Tumblr stalker... Haha, just joking!

You’re lucky I have a few of these knocking about, here are some random Captain Price headcanons. I’mma be zesty in saying they align with the John we know in Off to the Races. 

Captain Price understands and appreciates the humble goodness of simplistic food. The man will stand in the safe house kitchen and harp on about how a well-timed egg with lashings of pepper and salt is practically gourmet when done to perfection. As much as this is true, he is also the sauce king. How can the two exist simultaneously? When it's his own cooking: hearty, jejune in a very English stew type of way. But at base? God, he hates the canteen food, only the right balance between various sauces can smother the tin taste of inadequately drained brine tuna. Has an extensive collection of bbq and hot sauces. Won’t share them. 

Thought that if he hadn’t gone into the army that he would’ve become a carpenter of some degree, appreciates the intricacies of woodwork and likes to let his fingers draw over the ridges of a well-carved decor. Would love to take a few classes in his spare time though he’s never committed to it, always finding one excuse or another. That doesn’t stop him from buying certain wooden trinkets, favouring darker wood, he has an ornate hand-carved box to keep his cigars. Often gazes thoughtfully upon it as he smokes in the office. 

His father had cancer when he was quite young, he felt extremely guilty leaving for the army at sixteen but he knew he’d be more use put to work than he’d be causing trouble around the town. John had a lot of pent-up emotion and no positive place to put it, aggravated at life and the lot he was given. It stressed his parents to no end, mostly his mother. Between his sisters, father and himself, she was strung out and tearing at the seams. Sometimes he questions whether he did it for himself or his family, he often concludes it was for both. He was given leave in his early twenties to go say his goodbyes at the hospice, doesn’t think he’s ever really recovered from that moment. It seems like every death he’s experienced after that felt innately personal, he carries each one and hasn’t figured out how to put any of them down to rest fully in his mind. 

Loves his mother dearly, more than his sister though he’d never admit that. Sends her postcards when he can, doesn’t talk much to his siblings but remembers to buy them somewhat last-minute gifts at Christmas, mostly pre-wrapped toiletry sets he’s grabbed a the pharmacy whilst he’s stopped along the motorway home. Doesn’t go to family gatherings as much as he should, with each bit of war that stains his consciousness he feels more and more detached from his former self, like a ghost in the room with his family as he watches them with their children and wrinkles slowly forming from smiling over the years. 

Soap has tried, and failed miserably, to set John up with blind dates. He outright refuses, or somehow, already knows who he’d be going with and then refuses. Somehow always finds some overthought, finicky excuse, convinced he is destined to be a little lonely. He’s had partners before and has dated around but as the years pass by he’s given less and less thought to actually pursuing anyone, more time given to ruminating on the life he could’ve had. One somewhat like his siblings, smile lines, Christmas and cheeky children. 

Is hilarious at team 141’s karaoke nights when they all get too drunk and stumble back to the shared common room. Gaz bought a second-hand karaoke machine from a charity shop and they’ve had endless fun with it. Price likes Nickleback, won’t hear anything else about it. Is surprisingly good at singing How you remind me, has the rasp for it. Also surprised the boys with his rendition of Poker Face, particularly in response to catching Soap training to it. Won’t admit that he sang it, claims they were all drunk and delirious, which is completely true but that doesn’t explain the video.  

Thank you for the support, I am slowly coming round to another chapter, just gathering the mental agility needed to volt over the potential of new anons ;)

[hischierswhore]

what a time

pairing: Christian Pulisic x Reader

TW: cursing // flashbacks

A/N: heavily inspired by "What A Time" by Julia Michaels & Niall Horan

You had been okay. After months, you’d finally managed to move on without Christian by your side. 

At least, that's what you told yourself.

I haven't been by your side

In a minute, but I think about it sometimes

Because you were fine. You are fine.

Except for all the nights you cried yourself to sleep. Except for all the times you couldn’t concentrate on anything except for the thought of him. Except for all the things you saw in your everyday life that reminded you of him.

So, in conclusion, you were not fine. And the pain seemed to be never-ending.

I think of the night in the park, it was getting dark

And we stayed up for hours

What a time, what a time, what a time

"I love you" You smiled as you laid on the blanket that was spread across the grass, staring up at the night sky. Christian was doing the same as you, taking in the beautiful sight of the stars shining brightly. He shifted his focus from the sky back to you, giving you a smile before pulling you closer to him. The sound of the wind silently whipping through the trees was the perfect background music as you laid next to him. 

As a result of the brightly illuminated stars shining down on the pair of you, you felt like he was glowing. Like he was the only thing that gave your life the light you needed to survive. Nothing else could make you feel the way he made you feel. You loved nothing more than you loved him. 

"I love you too" He whispers into your hair as he presses kisses from your temple down to your neck. Your stomach always fluttered when you got an "I love you" out of him, and it took every ounce of strength in you to suppress those butterflies and pretend like you didn't get all nervous inside whenever you heard him say those words.

Even after years together, the metaphorical butterflies never stopped showing up whenever he was affectionate with you.

You clinged to my body like you wanted it forever

What a time, what a time, what a time

You wished you could stay like this forever, resting in Christian's arms as if nothing else in the world mattered.

I know we didn't end it like we're supposed to

You honestly don't even remember what your final fight was about. It was simply one of many during the last few weeks, fueled by insecurities, jealousy and bad memories. You had screamed at him and he had shouted back, the pair of you throwing words at the other that you didn't mean. Words that were filled with hate and hurt as you both felt backed up into a corner.

You knew that things had gone too far when he started packing his things, pacing through your apartment to collect all of his belongings as you just watched him make his way around the place you both called ‘home’, with him mumbling his frustrations to himself, which only made the whole situation even worse with every poison-filled word.

"I fucking hate you."

Those were the last words he had said to you before aggressively slamming the door behind him as he exited your shared apartment, leaving you alone in the overwhelming silence that felt so loud.

