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autumnalwalker · 6 months

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Empty Names - 18 - Mom Energy

Author's Note: Of the main cast Eris is the only one with a real social life. Let's take a look at that. Honestly though, this one kind of got away from me and is almost like three different chapters smashed together. "Eris has a social life," followed by "Eris recounts the most recent monster-of-the-week mission," and then wrapping up with "Eris has an existential crisis due to healing magic going weird." Had some fun with one though, bringing in Sarah from the side story "There Are No Dogs At The Dog Park" and then adapting A Dream About Waking And Sleeping into this episode's monster-of-the-week plot. See the tags for more spoiler-y commentary. Word Count: 15,071 Content Warnings: Memory loss, fears of being a bad friend, lewd jokes made in poor taste, brief mention of past aphobia, scars, blood, fantasy violence, child endangerment, implications of potential accidental personality alteration via magic. Not sure if the community label filter is really necessary on this post, but I figure better safe than sorry.

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“So then,” Eris says, sliding aside the remains of her quiche, “Road turns to me and tells me to throw him. Swear to God, his armor grew handles when he said it. But this is Road we’re talking about and adrenaline was running high so I yeet him across the crypt chamber at the flying vamp mage, no questions asked. Stake goes in the heart on impact, the two of them crash to the ground, portal closes, and everyone goes home happy.”

As blood-themed as the story she just finished was, for once Eris isn’t wearing red. The gradual consumption of her wardrobe by that portion of the spectrum had always been a matter of practicality rather than taste. Easier to hide the stains that don’t wash out that way. Eventually it got to the point where grabbing a random article of clothing from her closet was more likely to be sanguine than not, and it just wasn’t worth the effort to consciously pick out something else for casual wear, even when she wasn’t expecting a mess.

But today’s the morning after a full moon, and for the past couple of years now that’s meant putting all that aside for a day. On this particular morning it’s white slacks and a teal button up shirt. Never mind the North American Lycanthrope Sanctuary Association volunteer staff t-shirt hidden underneath. At least it’s not the same sweaty one she wore all last night.

Sarah, one of the regulars at the Sanctuary, is seated across from her, human again until the next full moon and dressed in jeans and a green sleeveless blouse. Contrary to popular belief, lycanthropy itself rarely has any noticeable physical effect on those affected by it outside of the night of a full moon, only whatever autogenesis picks up on as having been internalized as part of their identity. If Sarah’s canines are more pronounced than average, it’s a subtle thing unlikely to be noticed unless one is looking for it, and if the modest muscle gains she’s made since first meeting Eris are easier to maintain than for most people, she’d still had to work enough to get them in the first place to be proud of the effort. The increased preference for meat over time had been a conscious choice to get more in touch with the newfound side of herself rather than a dietary compulsion.

Eris had been the one to give Sarah the tour of the NALSA facility when she showed up for her first full moon a few years back. They’d hit it off well enough that the next time they met they exchanged contact info to keep in touch online between moons. From there it quickly turned into a monthly event to look forward to. Sarah would spend the night running wild with the other werewolves while Eris would spend the night working with the rest of the sanctuary’s human staff to make sure everyone stayed safe until the sun came up, and then they’d both catch a couple hours of sleep, grab a caffeinated beverage, and then go get brunch in what was left of the next morning.

Sarah swallows the last strip of bacon from her plate as Eris finishes her story. “Well, that’s definitely some kind of coordination going on there,” Sarah says with a southern twang that’s recovering after years of being buried. “Sounds like being on a team’s been treating you well.”

“They’re good people,” Eris replies, leaning back in her chair. “Okay, Sullivan goes out of his way to be an ass, but he’s barely around and everyone else is cool. Road’s Road, you know Lacuna and I are tight, and Ashan’s growing on me more than I expected for a mage. Hope you don’t mind that I invited him out here next time. God knows that kid needs socialization.”

“I always wanted to meet a wizard.”

“I’ll tell him you said that. Maybe it’ll get him to actually accept the invitation. I would’ve brought him with me last night, but he’s currently deep into learning how to use the laptop I bought him a couple days ago and I wasn’t about to step in between him and Lacuna’s attempts to teach.”

“Ah, I was wondering what she was up to when you mentioned she wouldn’t be making today. But I gotta ask, why did you buy the wizard a laptop?”

“I was going to get him a phone, but it wound up being complicated to get him anything other than a prepaid burner, what with him being legally dead and all.”

“You left out the part about him being undead.” A look of realization dawns on Sarah’s face. “God, it is so weird that I can say that with a straight face these days.”

“Says the woman who was playing fetch with a tractor tire last night.”

Sarah’s face goes red at the memory that Eris knows is more clear than it would have been a year ago. “Look, you try having your brain rewired to compulsively chase prey and then try talking to me about resisting when a big, round, biteable thing rolls by.” Her tone is indignant, but she’s smiling as she says it. It’s nice to see she’s gotten comfortable enough with her situation to joke around about it. “And it’s not playing fetch. If I had hands when it was like that to throw it again myself I would. I’m not bringing it back to you, I’m telling you to serve me by making it chasable again.”

She got the hang of staying mostly lucid in a half-way form for minutes at a time three months ago. She could absolutely throw things herself if she wanted to and she and Eris both know it.

Eris laughs. “Are you sure it’s a wolf you’re turning into and not a cat? But in all seriousness, Ashan’s not undead, he just had some screwed up stuff happen to him as a kid that I think he’s just recently realized how bad it was. Not my place to say, so let’s just leave it at ‘wizard bullshit.’ I got him the laptop because I thought it might help him adjust to being back on Earth seeing as he’s been in a quasi-medieval fantasy world since he was literally a child. We’ve got a lot of downtime between jobs so I figured he could spend some of that browsing the digitized sum of human knowledge to catch up on what he’s missed out on. Browse some wikis, read some books that aren’t spellbooks, watch some movies, learn what memes are, maybe find a podcast he likes, that sort of thing.”

“You wanted to help him reintegrate into normal Earth culture so you got him on the Internet,” Sarah says incredulously, “instead of taking him out to see things and interact with people firsthand.”

Eris gives that a moment to sink in before blurting out “Damn, Lacuna’s rubbing off on me. Look, I’m working up to it. He’s taken this long just to open up to us and I’m still not sure if he even has any interests or hobbies that aren’t directly tied to being a wizard. I learned my lesson early on with Lacuna about throwing a shut-in into the deep end too soon, so I’m taking it slow this time. And besides, it’s giving him and Lacuna the chance to do the most talking they’ve done so far that wasn’t somehow work-related, so that’s some socializing right there that they’re both getting in.” Eris does a quick mental calculation. “I should probably give them a call later to check in.”

“Worried they’ll blow something up? You said Lacuna has a ‘mad science lab’ now” Sarah says with finger quotes. “A mad scientist and a wizard left together unsupervised like that, who knows what could happen.”

“I hadn’t been until you said that. Before I was just concerned about them getting so caught up in what they’re doing that they forget to eat again.”

“Not mutually exclusive,” Sarah starts to say when she sees Eris’s hand drift toward her phone. “Relax, I’m kidding. They’re mostly responsible adults, they’ll be fine. Jeez, it’s like you’re a mom who just adopted a second kid or something.”

“I am not,” Eris says, balking at the idea.

“Right, because fussing over how much they eat, trying to keep them out of trouble, and encouraging them to get out more and make friends isn’t totally the mom friend thing to do.”

“You’re reading too much into it.”

“Am I? I’m not criticizing, but you’ve literally admitted to buying a box of protein bars for the express purpose of handing them to Lacuna when she gets hungry. If that’s not mom energy I don’t know what is.”

“First off, until recently, I hadn’t had to do that for over a year, and secondly, if Lacuna’s any kind of pseudo family member to me, she’s more like a sister.” Like a younger sister despite being older, she refuses to concede aloud.

Sarah shrugs. “I’m just sayin’, one instance of picking up the first nerdy introvert who comes along and latches onto you then getting super protective of them is a quirk of circumstance, but twice is a pattern. Not a bad thing necessarily, so long as you don’t go overboard with it. Honestly, I find it endearing at times.”

Eris knows that Sarah’s found it annoying at other times though. But for now, she’s more preoccupied with thinking back to all the times she’s tried to approach and handle Ashan the same way she’s done previously with Lacuna. Should she have? Just because Lacuna responds well to it, that doesn't mean Ashan will or has been. Is Lacuna okay with their dynamic? She did go all that time without telling Eris about the risks she took with the data theft. Sure there was the NDA geass, but Lacuna hadn’t been under that yet when she ventured into the more dangerous part of Crosssherd seeking out a loan shark. Is the fact that Eris is more concerned about that than she wants to admit a sign that she’s been smothering her best friend?

She shakes off the thought and counters, “And what about you? I’ve hardly given you that same treatment.”

Sarah scoffs. “I had my shit together when we first met. I might have been new to the whole werewolves and magic bus stops thing, but I was hardly looking for someone to come sweep in and take care of me. Between you and me, I was the one who…” she hesitates, suddenly realizing that she’s strayed into waters supposedly under a bridge. “Well, you know.”

“No, I guess you weren’t,” Eris says, trying not to tense up.

Sarah had asked Eris out some time back, and Eris had turned her down. That sort of conversation is always uncomfortable and it had been made doubly so by Eris’s explanation that she expected her monster hunting hobby to kill her young and thought it would be selfish to get romantically involved with someone when it would just end with them being left painfully alone. It was bad enough already that she’d let Lacuna get as close to her as she had. Eris counted herself fortunate that she and Sarah had been able to salvage their friendship, but had been low-key dreading the topic might come back up again today. Between it being as close to an anniversary of that unfortunate conversation as you can get with lunar cycles and the fact that being on a team now theoretically upped her odds of survival (despite in practice having nearly gotten her killed twice already), if there were ever a time for Sarah to ask again it would be now.

The moment hangs.

Eris drags out finishing off the remains of her coffee.

Sarah pokes at a crumb of meat on her plate with a fork.

“Aaanyway,” Sarah starts. Eris snaps back to eye contact at the sound. “Like I said, it sounds like being on a team’s been treating you well, so maybe now you can share that load of worrying about everyone.” Sarah hesitates. “And maybe you can let someone worry about you for once.”

“Sarah, I -”

“I mean you’ve got friends who care about you too, and not just with having people to watch your back out there. As good as that is to have. For instance, I’ve been meaning to ask since we both got in yesterday: How’s your leg doing?”

“My leg?” Eris asks. The question blindsides her enough to displace worries about wherever else Sarah might have been hinting at.

“Yeah, it got torn up pretty bad last month. You were back on it in the morning of course - I’m still jealous of that regen you’ve got going on by the way - but later you sent me a photo saying you thought it might scar. You sounded weirdly excited by the prospect.”

That doesn’t sound right.

“Huh, must have slipped my mind after it healed up,” Eris says with feigned nonchalance. “No new scars here, I’m afraid to say. You know how it is with me.”

No new scars besides the burns from Logos that Lacuna healed away, at any rate. Of her hunts since their last meeting that she’d regaled Sarah with today and yesterday, the story of having half the front of her body and face burnt off was one that she’d conspicuously omitted. It takes a Hell of a lot to make Eris black out, but she’s choosing to count the jarring jump in memory from grabbing the miniature sun to waking up on an infirmary bed as a blessing.

“But that’s enough of me,” Eris says, “I’ve hardly heard a thing about how you’ve been doing.”

Sarah shrugs. “What can I say? Same old same old. But work gives me moon days off so I shouldn’t complain too much.”

Eris gives her a conspiratorial look. “But you’re going to.”

Sarah grins wide enough that Eris knows she’s trying to show off her fangs, such as they are. “I’m a werewolf now, but I’m still working customer service, only now the customers include witches and fairies. You bet your ass I’m going to.”

Eris flags a waiter down, orders another coffee and settles in to listen to Sarah recount a particularly weird encounter with a sphinx and some kind of spider lady. Sometimes she wonders which of them actually has the more dangerous job.

*******

That evening, after having said goodbye to Sarah for the month, changing back into her usual red tracksuit, and calling to check in on Lacuna and Ashan, Eris is sitting on a barstool at 121813.

“Twelve eighteen thirteen” is the generally agreed upon pronunciation of the bar’s name, although what the name means is less agreed upon. The three most popular theories are that it’s either a date (usually speculated as December of 1813), a scriptural reference (which scripture is a whole other debate), or a leftover address from before one of Crossherd’s major layout shifts. Lacuna had suggested it might be a tarot thing when Eris told her about it. The Hanged Man, the Moon, and Death. An ominous spread, according to Lacuna, but Eris figures it makes as much sense as anything else.

In any case, Fitzgerald Wilhelm von Harkenstein IV, the establishment’s clockwork owner, proprietor, and bartender always seemed to get too much of a kick out of the speculation to give a solid answer. Make what jokes you like about a bartender with no taste buds, but Fitzy had drink mixing down to an art. Then again, he claims to be at least as old as the city of Crossherd itself, so Eris figures he had plenty of time to practice if nothing else.

For over a century now, 121813 has served as the closest thing to a centralized organization for American monster hunters. Other parts of the world had holy orders, secret societies, and grand lodges stretching back generations, but in these parts everyone figured that a couple dozen thrill-seeking assholes who all frequent the same bar was good enough to get the job done. Most hunters usually work solo, but the bar is a good place to brag about kills, show off trophies, swap rumors on potential quarries, and put a band together if you get word on something really nasty.

It’s not peak hours yet and regulars are still trickling in, but there were already a few familiar faces there to greet her when she walked in twenty minutes ago.

Golden-eyed Gretchen who had taught Eris German and how to wield a spear.

Bai of the braided beard who had taken over Eris’s old garbage collecting route when she signed up with Road’s new venture and ever since has been alternating between thanking her for the job referral and complaining that he couldn’t take his axes with him on shift.

Wyatt, whose eyepatch is actually an AR visor to aim assist his crossbow and adjust for weight and aerodynamic differences on specialized bolts.

The green-haired enby twins, Loreghaste and Lornegna, who favor halberds and hammers respectively but both carry swords as backup sidearms.

Chuck in his ill-fitting trenchcoat, a relative newcomer to the game who’s already earning a reputation for going off on insufferable rants about the superiority of katanas.

The grim-faced Preacher, who never shares his name for fear of theft, never touches a drink that isn’t water, and never hides his disdain for everyone else’s choice of archaic weaponry for the sake of sport when guns are so much more efficient at completing the important work of slaying beasts.

Old Vic, the elven immigrant from off world who’s always down to party like the college kid his face looks the age of.

Plus a handful of others that Eris either isn’t all that close to or doesn’t recognize at a glance. High turnover rates have always been an unspoken truth amongst the monster hunter community. It’s been said that there are five fates that await hunters.

One: You die early from a stupid mistake, biting off more than you can chew, or just plain bad luck.

Two: You finally catch up with that one monster that was your reason for taking up the hunt to begin with and if you survive you walk away, vendetta done.

Three: You have your first near-death experience, confront your mortality, and make the wise decision to get out.

Four: You have your first near-death experience, confront your mortality, and realize you’re hooked on the hunt that will surely kill you one day more than you are on living a long life.

Five: The hunt gradually becomes your whole life and personality until one day you hit a tipping point that causes autogenesis to kick into overdrive, transforming you into a monster yourself in need of putting down by your former comrades.

Everyone at the bar tonight - except maybe Chuck and the other newbies like him who still think they’re invincible - has long since made their peace with the idea that they’ll probably be dead by forty. Fifty tops. Other than Old Vic, of course, who’s at least twice that age, but rumors that he’s already secretly met the fifth fate have been flying around since before Eris ever found Crossherd and 121813. Having been on a funerary hunt with him herself and seen what a hunter consumed looks like, Eris doesn’t put any stock in that speculation.

She hasn’t been in here since joining up with Road, and for the moment she’s content to nurse her drink and take in the old familiar ambiance rather than partake in the ever-present banter just yet. Or she would be if the glass didn’t feel oddly cold in her hand and the polished bartop didn’t somehow feel rougher than it should be when she traces her finger along it. Normally she’d chock it up to having been away for awhile, but after what Sarah said about her scar she can’t shake the feeling that something is off. Now that she’s thinking about it, it’s not the first time she’s noticed things feeling subtly different than some subconscious part of her brain is expecting when she touches them. Almost like her sense of touch has been dialed up slightly ever since the incident with Logos. More disturbingly, she has a blister on the edge of her palm from her last workout and weapon practice session and she can’t place why it disturbs her. On the one hand, that sounds like a reasonable and normal thing to happen, but on the other hand it doesn’t make sense to still be there a couple days later with how fast she heals. And she knows she’s still healing freakishly fast given how she shows no sign of the beating she took on the most recent mission. But beside that there’s the nagging feeling that it’s something else that is on the tip of her tongue and refusing to solidify into anything articulable.

Eris decides to talk to Lacuna later about it. She had warned Eris to watch out for unexpected side effects from that custom healing ritual. If anyone can narrow it down, it’s Lacuna. Funny to think that, but she really has come into her own lately and Eris is proud of her for it.

The thought gets Eris stuck on the other uncomfortable truth Sarah had touched on earlier. Has she been infantilizing her best friend? And now Ashan too for that matter. That might not have been what Sarah meant, but the idea won’t quite go away now, no matter how much she tells herself she doesn’t believe it.

As much as she’s found herself wanting to help Ashan and thinks he deserves a better hand than he’s been dealt, at the end of the she knows that he’s tough enough to deal with all the shit he’s been through and come out the other side just fine, with or without her help. But that doesn’t mean it’s not still good to try to be kind and be there for him if he wants it even if he doesn’t need it.