This wasn’t an unusual thing for the pair of you. Usually, he would leave and go for a walk, or maybe crash at a Mason's house for a night or two while you were bawling your eyes out into his pillow, his sweet scent still lingering on the fabric, making the painfully empty feeling in your chest even worse. But he would always come back.

Until he stopped.

And now we get a bit tense

I wonder if my mind just leaves out all the bad parts

"Wanna make cookies?" Christian asked as you felt yourself clinging to his body in the middle of the kitchen. You simply nodded, whining slightly as he moved away from you to prepare the cookie dough. You sat atop the counter, watching him gather all the necessary ingredients before setting his focus on mixing. He looked up to find you staring at him, leading him to send you a wink before grinning to himself.

A few of his curls had fallen onto his forehead, gently swinging back and forth as he moved.

His soft lips turned into a light smile as he mixed the bowl of ingredients. It was such a simple task, but he looked so breathtakingly beautiful doing it that you couldn't help but smile happily, reminding you of one of the many reasons why you loved him.

He gave you happy moments like this, moments where you felt so glad that you had him in your life, making you forget about all of the times you were heartbroken or hurt by him, just because you were sure he would always find his way back to you.

I know we didn't make sense

I admit it that I think about it sometimes

"I just don't understand why you’re still with him" Your best friend asked you at a party as you leaned against one of the walls in the living room of her boyfriend’s house. Her words were going in one ear and out the other, as your eyes focused on Christian, who was sitting across the room, laughing with a few of his friends in the middle of the room. He’d send you a smile or a wink every so often to let you know he was only thinking about you.

"We’re made for eachother, Y/BFF/N" You sighed contently, taking a sip of your drink while still focusing on Christian.

"That’s what you say now" Your friend continued, your gaze reluctantly letting go of Christian to look at your friend, only to find a genuinely worried expression on her face. 

"You just keep on hurting each other, this is not healthy for either of you. It's like you're eachothers drug. So bad for each other, but so addicted"

“I mean, Taylor Swift did say ‘My drug is my baby I’ll be using for the rest of my life’ so…” You shrugged before receiving a slap in the arm from her. 

“I’m being serious, Y/n”

"I know, I know" you reasoned, glancing over at Christian once again, who was laughing at something Mason had done. 

"Without him, I'd feel nothing. I'd be empty."

I think of the night in the park, it was getting dark

And we stayed up for hours

What a lie, what a lie, what a lie

The night you & Christian had spent in the park had been the same night he had sworn to never leave you. He had whispered it in your ear shortly after saying he loved you. It had felt like he knew everything about you, and accepted you, loved you, nonetheless.

"I'll never leave you, princess, I promise. We belong together. We were made for each other"

You clinged to my body like you wanted it forever

What a lie, what a lie, what a lie

For you and I

You had waited in front of your door for days, barely eating & sleeping as you awaited Christian's return. You didn't know how many days had passed and honestly, you didn't care. You knew he'd come back. He had promised it. He had told you he loved you and would never leave you. And now he had.

He had left you.

Slowly, it dawned on you that he was not coming back, no matter how long you'd wait for him. Everything he had told you about his feelings, it had all been lies. You didn't mean anything to him. And since he'd been the last real source of stability in your life, you didn't mean anything to anyone.

You were alone. No matter how loudly you screamed and cried from the stinging pain in your chest, no one would care. No one would check on you.

What a lie, what a lie

For you and I

And although no one had ever hurt you like he had, no one had ever loved you like he had.

For you and I

If you had the chance, you'd go back to him and make things different. Maybe you wouldn’t have ended up so hurt and alone if you had done so from the start. If you were only given the chance, you'd do everything differently.

~~~~

taglist

@ithinkimokeei @myheartgoesvroom @mounthings @tall-tanned-tattoo @itsnotgray @alwaysclassyeagle @charlewiss @pianoisland @chelseagirl98 @lovelynikol16 @username-envy @pulisicsgirl @lizzypotter14 @bracedes @thoseboysinblue @swimmingismywholelife

[da-mous]

Little by little, night by night, Her Moonlight quietly gifted herself away to Her Sunshine, her love

A siphon attached to Her Moonlight's heart, silently giving up her own blood, drop by drop

Whenever Her Sunshine awoke, she would beam with a joy, a vitality so radiant it reflected off Her Moonlight's face, and they would smile and laugh and adore one another as they faced each new day

Her Moonlight knew she was a perfectly chipped pearl in the infinite black nothing, beaming brightly under the endless light of Her Sunshine

Her Moonlight felt more and more frail every day, but as long as Her Sunshine beamed so brightly, she knew it would all be ok

Then Her Sunshine fell ill

Her Sunshine lay bundled in blankets and pillows, cold as the night air. "My Moonlight, what is happening to my body?" Her glow was faint, growing fainter as the weeks wore on

And she stayed ill

"How do you know?"

Her Moonlight came in close to reflect what was left of Her Sunshine's light back at her. "You are ok, My Sunshine. You will be ok"

"I just know"

"But how...? Please... I need to know I am ok. What makes you so sure?"

"I just am, My Sunshine"

Her Moonlight pumped more and more blood every night, knowing Her Sunshine's radiant light would soon be illuminating Her Moonlight's beautiful, broken, perfect shape once again

Her Sunshine's light dwindled further

"Yes of course My Sunshine. Anything to see you beam again"

She called out from her nest of blankets. "My Moonlight, I can hardly get up. I hate to ask so much of you, but will you make me some soup? I am so hungry"

But Her Moonlight was emptied out. Each day and each night took more and more of her. Her Sunshine was so ignorant to the toll she took. Her Moonlight had nothing left to give, but she knew how to hide that. She knew how to be strong in ways Her Sunshine could certainly never be

"One minute, My Sunshine"

Hours passed. Her Sunshine's stomach growled. "My Moonlight, I may have enough strength to do it myself if you cannot"

"No, My Sunshine, one more minute"

Another hour passed

"My Moonlight, it is ok if you cannot, I can do it"

"I just need one more minute"

Another

After another several minutes, Her Moonlight finally gathered what was left of her strength and went to the kitchen without a word. She prepared Her Sunshine a bowl of soup, imbuing the broth with one of her last drops of blood, and she brought it to her

"Please, My Moonlight! Why are you doing nothing?"

Silence

"Drink."

Her Sunshine saw her lover's pale visage, catching a glimpse of her emptiness for the first time. "My Moonlight, you look so pale. Oh gods... have I gotten you ill too?"

Her Sunshine, with no light left to radiate and nausea welling in her stomach, brought the bowl to her pale lips, and weakly drank of the broth. But her body could not take it. It rejected the broth onto her own lap

Her Sunshine held her face in her hands and shuddered, her tears finding their way down to mix with the broth. "I am dying, My Moonlight"

"Your... your blood, My Moonlight? You are giving me your blood?"

Her Moonlight grew angry, but not on her face. "I have given you everything, My Sunshine. My love, my attention, my blood. I have nothing left inside me"

"My Sunshine, every night I have given you my blood. It is how you used to radiate such warm light, that which used to reflect off of me, giving me shape. I have pumped you full of more and more blood every night but you have only kept your light for yourself"

Had Her Sunshine not figured it out yet? Had she not seen how little of Her Moonlight was left? Was Her Sunshine so self-absorbed as to not notice the sacrifices she made in the quiet stillness of every night? Was Her Sunshine even sick, or did she just want attention? The nerve to ask for soup when Her Moonlight had already given her everything...

"You were not paying attention"

"My Moonlight, I am so sorry. Why did you not tell me sooner?"

"My Moonlight, please stop doing this. I did not ask for your blood. Let me give you some back"

"Your light will never come back if you do"

"Then at least please stop giving me your blood. Please."

Her Moonlight took a second. She sighed, and then she nodded

But Her Moonlight was lost in the infinite black void. No light to give her definition, no rays to caress her perfectly broken form. Her Sunshine slept so roughly without Her Moonlight giving her blood. Her Moonlight hooked up the siphon one last time. And then again for the last time the next night, and once again the next

"I am leaving, My Sunshine. I cannot give you anything more"

This was her limit

Her Sunshine's face still gave off no light. Her Sunshine had taken everything from her and now she was asking for more yet again. Her Moonlight said nothing

"Wh...what? What are you saying? M...my Moonlight I am dying. I need you. Let me give you some of your blood back! Please do not leave me to take care of myself while I am like this!!!"

"You did this to yourself, My Sunshine. I am not responsible for your mistakes. You are still taking my blood. I am leaving now. I need to do this for myself"

Her Sunshine cried out in fear. "I have lost everything! Why are you doing this to me?"

Her Sunshine burned furiously. "WHY DID YOU NOT TELL ME? MY MOONLIGHT, WHY DID YOU NOT LET ME HELP YOU?"

"Goodbye, My Sunshine"

Her Moonlight knew if she got close to Her Sunshine now, she could never bring herself to leave. Her Moonlight turned and disappeared into the infinite black void

Her Sunshine curled her body tightly into a ball, shaking and sobbing

Sunshine arose in the morning feeling energized. Suddenly she no longer felt ill. She got up to make herself breakfast, her light reflecting off the walls and back onto her own face

Moonlight arose at night in a faint pool of light. Her own body was starting to glow

[briannafenrir67]

Haunted

Pairing: Sam Winchester X OC

TW: brief mention of death, swearing, angst

Word count chapter 3: 2.1K

Summary: Brianna, a lone hunter driven by hatred for the Winchester brothers, must confront her past and join forces with them to uncover the truth behind her father's death and stop a new threat endangering all hunters.

Chapter 3: Unfinished Business

I woke up after a nightmare. I don't remember when I fell asleep, but it's night, and I'm still sitting in the kitchen chair.

I try not to think about the nights I fell asleep at this table while growing up. I don’t want to revisit those memories because all of them are tied to the Winchesters and the life I left behind when I decided to go solo. But it’s impossible to fully escape it. Every inch of this house feels like it’s caught in time, holding echoes of conversations, laughter, and fights that I can’t seem to shake.

The house is eerily quiet, the only sound being the ticking of the old clock on the wall. I rub my eyes, trying to shake off the remnants of the nightmare. It always comes back to them, doesn’t it? No matter how far I run or how hard I try to forget, the past has a way of catching up.