As for Lacuna… Eris tells herself that what she’s been feeling lately is worry over a specific issue and not a general statement of either of their characters. On the surface, ever since she got her lab Lacuna’s been the happiest and healthiest Eris has seen her in a long time. But over time little things have started to add up that have her increasingly concerned. Canceling therapy. Backsliding into forgetting meals when she’d worked so hard over the past year to stop doing that. Gradually spending more and more of her nights in the bed and breakfast above the office instead of going home. Break room trash cans filled with energy drink cans and bags of green tea and chai after having been so proud of kicking the habit entirely. The stark contrast between her fears and uncertainties in the early days of the new job and the uncharacteristic matter-of-fact-ness Eris was greeted with upon waking up covered in disfiguring burns. A few days ago Eris could have sworn Lacuna actually flinched when she got close to her.

There’s something big eating at her best friend, but the couple of times Eris has tried talking to her about it, Lacuna's either casually brushed it off as being nothing or been outright evasive. And while Eris knows Lacuna is a grown-ass woman capable of making her own decisions and dealing with the consequences, that doesn’t make the worries go away. And friends should worry over each other when something is so obviously wrong. Shouldn’t they? She supposes the best she can do at this point is be there to catch Lacuna if she falls.

Eris sighs and turns to the monster hunter seated on the barstool to her left. “Be straight with me Vic. Do I have mom energy?”

“Eris!” the elf gasps in a show of mock scandalization. “You can’t just tell people to be straight. And even if you could, you should know that I could never.”

“Whatever happened to ‘your terms for sexuality are nothing more than a modern human social construct’?” Bai pipes up from the other side of Old Vic.

“When on Earth, do as the humans do, my dear,” Old Vic replies. “Especially when doing the humans.”

“Ha hah, you’re a real comedian,” Eris says dryly, “but really, serious question.”

Old Vic throws his head back and laughs. “Eris, my dear, don’t tell me that that’s what you’ve been brooding about since you walked in here.”

“I do not brood.”

“And that’s exactly what made it so intriguing to watch. But if it makes you feel better, I would say that you only have ‘mom energy’ in the sense that you give off - as the kids put it these days - dommy mommy vibes.”

The ensuing snickers from everyone in immediate earshot - including the bartender- has Eris wondering what possessed her to ask that of Old Vic of all people. She’d blame the drink, but she knows from experience that with her constitution it’s painfully expensive for her to get even slightly buzzed and she hasn’t dipped that far into her budget yet tonight.

Out of the corner of her eye she catches Wyatt smirking and struggling to hold in the next burst of laughter.

“Got something to add?” Eris asks against her better judgment, knowing full well that she’s about to hear something even dumber than Old Vic’s original joke.

“Step on me mommy,” Wyatt barely gets out through fits of giggling.

“God, it’s like I’m friends with a bunch of middle schoolers.” Eris turns around and locks eyes on the nearest table that she knows is close enough to have been eavesdropping. “Gretchen, help me out here,” she calls out to the one other woman in the bar in hopes of some solidarity.

The moment Gretchen turns around from her conversation with the Lor twins wearing a wicked grin that brings back too many memories, Eris knows she made a mistake.

“No Vic,” Gretchen says with agonizing slowness and delight, “I wouldn’t say that Eris gives off those vibes at all.”

Eris suppresses a groan. Some people... You allow them to tie you up one time and they never let you hear the end of it.

Eris had met Gretchen shortly after finding her way into Crossherd for the first time and she’d been the one to introduce Eris to 121813. Not long after that, Gretchen became the first woman Eris had ever dated and her only attempt at dating that didn’t crash and burn after just a couple of weeks. The eventual breakup had been - as far as Eris could ever tell - mutual and amicable, even if Gretchen’s disposition towards her since unpredictably alternated between friendship and melodramatic rivalry. The latter always struck Eris more as Gretchen doing a bit than a genuine competition of egos. At least it kept things interesting, even if it occasionally meant moments like this one.

And still a better outcome than her other miserable attempts at dating within the monster hunting scene. Hookups following cooperative hunts weren’t uncommon but Eris had quickly realized that wasn’t for her and more than one fragile ego - and face - had wound up getting bruised after failures to comprehend that physical attraction just plain wasn’t a thing she felt for anyone without a certain threshold of emotional intimacy being met first. (A threshold she’s been very careful not to cross with Sarah.) And as much as learning there was a term for that (demisexual) helped her understand, no one else ever seemed to get it. The reputation that she started to get back then was half the reason she almost exclusively kept to working solo up until now.

Eris tries not to look put off as she glances around to see if anyone remembers that she and Gretchen used to be together back in the day. She catches a gleam in Bai’s eye as he makes the connection and puts together the implication of Gretchen’s words. She glares at him, daring him to say something. It’s enough to make one of the newbies unfortunate enough to wander into her line of sight to reconsider coming up for another drink order and retreat back to his table.

“Ah, we’re all just ruffling your feathers for being gone too long, my dear,” Old Vic cuts in. “If you must have a serious answer, then no; nobody here thinks you’ve gone soft for getting yourself a support crew and we all know you could kick any of our well-toned asses. Yours truly excluded, of course.”

That’s not what Eris had meant with her question at all, but at this point she’s just glad to have a topic change when Wyatt speaks up.

“So what is it like working with Road full time?” he asks. Eris recalls that Wyatt is one of a number of monster hunters who survived his first encounter with the supernatural due to Road’s timely intervention.

“A lot less time chasing down rumors and false leads, but a lot more sticking around to deal with the cleanup afterwards. And a lot more dealing with people. Road’s as good in a fight as everyone says - they’ve beaten me and our wizard two-on-one twice now - but that’s where they really shine. You remember what it was like when Road saved you on your first day Backstage?”

“I do,” Wyatt replies. The hesitation in his affirmation speaks volumes of the fear and confusion from that life-changing event that most every hunter is too proud to admit. Feelings that Eris has seen Road help people through time and again now.

“Well, they’re like that with everyone. And any time we need to get somewhere without a direct bridge from Crosssherd they’ve got a ride lined up from someone they’ve helped before, eager to repay the favor. Between handling most of the prep and followup themself, I don’t know where they find the time to sleep. It leaves our wizard and I with a lot of downtime where we’re basically getting paid to workout, train, research, spar, and rest, but we’re also on-call to drop what we’re doing and head out at a moment’s notice.”

With how often Road is in and out of the office, Eris honestly wouldn’t be surprised if they’re handling the more minor jobs they get leads on alone without telling her and the others. It feels wrong to say that aloud though. Too much like an accusation.

“You’re telling me you’re sparring with a combat-capable wizard on the reg?” Bai interjects. “I call bullshit. Normal people don’t fight mages. Not if the mage has any skill.”

Eris spreads her arms. “What can I say, I’m built different.”

Further debate on the fightability of mages is interrupted by the arrival of a decent-sized group of hunters, at least one of which seems to be celebrating coming off a successful kill. Eris joins everyone else in listening to the victorious youth - a newcomer to the bar that she doesn’t recognize - brag about his hunt and the fight at the end of it. When the kid (God, did she look that young when she got started?) starts showing off the tooth he took as a trophy Eris and Bai share a knowing look. Definitely a Crossherd sewer gator and not a muck dragon, but best to let the kid have his moment and then pull him aside later to break it to him gently in private.

And then one of the newbie’s buddies spins him around and lifts up his shirt to reveal the claw marks on his back.

“Scar check!” someone shouts.

“Scar check!” someone else echoes.

“Scar check!” Gretchen adds to the growing chorus.

It’s a tradition almost as old as the bar. One person shows off a new scar or injury that they expect to scar and then everyone else starts joining in and shouting out where they got their own wound. Scars were viewed as the truest sort of trophies around here. Indisputable signs that you’d really been out there, danced with death, and come back alive. Everyone had a few and it was generally considered poor form to show the same one off too much, even if it was your most impressive one. Only the newbies didn’t have at least a handful of small but permanent scratches.

Only the newbies, Old Vic, and Eris.

Everyone was willing to concede that Old Vic really was just that good (or had some manner of secret elven healing magic), but Eris had actually had to get someone to stab her in front of the whole bar to convince everyone that it really was just that hard for something to leave a mark on her in the long term. “Built different” she likes to boast, but she’ll never admit that she usually feels left out during these spontaneous exercises in camaraderie. As far as she’s been able to figure out, it’s pretty much just curses and magic poisons that leave behind anything visible, and that’s all they do.

So Eris just has the two scars to her name. A bite mark on her ankle from when she accidentally found out she’s immune to lycanthropy, and a puckered circle on her side from an ectoplasmic musket ball shot at her by a hateful civil war ghost.

Built different. Different enough to sit out of the scar check most of the time.

It’s fine though. She can still watch and congratulate everyone else.

“Clawed by splintercat!” elicits appreciation for the clean parallel cuts.

“Gored by a hodag!” draws out excited whoops.

“Kicked by a nightmare!” is met by good-natured ribbing about the resemblance to a clothes iron burn.

“Carried off by a snallygaster!” drops into offers to buy drinks.

“Duelled a crossroads demon!” earns dual high-fives from the Lor twins.

“Top surgery!” is greeted with joyous laughter and congratulatory applause.

“Bitten by a joint snake!” is commiserated with over how annoying those critters are.

“Wrestled a Jersey devil onto a church fence spike!” gets a rare word of approval from Preacher.

“Escaped the hunter of hunters.” chills the room and sets the crowd whispering.

“Zapped by a rogue paratech drone!” is followed by jokes about robot uprisings.

“Burned by a salamander!” sparks an argument about whether it looks hot or cool.

And around it goes until Eris realizes that all eyes are on her, expectant.

“Well E,” Gretchen addresses her with the nickname only one other person has the right to, “got anything for us this time?”

“Well since you ask,” Eris draws out, returning her smirk, “I’ve got a little something I picked up on my last job with Road.” The name drop gets everyone’s attention. Hunters band together when they get word on something really nasty, but when something truly weird or intelligent gets involved, they call Road. “I don’t know if it’ll stick around or not yet, but it’s fresh enough that you lot tonight are lucky enough to catch a glimpse before it’s gone.”

Everyone starts crowding in to get a closer look as Eris slowly begins rolling up her left sleeve.

“Vamp bite!” she proclaims as she suddenly yanks her sleeve back the last couple inches to reveal her newest memento writ in flesh.

Stunned silence across the bar.

“Eris, my dear,” Old Vic speaks up, “we all love our resident goddess of mayhem, but did you get in a fight with a toddler?”

“Yeah, yeah, get it out of your system, ya chuckleheads,” Eris says, waving her hand in a rolling motion at the ones dumb enough to laugh at Old Vic’s comment. She knows an invitation to show up the losers who don’t know the top dogs around here well enough when she sees Old Vic set one up for her. “It doesn’t look like much, but the story behind it makes up for that.”

“And are you going to tell us, or leave us to our imaginations?” Gretchen asks, already knowing the answer.

“I dunno,” Eris drawls, “you gonna buy me a drink? It’s a long one.”

*******

“Alright,” Eris begins, drink in hand and straddling the chair she’s spun around to sit in backwards, “may as well start at the beginning and get the boring stuff out of the way to begin with for those of you who lack context. A couple months back, Road asked me to join up with a new venture they were starting. And if any of you are too new here to know who Road is, just ask anyone else. Everyone knows Road. Anyway, the whole point of this venture is to help people affected by things Backstage that no one else will bother with because it’s not technically a masquerade breach, and nine times out of ten, that means there’s either a monster or a mage causing problems and needing put down. Hence yours truly.

“At the moment we’ve just got a small field team of Road, myself, and a wizard who goes by Ashan Glassheart. Some of you might have heard of him, given that he’s been handling the convention circuit for the past few years. I know calling him the nicest mage I’ve ever met is a pretty low bar -” every hunter that’s worked with a mage in the past laughs - “but he’s off-world trained so he knows his stuff and goes out of his way not to blow up his own teammates. Meanwhile, we’ve got my buddy Lacuna handling remote tech support, overwatch, and lead finding for us.

“Anyway, I’m out getting groceries at the corner market - on Sixth and Triskelion, Bai, you know the one; run by the lizardman, Mr. Arzochi - when I get a call saying we’ve got a job lined up that could be time sensitive so I should head straight there instead of heading back to the office for a briefing. Mr. Arzochi offers to hold my order for me until I get back - great customer service, that guy - and I start booking it to the address provided for the best bridge out of Crossherd.

“See, we’ve got a website now so people can come to us asking for help instead of us needing to find them and we just got our first intentional client through that. Apparently some single mom living in a quiet suburb up north found out her house was built on top of a buried vampire lair and now she had bloodsuckers and animated skeletons crawling out of her basement. Or so the frantically worded help request made it sound like.

“Fortunately, there’s a direct link out of Crossherd to the town in question so it wasn’t half an hour later when I’m standing outside the door of an unassuming cookie-cutter house with Road handing me stakes and going over strategies for getting victims and living thralls out safely while Ashan’s drawing glowing shapes in the air and confirming that the whole place is just absolutely saturated with necromantic magics. Some wizard jargon about unhallowed ground, leylines, and liminal tearing.

“Judging by the blacked out windows, we assume that the vampire’s already in control of the house itself and take room clearing positions as I try the doorknob. It’s locked, but just as I'm about to force it the door swings inward to reveal this little girl, eight, maybe nine years old. No, not the one who bit me, I’ll get to that. So her eyes go wide and I’m standing there blocking out the sun trying not to scare her when Road steps in and gets down on one knee to look the kid in the eye. He - Road was in guy mode that day - tells her that we’re the people her mom called to help with the basement. The girl catches on and calms down, asks us to wait a minute, closes the door and comes back with her mom who’s about my age and looks pale and haggard enough to have been fed on regularly, but doesn’t have that absent, far away look and voice that thralls get.

“Still, the mom looks relieved to see us and recognizes Road’s voice from the phone so she invites us in, locks the door behind us and introduces us to the vampires. And no, it wasn’t a trap.

“Okay, another quick round of names to help keep things straight going forward. Not real names though for the sake of client privacy. So for now let’s call the mom Brynn and her daughter Clair. The two vampires waiting in the darkened living room looked to be about the same ages, and were dressed modern enough - probably sharing clothes with Brynn and Clair - but of course were way older. Like, Vikings getting lost on the way to Vinland old as it turned out, but we’ll get to that. We’ll call the older looking one Sigrid and the younger looking one Hild. There were also seven animated skeletons wandering the house doing chores, but I couldn’t tell them apart and I don’t think they were sapient so I’m not going to bother naming them.

“Introductions are made, Ashan asks to check to verify there’s no mind control or compulsion going on, Sigrid says she didn’t even know that was a thing she might be able to do, the tests come out clean, Brynn sends the kids upstairs, the skeletons follow, and then we finally get an explanation to clear up the misunderstanding that’s had us all on edge this whole time.

“Starting way back at the beginning, the gist of it all is that sometime circa one thousand AD, someone over in Europe heard tell of a place discovered north across the sea, all the way west of Greenland, and got the bright idea to ship off and lock up creatures that wouldn’t die properly as far away from anyone else as possible. Far from everyone else except, you know, the people who already lived there but, hey, tale as old as colonialism, am I right? So they sent over a boatload of undead and a couple of mages to keep them bound, built a crypt, interred the undead, sealed it up, and then built a church on top. And then support for the project from back home dropped off, the Vikings stopped trying to keep up an outpost for the church-crypt-prison keepers to get supplies from, and the locals got fed up with invaders burying necromantically-infused corpses on their land.

“Something went down at that point, but it’s not clear what, only that one winter night Sigrid woke up, climbed out of a stone coffin with no memory and found herself in the ruins of an abandoned church. Hild woke up not long after that and the skeletons along with her. As far as Sigrid knows, Hild’s mute. Never heard a word out of the kid - and I use the word ‘kid’ loosely here - despite having basically adopted her. Sigrid found some writing detailing what the place was and a ritual to keep the undead in that place dormant and sealed. She did the ritual, spent the winter alone with her and Hild surviving on animal blood from the surrounding woods, and then found herself tired enough to return to her sarcophagus at the end of the winter. That waking up for the winter kept repeating, but with an exponentially longer gap each time, until one day she went to sleep and woke up centuries later with a house on top of her and the woods replaced by a town.

“Sigrid was able to cobble together some limited translation magic and explain all this to Brynn, Hild and Clair made friends, and Brynn agreed to help them through the winter. None of them knew jack about anything Backstage, nothing modern anyhow, but it turns out you can just buy blood off the internet and have it delivered.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m getting to the exciting part, cool it. Do you want ‘We went down to the basement and punched some skeletons the end’ or do you want a proper story? You’ve gotta have some context for these things. Have some buildup. Gradually raise the tension. Sprinkle in some mys- yes Chuck, we all know vampires don’t work on seasonal hibernation cycles like that. It was our first big hint something was weird. Now are you lot gonna keep interrupting or can I keep going?

“Yes Vic, you’re a real comedian.

“Now for those of you paying attention, you probably picked up on the obvious detail that it ain’t winter outside right now. That’s the real reason Brynn finally started looking for outside help. Keeping a pair of vamps fed for the winter is one thing, but indefinitely is a whole other beast. Worse than that, Sigrid suspected that the usual re-sealing ritual wasn’t working anymore and that whatever else was downstairs was starting to wake up. She said she could feel things moving beneath her when she tried to sleep for the day and Hild had been acting even weirder than normal lately, breaking off with her games with Clair and the skeletons and staring off into space for minutes at a time.

“You got it. That’s what we were there for.

“Oh, and I should probably mention, Brynn and Sigrid were trying to hide it, but it was obvious to anyone with eyes they had it hard for each other. Grade-A sapphic pining in the face of knowing fate will never let them have it coupled with still getting their heads around the idea that it was okay for them to like women. It’ll be relevant later.

“I’m not going to dignify that with a response.