I stand up and stretch, feeling the stiffness in my muscles from sleeping in the chair. The kitchen is dimly lit by the moonlight streaming through the window, casting long shadows that dance across the floor. I walk over to the sink and splash some cold water on my face, hoping to clear my mind.

As I dry my face with a towel, I hear footsteps approaching. Bobby enters the kitchen, his expression a mix of concern and curiosity.

"Couldn't sleep, huh?" he asks, pouring himself a cup of coffee.

"Nightmares," I admit, sitting back down. "It's always the same. The past just won’t let go."

Bobby nods, taking a seat across from me. "I get it, kid. But you can't let it eat you up. We need to focus on finding the Winchesters."

I take a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves. Even hearing their name feels like a punch to the gut. "You’re right. Did you find anything?"

Bobby takes a sip of his coffee before answering. "Yeah, I got some leads. They’re in deeper trouble than we thought. Demons are after them, and it looks like they’re hunting something big."

My heart sinks at his words. I hate that I care. I hate that the idea of them being in danger still twists a knife in my chest. "What do we do now?"

"We need to move fast," Bobby says, his voice firm. "I'll make some calls, see if we can get more information. In the meantime, you should get some rest. We're gonna need all the strength we can get."

I nod, knowing he's right. "Thanks, Bobby. For everything."

He gives me a small, reassuring smile. "We’re family, Brianna. We look out for each other."

⛥⛥⛥⛥

The next morning, we spent hours trying to reach Sam and Dean. For Bobby, it was strange that they had been MIA for so long; he always talked with them. Every hunter—except me—reports everything to Bobby.

The sun was just beginning to rise, casting a pale light through the windows. Bobby paced the kitchen, his phone pressed to his ear as he tried to contact every possible lead. I sat at the table, my fingers drumming nervously on the wood.

"It's not like them to go dark," Bobby muttered, hanging up after another failed call. "Something’s wrong."

I nodded, feeling a knot of worry tighten in my stomach. "Do you think the demons got to them?"

Bobby shook his head. "I don’t know, but we need to find out. They were tracking something big, and if they’re in trouble, we need to help them."

I stood up, determination replacing my anxiety. "What’s the plan?"

Bobby glanced at me, his eyes filled with a mix of concern and resolve. "We start with their last known location. I have a contact who might know where they were headed. Pack your gear; we leave in ten."

As I gathered my things, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was just the beginning of something much bigger. The Winchesters had a knack for finding trouble, and it seemed like this time, trouble had found them.

⛥⛥⛥⛥

I’m driving with Bobby by my side. The car is silent; it’s hard to talk to someone you shut out to try to escape from other people related to him.

The road stretches out before us, a seemingly endless ribbon of asphalt cutting through the landscape. Bobby stares out the window, lost in his thoughts, while I focus on the drive. The silence between us is heavy, filled with unspoken words and unresolved tension.

After what feels like an eternity, Bobby finally breaks the silence. "You know, you didn’t have to do this alone all these years."

I grip the steering wheel tighter, my knuckles turning white. "I thought it was the only way to keep everyone safe. To keep myself safe."

Bobby sighs, his gaze still fixed on the passing scenery. "Running away doesn’t always solve the problem, Brianna. Sometimes, it just makes things worse."

I glance at him, seeing the concern etched on his face. "I know. But it’s hard to face the past when it keeps haunting you."

He nods, understanding. "We’ll find Sam and Dean. And maybe, along the way, you can find some peace too."

⛥⛥⛥⛥

When we reach the last place where the Winchesters were seen, we get out of the car.

The area is eerily quiet, with only the rustling of leaves and the distant call of a bird breaking the silence. Bobby and I exchange a glance, both of us on high alert. The place looks abandoned, but we know better than to trust appearances.

"We should start by checking the perimeter," Bobby suggests, his voice low.

I nod, pulling out my flashlight and a small knife, just in case. We move cautiously, scanning the surroundings for any signs of a struggle or clues that might lead us to Sam and Dean.

As we circle the building, I notice something on the ground—a faint trail of blood leading towards the back. "Bobby, over here," I call out, pointing to the trail.

He hurries over, his eyes narrowing as he examines the blood. "Looks fresh. They can’t be too far."

We follow the trail, our senses heightened. The trail leads us to a small, hidden entrance at the back of the building. The door is slightly ajar, and I can feel a cold draft coming from inside.

"Stay close," Bobby whispers, pushing the door open with his shotgun at the ready.

We step inside, the darkness swallowing us whole. The air is thick with the scent of damp and decay. I can barely see a few feet ahead, but I keep my flashlight steady, illuminating our path.

Suddenly, we hear a faint noise—a groan, followed by a muffled voice. "Bobby, did you hear that?" I ask, my heart pounding in my chest.

He nods, his grip tightening on his shotgun. "Sounds like someone’s in trouble. Let’s move."

We follow the sound, our footsteps echoing in the narrow corridor. The groans grow louder, leading us to a small room at the end. I push the door open, and there, lying on the floor, are Sam and Dean, both battered and bruised but alive.

Seeing them is like a punch to the chest. It’s like the years between us collapse, and for a second, I’m back in the Impala, laughing at one of Dean’s stupid jokes while Sam rolls his eyes in the back seat.

Dean looks up, his eyes widening in surprise. "Bobby? What are you doing here?"

Bobby steps forward, helping Dean to sit up. "We got worried when you went off the grid. Brought some help."

Dean’s gaze shifts to me, confusion evident in his eyes. "Who...?"

I step forward, my heart pounding. "It’s Brianna. It’s been a long time."

Recognition slowly dawns on Dean's face, though his expression is a mix of surprise and disbelief. "Brianna? Damn, I almost didn’t recognize you."

Sam, still struggling to sit up, shifts his gaze between Bobby and me, his confusion evident. "What are you doing here? How did you find us?"

Bobby offers a steadying hand, helping Sam to his feet. "We got some leads, pieced things together. Lucky we did, or you boys wouldn’t have made it. Now let’s get you out of this hellhole."

The four of us make our way to the black Impala, Dean limping slightly, supported by Bobby. The sight of the car stops me in my tracks. It hits me like a punch to the gut.

The memories flood in, unbidden. Late-night talks with Sam in the back seat, our voices low as we hid from our fathers, stealing moments of normalcy away from the weight of hunts. Or the sharp, searing pain of the last time I stood beside this car—my father’s hand on my shoulder as he said goodbye, his voice steady even though we both knew he might not come back. He didn’t. Not with John and not with Dean.

I shake off the thoughts and refocus as Bobby and I carefully help Sam and Dean into the car. The Impala, worn but resilient, seems to hum with the energy of the lives it’s carried. It’s more than a car—it’s a time capsule, filled with pieces of my past that I’ve tried to bury.

Dean leans back in the seat, his face pale but his voice laced with familiar stubbornness. "Thanks for the assist," he mutters, glancing at Bobby.

"Don’t mention it," Bobby replies, shutting the door. "Let’s get you back to my place before you keel over. You both need rest and patching up."

I open the driver’s door, sliding into the seat. The steering wheel feels strange under my hands, yet familiar, like the grip of an old weapon I thought I’d never wield again.

Dean’s eyes narrow, his voice rising in alarm. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. What do you think you’re doing?"

"Driving," I reply curtly, meeting his glare in the rearview mirror.

His voice sharpens, despite his obvious exhaustion. "No one drives Baby but me."

Bobby’s tone cuts through, firm and final. "Dean, you’re in no damn shape to drive. Let her handle it before you kill yourself—or someone else."

Dean slumps back, grumbling under his breath. "Fine. But you better take good care of her," he says, his voice carrying both irritation and a trace of something softer—trust, reluctant as it may be.

I glance back at him, my tone colder than I intend. "Don’t worry, Dean. I’ll treat her like she’s mine."

Bobby nods to me as he heads toward his own car. "You stick with them and make sure they get settled. I’ll follow in your car."

I nod, trying to keep my voice steady. "Be safe, Bobby."

He offers a brief smile. "Always, kid."

⛥⛥⛥⛥

The road stretches ahead, bathed in the dim glow of the Impala’s headlights. Inside, the silence is oppressive, every bump in the road seeming to echo in the cabin. I steal a glance in the rearview mirror. Dean has his head leaned back, his eyes closed, though his jaw is still tight with tension. Sam sits next to him, his gaze unfocused, lost in thought.

The memories claw at me again, more vivid now that I’m in the driver’s seat. I don’t want to remember. The conversations with Sam about running away from it all. The guilt in Dean’s eyes when he told me what happened to my father. The empty space left behind, filled with anger, resentment, and grief I could never quite escape.

I grip the wheel tighter, my knuckles whitening as the car speeds along the empty road.

Dean stirs, cracking one eye open to look at me. "You’re driving too fast," he mutters, his voice gravelly but not unkind.

I don’t respond, my focus fixed on the road ahead.

Sam shifts slightly, breaking the silence. "We didn’t know you’d come," he says, his voice quiet but steady.

I glance at him briefly in the mirror. "I was with Bobby. We were looking for you two. He thought that maybe you were in trouble."

Dean huffs out a weak laugh. "Wouldn’t be us if we weren’t."

The tension eases slightly, the corner of Sam’s mouth twitching in the faintest hint of a smile. But for me, it’s far from gone.

Because I know why I’m here. And it’s not just to save them. It’s to confront the past they represent. To figure out whether I can ever forgive them—or myself.

And right now, I’m not sure I can.

You can find chapter 1 and 2 on the Masterlist

[tilltheendwilliwrite]

Reflections

Chapter One

Master List / Real People Master List / Reflections Master List

Pairing: Mia MacAlsdair x Au Tom Hiddleston

Warnings: partner abuse, language, 18+ Minors do not interact

A/N: I apologize in advance should my Scottish/English interpretations be incorrect. I am Canadian playing in a world of my own making. Do not @ me.

**I do not tag. **To be notified of updates and new works, subscribe to me or the story on AO3 for email notification, or follow the library blog @tilltheendwilliwrite-library  with notifications turned on so you’re not missing out. An account is required to access my work on AO3. For more information on how to get your FREE AO3 account, see this post.

~

Leonardo da Vinci once wrote, "I love those who can smile in trouble, who can gather strength from distress, and grow brave by reflection." 

Mia took those words to heart when life crashed and burned around her. At thirty-one, she found herself dumped by her fiancé of five years, homeless, and out of work, recovering from the pandemic and all that went along with that bullshit. 

Canada wasn't hit as hard as other places worldwide, but it was hard enough that the economy struggled to recover even a few years later.

As an artist with a unique style, Mia also struggled. She had a decent following, and people liked her creations, but when the pandemic hit, she stagnated in a market that no longer had disposable income to spend. She put her hastily acquired medical transcription certificate to use to make ends meet and began working from home in her shared apartment. The work-from-home opportunity allowed her to continue to create art while bringing in a steady paycheck. 

But Colt didn't like it. His law firm also turned to the work-from-home model, sticking them together in the same space without any breathing room for days on end. 

Mia hadn't thought much of it at first. They loved each other, had lived together for two years at that point, and were blissfully happy as far as she knew. Time together was precious when Colt could spend upward of seventy-plus hours a week at the office. Having him home every night, having dinners together, and time to binge a little television sounded like heaven.

Until it wasn't.

Within months, he grew waspish, snapping at her for working on the kitchen table, taking up too much space, and playing her music too loud. When he began to berate her for her art supplies and how she couldn't just hog an entire room with them, Mia thought the stress of the pandemic had gotten to him. 

Six months in, and she couldn't do anything right. 

He'd always been a little critical, commenting on her clothes, hair, or makeup, but whenever she called him on it, he would say he was trying to help her better herself. She needed to act a certain way and dress a certain way. She needed to look like she belonged if she wanted to accompany him to company outings or galas. 

A backward view granted her twenty-twenty vision at the giant walking red flag that was Colt, but Mia was too blind to see it at the time. And with Covid riding the world like a jockey whipping the last-place finisher on race day, Mia was stuck. 

Plus, it was only stress. Or so she convinced herself. 

When Colt's return to work order came, she was relieved. Maybe now she would get her Colt back, the sweet guy who brought her flowers and called her at lunch every day to hear her voice. 

She didn't. 

Colt only grew worse. Instead of just criticizing her, he yelled, screamed, and punched walls. 

In hindsight, she should have left right then, but Mia kept chalking his actions up to stress. People changed with the pandemic. Life got harder. Money got tighter. Maybe she could do more, be better, try harder. 

It wasn't until he grew indifferent that she realized she'd lost him. Finding the messages on his iPad that proved his cheating only confirmed what she already knew. 

But Mia had nowhere to go. She didn't make enough money to get a place by herself when rent in her area was at an all-time high. She tried to take on more work, but so many people had the same idea as her when the pandemic struck that the transcription industry was flooded with workers. She even applied for jobs around town, but none paid enough. They wanted her to work for pennies for less than full-time hours, so they didn't have to pay benefits. 