“Moving on to the fun parts now, Sigrid takes us down to the basement while the others stay up top, shows us the ragged hole in the floor with stairs down to her crypt, and leads us down to where she normally does her sealing ritual. You see, there were actually two levels to the crypt, the upper level where Sigrid, Hild, the skeletons, and five other vampires she never let wake up were kept, and a lower level past a stone door she’d never opened where the really dangerous prisoners were imprisoned. There’s some brief debate on whether to reattempt the sealing ritual with a proper wizard on hand, but Sigrid was all out of the blood to use as components for it and Lacuna - she’d been listening in the whole time via comms - said that creating a custom replacement without the need for blood would take longer than Ashan was estimating the weakened seal would hold for. So we decide to set up a temporary ward to prevent passage out of the crypt and then fully break the seal so we can go down and permanently deal with whatever was down there.

“Road goes up to to the basement and unpacks his dufflebag to give me my spear - I’ve got an enchanted ice spear now, I’ll bring it with me next time - pull out a glyph–inscribed metal card, and set out a miniature drone that Lacuna remotely connects to and sends downstairs with us. It’s a pretty cool little gizmo, like a toaster-sized robo crab with a projector mounted on top. Anyway, Road puts the card on top of the stairs where it starts to play a recording of Lacuna’s voice chanting an incantation to project a selective pass through barrier so we can still get out if we need to. Afterwards, Ashan does some wizard shit to the door that makes a big flash of red light and sets the whole place rumbling for a few seconds.”

Eris takes a dramatic pause to lean forward and grow a slow grin. “And then four of the five occupied sarcophagi open up. Out crawl four blood-starved vampires, too feral from hunger to reason with. The first one leaps at me and I impale it midair. The spear’s enchantment freezes the poor bastard solid by the time gravity catches up and brings it to the ground. Vamp number two makes the mistake of going for Road who just dances around its attempts to claw him and paralyzes it one limb at a time with that fancy beam sword of his. Once it falls he stakes it for good measure and leaves it there to deal with later. Meanwhile, the third vamp is trying to get Ashan while he’s still reeling from the backlash of breaking the seal. It lunges for him and then jerks to a halt with its fangs an inch away from his neck when Ashan recovers and conjures up a bunch of chains around it, making it easy pickings for me to stake. Unlucky vamp number four catches the scent of easier prey upstairs and tries to beat a retreat while we’re all busy only to run headlong into Lacuna’s ward and fall tumbling backwards. Road catches it before it breaks its neck and it repays that kindness with biting his neck. Turns out Road’s jacket can shift forms faster than a starving vampire can move, so it just scrapes its teeth on hard plating while a freshly-armored Road pulls it into an embrace as part of pressing a stake into its heart. Opening up the the fifth sarcophagus to check, we found another vampire with a stake already in its chest whose wood hadn’t quite rotted away with age yet. We left it be.

“So, yeah, it was a nice warmup before the main event downstairs. Of course, Road being Road, he was insistent that we leave the vampires ‘alive’ but neutralized rather than dragging them out into the sun, burning, or beheading them to finish the job. I’m pretty sure he’s with them at a rehabilitation center right now, working on getting them fed enough to be lucid for a chance at integrating with modern society, Backstage resources and all.

“But I’m getting ahead of myself. Warmup done, I roll aside the inscribed stone slab that was still physically blocking off the lower crypt after Ashan had broken the magic seal on it and we descend. And for those of you struggling to keep track, ‘we’ in this case includes Sigrid and Lacuna’s drone who were there for ritual support but weren’t really combatants. Sure, Sigrid had the strength, speed, and reflexes of a well-fed vampire, but she was no trained fighter and wasn’t super big on doing violence. Even hunting down deer and rabbits in the woods to feed herself and Hild back in the old days never sat quite right with her.”

Eris leaves out the detail that what disturbed Sigrid about the bloody hunt was how good it felt in the moment. She suspects she’s not the only one here at the bar that feeling is a little too relatable for.

“The second staircase goes down deep, well into the bedrock,” Eris continues, “with enough clean, precise angles that it was obviously carved out by magic and unworn enough that you could tell no one had taken the trip up and down since its construction. We find another inscribed stone door at the bottom but Ashan verifies that whatever enchantment was on it broke when he broke the seal from upstairs. On the other side we find another crypt, way bigger than the first. At least a hundred sarcophagi laid out in neat rows with a ceiling high enough that whatever mage carved it was obviously showing off. Close to half of it was filled floor-to-ceiling with rubble. At first we figure it was an old cave-in but then we notice the ragged hole on the far side of the chamber and realize we’re looking at the debris from an excavation. An excavation most likely carried out by whatever used to be in the sarcophagi.

“That’s right, they were all open. Most of them, though, were still occupied. If you can call being filled with mounds of pulsating flesh that are barely recognisable as having once been human as ‘occupied’, anyway. All of those had these fleshy tendrils coming off them - so dark red they were almost black - trailing away like roots or cables down that tunnel that obviously hadn't been part of the crypt’s original construction, so you know there had to be something effed up going on back there.

“The tunnel turns into a maze on us pretty quick, but there’s a definite directionality to the pattern of the meat roots covering every surface and following those seemed to lead to some kind of center. A couple minutes in of taking it slow and keeping our eyes and ears peeled we hear this super gross squelching sound coming from around the corner. This eight foot tall amalgamation of smushed-together corpses rounds the corner and immediately goes aggro on us. Probably knew we were coming from all the meat roots we couldn’t avoid stepping on. It definitely had enough of those coming out of its back as a tempting weak point to go for. ‘Course, that was easier said than done with it taking up almost the full width of the tunnel and swinging around eight arms to grab and pummel you with if you tried to squeeze around it.

“On top of that, it had some sort of weird damage transfer thing going on so that anything we did to hurt it would instantly heal and then replicate the wound on the flesh covering the tunnel. I’d stab it and frost would appear on the wall instead. Road would slice it and meat roots on the ceiling would go limp and droop down. I’d straight up punch a hole in its chest and when I pulled my hand out the hole would seal shut and vessels on the floor would burst and spray ichor up at us. Adding insult to repeated blunt force trauma injury, it turns out that Lacuna’s drone is basically useless without a flat surface to project onto and the meat roots all over the place weren’t real conducive to that.

“Seeing that just beating the crap out of this thing until it falls over isn’t working, Ashan tosses up a barrier blocking off the whole tunnel to give us all a second to breathe and shift tactics. Up until that point he’d been rapidly conjuring up small shields that would disappear after blocking a hit or two so that Road and I wouldn’t get punched in the head too much. I tell him I can handle it and that he should focus on going on the offense, so he folds his barrier around the corpse golem that’s already started slamming itself into it and then drags the magic-wrapped monster burrito to one side so Road and I can get to the exposed tendrils coming off its back.

“It’s the sort of maneuver that we really should have opened with, but hindsight is twenty-twenty. It had its flaw though in the form of the hole he left open for the tendrils. I’m sure there’s some BS magic mechanics explanation for why he couldn’t just snap it all the way shut and sever them himself, but that meant there was space for the monster to escape when its flesh started to goddam liquify and start oozing out of the hole to reform. Seeing we’re about to have a problem again, I fling myself on top of the reforming flesh pile and leave Road to cut the tendrils. My reward for that is four sets of jaws emerging from the congealed slurry to bite me and bone fragments assembling themselves into limbs to try to hold me down while the rest of its mass flows out to engulf me.

“Quick show of hands, who all here’s been dunked in sewage before? Okay, and who’s fought zombies or hung around long enough after a hunt for the quarry to start putrefying? Right. Now imagine combining those two smells, filling the sewage with bones, and having it actively try to crush and suffocate you. Rank does not begin to do the stench justice.

“Fortunately, Road cuts the amalgam’s connection to the tunnel walls quickly, causing the mass around me to shudder. That doesn’t deanimate it - it was already dead and more of a puppet or golem than a proper undead, so ‘kill’ isn’t the right word - but it stops regenerating. I start tearing it apart from the inside and less than a minute later I’m standing in the middle of the tunnel picking viscera out of my hair while scattered bits of gore uselessly pulse and twitch. Thank God for overly-fastidious wizards with cleaning spells or I’d still be in the shower trying to get that smell out.”

While her audience laughs at the half-joke, Eris’s mind lingers on what she must have looked like for Lacuna, watching from multiple angles through the comms and drones as she burst out of that mess, clothes stained with dark blood and ichor dripping down her face. From the time she got her mouth free enough to breathe without inhaling undead meat and fluids to the time she made eye contact with the crab drone’s camera she’d had the same feral grin she knew she always had after a kill. Ever since she’s been waiting for Lacuna to say something. Dreading it, really. If she hadn’t just imagined Lacuna involuntarily flinching away from her the day before this last job, what must her friend think of her now that she’s had an unfiltered view of her in all her gorey glory?

She can talk to her about that later. Right now she’s still got a story to tell.

“Moving on down the tunnel system, we don’t encounter anything else until we reach the central chamber, a big roughly hemispherical cavern with other tunnel openings all around. In the center, all the meat roots had converged and woven themselves into a cocoon. A cocoon that looked to have been freshly split open by the time we got there.

“Hovering in the air above it and faintly glowing red we see this vampire mage who’s gone all in on the demonic bat look. Big wings that he doesn’t even seem to need to fly, pointy ears, long clawed hands, black sclera, red irises, weirdly echoing voice, the works. He sees us and he must have been a wizard, because he immediately starts monologuing at us. And it’s all in some old proto-Norse dialect with off-world loan words so I don’t understand a lick of it.

“That said, I don’t need to parse the words to know an evil gloating asshole stroking his own ego when I hear one, so I cut him off mid-sentence by hurling my spear at him. I nail him right through the chest, but he’s got the same damage transfer hacks going on as his creation we killed earlier, without even needing the physical connection, so he just pulls the spear out and casually drops it like the smug bastard he is and calls for the rest of his creations to start streaming in from the other tunnels.

“I’ll save you the blow-by-blow of the ensuing melee or else we’d be here all night, but I’ll paint you the broad strokes of it. Me, Road, and Sigrid - surrounded like this, she didn’t have much choice but to join in - back to back to back against over a dozen constructs of fused-together undead in various shapes and configurations. Vampires, ghouls, revenants, you name a variety of walking dead originating out of Europe and chances were a specimen had been blended up and thrown into the mix. Meanwhile, Ashan’s running interference to block and lock down any magic the vamp mage tries to throw at us. That includes the vamp mage trying to open up portals, both to escape and to let in minor demons that he’d contracted out from some hell-type dimension or another.

“Now, most of you here are lucky enough to have seen me and/or Road in action before, and a few of you are unlucky enough to have seen two mages go at it, so I’ll let you extrapolate out what the next several minutes looked like based on how fighting against just one went. At least in that chamber we had proper room to maneuver, so getting around behind the amalgams to cut their puppet strings was easier. Up until the vamp mage would slip a spell past Ashan and plug one of his creations back in to start regenerating again. While there was technically a limit to how much damage the vamp mage and his minions could offload until there were no more meat roots in reserve to take it, it was a pretty high limit and we were looking at a battle of attrition. I’m pretty good at those, but I was starting to have my doubts that Ashan could hold up. He’s got this thing with drawing on ambient heat as a power source and everyone down there capable of breathing was puffing out fog clouds.

“Oh, and did I mention that the vamp mage kept up his villain monologuing during the fight? At the time I figured he was just running on a magic system heavy on verbal spell components, but later the others filled me in that was only about half of his blabbering. If anyone’s curious, the gist was that he’d been awake off and on for centuries, had fed on all the other undead in the crypt to grow his power, used the husks of his fellow prisoners as labor to carve out tunnels in the shape of a ritual circle, and stuck himself in the middle of it to hibernate until his transformation was complete and the seal on the crypt finally faded in full. Now our breaking of the seal on the crypt had woken him up again and accelerated his plans for escaping and taking vengeance. I’m not sure he quite grasped the idea that everyone who banished him and locked him up down there is long dead.

“So yeah, uber vamp, sworn vengeance, corpse golems, grand melee, wizard duel, portals threatening to open, battle of attrition, yadda yada. That finally breaks when Lacuna finally finds a good, flat, tendril free, spot on the wall to steer her little robo crab that everyone forgot about over to. She starts projecting a ritual circle on the wall, plays the pre-recorded incantation, and before anyone realizes what’s happening the whole room floods with conjured sunlight. You’d need to ask a mage what makes it so special compared to the lights Ashan had made for us to see by, but it was as good as the real thing for making vamps burn and the amalgams and meat roots all over the walls, floor, and ceiling, were at least seventy percent vampire in composition. Watching all that light up in a wave of smokeless fire was maaaagnificent.”

Eris smiles at the memory of the spectacle. That moment was the second proudest she’d ever been of Lacuna.

“That should have been the end of it,” Eris goes on, “but of course it wasn’t. Same as Road was pulling Sigrid back into a side tunnel and Ashan was conjuring up a mostly opaque barrier to keep her from burning the vamp mage had sequestered himself in his own little ominous floating sphere of darkness hovering ten feet off the ground. So I’m left standing there alone considering how best to reach the vamp mage and pull him into the light before Road gets the chance to remind me to take him in ‘alive’ when the light suddenly goes out and I hear Lacuna scream into my ear through the comms earbud.

“I’ll be honest, when she didn’t respond right away after I asked what happened I kinda snapped. I gave throwing my spear at the vamp mage another go and this time it stuck. I followed up with a running jump to grab the portion of the haft that was sticking out of the black sphere and dragged the bastard out of his safety bubble. I slammed him into the cave floor like a hammer head onto an anvil, climbed on top of him, and started going to town on his face.”

Flashes of fear and rage resurface with the memory, causing Eris to stumble in her narration. The way she had figured at the time, either he’d hurt Lacuna and needed to pay or something else had happened and she needed to finish things up here and get back to the office as quickly as possible. The next few minutes (or was it just seconds?) trying to finish him off were fuzzy, but she had some vague memory of Road trying to pull her off before she could kill him. What Road didn’t realize is that was her being nonlethal with a powered-up vampire. If she’d wanted him dead she would have gone straight for ripping his head off. Too bad she hadn’t been thinking clearly enough at the time to just stake him. Would have saved them all a lot of trouble.

“When he realized he couldn’t throw me off him he tried necromancy. I could feel him trying to grow spikes from my bones. Heating up my blood in hopes of boiling it. Skip beats on my heart in an attempt to stop it. Willing me to rot from the inside out.” Eris laughs, more showy bravado than genuine pride. “But you know me, I’m built different and autogenesis is a helluva drug when it comes to magic resistance. The only reason I stopped beating the everliving tar out of him when I did was I heard the kid scream next.

“Turns out that the vamp mage had some kind of connection to Hild and with the seal gone he’d been able to use that connection to mind control her from all the way down in the crypt. He’d used her skeletons to take Clair hostage, coerce Brynn into physically disrupting Lacuna’s ward up in the basement, and bring Clair down to where we were to use as a human shield. A dirty ploy, but an effective one at getting us to stand down. Breaking an actively-maintained ward had hurt both Brynn and Lacuna but not killed either of them, so Brynn catches up and wanders in just in time to see the vamp mage opening up the hell portal Ashan had been keeping closed so a new round of minions could file in to keep us busy.

“Now obviously, letting a vampire go free with a hostage just means that hostage is getting eaten later rather than sooner but that doesn’t make getting that hostage to safety any less tricky. Fortunately, hearing Lacuna’s voice come back online to confirm that she was okay, just pretty out of it, calms me down enough to notice Road whisper something to Sigrid and then give me enough of a look that I catch onto the gist of his plan. I then get Ashan’s attention and have him start translating trash talk for me to get the vamp mage focused on us. Not exactly my proudest moment, but I’m pretty sure I taught Ashan and the kids some new swear words.

“Distraction in place, Sigrid breaks off from where we’ve all been lined up to go give Hild a tearful full-body hug and whisper something in her ear. That’s enough to break Hild out of the near-trance she’d been in this whole time to have her skeletons let go of Clair and start attacking the demons. Road moves in to intercept the vamp mage before he can grab Clair himself while Brynn scoops her up to get her to safety. New problem is we’ve now got exits blocked by demons, multiple non-combatants to keep safe, more minions filing in, and a very angry vampire mage who’s already started to recover from the beating I gave him. I don’t even wanna know what kind of price he paid to contract those kind of numbers for summoning.

“Somehow though, he looks at all of this, does the tactical calculus, and concludes that Hild is the biggest threat - or maybe he was just mad at her breaking free - so he points a hand at her and his fingers extend, shooting across the room. Road realizes what’s happening in time to parry it enough to keep it from taking off her head, but the vamp mage still manages to rip a gash in Hild from jugular to heart.

“Here’s the thing about vampires that makes them so annoying to kill: Short of beheading or burning, they can recover from basically anything so long as they have the blood. So pro-tip, if you find yourself fighting a vampire without a stake and you don’t think you can get a killing blow on them, hit them someplace that they’ll bleed a lot. And it has to be external bleeding. A decent size cut’s harder for them to recover from than broken bones or ruptured organs. Get them in the heart or jugular and they’ll bleed out nearly as fast as a human if they don’t get the chance to feed in the next minute or so.

“On the flip side, if you’re ever trying to save a vampire, the number one most important thing is to give them something to drink; the fresher and stronger the better.”

Eris holds up the child-sized bite mark on her wrist for everyone to get a good look at again. Damn, but does it feel good to watch the realization dawn on her audience’s faces. Especially the ones who’d laughed at it earlier.

“Now I’ll be real with you,” Eris says after everyone’s had a moment to ogle, “for most of the rest of this I was a bit loopy from blood loss, but I promise I’m not exaggerating when I say Hild started making whole skeletons out of the ash of the corpse golems that had burned earlier and ripping new boney minions of her own out of any demon that fell. The things drinking your fill in fresh human blood for the first time in a millennium will do for you I guess.