She was barely scraping by on helping with the rent. It was a crapshoot, and she knew it. So she bit her tongue; she stayed in her loveless relationship even as Colt's indifference grew into resentment, anger, and, finally, violence. 

The first and only time he hit her, they were in the middle of an argument where she finally told him she knew about his cheating. He went quiet, scarily so. His face drained of colour before it rushed back in, painting his skin crimson as he lunged and slammed her into the wall, screaming at her for dragging out their relationship when he could have been with his new flame all this time. 

The fist to the temple put her on the ground, knocked her teeth together, and set her ears ringing. But Mia was tougher than she looked and Colt was too stunned by what he'd done to stop her when she staggered to her feet, grabbed a side table lamp, and threatened to use it on him if he didn't leave. She screamed at him to get out and not come back, to go be with his new girlfriend if he wanted her so badly. 

There was some minor back and forth, but every time his eyes darted to the blood and darkening bruise on her face, guilt flashed over his. Eventually, he left, but not before telling her she had forty-eight hours to get her shit out of his house.

Yeah, his, because he asked her to give up her lease and move into his place years earlier. 

She slammed the door in his face, threw the lock and added the security chain for good measure. Then, on a wave of regret, grief and humiliation, and feeling stupid and utterly hopeless, Mia sat on the floor and cried until she sobbed, heaved, and almost threw up. 

At that point, she wondered if she had a concussion, but there was no way she was leaving the apartment to find out, unsure if he would come back and toss all her stuff over their balcony in a fit of supreme assholery. 

Colt could no longer be trusted. 

Instead, she cleaned herself up, got an ice pack, and sat down to figure out what she would do in the next two days with what amounted to no job, no friends, and no family to help her. 

Colt was once her best friend and family, the only one she really needed, and Mia found making friends difficult. She was neurodivergent, which was great for creating art but made maintaining lasting friendships difficult when it was easy to forget they existed for two or three weeks. People eventually got tired of reaching out when she never reached back. It wasn't that she didn't want friendships, but sometimes the worlds in her mind demanded all her time, energy, and focus to the extent that nothing else existed. Everything else could fade away, even Colt. 

The only thing that remained was Him.

Mia glanced at the altar near the window. It wasn't much and Colt always teased her about her weird religious practices, but Mia ignored him. She was a Norse Pagan with strong leanings toward Lokean practice. Yeah, she worshiped the God of Mischief, but not the one in some comic book or movie. Her God was real. She knew it, felt it, and relished his attention when it came. The how and the why of it all were a long story, but she'd followed the path most of her life. 

Even now, his voice whispered Colt wouldn't go unpunished, but Mia only sighed. "I think we've punished each other long enough." 

She'd used him for a place to live, trapping them in a loveless relationship. Did that excuse him for hitting her? Fuck no! And if Loki wanted to exact retribution for that, she wouldn't stop him. But she needed to figure out what to do about right now.

The pile of discarded mail tumbled off the kitchen island, and a brown legal envelope skittered across the floor to run point first into her bare toe. The sharp little jab made her grunt.

"That's uncalled for, you know," she muttered, even as she picked up the envelope.

Mia hadn't bothered to look at it when she got it from the mailbox, assuming it was something for Colt, but finding her name and that of a law firm she'd never heard of on the return address label caused her to frown as she tore it open. 

The first thing to fall out was a set of keys that looked like they were from a Jane Austin novel. Second was an old black and white photo, gone sepia with age. Third was a package of papers with a crisp white envelope paperclipped to the front.

The photo was of an old house, not quite a manor but bigger than a cottage, with a man and woman and three small boys standing out front. 

She set the photo and the keys aside, glanced at what looked like a lot of legal jargon, and plucked the letter from inside the envelope. The words swam together a little, causing concern about concussion again, but the more she read, the farther her jaw dropped.

"How the hell do I own an estate in Scotland!?" And not just a house, but land, properties, and money—an obscene amount of it.

Loki's wicked laughter echoed in her head like an eerie breath of wind. 

Telling the Mischief God to piss off, Mia made a phone call. 

In a whirlwind of information, delivered by what turned out to be a very nice - though thickly accented - older man who she had clearly woken up, Mia discovered a heritage lost to her when her parents died in a fire when she was eleven. 

She would never know whether it was the headache throbbing behind her eyes, the pulse of blood in her bruised temple, or just the shitty day piling up. Still, she sat on the floor and cried for the second time, causing the poor man to exclaim in alarm, demand to know if she was alright, and absolutely lose it when Mia lost her mind and told him everything. 

Fergus MacDougal - because, of course, that was his name - informed her that he would take care of everything. He asked if she were safe to remain in the apartment overnight, to which she nodded before realizing he couldn't see her and replied yes. Colt was unlikely to be back before she was due to be out. Neither wanted to see each other again. They'd already said things they couldn't take back.

Fergus appeared to breathe a sigh of relief before telling her she was to pack her belongings, anything she wanted to bring with her immediately in one pile and everything she wanted to be shipped later in another, and be ready when the car called in the morning.

Stupidly, Mia asked, "What car?"

"The one to take you to the airport, lass. We'll have you across to us in a blink. You do have a passport, yes?"

Stunned, Mia again nodded before giving an affirmative grunt. 

His laughter was like warm honey, thick and rich, rumbling in her ear before telling her to text him if she needed anything and hung up.

She sat staring at the phone for long moments before a gentle push from a kind hand knocked her from her stupor as Loki whispered, Pack your things, girl.

Mia looked up, almost expecting to see him crouched on the sofa like a raven, beaming at her, his red hair braided back from his face and threaded with feathers, but there was nothing. 

She rose on shaky legs, dumped the thawed ice pack back in the fridge, dug three Tylenol out of the medicine cabinet and brewed a pot of coffee. She had work to do. 

When the car called in the morning, all her art supplies, paintings, and works in progress were packed and waiting. She found all the boxes she needed in the building's recycling, ran out of the apartment long enough to buy tape and grab something to eat, and spent the rest of the night packing up her life. 

When morning dawned, she looked at her small piles of boxes and fought the burn of tears for what felt like the hundredth time in only hours. 

Going through her things, clothes, jewelry, even the DVDs, she realized how little of it she wanted to keep. She had no mementos, nothing from her past, and hardly any photos. Everything in the apartment was Colt's or something he bought her. They were all things Colt wanted her to wear, how he wanted her to look, how he wanted her to act. 

Mia left it all behind. She took what little she'd brought with her five years ago and left the rest in garbage bags to donate. 

Lastly, she wrapped and packed Loki's altar. The crystals, feathers, bowls, toys, statues, and altar cloth went in a small wooden box she carefully covered in bubble wrap, placed in the box with her meagre collection of books, and taped shut. 

In her backpack, her laptop, chargers, the envelope from the lawyer, wallet and passport were ready to go. 

She spent the last two hours cancelling everything she could think of and informed the landlord she was leaving. She wasn't on any of the utility bills or the lease, but she did change all her passwords before submitting a request to remove her name from their joint bank account, though she didn't touch the money. 

It was exhausting, and by the time the movers knocked, Mia was ready to drop. 

She opened the door to find a man in his later years, sixty to sixty-five, with white hair and crinkles around his eyes. His smile fell from his lips as his gaze zeroed in on her temple, and Mia's hand flew to her face. 

He stepped toward her and slowly grasped her wrist, drawing her hand from the black bruise and mildly swollen eye. 

"Is this the first time?" he demanded gently.

Mia lifted her chin and stared him in the eyes. "And the last."

"Do you want to press charges?"

Air tickled her ear, and a growl that could be mistaken for thunder rattled the windows. 

"It's being taken care of."

She didn't know what he saw in her face, but the arch of his brow and slight quirk of lips said he believed her. 

Afterward, it was a whirlwind. She wasn't sure how many men there were, but they had everything - which wasn't much - carted up and off, though she insisted on taking the last box she packed and her backpack herself. 

Sebastian, the white-haired man in the cashmere coat, Armani suit, and red-soled shoes she didn't even want to guess the price of, insisted on carrying the box for her. As it wasn't heavy, Mia relented. He was a spry, fit man who filled out his coat with broad shoulders but had a grandfatherly quality that set her at ease. 

While the movers took her things, he explained Fergus called him, asking him to see Mia safely onto the plane. As they were partners in a global firm of lawyers, he was happy to help, but when he saw how little she had, he instructed the movers to put everything onto the truck for the plane. They may as well send it all with her now. 

Mia listened, but everything was a wall of sound and movement; nothing made sense, and if she didn't get horizontal soon, she would pass out and fall down. 

Sebastian, seemingly aware of that fact, ushered her into the elevator, out the front, and into a limo, shocking her again when she was met with a wall of heavenly scent. Fresh coffee and sweet baking. He placed one of each in her hands, and she ate by remote as the car pulled from the curb. 

Sebastian continued to talk, asking her questions about her art, having clocked the easel - likely to keep her awake - as they headed for the airport. When they arrived, Mia frowned because they didn't stop at International Departures but passed it to the private terminals. 

"I don't understand," she murmured, too tired to hide her confusion. 

"You didn't think Fergus would put you on a commercial flight, did you?" Sebastian chuckled, helping her out of the car when it stopped beside a private jet. 

Mia stared at it, then looked at him in exasperation. "Who the hell are you people?"

Sebastian laughed. "The question, my girl, is who are you for Fergus MacDougal to call in numerous favours to get you out of that apartment and across the world in less than twenty-four hours'."

"I… I don't know," Mia whispered. The weight of what she was doing on an impulse suddenly hit her and caused her knees to shake. 

Reflect, Loki whispered in her ear. 

Her knees firmed, and she lifted her chin. "But Leonard da Vinci once wrote, 'I love those who can smile in trouble, who can gather strength from distress, and grow brave by reflection.'" She turned to Sebastian and held out her hand. "It's time for me to grow brave. I appreciate your help."

He grinned and shook his head. "You're an interesting woman, Miss MacAlasdair. I wish you good luck in your future endeavours."

She smiled and squeezed his hand. "I don't need luck. I have something better."

"Oh? What's that?"

Mia glanced at the plane when a flash of red caught her eye, only to find a black raven on the open door. "Mischief. And someone who can use it looking out for me."

Sebastian's smile quirked a little like she'd confused him, but he didn't ask, just ushered her to the foot of the stairs where the wide eyes of the flight attendant said Mia looked as bad as she felt. 

But she would smile through her trouble, gather strength from her distress, face her reflection and grow brave. She wasn't sure about this, but no one said she had to go to Scotland forever. 

She climbed up the stairs to stand in the open doorway where the raven remained and turned to take in the city skyline with the sun rising to cast an orange glow over the buildings. Mia had the sinking feeling it would be a long, long time before she returned to Canada. 

The bird was gone when she looked up at the raven again, but that didn't surprise her. Loki came and went as they pleased. It was a long flight to Scotland, and the deity she worshipped wasn't happy with Colt. And if that growl at her former apartment was anything to go by, neither was Fenrir.

Retribution would be swift and cutting. 

A pang of pity tried to swell in her gut, but Mia stomped it out. Colt made his bed when he hit her. Loki was going to make him lie in it.

She nodded a final time to Sebastian, walked onto the jet, and set her backpack and box on the couch before falling into a chair. When she fumbled to do up the seat belt, the flight attendant hurried to help her. 

"We'll be taking off as soon as they load your things," she murmured. "Can I get you anything? Coffee, tea, juice? Some ice?"

Mia sighed. "Does it look that bad?"

The woman winced. "Sorry. I wasn't trying to imply-"

"No, I'm sorry," Mia interrupted. "It's been a really long sixteen hours. If you have any, ice would be great, along with some Tylenol or Aspirin."

"Sure thing," she smiled. "I'll get that right away. Once we're at altitude, if you would like, you can move to the bedroom and sleep."

Mia's jaw dropped. "There's a bedroom!?"

The woman laughed. "Oh, honey. You haven't seen anything yet. I'm Ginny. Your pilots are John and Rhys, and we'll see you safely across the Atlantic. Once you're rested, I'll put together something more substantial than pastries and coffee for you, but let me get you some juice, painkillers, and ice. I'll be right back."

"Wait! How did you know what was in the limo?" Mia asked.

Ginny grinned. "Mister Vass always has coffee and pastries in the car for his morning drop-offs."

"So they do this a lot?"