“Still, it turns out that closing a fully open summoning portal that things are actively passing through is harder than keeping a partially formed one from opening and Ashan was already near his limit back before Lacuna dropped her sunshine bomb on the room. With splitting his attention between that struggle, trying to keep the vamp mage from opening an escape, and maintaining bubble shields around himself, Sigrid, Brynn, Clair, me, and Hild, that was leaving just Road and the skeletons to fight both the mage and his minions. Not good numbers and we were back to a battle of attrition. Road’s good - the best even - but even he can only be in so many places at once and Hild’s ability to keep reforming her frankly fragile skeletons was only going to last as long as I could keep serving as a blood battery.

“And then the whole place starts shaking. We’d only burnt away the meat roots in that central chamber and now the rest were writhing and contracting in an attempt to collapse the surrounding tunnels. The classic ‘if I can’t escape then no one can’ gambit.

“The thing I haven’t mentioned yet is that the whole time this round two of fighting is going on, Lacuna’s been frantically searching a digitized library of spells and rituals and calling out descriptions over the comms to ask if it’s something any of us think can help. She’s not trained on how to properly recover from the backlash of an interrupted ritual, much less two at once, so she wasn’t in any condition to cast anything else herself, but she could still provide words and glyphs for others to do so. To be honest, I’m pretty sure we were all basically tuning her out by the time the walls started shaking, but just as Road is starting to give the order for everyone to retreat back up to the surface she cuts in claiming to have found a - and I quote - ‘spell to conquer evil’.

“But then she reads the description and sees that it requires - and again I quote - ‘a threefold declaration of love hitherto unspoken,’ and apologizes for getting our hopes up. And that’s when I realize I’m apparently the only one with working eyes because I have to point out to everyone that we’ve got the capacity for that right in front of us. Sigrid and Brynn for each other, Brynn and Sigrid for Hild and Clair respectively, and Clair and Hild for one another. The love of partners, mothers, and sisters. Eros, Storge, and Philia for those of you who read your classics. Threefold love, and let’s throw in some Agape loving God for making people more willing to make declarations of repressed love when they think they’re about to die.

“Lacuna projects the words to read up for the spell on the wall, Ashan provides the magical oomph, to make the spell go, vows are made, and we get a whole new, somehow even brighter wave of light bursts out, this time from the four of them, banishing the demons, sweeping away the meat roots even in the outer tunnels, and stunning the vampire. He’s still floating like twenty feet in the air though and already starting to twitch again.

“So then,” Eris says, standing up to pantomime the final act of the tale, “Road turns to me and tells me to throw him. Swear to God, his armor grew handles when he said it. But this is Road we’re talking about and adrenaline was running high so I yeet him across the crypt chamber at the flying vamp mage, no questions asked. Stake goes in the heart on impact, the two of them crash to the ground, portal closes, and everyone goes home happy.”

*******

“Good story earlier, E” Gretchen says to Eris some hours later on her way to join the gradual exodus of hunters from the bar, “didn’t get the chance to say that earlier with everyone else lining up to fawn over the savior of children and spotter of true love.”

“Thanks,” Eris replies skeptically. Is this sarcasm or flirting? God, she hopes it’s sarcasm. She has enough ambiguous advances to turn down on her plate with Sarah already.

“The manticore stinger scar’s still my favorite though,” Gretchen continues in a tone that makes flirting the uncomfortably more likely possibility. “You should consider showing it off again sometime.”

“Sure, I’ll th-” the non-answer catches in Eris’s throat.

She doesn’t have a scar from a manticore stinger. She doesn’t even remember having had a potential scar like that. And it’s not something she would forget; manticore venom hurts like having your veins replaced by rose vines with vibrating thorns. Wait. Why does she know what it feels like when everything she’s heard about it calls it instantly fatal? Why does the thought of it make her jaw clench and fingers curl? It’s just curses and magic poisons that leave lasting scars on her. But both of her scars (potentially all three now) are from curses. So how does she know poison will do it? But there’s no way she could forget something like that happening to her.

Right?

Why does everything feel like her hands are too soft?

“I’ll catch you later,” Eris finishes her sentence as calmly as she can.

She tries not to run out of the bar.

*******

Among the subfolders in the photo app on Eris’s phone there are two labeled “Scars: Potential” and “Scars: Real”. The second most recent photo in “Scars: Potential” is from a month ago. It’s a set of ragged claw marks running down her left thigh with what might possibly be a partially-obscured bite mark mixed in. Her text message history confirms that she sent the photo to Sarah two days after the previous full moon.

She doesn’t remember getting injured, taking the photo, or the conversation.

Now she’s standing undressed in her apartment’s bathroom, gripping the edge of the sink and breathing hard as she rapidly looks back and forth between her mirror, her body, and one of the four photos in the “Scars: Real” folder. The photo shows a ring of puckered flesh just below her right breast with finger-length tendrils radiating out from it tracing along the paths of veins. Squint at it with the right mindset and it looks almost like a flower surrounded by vines. The scar’s an unnatural shade of dark purple standing out against brown skin. It’s matches in the “Scars: Potential” folder taken over the course of the weeks prior to the final version show the scar as being practically vibrant in its hue and surrounded by heavily inflamed skin.

Most importantly, it’s not there anymore.

“What the Hell?” Eris gasps yet again as she continues to run fingers over smooth skin while staring down the spot in the mirror where she should be seeing a scar.

She tightens her grip on the edge of the sink and accidentally cracks the ceramic. The buckling of the countertop topples her phone into the bowl. The sound snaps Eris out of her obsessive staring and prodding enough to look down at what she just did and swear. She lets go of the broken edge of the sink and picks up her phone. Too late she realizes she’s bleeding from the soft skin on her palm. Now she’s smeared it on her phone case. It’s not the first time it’s gotten blood on it but she swears again anyway.

Then she freezes.

Why are her hands soft?

That makes no sense.

She should have calluses.

She must have had calluses.

Where the Hell are her calluses?

Why did it take her this long to realize what was wrong?

Her grip on her phone shifts subtly and she nearly drops it in surprise. Running her fingers along the rubberized texture of its case feels different now somehow. She looks at the open palm of her other hand and something about the way it catches the light has changed slightly. The blister that’s been there for the past couple of days is suddenly gone. She traces the pad of her thumb back and forth across the tips of her fingers and finds that while it doesn't feel right, it’s the closest to right that it’s felt in weeks.

“What the Hell?”

She touches where the scar should be and memories that make no sense to have been forgotten come rushing back.

Sun hot enough to cook eggs on the dashboard. An Arizona truck stop. Rumors of a big cat prowling the desert and attacking truckers and tourists who stop there too late at night. Killing time waiting for nightfall by practicing along with a language learning CD snagged from a clearance bin. An empty parking lot beneath a moonless night sky. Climbing out of the cab and watching the desert. Feeling the temperature drop. The feeling of being the only person on Earth. Lingering in a space only ever meant to be passed through. The howl of an almost-human voice that almost sounds like a song. The weight of a tire iron in her hand. Stepping out beyond the edge of the pavement. Stopping just at the edge of the furthest lamplight. The twilight border between known and unknown. A whistled tune to announce her presence. Eyes in the dark. A growl that almost sounds like words. Circling. Blurring the line between predator and prey. Claws and teeth. The crack of a tire iron against a skull that almost looks human. A whipcord whistling sound through the air. A step too slow. Blooming pain. The feeling of veins replaced by rose vines with vibrating thorns. An inhuman growl from a human throat. Hands preventing a tail from ripping a stinger free. A slow extraction from a chest. A quick insertion into a neck. The loss of a tire iron. Seven minutes slumped against a door, trying to work up the strength to open it. Three days in the bed in the back of a truck cabin. Angry voicemails threatening unemployment. Coughing up blood. Engine noise going quiet. AC cutting out. Sips of hot water. Knocking on the door from a concerned stranger. A declined offer of a ride to the hospital. A request to siphon gas. The passing of years. An impossible city. A new job. A kindred spirit. A wonderfully wicked smile beneath golden eyes. The feeling of another’s hands tracing a familiar shape. The comparison to a flower.

This time Eris does drop her phone. This time she grips the edge of the sink with both hands. This time it’s a different curse she mutters between ragged breaths.

She starts to look up, catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror, bolts upright, and looks down at herself. It’s fainter than in the photo, but there’s now the barest outline of what might look like a flower if you squint at it in the right mindset.

“Sis,” Eris whispers to a friend that isn’t there to hear it, “what did you do to me?”

*******

In the past fifteen minutes since Eris knocked on Lacuna’s door hard enough to chip the paint and wake the neighbors, she’s watched her best friend’s face change from terrified to concerned to embarrassed to anxious to worried to confused and now to utterly horrified.

“Oh goddess, I am so sorry. I swear I didn’t think that would happen. I knew there might be complications but I didn’t think that even could happen. I’m sorry. I should have seen this coming. I should have run more simulations. I shouldn’t have needed to. It’s so -”

“Sis -”

“- obvious in hindsight. Not even hindsight, it's just obvious. How could I be so stupid? I’m sorry. I promise this was an accident. Maybe if I - No that would be worse. I swear I -”

“Hey -”

“- can make this right. Or maybe it’s already showing signs of abating. This is what I get for not taking a baseline model first. Please don’t be mad. I’m so, so, sorry. I just -”

“Lacuna!”

Lacuna flinches at the not-quite-a-shout and goes quiet, shrinking back into the round papasan chair seated in her apartment’s living room.

“I’m not mad at you,” Eris lies. Maybe if she keeps still enough and keeps being slow and deliberate enough with her words and breathing it will become true. “I believe you that whatever this is was an accident and I’m not going to hold it against you.” That part is probably true. “Now please slow down for a minute and tell me what you think you did to me and what we need to do to fix it.”

Lacuna wraps her arms around herself and takes a series of trembling, drawn-out breaths. Her wide eyes show little sign of the sleep Eris woke her from. When she starts speaking again it’s slow and halting, and her fingers continue to drum on her upper arms in a rolling motion.

“Right. Sorry. So… Two things. Probably two things. But they’re kind of related. So maybe one thing.”

Eris resists the urge to tell her to get on with it. The patience that she’s learned since befriending Lacuna is wearing thin tonight.

“This is mostly an educated guess, but back when we healed your burns after the Logos mission. Remember how I said we were sort of hacking autogenesis to work for us?”

Eris nods. “Making my belief that I could walk away from the blast unharmed stronger than my and Logos’s combined belief that it should have killed me.”

“Yeah. That. Close to it anyway. Because the core theory of the Autogenesis Principle is that it makes your perception of yourself override baseline reality. Like we’ve talked about, that’s probably why you heal so fast normally. So I set up the ritual to temporarily sharpen and amplify that perception. Remove any doubts or distractions and absolutely focus on your idea of who you truly are. But since I never took an initial scan of when you were uninjured, we were pretty much going based on memory”

“And so, what, I lost focus and parts got left out?”

“Maybe? More likely that I did. It was configured to mostly be based on you, but since I was the one casting the ritual, some of my perception of your body slipped in too. And. Well. I didn’t know that you had those scars that you said were missing. Or maybe I was because on some level I was thinking of that all as being freshly grown flesh that we were replacing the old with? I don’t know. But when we found you your… Those were the parts of you that took the brunt of it. You were…”

“I was what?”

“I-” Lacuna bites her lip and puts a hand to her mouth. “Probably best I don’t say. Perception and everything. But trust me. It was… bad. If you were anyone else I don’t think you would have survived.”

Just built different.

“Fine.” Eris says even though it isn’t. “So the scars you didn’t know I had didn’t get put back when we healed me. That tracks, but why did it make me forget about them?”

“I’m not entirely sure, and that’s the scary part. It might have been a flaw in the ritual itself that caused some leakage between us or maybe left some of what was supposed to be a temporary perception adjustment linger around longer than expected. Or it might be because no one fully understands how autogenesis works and causing a shift in perception cascaded into forcing other variables into place to align with that. I’m not sure which one’s worse.”

“Okay so, those are both bad,” horrifying, if Eris is being honest with herself, “but what do we do about it?”

“For now? Maybe nothing? You said that when you realized something was off your memory came back and then the scar started to reappear. And that remembering the calluses caused you to remember the scar? There’s precedent for removal of memory alterations to cause a cascading effect. That’s something I read when I was researching how to help with Ashan’s tattoo. Not a tattoo, but you know what I mean. If we give it a little bit of time it should all work itself out and go back to normal. Probably. And if it doesn’t, we go find someone who knows more about this than me.”

“If it’s going to wear off, doesn’t that mean the burns are going to come back too?”

“No. That’s a little bit different. It’s a technical thing that I could explain better after sleeping properly, but I’m ninety-seven percent sure that we’ve got that part pretty well solved. Even before the ritual, you didn't remember the blast itself since you blacked out, and you weren’t even conscious for seventy-two hours between waking up in the autodoc bed and getting the additional healing. In the grand scheme of things, the time that you spent in that particular condition didn’t have much time to imprint on you or get internalized. Not unless you were taking that all a lot harder than you were letting on. It was part of the reason I proposed the ritual almost as soon as you were awake.”

“Fine,” Eris says. It still isn’t. “Fine,” she says again to convince herself. “I’ll assume and act like it will work out how we want, try not to think too hard about it, and it will happen, the same as any other autogenesis bullshit. But what about my calluses?”

“What about them? Same as the rest I guess.”

“No, I mean it’s not like we’ve never shaken hands before and I’ve literally dragged you into doing things in the past. You might not have seen all of my scars, but you should have an idea what my hands feel like.”

“Oh! That might be the whole ‘new flesh’ thing I mentioned earlier.”

“Or?” Eris drags out the word. “I sense an ‘or’ coming.”

Lacuna looks at her lap, trying and failing to hide the red creeping into her face.

“You’re always gentle about it though,” Lacuna practically whispers. “Compared to what I know you can do anyway. Holding hands. Arm around my shoulder. Pats on the back. Hugs. Even when there’s force behind it, it’s… comforting.” She laughs, embarrassed; a short puff of breath that’s almost more of a gasp. “I guess I think of your touch as… soft? I’m sorry. That’s weird of me to say. And also really messed up of me to have forced onto you, even if it was on accident.”

“Sis…”

“No, I mean it. It’s bad enough when normal people try to make others into the versions of them they have in their heads instead of who they really are. We’re lucky that ritual was only meant for long term physical changes and that I’m not enough of a real mage to even be able to make lasting mental changes. You're my best friend, E. I don’t want some weird idealized caricature my subconscious made up. I want you.”

Lacuna sniffs and Eris puts a hand on her shoulder before another torrent of “I’m sorries” starts pouring out. She’s not sure she can deal with more of that tonight, especially if they turn into tears.

“Hey. It’s gonna be alright. You fucked up - no sugarcoating that - but it happens to everyone sooner or later. Important part is you’re owning up to it, you’re trying to make it better, and you know how not to in the future. You’re my best friend too, and whatever happens, we’re still cool. I know who I am and no mad science lab accident is going to change that.”

Does she though? Was she always this forgiving? This protective? This quick to swallow her anger?

Eris tells herself that’s just part of caring about someone.

But if Lacuna ever did accidentally change something about her mind, would either of them even be able to tell?

Eris tells herself that being able to ask that question means she’s still her.

<-Previous Chapter Masterpost Next Chapter->

#writing #original fiction #urban fantasy #web novel #WIP #Writeblr #Empty Names #writers on tumblr #my writing #emptynameswriting #To clarify: Eris is both demisexual and biromantic. It just happens that she's only really had even marginal success with women so far.#I've said before that I don't really intend to go into any sort of romantic subplots with this story and that's still the case.#But as I was writing this one the fact that Eris is *actively avoiding* romance seemed like an interesting aspect of her to touch on a bit.#That one time Eris let Gretchen tie her up didn't last long because she kept accidentally breaking whatever binding material was used.#Absolutely ruined the mood. But it makes for a funny comedy sketch to imagine gradually escalating from rope to industrial steel cable.#Not why they broke up though. That was due to an argument over whether the Fourth or Fifth Fate of Hunters is the better way to go.#Gretchen thought that one of them turning into a monster and being put down by her lover would be tragically romantic.#Or even better: They both turn at once. Eris was horrified and still half-suspects she'll have to lead Gretchen's funerary hunt one day #The accidental memory and scar erasure was the only part of this chapter in my original notes for it.#That and having a drone project a ritual glyph while out on a monster-of-the-week mission.#I actually got a little bit uncomfortable while writing and thinking through in the implications of the incident on Eris and Lacuna's trust #Canonically Eris's personality HAS NOT been modified by Lacuna at this point. NOR has there been *intentional* memory modification.#But the fact that it's even a question would be a strain on any relationship.#Meanwhile Lacuna is absolutely dancing around the fact that Eris did briefly go “Fifth Fate” at the end of Chapter 15 but doesn't remember.#Fitzy the clockwork bartender is very loosely based on and named after the D&D character of an old friend of mine.#Loreghaste and Lornegna are based on/named after my Bloodborne and Monster Hunter: World characters respectively.#Keeping track of tenses got a bit wonky this chapter. Especially with Eris's regaling of her last mission with Road and company.#Things to go in an editing pass that I'll probably never do.#I worry a bit that I made a mistake with the jokes from Old Vic and Wyatt but then I figure any ickiness there is sort of the point.#Eris is uncomfortable with it too.

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satorusugurugurl · 1 month

Text

My Wedding Date is an Escort!

Summary: When invited to your best friend's wedding, you panic. One of the groomsmen, Toji Fushiguro, is your ex-fiancè. Not wanting to deal with probing questions and the embarrassment of being single, your friend Haibara recommends using an Escort! Taking a leap of faith, you book one, the hottest one. Gojo Satoru is hot, sweet, and funny! The package deal! Men and Women pay thousands to go on a date with him (even more, which he doesn't do often). So when your request comes in, the desperation and pleading tone of your voice. Gojo’s heartthrobs, even more so when you tell him you don't want to have sex.

Pairing: Escort!Gojo x FAB Reader

Word Count: 3,682

Warning: Mentions of depression, anxiety, language

A/N: And so part one is complete!! Please let me know what you think! I plan on posting a new part every Saturday! In the mean time I will work on my brain worm fics/requests!!

Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five

Gold calligraphy mocked you as you stared at the wedding invitation on your table. Any normal person would have been elated over their best friend getting married. The dresses, cake, looking at venues! It should have been a happy, wonderful time.

And it would have been amazing if your best friend had met her fiance through anyone other than Toji Zenin. Your ex-fiance, the man who broke your heart, who was also the groomsman at the wedding! The same wedding you were a bridesmaid in.

Life fucking hated you.

Your break up was a year and a half ago. It was tucking painful, watching the life and future you had imagined slip away. You were inconsolable for the first few months, but any other person would feel the same if their fiance broke up with them the way Toji had done to you. Part of you liked to think you were getting better; you knew you weren't healed completely.

The closer the wedding came, the more nervous and sick you got. In a month, you would have to face Toji for the first time in over a year. He was doing much better off than you. He got married! He was now Toji Fushiguro and he and his wife had a son!

Fate was a cruel bitch. He was living his dreams: a house, a pretty wife, a sweet, beautiful son. Toji got everything he wanted while you sunk into the darkness of despair. Toji had ruined you, marked you in ways you weren't sure you'd ever heal from. You never wanted to be hurt like that again. That's why you were single.

Single and traumatized. Perfect intro on your dating profile. So yeah, dating wasn't your thing right now.

Which puts you in a messy fucking predicament. You would be at a wedding with your Ex, who was living the life you had always wanted. Why was he given happily ever after while you were left to pick up the pieces of your broken heart? You could already see the pitiful expressions that your loved ones would be wearing, and that made your skin crawl with anxiety.

You could not show up to the wedding alone.

Which is why you were sitting in your kitchen, drowning in anxiety. You stared at your laptop, bouncing your leg nervously as you scrolled on Escorts4y0u.com. Damn, Yu Haibara, for suggesting this to you. You were shopping for a fuckin’ escort!?

You shot his insane suggestion down as soon as he said it. You had begun ranting about how even more embarrassing it would be if your family found out. First, your fiance leaves you a month before your wedding. Then you go and pay for someone to pretend to be your boyfriend all because you couldn’t bear yourself to start dating again?

Amid your nervous rant, Haibara just put his hand on yours. He assured you that no one would know that they were an escort. If they were good at their job, all your family would see was a happy couple. They would be someone to go to the wedding with, and once you paid them, you would never see them again! No one would be the wiser.

“It's their job to make you feel good and help you have a good time. And you deserve to be happy.” Haibara had said with pity in his eyes. Just thinking about his face, that expression, made you cringe to think of the faces of everyone at the wedding.

“Fuck it.” You cursed, clicking on the escort you liked the most.

Gojo Satoru, twenty-eight years old. His profile listed that he was well-educated and came from a prestigious clan. He was charismatic, confident, and kind. You read dozens of reviews. His previous clients gushed over him. All five stars, every single person he’d helped was grateful for him. Plus, Gojo was very attractive. He had pure white hair, was over six feet tall, and had the most stunning blue eyes you'd ever seen. He was the ideal partner anyone would want to take home to meet the family.

Which would explain why he was the most expensive escort on the website.

“¥120,000 for a day!?” You screeched as you bounced your leg faster, doing the mental math in your head. “That’s ¥900,000.00 for a week.” The mere amount of money you were about to spend almost had you slamming your laptop shut. But Haibara’s face crossed your mind; Toji’s face began to form before you shook your head.

Hiring Gojo was your only option. You had to do this to avoid getting hurt again. Plus, you had to use the deposit from your honeymoon eventually. It would be like burying the past!

“Okay, okay, you got this; just book it Y/N!” Getting up, you jumped up and down to hype yourself up before you hit the green phone icon and dialed the number. The phone rang once and twice.

“This is Gojo!” A gruff but cheery voice answered.

You’re sure your soul left your body as you squealed in shock. He answered!? The man you were going not only to pay but also beg to pretend to be your boyfriend?!

“Hello?” A faint hint of humor and curiosity laced the voice in your ear.

You groaned, rubbing your hand down your face with a whine. “S-Sorry, I was expecting a receptionist for something.” You put the phone on speaker before hitting your head against your table.

“Oh! My bad, sorry!” His chuckle was a deep noise through the receiver. “We put our business numbers on the site. It’s just easier for us to schedule our clients like this.” He hummed. “I assume you’re on the escort website?”

“Yes, I—I was wondering if you might be free next month for a wedding? It’s my best friend.”

“Give me a sec.” Shuffling papers filled your anxiety. “A month from today?”

“Yes.”

Gojo hummed happily, “I am free that whole week! So will it be the wedding and reception?” A pen could be heard writing down notes.

”So it’s uhm, it’s a destination wedding. It’s in Kyoto, and I need you for the whole week. If that’s not an issue or problem.”

”Okay, that shouldn’t be an issue. It’s far enough out that I can block my schedule.” He whistled happily, jotting down more notes. “So the whole week, wedding, reception—“

For some odd reason, it sounded like he was hesitating or weighing his options, questioning if he wanted to even take you on as a client. The growing fear of rejection spreads like wildfire through your stomach. You never used to feel like this; you were so happy and confident before. But after everything Toji did, what he said to you after you had—well, it left some really deep scars that still hadn’t healed. When your mind picked at those still healing wounds, making them bleed, you acted before thinking.

”I have the money!” Gripping the table's edge, you stared at Gojo’s headshot on the website. “Please, I need this!”

“Hey, hey! I’m not worried about the money, sweetheart.” His voice was thick like honey; the pet name sounded so sweet. “I’m just making sure I got everything down.” On the other line, Gojo looked down at his calendar. There was something in your voice, desperation, that was genuine.

He’d had tons of clients, and many of them needed help. But in his two years of working in this field, he had never heard such a raw plea for help. Gojo’s interest peaked. Just who were you? What made you so anxious and desperate for his help?

”Let me confirm the details so I can put you in my books, Ms.?” He waited for your name, hearing you sigh in relief as you calmed yourself down

”Y/N, my name is Y/N Y/L/N.”

”Y/N,” Gojo repeated, “Okay, I have you down for next month, the whole week, for a destination wedding in Kyoto.”

You were sighing happily as you relaxed into your chair. “Thank you. It’s 900,000.00. For the whole week?” Gojo cocked an eyebrow, grinning at your straightforward attitude.

”Depends, will food and hotel be included?”

“Yes, we’ll be staying at my parents' inn; they offered to host my friend's wedding. So food, money, and accommodations will be included. Plus, I’ll take care of your travel expenses.”

Gojo turned in his desk chair, biting his lip as he listened to your stern voice. “Okay, so it’s going to be ¥600,000. A lot of the cost goes to food and hotels. Since you’re taking care of it, you get a lovely discount, sweetheart.” A scoff sounded from his phone, making him smile even wider.

”Great, lucky me.”

Gojo bit his lip, chuckling. “Did you want any other additions?”

“If you’re asking if I want to include your other services, no. I don’t need sex.”

“Don’t need sex?” He perked up as Suguru, his roommate, peeked in, cocking an eyebrow at him. “Seriously?”

You gave the phone a confused look as if you were looking at Gojo yourself. “Yes, I’m dead serious.” The line went utterly silent before rich, stunned laughter filled your kitchen.

”Well shit, that’s a first!”

”Glad I could keep you on your toes, Gojo.”

”Nope.”

You blinked. “No, what?” Gojo snickered as you picked up your phone heading into your room.

”I’m going to be your boyfriend. You have a month, one month, to get used to saying my first name.” The seriousness of his tone made you stop in your tracks. “So it’s Satoru to you, Y/N.”

With a blush dusting your cheeks, you giggled, shaking your head. “Alright, that makes sense. Thank you, Satoru.”

”You’re welcome, Y/N. I’ll see you in a month.”

In one month, you were ¥600,000 poorer, and your nerves were shot as you searched for your fake boyfriend at the train station coffee shop. In the last month, you had spoken to Goj—Satoru twice over the. Once to book his services and yesterday to discuss where you were meeting. His company took care of everything else.

It was still surreal that you hired an escort to be your date, and you were waiting for a stranger at a coffee shop. This wasn't like you; it was so unbelievable. You sipped your coffee, looking around anxiously.

It was like a Greek God walked in. He was tall, like his profile said, over six-three. Dark sunglasses covered his eyes as his white fluffy hair bounced with every step. Straightening, you hesitated before lifting your hand and waving at your fake boyfriend. Seeing your arm raised, Gojo grinned, bounding forward as he pulled his sunglasses off.

“Hi! Are you Y/N?” You stood, swallowing as he still towered over you. God, he was dressed nice, all designer brand clothes. Which wasn't surprising with the amount of money you dropped to spend a week with him.

“Yes, I'm Y/L/N Y/N.” You handed him a cup of coffee that he took before sitting at the table. “Thank you again for doing this.”

Gojo grabbed six sugar packets, ripped them open, and poured all of them into his coffee. “Oh, you're welcome! I love seeing people happy.” Your eyes followed his hands as he poured cream into the coffee. “So, what's our story? That way, we're on the same page.” You couldn't help but smile as he sipped the sugary coffee with a grin.

“You have a sweet tooth?” Gojo hummed, taking another drink. “Maybe I'll make you something at the inn; I'm a pastry chef.” Gojo’s eyes went wide as you ran your fingers over the lid of your cup. “That’s a good story, we met at the bakery I wor—”

“You're a pastry chef?!” Gojo’s eyes sparkled. “Seriously?! What shop?!”

“Uhm, I work at Ichigo Cafe? It's in downtown Tokyo.”

“I love that place! The mochi there is the best!” His words had your cheeks burning your cheeks. “The cakes, the ice cream! Hell, the coffee is good too.”

You twirl your thumbs together. “Thank you, as the head chef, that makes me happy.” Satoru sat back, smiling sweetly. “So I uhm, yeah, that's a good story.”

“Yeah, it does. How long have we been together?”

The two of you settled on five months. That way, it was still pretty new. The whole time, Satoru nodded and added to your cover story. Thank god he was easy to talk to, putting your nerves at ear by the time your coffee was finished. Together, you were optimistic that you and Satoru could get through this week without a hiccup.

You both settled in on the train, getting to know each other more like favorite colors, foods, likes, and dislikes. Satoru didn't drink, had a major sweet tooth, and did his escorting gig full-time. He lived with his roommate and best friend, Geto Suguru, and he had a lot of free time.

You told him everything about yourself: likes, dislikes, favorite color, hell, even your blood type. But as the conversation began to dwindle, Satoru tilted his head. Sure, all that stuff was good now for the coming week, but he wanted to know more. Like why you hired him and why you ‘don’t do sex.’ That question had plagued his mind for the last month.

“Can I ask why you hired me?” His question had your head snapping up. “I mean, don't take this the wrong way, but you've been tense since we got on the train. There's more to this than just wanting a date to a wedding.”

“Uhh, is that obvious? I'm sorry. It's just my ex-fiance is at the wedding party with me.” Satoru paid close attention to how your eyes darkened as you looked out the window. “Our breakup was a shock since it happened a month before our wedding. So, I have all these trust issues, and I don't want to date anyone. Because it's easier not to get hurt if you don't put yourself out there.”

“Why did he break up with you?”

“Why didn't he?” The tone of your voice and words had Satoru peeking up. Not in curiosity but surprisingly in anger. Satoru had seen a lot of women and men in his days as an escort. Many are desperate, lonely, and want to have a good time. But whoever had broken your heart had hurt. You in more ways than one. “There were a lot of things that he uhm—listed off.”

You quickly changed the subject, much too fast for Satoru’s liking. But he wasn’t the type to pry, especially when it came to the feelings and comfort of his clients. So he let you change the subject. And the rest of the train ride to Kyoto, even up to your family's inn, the subject stayed clear of your ex. It was bad enough you’d be seeing him soon; you would much rather not talk about him before you saw his face.

You stood in front of the door to your family's inn. Satoru grabbed your hand, his fingers interlacing with yours as you took a deep breath. “Hey, we got this.” God, you hoped Satoru was right; this had to go perfectly.

Giving his hand a gentle squeeze, you stepped inside. The laughter and distant conversations echoed off the halls as wedding guests conversed and chatted while wandering around. You spotted your mother carrying a tray. She took one glance at you before looking away.

”Oh, Y/N darling, good you’re here. Whenever you get a chance, could you help me make some treats for afternoon tea? Everyone is instant with trying those matcha cookies you made last year.” After years of helping out, in the end, your body began to move on muscle memory, but Satoru stopped you, pulling you into his side with a grin.

“Hey, don’t just up and leave me. At least introduce me to your family first, sweetheart.” The bustling, noisy chatter around you stopped as your family and friends just seemed to notice the giant man standing beside you. His arm wrapped around your waist as he leaned down to kiss your temple. “My poor sweet girl is already in work mode. I thought this was supposed to be a vacation.”

”Right, of course, I’m sorry, Satoru. Everyone, this is my boyfriend, Gojo Satoru.”

”Eh!?”

Those sad, pitful reactions you had been so familiar with over the last year and a half were nowhere to be found on the faces of your loved ones. They were faces of shock, curiosity, and joy. A much better reaction, one that had you letting out a shaky breath you had no idea you were holding in. As you basked in relief, dark eyes watched the two of you, reading you.

The afternoon went off without a hitch. Satoru fit in with any conversation thrown his way. From what he did for a living to how the two of you met, he never stuttered or looked to you for help. He was exactly what you needed. With Gojo by your side, you knew you could get through this wedding without losing yourself in the darkness again.

You owed Haibara big time for this.

After the two of you answered several rounds of twenty questions and an early dinner, you and Satoru stepped into your room. You shut the door, sliding back against it as you shut your eyes. “Oh my gosh, that went much better than anticipated.” Satoru chuckled, setting both of your luggage off in the corner of the room.

“You did great.” His praise had you smiling more. “Seriously, this will be a walk in the park!”

You wanted to agree with him, but your mouth remained shut. That was just your family you met with. Things might be a different story when you face Toji. Because despite you not wanting him to, you knew he could read you like a book. He always could tell when you weren’t feeling the best or something was wrong. But maybe, if you keep playing your card right, you might be able to fool him, too.

”Yeah, a walk in the park.” You looked around the room, relieved to find the futon already laid out for you both. But it was missing the extra pillows you had asked for. The pillows that were going to be used to separate you and Satoru. “Huh, I thought my dad said the pillows would be here when we got to the room. I’ll be right back; the shower is just to the right if you want to wash up first.”

“Awesome, thanks a lot.”

As you reached for the door, the handle turned, startling you. Satoru moved so fast, his arms wrapping around you as the door opened wide. “Have you ever heard of knocking before? My girlfriend and I could have been doing something. If you saw that, I would have had to charge you for the show.” Satoru started as the door opened wide, revealing the person standing in front of it, four pillows in his arms.

”You seriously think I believe that?”

Your body went rigid as you stared into the dark eyes of the man who broke your heart. “T-Toji? What are you doing here?” You learned further back into Satoru’s chest, trying to put distance between the man that had stained your life.

“Bringing you your pillows.” He motioned his chin down at them to emphasize his words. “Look, we need to talk.”

Satoru could feel your breath quicken, your chest moving faster with each inhale you took. From your reaction, he could figure out just who exactly this asshole was. This dark-haired asshole who just barged into your room had to be the ex you didn’t want to talk about in any way, shape, or form. Looking at him, Satoru came to one conclusion without even knowing the guy. He was a fucking prick.

”Look, Toji, I’m exhausted. I don't want to talk right now.” You snatched the pillows away from him. “Satoru and I were going to get ready for bed. I require some TLC tonight.” You went to shut the door, but Toji placed his palm against it, preventing it from moving.

”Please, you and I both know this isn’t your boyfriend. I need to talk to you now. Tell your friend here he can fucking wait until our conversation is over.”

The tone and mere attitude of the prick in the door had Satoru seeing red. He released you, turning you to face him, glaring daggers at the man spewing toxic commands. “I’m not a friend.” Satoru spit out the last word. In a flash, his hand gripped your chin, turning you towards him. His other hand rested on the back of your head, pulling you into a kiss.

It was your first kiss in a year and a half, a kiss that was full of rage and passion like you had never experienced before. Satoru’s kiss was for show, but fuck, it had your knees buckling. You matched his pace, kissing him back urgently. His hands tangled in your hair while you fisted his shirt. You prayed that this mini-makeout session was enough to fool your ex. Satoru pulled away to glare at Toji. His chest rose and fell as he slowly licked his bottom lip with a smirk.

“My girlfriend and I were just getting ready to bed, if you caught the drift. If she wants to talk to you tomorrow, she’ll find you. Later.” Without another word, Satoru slammed the door in Toji’s face before turning to face you.

”Wow.” Was all you could manage to say as you ran your fingers over your lips. Seeing you do that while hearing your breathless voice had Satoru fifty shades of red. In his whole career as an escort, he has never lost his cool like that until he was with you.

Oh, he was fucked.

(TBC)

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hisui-dreamer · 1 year

Text

he lives in you

Characters: Leona, Floyd, Jamil, Lilia

Synopsis: You shared a night of passion with your lover before you left for the other side of the mirror, but fate's cruel hands strike once again as you realise you have to raise his child alone in your original world. Thankfully, your child is incredibly drawn to magic, and they opened a portal...?