"Rescue women and spirit them away to Scotland? No, I'm pretty sure this is a first," she chuckled and hurried off.

Mia frowned a little but couldn't dispute it. They did rescue her, though she hated being the damsel in distress, and vowed right then to find a way to repay Sebastian and Fergus for their kindness. 

She glanced at the window and caught a glimpse of her reflection. Even in the glass, she could see the heavy bruising and sighed. 

She reflected on her relationship. It had grown so toxic, so heartless. They'd been hurting each other emotionally for a long time. Neither was without blame, though she didn't excuse him hitting her. But she needed to close things on her terms. She didn't want to leave anything unsaid and wanted a clean break without contact.

The pain of the breakup had yet to come, but she knew it was simply a matter of time and distance. 

Instead of thinking about it any longer, she dug her phone out of her backpack, noted it only had ten percent juice and sighed. She'd forgotten to charge it overnight. Still, it was enough battery to do what she needed and opened her text messages. 

Colt, 

I'm out. You can go home whenever you want. I've taken only my things - what I brought with me when I moved in, and my art supplies - all of the clothes, shoes, and accessories are in garbage bags for you to do with whatever you want. If you're going to get rid of them, at least donate them to Goodwill and don't throw them away. The landfills don't need that kind of burden. 

I can't forgive how things ended. I could have lived with the screaming, cursing, and even berating because I did know you were seeing Mindy for almost a year, and I stayed because I had nowhere else to go. I used you for a roof over my head, which was selfish of me, but you hit me, which is unforgivable. 

I don't want to hear from you after this. You were my best friend, my family, the only person I had left to turn to. The pandemic and subsequent fallout were brutal on everyone, but you changed. You turned into someone I don't recognize anymore. I hate who you've become. 

I hate that we stopped talking about us, the wedding, our hopes and dreams. I don't know when you stopped loving me, I don't know when I stopped loving you, but somewhere along the line, we did stop. Maybe if Covid hadn't happened, we would be blissfully happy and settled down. Or maybe Mindy would still be in the picture, I can't say, but it doesn't matter now. 

I'm done, Colt. You broke the last bits of my faith in you when you punched me in the face. Nothing you can say will make up for that. Nothing you can say will ever make me walk back into your life. 

We were toxic to each other. Maybe apart, we can figure out how to be happy again. 

Even now, I hope you find your happiness someday, but get help with your temper. You were never like that before. 

For now, don't contact me. I don't want to hear from you, see you, or speak to you for a while. My world crashed and burned last night. 

I need to start over. 

I need to figure out how to do that. 

I need to figure out a future without you in it.

Mia.

She hit send, saw it was delivered and received only seconds before her phone died. Mia sighed and shoved it back into her backpack. 

She'd look into charging it later.

Next Chapter

[ficwritersretreat]

FAQ - Fic Writers' Retreat 2024

Welcome to our...seventh? ANNUAL* Fic Writers’ Retreat!

*As annual as it could be, these last years.

Basic Information:

When: August 8th-11th 2024

Where: Blue Mountain Chalets, Collingwood, Ontario

Cost:  $450.00 CDN per person, all inclusive (currently that's about $332 USD)

Included in cost: Registration, accommodation, all food costs, workshops, WiFi.

Frequently Asked Questions:

How are the meals arranged?

This year, we're making our own! The venue is a pair of summer chalet/cottage spaces with full kitchens. The cost of the food is included in the price, but gathering the food and turning it into meals will be a shared endeavour, as will clean up. Everyone's strengths will come into play - you can choose how you want to participate. Dietary restrictions are always accommodated. We have ALWAYS had several different diets to provide for. There is space on the registration form to specify your requirements. During meal planning, you will be invited to share/suggest meals and snacks that meet your needs.

How many people can share a room?

Usually, two. This may be in two separate beds or bunk beds. Typically, people register and then figure out who's going to share with whom. If you're signing up with a buddy, of course you can choose to share with them. If not, you can ask to be assigned a roommate.

Will you match people with roommates?

Yes, if they want me to. 

How do I make a booking?

All reservations will be done via the registration form. Here is the form.

Once you complete it, you will need to submit payment. $225 CAD will secure your registration, with the balance due 30 days out from the start of the event (July 9) Canadians can send e-transfers (I will give you the address once you've registered). Non-Canadians will have to use PayPal, as there are still not many options for international money transfers to Canada. There is a link in the registration form. Your booking will only be confirmed when payment is received.

When is payment due?

50% of your payment ($225 CDN) is required to secure your registration. The balance of payment is due no later than July 9, 2024

I have certain dietary restrictions. Can these be accommodated?

Yes! There is a space on the registration form for you to advise us of your needs.

Is the venue accessible?

Less than I'd like. As a chalet, it does have stairs at the entry and inside. Rooms can be allocated in a way that will limit stairs. I am very happy to discuss with you how to make this as accessible as possible for you.

What are my options for getting from Toronto to the venue?

We usually coordinate rides with participants coming from various places. Between the people who take the commuter train west from Toronto, the ones who drive from farther afield, and me with my sexy micro-minivan, we should be able to sort you out. If that doesn't work for you, we'll talk and find a way!

How big is this event?

Small! This is not a convention, but a retreat. Numbers usually hover at around 16-20 people. Our first year, there were seven. It's an intimate setting.

I don’t know anyone else who’s going. Does everyone already know each other?

Nope! There are several repeat participants who do know each other, but every year so far we’ve also had plenty of new faces. We’d love to see yours!

What if I have to cancel after I’ve already booked?

Depending on how far in advance you cancel, you might be liable for up to half the cost of your stay. If you cancel after the event has started, it may be the full amount.

That said, we will make every effort to fill your space and return you a full refund. So far, it hasn’t happened often, and when it has I’ve been able to cancel without penalty. Otherwise, the cancellation fees of the venue will apply.        

When do I need to book by?

Bookings are now open, first come, first served!

I still have questions!

Contact me! I am also known as @hubblegleeflower. I am gentle and harmless, and my inbox is usually empty. Please bring me any questions or concerns you might have, and I will do my best for you. People always think their questions are silly, and they never are. I don’t even mind if you ask something that’s already in this post.