Tags: slight angst, fluffy end because im a sap, fem reader, reader gives birth to a child, reunions, bot proofread

Word count: 2.4k+

Notes: uh i was practicing Japanese and researching Japanese names before writing this, so all my name ideas ended up in japanese? if it makes you uncomfortable, you can imagine that reader is japanese hehe

right in time for mother's day, so here's to a celebration of the motherly figures in our lives, blood related or not, for being there for us<3

Part 2✧Part 3✧Part 4✧Masterlist

A few months passed as you settled back into your routine at home. Eventually, with the noticeable changes in your body, it dawned on you that you were with child—his child, your lover from the other side of the mirror whom you could no longer reach.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks turn into months. You had adapted to the trials and tribulations of parenthood. Juggling the responsibilities of work, childcare, and household chores was no easy feat, but you found solace in the small moments of your child's growth and development.

Your child was a true joy to behold, a mirror image of their father in many ways, and you often see the ghost of your past lover in them. Having inherited his magic, your child experimented with their powers, leaving you to support them with what limited knowledge of magic that remained from your NRC days.

On one such experiment, your environment started to shift as a wave of magical energy engulfed you. When you opened your eyes again, he was there, right in front of you—

Hina (日来) with 日 meaning "sun, day" and 来 meaning "coming, future"

Leona reminded you of a shining sun that radiated warmth and light in your life, of how the it would surely shine again no matter how dark the night seemed, and so you named your daughter after that image

your daughter has the clearest emerald eyes and flowing dark brown locks that you often braided in a similar style to her father's

she's very energetic, always curious and asking questions, eager to learn more about the world around her

she's an obedient child, although she's eager to seek your affection and may whine a bit when things don't go her way

if there was one thing that was similar to the Leona you knew, it's that she's extremely clingy and constantly seeks physical affection, hugging your legs and asking for you to carry them any chance she has

and also the fact that she enjoyed her naps a bit too much

her lion ears are a bit of an issue in our world, but you often hide them with hoods, clever hair styling, or simply saying it's a costume

when you told her about the brilliant man her father is, she grew really excited about the possibility of meeting him, and started playing around with magic more to be like the intelligent mage he is

and then it happened, just an ordinary afternoon practicing magic had the two of you transported back to twisted wonderland, face to face to Leona

somehow, he had grown even more handsome in the years you hadn't seen him, but instead of his lazy smile, he looked confident and powerful, like the leader he was always meant to be

A sudden gust of magic swept through the air behind him as he raised his staff in response, only to immediately drop it in shock as your figure came into sight, and beside you, a small child that he had never seen before.

"Herbivore..." he whispered.

Without a second thought, Leona rushed towards you, his heart beating wildly in his chest. He felt a lump forming in his throat as he reached out to embrace you tightly.

"This better not be a dream," he murmured into the crook of your neck as he inhaled your scent. "It's really you."

after a tearful reunion and introduction, Leona quickly excuses himself from his duties with a quick meeting with Falena, and helps you and Hina settle into the palace

since you left, Leona's been working hard to do what he can do as per your promise with him

he's now in charge of foreign affairs and on better terms with his brother after much needed communication

he showers you in affection, he's even clingier than before that it almost starts a rivalry with your daughter

he puts in a lot of effort to spend time with Hina, learning her likes and dislikes and bonding over magic

uncle jack and ruggie are always fun to be around and play with her

though it wasn't his fault, leona feels guilty you had to bare the responsibility on your own for so long, and he puts in a lot of effort to make amends for any mistakes work to build a strong relationship with you two

he has a family now, and you're damn sure he'll protect it with his life

Leona looked down at Hina, feeling a sense of pride and wonder at the little girl standing before him. "Hey there," he said, his voice gentle. "Nice to meet ya, kiddo."

Hina stared at him, her eyes searching his face. "Are you my dad?" she asked, her voice small and uncertain.

Leona's heart ached at the question, knowing that he had missed so much of her life. "Yeah, I'm your dad," he said, reaching out to take her hand.

Hina looked at him for a moment before a smile spread across her face. "Can you show me magic?" she asked, her eyes lighting up with excitement.

Leona felt a sense of joy at her words, feeling a connection with her that he had never felt before. "Of course I can," he said, standing up and taking her hand. "What do you wanna see?"

Sakura (桜) meaning "cherry blossoms"

your daughter has sleek teal hair that reminds you of the sea, a single strand of dark hair, and mismatched eyes in the same manner as Floyd

Floyd had lovingly given you the nickname "Shrimpy", and it only felt right for your daughter to be named Sakura, after the tiny sakura-shrimp

she's incredibly mischievous and there's not a moment of silence with her, she's spontaneous and playful and you've got your hands full

though she is very considerate of you and will listen to your words, she's uncontrollable when she's bored and in need of a spark of interest

she's also a squeezer, much like her father, and hugs you every time she sees you or anyone she likes, and you're thankful her strength hasn't developed too much yet

she enjoys biting you, albeit gently, and you find your arms littered with bite marks, but it's her unique way of showing affection

her eel form won't show unless she's been in the water for too long (thankfully), and she enjoys squeezing you in her eel form even more

ever so curious, she's asked about her father many times, and you've told her how carefree and easygoing her father is, and that he'd love her the moment she saw her

which leads you to her magic actually teleporting you to him, her spontaneous idea having manifested itself, and you found in a dimly lit room similar to the Mostro Lounge

Floyd looked matured, his hair sleeked back and his features sharpened, though his wry smile that you loved had stayed the same

Floyd's eyes widened with shock and disbelief, and his steps quickened as he rushes towards you, his long arms outstretched in a gesture of longing. As he got closer, he noticed the beautiful and curious-looking child standing close to you.

"Shrimpy?" he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "No way... It's really you!"

Floyd pulled you close, holding you tightly as if he never wanted to let go. "I missed ya so much, I wish I hadn't let ya go," he said, his voice choked with emotion as tears threatened to spill. "You're not allowed to leave again, okay?"

Floyd is so ecstatic he can't stand still, once he's calmed down a bit, be immediately carries Sakura and drags you to Jade and Azul

Azul and Jade are pleasantly surprised at your return, and it's a warm welcome back

the two of them are glad Floyd won't be moping any time soon

the trio have now expanded into a franchise and divulged into many businesses, though Floyd largely acts as Azul's right-hand man

Now that you're back, he refuses to be apart from you, always holding onto you tightly and afraid you might disappear just like how suddenly you appeared

he does get mood swings where he's upset or angry, not at you though, just at how unfair things were and how he couldn't be there for you

he's a good eel who does everything to make sure you and Sakura are happy and comfortable, often cooking meals for you two

he's so curious about Sakura and enjoys playing with her and lifting her high up in the air

don't worry, he's extremely careful, this precious gem is why you got back to him!

Jade is the best uncle and Sakura wants to marry him??? (honestly same)

poor Azul is getting pranked by the daughter- father duo, though Sakura does comfort him afterwards with squeezes and kissss

Floyd looked down at Sakura, and he saw her staring back at him with wide, curious eyes in the opposite colours of his eyes. Though she resembled him physically, there was an air about her that was so distinctly his Shrimpy.

"Heya," Floyd said, trying to sound friendly. "I'm your dad."

Sakura giggled and reached out to him, her tiny hands grasping at his hands. Floyd froze, not sure what to do, letting her yand his hand forward. But then, she opened her mouth and bit down on finger.

"Hey!" Floyd cried, pulling back in surprise.

Sakura just laughed, her eyes sparkling with mischief. Floyd couldn't help but laugh too, despite the pain in his finger.

"Yer a feisty one, aren't ya, Sakura-shrimpy?" he teased, grinning down at her as he ruffled her hair. "You know," he whispered, "you can't just go around biting people like that. But I like your style."

Isami (功己) 功 meaning "achievement, credit, honour, merits" and 己 meaning "self, serpent, snake."

your son has smooth ebony locks and sharp grey eyes that make him look slightly intimidating

Jamil had shown you how much he valued his achievements over his social status, so you chose a name the could embody him

he's a quiet child who's always attentive and careful

he's rather shy in front of other people, but when it's you he'll soak up all of your affection and stare at you with longing eyes seeking praise

he's a cute helper at home too! he always volunteers to help you with chores and cook in the kitchen, though you're careful he's not close to anything sharp or dangerous

he does have an inherent fear of bugs, something he's inherited from Jamil, but thankfully you've taught him to be less destructive than his father

do expect screams and for him to be crying as a little fly chases him around though

he's incredibly smart and talented at magic, easily grasping the concepts of magic you can only teach him theoretically

when you told him about his father, you've told him about the diligent man that his father is, and how would let his guard down around those he treasured

he had listened quietly without much of a change in his expression, but you could tell there was a bubbling excitement building up in his eyes

and no long after that, he managed to teleport the two of you to a warm, airy room of marble walls

Jamil's features had sharpened, he seemed more openly confident and comfortable with himself

Jamil's heart skipped a beat as he saw you. It had been five years since he bid your farewell at the mirror chamber and lost you forever. And yet here you were standing here in front of him with a child in tow, a child who resembled him so much.

"It can't be..." he murmurs.

Without hesitation, Jamil dropped all the papers and rushed towards you, his heart pounding furiously. His eyes locked with yours, and in that moment, time seemed to stand still. He could see the love and longing still shining in your eyes, and he knew deep down that he had never stopped loving you.

Jamil couldn't stop the tears that began streaming down his face. "I've missed you so much," he said, his voice raspy. "Letting you go is the worst decision I've ever made." He reached out and pulling you into a tight embrace, his arms shaking with emotions.

he's a bit overwhelmed but still so thankful you're back in his life

Kalim barges in at this time and exclaims in surprise at your return and ??? OMG JAMIL YOU HAVE A SON?!!

Jamil has half a mind to dissuade him from holding a banquet immediately to welcome you back, and instead take things slow to not overwhelm you or Isami

asks Kalim for some privacy and the second he's away, he melts into your embrace

he hasn't felt so at ease in so long

if he wakes up in the morning and you're not right there beside him, he's panicking and searching all over the place for some confirmation you're still here

he's very curious about Isami and asks him all sorts of questions to piece together his development and personality

they definitely have a rivalry over who's braver over bugs but it just ends up with the two hugging you for safety

he's a bit awkward with how careful he is with his emotions, so it takes Isami some time to fully trust him

but trust me, Jamil will go above and beyond for his family and there's no way Isami will have to endure what Jamil did in his childhood

Jamil's eyes widened in surprise and wonder. He couldn't believe that they had created a life together. He knelt down to the Isami' eye level and looked into his eyes. "Hello there," he said, his voice gentle and warm. "What's your name?"

Isami starred back at him, his eyes wide with distrust and caution before he buried his face in your legs. Jamil chuckled softly. "It's okay," he comforted. "You don't have to be shy around me. I'm your dad."

Isami looked up at him again, this time with a mix of curiosity and wonder. "Daddy?" they said, testing the word out.

Jamil smiled warmly as nodded, his heart swelling with love and joy. "Yes, daddy," he parroted. "And I promise I'm never going to leave you or your mommy again."

Yuri (百合) meaning "lily"

Lilia's name always reminded you for lily flowers, and what better name for your daughter to embody him?

your daughter has straight raven hair with some of the hair flipping upwards resembling two horns, angular fae ears, and bright crimson eyes

she's always up for pranks and mischief, it's rare to see her without a smile

she loves exploring places, if you keep your eyes off her for one second, she's letting her curiosity take her to whatever she wants

if you're serious and stern though, she will listen to you, she wouldn't dare make her mother upset!

she's friendly with everyone and isn't shy to say hi to neighbors or absolute strangers

she's not overly affectionate, but she definitely enjoys hugs and kisses from you

she has an odd habit of taking stray animals back home in an attempt to adopt them, so you have little adventures with her trying to find an owner

do not let her in the kitchen

she has surely inherited her father's cooking abilities, somehow, she can render even a piece of toast beyond human consumption

magic comes as second nature to her, and she's always standing on ceilings

gosh her eyes absolutely sparkled when you told her about the teasing and mischievous fae that is her father

and soon, the portal opened and you found yourself in a gothic castle lit up by green candles

He's a lot taller, his hair longer and reaching his waist, and more enchanting than ever

Lilia stood in shock as your family figure come into sight. In all his years of living, he had never been so utterly stunned. After all these years, you had finally returned to him.

"Beastie..." Lilia gasped, his voice catching in his throat.

With a surge of energy, Lilia broke free from the trance-like state and hurried towards you, his hair streaming behind him like a dark flag as he enveloped you tightly in his embrace. "After all these years, you've truly come back to me?"

Carefully, Lilia held you at arm's length, studying your matured features, etching them into his memory like a cherished work of art. His eyes traced the lines and contours of your face, memorizing every detail that time had etched upon you.

"My, how you've grown," Lilia murmured, a mix of pride and wistfulness coloring his words. "The years have shaped you into a remarkable individual."

it's family reunion time!!!

he immediately drags you to the throne room where malleus, silver and sebek are

malleus is now king with two incredibly reliable bodyguards, and Lilia's his most trusted advisor

malleus is so glad his dear human friend is back, silver is satisfied that his father will have someone to be with, and sebek is screaming about Yuri, though she enjoys his loudness

for a while, Lilia is extremely affectionate, trying to make up for all the years that had gone by

when you're sleeping together at night, he hugs you tightly and it's difficult to leave his embrace

he definitely tries to cook for you two, going on and on about how the two of you need to stay healthy and need lots of nutrients

you always volunteer your portion for Yuri, and she'll gladly eat whatever her father has cooked for her

silver is an older brother often on babysitting duty, and Yuri loves watching him spar with sebek and also wants to learn

Sebek is quite fond of Yuri, and he sees his half-fae self in her

Lilia is always trying to fun with Yuri, bouncing her high up in the air and teaching her to hang upside down and swing around

plans so many family vacations, he can't wait to be exploring places with his two darlings

"Is she... ours?" Lilia asked. At your nod, he reached out to caress Yuri's cheek, his touch gentle as if he were touching fragile porcelain.

"Well, I'll be damned," Lilia chuckled, his voice cracking with emotion. "I never thought I'd be a father again. But I'm glad to meet you, little one. What's your name?"

Yuri giggled and and beamed at his touch. "My name's Yuri," she said, her voice sweet as honey.

"Yuri," Lilia repeated, his heart swelling with emotion. "What a beautiful name for my beautiful girl," he reached up to fondle her hair. "You know, Yuri," Lilia said, his voice growing serious. "I may not have been there for you when you were born, but I promise I'll always be here for you from now on. No matter what happens, I'm your father, and I'll always love you darling."

Part 2✧Part 3✧Part 4✧Masterlist

if you liked this post, don't forget to reblog!

#twstnexus #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland leona #leona kingscholar x reader #leona kingsholar #twisted wonderland floyd #floyd leech x reader #floyd leech #twisted wonderland jamil #jamil viper #jamil viper x reader #twisted wonderland lilia #lilia vanrouge #lilia vanrouge x reader

5K notes · View notes

fangswbenefits · 9 months

Text

Appreciation

Summary: Miguel catches you staring at a very specific part of his body…

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x spider-woman!reader

That 🎂 needs more appreciation! Mildly suggestive. Innuendo. Just having some fun. Inspired by this amazing fanart!

“You’re drooling.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

You gave Jessica Drew a side-glance. “Peter, tell her I’m not drooling.”

“You’re drooling.”

Resting your chin in the palm of your hand, you heaved a sigh.

Miguel O’Hara had his back turned to you, and you just couldn’t tear your eyes from his glorious ass.

It should be illegal to wear something so tight around it, leaving nothing to the imagination.

“Do you need some tissues just in case in?” Jess leaned in with a devious smile.

You growled in annoyance drumming your fingers on the table, which was enough to catch his attention. He turned around, facing away from the orange screens floating around his platform.

“Can you pay attention?” he asked, hands on his hips and crimson eyes narrowing.

The three of you nodded instantly and you straightened in your seat, inwardly mourning the loss of visual contact with his backside.

Peter was the next one to sigh, and Miguel scowled. “It’s important we go through these procedures. The fate—”

“—of the multiverse is important,” Peter then yawned from beside you. “Yeah. We know, we know.”

You giggled and saw Miguel scowling. “Leave. Go get ready for your reconnaissance mission, then.”

Jess and Peter didn’t need to be told twice and rose to their feet, heading towards the exit.

You were about to follow suit when Miguel’s voice was heard, “Not you.

Oh?

“You stay.”

Peter turned briefly and mouthed a ‘good luck’ before exiting, the door sliding shut behind them.

But what he didn’t know was that you had just struck gold.

You cheered inwardly, barely able to contain your excitement, as you sat on the table behind you, dangling your legs playfully.

Miguel paced slowly in your direction, face as serious as usual.

When he stopped right in front of you, you parted your legs, waiting for him to settle in between, which he promptly did.

“You are so frustrating.”

“Hmm?” you rose an eyebrow playfully.

To an outsider, it might seem like he was beyond annoyed.

He always strived to look serious and intimidating.

But you knew better.

“You you were supposed to be paying attention to what I was saying,” he whispered.

“In my defense, it was staring at me first,” you rose both hands in defense. “Not my fault.”

His eyes fell to your lips. “Ah. So you were staring.”

“Your ass is magnificent, Miguel,” you said with a click of your tongue. “What do you expect me to do?”

“Be more professional.”

You scoffed. “Says the man wearing a suit so tight we can see every single line of muscle.”

He chuckled and you did the same, enjoying the sound of his carefree voice.

“Can I touch it…” you asked with a devious smile.

He answered by grabbing both of your hands and setting them on his hips. “You don’t have to ask.”

You let your fingers trail down slowly behind him, grazing the material of his digital suit. Once you moved past the generous curve of his ass, you gave each cheek a gentle squeeze.

Everything was firm and in place, and you couldn’t stop yourself from massaging him with the palms of your hands.

“Does your suit need to be this tight?” you asked.

He slid the back of his index finger from your neck to rest under your chin, tilting your head back to meet his gaze. “Aerodynamics.”

“You’re such a tease,” you mumbled.

He craned his neck to match your height. “Me?”

The pads of your fingers traced patterns along his taut muscles, and you were reminded of how lucky you were to have this all to yourself.

“I need your workout routine.”

He leaned in even closer. “I’ll show it to you, then.”

You hummed, his lips almost touching yours. “And is it hard?”

The pun didn’t go amiss and Miguel chuckled softly. “Depends on the position.”

“And then I get to have such an amazing ass?” you asked, squeezing him again with both hands.

His warm breath fanned your skin. “You do.”

You then narrowed your eyes at him. “You’re not scamming me, are you?”

Miguel’s lips grazed yours. “Scamming?”

Giving both his cheeks a few more squeezes, you straightened up.

“You sound like those shady fitness gurus from Earth-1610,” you feigned seriousness in your voice.

He surprised you by planting a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “I would never scam you.”

Then another kiss.

“What you see is what you get.”

Your fingers curled harder this time into his hard muscle, drawing his lower half closer. “That sounded so shad-”

Miguel interrupted you with a kiss, bringing both hands to cup your face, rubbing his thumbs along your cheeks.

You melted into his touch, smiling but not breaking the kiss.

He was so easy to love.

Eventually, he managed to tear himself away with a genuine teasing smile. “Was that shady?”

You patted both of his cheeks lightly, enjoying the slapping sound. “I may need more convincing.”

Masterlist

#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara #miguel x reader #miguel o’hara smut #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o’hara x fem!reader #spiderman 2099 x reader #miguel o’hara x y/n #spiderman 2099 #miguel o’hara x you

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ajbullet · 4 months

Text

My thoughts on episode 5 of PJO: spoilers (less points but more info on those points because OMGS)

-Annabeth knowing Percy is still alive when even Grover HIS PROTECTER wasn’t sure

-THE HUG! THE HUG! It wasn’t some awkward oh we have to hug in this scene thing like Leah went for that hug. Gripping his shirt, closed eyes, relieved sigh and all

- The fates were so cool to see. It was funny seeing just three old ladies in the mix of all the other people

- Percy being in shock the entire first part of the quest and now finally asking the important questions and feeling a tad overwhelmed. Such a realistic, delayed reaction to everything to has happened

- Ares. Not what I imagined, but bought into him eventually. It was a cool take on his character

- Not their heads popping up from behind that cement thing like whack-a-moles. Especially Annabeth

- Persassy and Sassabeth were not having it with Ares’ shit. Sassabeth came out of the gate swinging

- Grover staying behind????

- Oh my gods my percabeth heart was filled to the brim. I was on the edge of my seat for their every line to each other. I was INVESTED

- Annabeth hasn’t seen a single movie?? But why does that fit her character so well??? Post credit scene of episode 8 her and Percy movie date please?????

- WHAT IS LOVE BABY DONT HURT ME

- Not Percy using his powers for the FIRST TIME to save Annabeth’s life

- My girl is slaying with her braids and her tears. Love it

- “You’re better that this than me. You know it.”

- SHE. FUCKING. SAID. THE. THING. Where were you when Annabeth said Seaweed Brain for the first time? I was on my couch, crying and screaming and audibly gasping. Almost choked on my own spit (yes that information was necessary)

- He sacrificed himself for her again

- “I’m not leaving the Underworld without your mom” “I was gonna say come free me after the quest” Forgot the exact quotes but omg they know each other so well already

- Annabeth has come so far already. She sees the twisted, manipulative ways of the gods and unseats of accepting it and continuing it and ignoring it, she actively tries to put an end to it. Her friend isn’t “that way.” She is wise enough to know that she once was that way but wants to change. She is the best character not because she is perfect, but because she sees, acknowledges, and accepts her flaws and actively seeks to better herself. Every award to Leah im serious

- “Thanks for the emotional abuse and cheeseburgers” me to my parents 🫣

There’s so much more I want to expand on and point out and talk about but im probably just gonna make separate mini posts. Guys this episode was EVERYTHING

#percy jackson #percy and annabeth #percy jackon and the olympians #annabeth chase #percabetn #pjo series #pjo tv show #percy pjo #pjo fandom #percabeth #pjoverse #pjotv #pjo #pjo disney+#pjo spoilers #annabeth percy jackson #percy series

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kneelingshadowsalome · 4 months

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I know we're all focused on Satyr/Faun König but that bull comment... I'm quite partial to minotaur's and whats better than a darling who isn't from the area. Oh yes she's innocent of the crimes against König because she was not raised there.

Some foreign little creature just running blind in a maze trying to see where there might be a way out. It's been days after all and the screaming has gotten quieter and she wonders if she's the last one left alive. He takes his time eating his meals... this can be stretched out for such a long time as she hides herself in a dead end just a short rest... the darling is so tired unaware of the horrifyingly silent steps moving closer to her little haven. It's just her left now.

@kit-williams I've wanted to write for Minotaur!König for ages!

Minotaur!König x Ariadne!Reader Word count: 5 k oneshot Tags/warnings: Sexual tension, threats of violence and rape, implied cannibalism, power imbalance, moral ambiguity. Predator/prey dynamic, Beauty and the Beast elements, Ancient Greek religion & lore. 18+ MDNI A/N: The Minotaur in this story is not an actual hybrid. Reader is Hecate’s initiate. Merry Christmas y'all! <3

The screams are the worst part.

They echo through the Labyrinth while you wait and wait and wait.

Even the very stones seem to cry and wail as you place your hope on Theseus who descended to this hell along with you and the human cattle. Seven young men and seven unwed women, meant to satisfy a beast...

And judging by the screams alone, it sounds like the monster is satisfied. It sounds like it's having a ball.

Fourteen lives have been lost, their blood swallowed by the earth as if Hades himself is drinking the crimson of Athenian youth in His feast. The flesh is the beast’s to devour: an underworld demon born of tainted lust.

Half bull, half man, you always thought the stories were only tales told by the fire to scare children. Turns out that the stories, for once, are true. There's something even worse in this maze, something cursed and foul... Hecate herself would shiver if She were here, in the womb of the earth, witnessing what you’re witnessing now.

You don’t actually see the Bull of Crete cut or hack or slash anyone, and you can only imagine what the monster does to the bloody, gutted corpses of the young. The only thing you see are the hollow, dark walls carved out of soil, sand, and clay, the intestine-like route dug deep into the earth. And you don't have to see the massacre: the screams tell you enough. The silence that follows betrays even more.

Your only light is flickering, waning: the candle will hardly last an hour. If the hero from Athens won’t arrive soon, you will have to leave this place.

And oh, how you want to leave… You were a fool to follow him here. Blinded by love and hope, you thought Theseus of Athens would be your way out of Crete, but it’s clear that the only thing the young hero is capable of loving is fame. The only time his eyes turned to yours was when you said you might be able to help him with a small bundle of yarn.

Red as the setting sun or spilling blood, the thin woollen string is your only way out now. It’s ironic how a heap of twine is the only thing that can help you out of this hellhole, but the Fates always did possess a cruel sense of humour. Your silly daydreams might’ve cost your life, and even if you’re sworn to the dark goddess, you would rather die anywhere but here. In the darkness, all alone, with nothing but eyeless worms to keep company to your decaying bones.

The sudden draft from the outside world is warm but threatens to blow out your candle. It’s a sign from Apollo: if you don’t leave now, you’re dead. Theseus has to manage without you because you’re not dying in this underworld prison because of some man’s stupid lust for fame.

There's only deafening silence in the maze as you scurry up, taking support from the wall as your sight darkens for a moment. You rose too soon: you can’t even remember the last time you ate. And it appears that even the sun god has abandoned you because there's a faint echo of steps in the tunnel, and they don’t belong to a man. They’re too thick, unduly heavy, and it’s not a pair of sandals that are thumping against the soil.

So, Theseus is dead...

So much for the legend, the myth, the demigod.

Heart thumping in your chest and in the hollow of your throat, it threatens to drown the sound of approaching footsteps. They’re all dead, the people who descended here with you. The only thing you are right now is prey. You're being hunted; whether the Minotaur knows you're here or not, you know you're being hunted. You can feel it in your gut.

You cover the candle with one hand, hoping that the flickering light doesn’t reach around the bend. The falling thump of the footsteps stops, and you still your breath, hoping that the beast would turn around and search the other way.

You hear it sniffing behind the wall. It's trying to catch your scent in the air, the smell of dread and terror, sweat so thick it must reach his nostrils and make them flare with lust. Your heart is thundering in your chest, and the tunnel is so quiet that that you’re certain the creature will hear that, too. (Your heart always betrays you.)

And your luck is cursed.

The beast shifts.

You can’t see him yet, but you can hear it: the scraping sound underneath his feet as he aligns himself anew, choosing the path that leads straight down to you.

“Hecate save me,” you whisper into the air that seems to grow denser as he approaches, loud thumps of feet now accompanied by metal grating against clay.

“Hear me, flame-bearing guide... Darkness, protect me…”

He’s dragging bronze against the wall, announcing that he’s carrying a weapon with him, the strength of a bull apparently not satisfying enough if he wants to break your bones with metal.

Don’t blow out the candle...

If you blow it out, you’ll die.

It’s a clear message, a knowing voice in your head that says it. It’s not young, it’s not old: just knowing. Alert. Wise beyond ages.

So you still your breath and wait.

Shadows fill the curve of the tunnel just before he emerges: thick like thunder, a darkness so deep that even the name of the twilight goddess escapes your tongue.

And he’s big. Bigger than the bulls you used to dance with, bigger than kings, or heroes, bigger than even Theseus, the man you thought was a myth walking. His head is enormous, bigger than the rest of him, awkward and rough like it’s not quite part of him even though he’s supposed to be half ox.

The gigantic, horned figure stops when it sees you. Vast shoulders tense; the fat, double-edged sword falls to his side when he settles to loom between you and your only way to escape this place. You’re oddly thankful that the horrible screeching stopped, but then you notice that his blade is drenched in blood: actually, his torso, thighs, even the buckskin loincloth – the only garment this monster has chosen to wear – is spattered with red dots.

The bronze tip drips with crimson, and the earth drinks it all. Hades is never satisfied: this beast is never full. Everyone who was sent down here is dead: everyone else has met their doom except you. You wonder if your mother would cry if she heard her only daughter died because she fell in love with a fool.

“I killed your hero,” the walls of hell boom.

His voice is thick like tar, dark and foul like it’s the God of Earth himself speaking.

The flame in your hand quivers from fear, and you slowly remove your palm, the tiny candle illuminating the beast with warm homely yellow, making the prominent muscles of his chest even bigger.

He’s carved like the statues in Athens, only, this giant is far hairier than the painted marble heroes of the city. The hair on his chest is thick and wild; it shoots down his abdomen and disappears underneath the loincloth, spreads over his inner thighs, even covers his shins in dark mats. He looks like a wild man, a beast indeed: sweaty, filthy and thick. But you never knew a beast like him could talk…

“A coward, that one,” he snarls, the voice reverberating oddly like it’s a human man speaking from under a wooden mask or inside a clay jug.

And you believe every word he says.

Theseus was strong and able-bodied, but he had built his strength just to show it off. This man’s body speaks of pure, ripe survival.

A hulking shadow with shoulders that barely fit the tunnels of the Labyrinth, with palms nearly twice the size of yours, he’s the myth walking instead of the hero whose blood now adorns that dull bronze blade. The Minotaur who survived his father’s wrath, his mother’s absence, these bleak surroundings, and all the heroes sent down to get his head… His weapon isn’t even sharp anymore, and still, he managed to cut through the sacrificial humans like butter. And what a horrific death it must’ve been to be hacked to pieces by a dull blade.

Is it evil of you to hope that the death of your “hero” wasn’t a quick one…?

Theseus was a fool and a coward, rotten to the core, but you saw all of that too late. He never cared about the human sacrifices or the king’s wrath; he never cared about digging into Pasiphae’s sorrow. He only cared about getting his face depicted on a pot or having his deeds played out in amphitheatres, his name uttered in song, accompanied by harp and flute.

“I know.”

Your voice gets sucked into the earth: it doesn’t echo from the walls like his. It’s thin, damp, and frail, just like everything else meant to walk under the sun instead of stand buried under the earth.

But the beast before you tilts its head a little. It’s curious.

Why would you say that?

Why don’t you cry from hearing the news...? Why don’t you howl out your hero’s name and beg the gods to heed your grief? Why don’t you run away from a monster?

The candlelight is puny and weak, but it’s bright enough to bring out the eyes of an animal. You draw breath in the dampness of the earth when you finally see it: the bull’s head is devoid of eyes, and yet, the beast still has them. Blue as the summer sky, stern as the death grip of winter just before spring.

There’s nothing but ripped shreds of skin where the eyes should be, and instead of looking at you from the sides, they’re greeting you from the front. The horns are sturdy, but otherwise, the colossal head is a bit skewed... Thick patches of fur sticking out as if it was years and years old, and then – you realize it’s not his head; it’s only an illusion.

There’s a man under there. A full, grown man who’s made himself a terrible helmet out of a bull’s carcass.

“You’re a man,” you say out loud, earning yourself another shift of the colossal head.

“...What?”

The muffled echo confirms it: he’s speaking from inside the bull, moving only slightly to get a better look at you.

“You’re not a monster. You’re just a man.”

His eyes are wild but intelligent; they pierce you from inside the inanimate shield. The large chest heaves, his ribs flare like sails as he draws air through what must be the foul stench of a long-dead animal.

He takes a step, and you shrink, almost dropping your candle and the roll of red yarn.

“You think talking will save you, female?”

He speaks like a man, walks like a man, but his moves are an animal’s. Shoulders slightly hunched like he’s a bull about to attack, you recognize the way his muscles quiver from the times when you used to do bull leaping. You don’t dance with Rhea’s oxen anymore: your tasks at Hecate’s temple are more suitable and less wild for a maiden your age. Back when you were younger and more agile, you used to jump from the back of one bull to the next, clouds of dust swirling around you as you showed your prowess to the priests.

But you can’t charm this ox by dancing. This one can’t be tricked or fooled: he will pierce you with those horns or his brazen sword if you take even a step.

“I can get you out of here,” you wet your lips, noticing that the blue eyes shoot straight to your mouth when you do that. “I know the way out.”

“What makes you think I want out,” he says, so tight and tense that you fear he’s either about to leap at your throat or plunge his sword into your chest.

And you should be concerned about your own safety, not about his sensibilities – if he even has such things – but hearing this beast man’s reply is like drinking bile.

Why would anyone want to stay here?

You don’t know if he eats human flesh; you don’t know if he had to in order to survive. Everyone knows why his father threw him down here, but no one knows he’s not half the things the people above say he is. And if half of it isn’t true, what other lies have been told about the Minotaur?

Even most prisoners see the sun, yet this man has been deprived of that, too. He’s been robbed of mother’s love, of father’s mercy, of friends and foes, of mentors and guides. He’s been robbed of life, of stars, of fires and summer skies, of women’s giggles, of fistfights with fellow men. Of songs and plays, of festivals and games, of bull dances, and maidens that leap…

“Have you ever been up there…? On the surface?”

You turn your voice into soft water on pebbles, a soothing pour of persuasion and goodwill. His pecs contract, strong abs under thin hair and body fat bunch like you’re about to hit him there. You take a step, and now it’s his turn to shun away. It’s only half an inch, but he actually moves away from you.

“I can take you there,” you offer gently. “Have you ever seen the sun…?”

It’s like talking to a starved predator, trying to entice them to follow you with a fresh steak in hand, hoping that the fanged mouth won’t take more than was promised if it decides to accept the offering.

And the beast accepts.

“As a boy,” he grunts, a tad more softly.

Those eyes are fixed on you, reminding you of horses when they’re slightly afraid. The glint of white and blue behind the carcass is fiercely alive, quite unlike the hollow, disinterested stare of the Athenian hero who was only interested in himself.

But this beast is interested. Oh, the Bull Man of Crete is wildly, fiercely curious about you.

“You’ll take me to the sun,” he repeats, an affirmation rather than a question.

“Yes. To the surface. I promise.”

He moves. Like an animal who learned long ago to drive others into the corner so that he wouldn’t get forced there himself, he’s primal, sensual in the way that oracles in a trance are sensual.

Approaching you in silence that’s almost eerie, the hairs at the nape of your neck stand on end by the time he’s only an arm’s length away. Why announce his coming earlier if he can move so quietly?

“You’ll lead me to my father.”

His gaze bores into you, and not even the warm draft from the tunnels can prevent you from shivering. He’s distrustful, and it’s no wonder. It must be odd that some girl with a candle and a bundle of yarn is suddenly waiting for him around the bend, and doesn’t even flee. He’s a behemoth, but he’s not stupid. A stupid man would not have been able to survive, let alone thrive in this place.

And why should he trust you? Who is he supposed to trust in this maze when every person he has seen has either run away from him or tried to kill him? His father will slaughter him if he ever escapes the Labyrinth, so what else is a priestess in his kingdom but a squealing mouse, trying to feed him lies and then guide him to the surface and into a forest of spears?

“No,” you shake your head slowly. “No, I promise I know the way. There will be no soldiers–”

You shut your mouth just before a huge palm closes around your throat.

Gods, but he moves fast when he wants to…

The candle and the yarn drop the instant his hand seizes your neck, strong fingers nearly meeting at the back as he squeezes your windpipe ever so slowly.

And he’s so close now. The carcass reeks of death, but the man underneath stinks of plain human sweat. His musk is a peculiar mix of blood, earth and soil, something both stale and invigorating, the thin sheen of sweat and dirt covering his muscles making him look like a common builder. It’s strange that the bull’s head hasn’t yet decayed in this place, that the man doesn’t reek of bodies and bones that must be scattered around like debris further down the tunnels.

Another thing that’s strange is that he doesn’t seem to want to simply silence you.

He also wants to touch you.

A wide thumb strokes the underside of your jaw as he studies you. It slides down the column of your throat, the blue eyes gleaming with fascination when you swallow against him.

He drinks in the sight of you: the lips that part with fear, the frail collarbones that breathe against the side of his palm. The promising crevice between your breasts, the enticing softness of your teats.

You can hear his breath grow heavy under ox skin and bone, the rugged, vicious helmet he has chosen to wear. What lies under, you can only imagine, wherein he has little left to the imagination when taking in the curve of your breasts, your nipples rising to peaks under the thin white linen only temple virgins use.

Seeing your reaction to his touch makes him growl -- he actually growls like an animal, a deep, low rumble of approval rising up his throat when he sees how different your body is from his. How supple and cushy it is, soft and plump like a peach, covered only barely as if to tease a best like him. You wonder if he ever took pleasure in the maidens sent here by the king… If he ever thrust the sword between his legs into their weak bodies before giving them the mercy of his actual blade. Would he even know what to do with a woman, having lived here for so long?

“Please,” you whisper, bringing his eyes back to yours, the ice in them now liquid sapphire of pure want.

Gods… You need to bring his attention back to your offer of help before he sees it more compelling to just stay here and play with his new, plump little mouse. Virgin or not, you wouldn’t survive a mating with this man.

“I swear on Hecate’s torch that it’s not a trap. You have my word: I’m a priestess soon to be.”

He’s entranced. Hypnotized by your lips. You lick them to confirm your fears true: the man grunts with pleasure, out of instinct, absentmindedly like an animal who reacts to the sight of a fat, meaty bone.

Oh, he might not know what to do with a woman… But he would try his best to find out.

“Priestess…?” He rasps.

“It’s a holy woman,” you explain. “I serve the Goddess of the Crossroads.”

He snorts, either because he’s not impressed or because he’s downright amused by your vocation. The eyes, warmer, more demanding now, are far from the eyes of a bewildered beast.

“Little female of the crossroads... You will take me to the king. And then, I will kill him.”

He puts weight into his words, tries to make you understand.

He wants you to guide him to his father.

To the King who claims his son is half bull, to the husband who claims his wife was adulterous with an ox. To the King who demands tribute as virgins so that he can send them down to hell. The dark goddess screams justice, but you're at a horrible stalemate.

The gods will curse you for this… They will smite you with a bolt of lightning or drown you next time you cross the great sea if they see you’ve helped this half-beast escape. If you guide him to Minos, you’re a participant in kingslaying, and the gods never forget things like that.

“He’s your father and the king of Crete,” you whisper in fear. “The gods will strike you down–”

“Gods?” He spits. “I piss on the gods. I fuck their corpses and leave them to rot.”

You almost choke on the blasphemy levelled at you. The shadows creep closer, the stare behind the black fur is dark and amused, burning with the crooked wrath of a thousand years.

“Perhaps I’ll fuck you too.”

It’s unnerving that you don’t find the threat wholly unappealing.

If anything, your eyes drift down to the hairs of his chest, to the two big muscles that resemble the work of the best sculptors in Athens.

“Are you a virgin, female of the crossroads?”

His eyes search for your response: they want to see your fear and disgust. You swallow again, arduously against his hand, both caressing and testing you.

The beast leans forward, as if weighing if he could somehow insult the gods by pillaging you. The rough hair of his chest meets the white cloth, it brushes against your nipples as he bends down to have a good sniff of you.

“You smell like a virgin,” he growls.

The hand leaves your throat, only to travel down your sternum. He grabs your breast nonchalantly, a little too roughly, the hot palm closing around the teat and squeezing it like it’s a toy. When you don’t react, he squeezes it again, this time hard enough to coax a whimper out of you.

“Sound like a virgin…”

Without warning, the hand dives straight between your legs next, palm forcing its way through your thighs and curving to cup your sex, moulding around it with barbaric thirst.

“Feel like a virgin, too.”

It’s thick, hot, and heavy, how he simply tries you through your dress. Fingers testing your folds, he’s clearly enjoying the subtle wetness he finds down there. You can hear another hitched grunt pushing up his throat, rugged and whiny this time, a broken groan that dissipates because of how dry his throat is.

No man has ever dared to lay his hands on you... Many have wanted, but none have tried. Even drunkards and fools respect women who belong to the dark goddess.

But he doesn’t care about the wrath of Hecate. He doesn’t give a shit about the gods. He simply takes what he wants, what falls into his lap. The fifteenth offering, but he doesn’t seem to be interested in devouring your flesh.

How easily he could simply yank that loincloth aside and drag your dress up. Force his cock into your tight, wet heat without uttering a word. You doubt that he would even take the trouble of laying you down on the ground for taking... Beasts rut when they want to: this man could fuck you against this wall if his loins demanded so, guttural groans being the last thing you hear before the candle goes out.

You don’t know if you have to spread your legs for him before this is over, but you reckon you will do even that if it means you’ll see the sun again. You’ll endure every thick thrust, and gods be cursed, you wouldn’t even be solely disgusted if this half-animal chose to breed you... As shameful as it is, you would somewhat enjoy having him rut you like an animal in heat.

And you’ve gone mad, surely.

You want to touch him too, just to test another theory.

Deciding that it's a good idea to stick your hand into the maw of hell, your fingers lift. They meet his bicep, and the lewd panting stops.

He’s not even breathing… He’s just drowsy and drunk, looking at you with a mixture of soft sleepiness and awe in his stare. Like a dog who has never been petted, even his eyes drift half closed when he forgets to threaten you, now focusing solely on your hand.

And you start to caress him, slowly, so slowly… Tracing the muscle all the way up where it meets the shoulder, you stroke even the thick cord that leads to his neck. The rest of him disappears under the bull, but the man behind it already shivers under your touch. He even bends his head a little in hopes that you would go under the mask and touch him there, and the gesture reminds you of an animal exposing its vulnerable areas, baring its very throat in submission.

Braving a quick peek down, you notice that the buckskin cloth is stretched high and wide. His whole body is tense and immobile: you could cup him through the soft animal skin and he would probably shoot his seed from a single stroke of your palm.

If this is not a virgin, you don’t know what is...

In a way, it would perhaps be wise to shove your hand down and disarm this man. That way, you would be safe for a few more minutes. Instead, you lay your palm over his chest, right over where his heart should be.

“So do you, Bull of Crete...”

His gaze flickers.

The darkness hesitates, widens, nearly swallows the azure pools whole. But he doesn’t look irate or wild... Only shocked.

It’s an impasse. A thicket. His hand on you, your hand on him.

He surrenders first: the underworld budges before the utterly pure. You bless him with grace the instant he withdraws his hand from between your legs – slowly, reluctantly, like leaving a place that belongs to him. Or to which he belongs…

“I promise I’ll help you, Minos Tauros. But I need you to give me something in return.”

You remove your hand too. Softly, slowly, like a horse master who trains and tames wild things. All words seem to have escaped his tongue: he only grunts, unsure of what a beast like him could give you in return for your help.

“You must promise to be kind to me.”

“Kind...?”

“I need you to behave,” you explain. “No bad things on the way up... No fucking.”

Everything else, he seems to accept, but during the last sentence the Minotaur blinks at you, utterly confused.

“But... You smell like you want to fuck.”

Your jaw drops open a tiny bit. Then you remember that a priestess of Hecate doesn’t gawk.

“I don’t–How would you know that…?”

The beast only shrugs. Then he leans forward and takes another sniff as if to prove it’s true that you want his cock inside you.

“You smell good,” he grunts. “Different... Female, not afraid.”

“That doesn’t mean I want to…”

He even raises his hand to inspect the slight wetness there. Fascinated by the thin film on his fingers, he rubs his thumb in it, probably thinking about bringing it under his mask to get a good sniff of your juices too.

You grab his wrist without thinking, mortified to your core by the prospect of him getting high on your slick.

“Look. We need to leave before the candle burns out.”

The obsessive stare threatens to swallow you once more, so you let go of his wrist and steel your resolve. Scooting down to grab your things, you try to ignore the violent erection still pointing straight at you.

Hecate keep you from offering yourself to this man out of your own free will...

And you don’t have a torch, only a candle and a skein of blood-red yarn, but you know the way out, so there’s hope. There’s always hope.

“I need you to promise me,” you turn at the mouth of the tunnel, seeing that he’s still standing there, in the place where he almost took you like his first whore. As if waking up from a thrall, he straightens to his full height, picks up his sword and looks like a half-human, half-bull once more.

“I promise,” comes a booming voice from under the animal skull. “No fucking… I’ll behave.”

You nod. There's a sense of trust in the air. A promise of hope... It's mutual, invigorating -- life-giving, like the sun and blood in your hands.

You don't know if the son of Minos has ever smiled in here, but from the quick glint in his eyes, you suspect that he's smiling right now, the man under that animal mask. Somehow, it reminds you of the stars in the sky.

“Lead the way, maiden.”

#könig x reader #könig x you #könig x fem reader #konig x reader #könig #könig cod #konig x you #cod konig

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merakidoll · 4 months

Text

warnings : penpal!gojo. mentions of blood, self pleasure. yandere

dried blood fell to the ground and into the drain of the nasty prison shower. it was very rare inmates got to shower alone, but for gojo it was nothing new. the prison had deemed him a threat, dried blood from another inmate who he had overheard talking about his doll.

“pretty little thing” he raved to the group at lunch. “gonna get out and fuck her silly” before he had met his fate his friends faces all drained and paled. the white blue eyes man standing behind the offender with bulging muscles and light blue eyes, dark and angry. “you gonna what ?” he had no time to respond, gojo not even turning him to face him, when connecting his punch. once he fell- ice cold to the ground, he contined to beat him untill he felt like he had done his doll justice.

his arm was against the wall forehead on it watching the bloody water turn clear. gojo wasn’t someone who had many thoughts and that’s because you consumed his mine faithfully. he could practically vision you, your tits bouncing as you professed your love for him and that made his cock arise. “fuck” he mumble tip automatically leaking, his long dick bouncing, while he balls had a mind of their own. spitting on himself his bruised hands wrapped around himself beginning to pump. he closed his eyes just to get a better imagine of the detailed scenario

“you love me babydoll?” he said to himself your face planted in his head, making his orgasm spike closer. “m’there mama! shit! gonna cum over that pretty face and beautiful tits” groaning his seaman painted the floor, a little getting on the wall.he didn’t bother doing anything in that bathroom. drying himself off and leaving without the towel. the guards were caught off guard by his nakedness - and at how beautiful his body was. and gojo had no shame, as he walked back to the single, confined cell.

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gurugirl · 4 months

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3. The Unicorn | nanny!yn

Unicorn: An individual who is willing to join an existing romantic relationship. Usually a bisexual female.

Summary: The aftermath of that fateful night has lots of consequences. Not all of them are bad.

A/N: This is the final part! Based on this and this.

Word Count: 11.7k

Warning: 18+ only, smut, angst, mentions of divorce

The Unicorn Masterlist

You had to admit. The ensuite bathroom was really nice. But you couldn’t imagine enjoying the soaker tub with jets and soft fluffy towels as you stared at yourself in the mirror. You took off your little pearl choker as tears continued to fall down your cheeks and you removed your sweater and skirt. It all felt so pointless. You had wasted so much time fretting over your outfit and matching it to your pearl choker and your pretty panties all for everything to just blow up completely. Now your favorite pink pearl choker was tainted and you’d probably never want to wear it again.

You should have said no to the proposition. You knew you should have listened to your gut. It was going to blow up and someone was going to get hurt.

Your night shorts and matching top were soft on your skin but you hated it because you’d also chosen this set with the thought that both Kit and Harry might see it. But you’d be sure they never did.

Setting your alarm for 5:00 am you climbed into the luxurious bed and rolled to your side hoping you could get some sleep so you could turn your brain off as you replayed every moment in your head over and over again.

. . .

“I don’t want to talk about it right now, Harry,” Kit insisted.

“She can’t hear us in here, love. Come on. Let’s work something out. Things didn’t go like we thought… right? We don’t need to do it again.”

“I just… I need some space, H. That was a lot. I guess I didn’t expect it to feel that way. I can’t talk about it right now, though. I need to sleep on it. Away from you. I know I’ll feel better in the morning.”

Harry nodded and grabbed his wife’s hand, “I love you, Kitty. You know that right? I love you so much. You are the most important person to me in the world.”

Kit attempted a weak smile as she pulled her hand away and tucked herself into the blankets, “Can you turn the light off when you leave the room?”

. . .

Harry had been unable to sleep at all. The couch wasn’t a great spot to sleep but more than that, he was feeling guilty and trying to figure out how to fix the problem. He didn’t want you to feel bad, you hadn’t done anything wrong. But he did need to support his wife first and foremost. He’d need to insist she apologize and put it behind her but he didn’t want his wife to feel like he was taking your side either. Even though, in a way, he kind of was. You were the innocent party in all this. He’d gotten carried away. You both just clicked. The chemistry between you was impenetrable. So much so that he nearly forgot about his wife being there and said some things he didn’t really mean.

When he heard light footfalls coming down the stairs and then saw the outline of your frame as you rushed toward the door he shot up from the couch and hurried toward you, “Y/n?”

You closed your eyes and stopped in your tracks. You hoped he was asleep and that you could leave without him knowing.

He put his hands on your shoulders as he stood behind you and spoke quietly, “Are you okay to drive?” He knew he wasn’t going to be able to talk you into staying. Though in his mind, the best-case scenario was that the three of you could sit and talk and move on from the disaster of what had happened the night before. Maybe over coffee and waffles. He knew that was unlikely but he had hoped.

“I’m fine now. I just want to get out of here. I feel awful,” you turned yourself to look up at him in the dark.

“You don’t need to feel bad, honey. You didn’t do anything wrong. I need you to understand that.”

“I just need to go. You’ve been so nice to me. Thank you, Harry. For everything. Tell Kit how awful I feel and that I’m so sorry and never meant to hurt her.”

Harry frowned, “Don’t worry. Kit will feel better when she wakes up. I’ll talk to her. But you don’t owe anyone an apology.”

He put his arms around you and held you against his chest in a sweet hug. You could feel the thud of his heart under his pecs and inhaled his scent. You’d miss him. You’d miss Kit too. You’d especially miss William and Warner.

. . .

When you didn’t show up on Monday morning at the Styles’ house both Kit and Harry knew what was going on.

Kit had planned on apologizing to you for her behavior in person. She’d even planned to go to work a bit late that morning so all three of you could try and work it out. She was still feeling a bit betrayed by Harry and having a hard time unseeing and hearing what she had, but she knew her conduct had been out of line. She was acting on pure emotion and the wine exasperated her reaction. But that was no excuse.

“I can work from home today,” Harry said.

Kit shook her head, “I feel awful. I hurt her feelings. I was such a bitch to her and she didn’t deserve it. Maybe I should text her. Or go to her apartment and apologize to her face-to-face? What do you think? The least I can do is apologize for how I treated her.”

Harry pursed his lips, “Let me text her. See if she’ll come over later when you get home. I’ll tell her we’d like to talk and that you want to apologize.”

Sighing, Kit closed her eyes, “Don’t text her. I will. This is something I need to fix.”

He decided he’d let his wife figure out how she needed to approach the issue but he was worried it was too late. He was worried he’d never see you again and that would be it. You were totally justified in ghosting them both. Plus the semester would be starting up again for you in a couple of weeks and the boys would be back in school during the day so it felt futile to beg for you to come back.

And that’s exactly what you thought too. You were about to head into the new fall semester to start on your master’s degree and the boys were going back to school. You had hoped you’d still be able to watch the twins when Harry and Kit wanted a weekend away or a night off for a few extra bucks during the school year but there was absolutely no way you’d be able to face either Kit or Harry again.

You were sure Kit hated you with every fiber of her being. Which kind of made you angry the more you sat with what had happened. As sad as you were and as bad as you felt, you knew Harry was right. Nothing that happened was actually your fault.

Distracting yourself from what had happened Saturday night had been difficult because it was all so fresh. You knew with some time you’d get over it and move on but you were sure there would be some damage there. Netflix, long walks, lots of sleep, and pints of ice cream seemed to help a little.

But still, the moment that you couldn’t erase from your memory was when you were on their bed as Harry had just finished himself on your back and Kit yelled at him to make you leave all while you were still naked and floaty. Humiliating. But more than that, you started to realize, that what Kit did was uncalled for and mean. She had been mean to you and that made you angry.

So you were surprised when you saw a text from her on Monday afternoon. With an apology.

I hope you’re doing okay. I just wanted to reach out and tell you how sorry I am for how I acted Saturday night. I had hoped to talk to you this morning about it so I could do this in person, and I would still like to apologize to you in person if you’d let me. I understand if you’re not comfortable with it but if you are, I’ll be at Davanti’s on Fresno Street at 3:30 pm. I’ll be alone and plan to stay for an hour.

It was 2 pm. You needed to decide if you wanted to hear her out or just move on. Could you look at her again? Would you simply break down and cry the moment you saw her? Maybe it would be better if you requested Harry to be there? Or perhaps you should just ignore her and be done with it.

But you figured opting for closure would be better in the end. For you and probably for Kit as well.

I’ll be there.

You found a spot to park on the street a few blocks away so you could get some fresh air and stretch your legs before going inside. And also just in case you suddenly decided you didn’t want to go through with it, you could turn around and leave without having Kit seeing you.

But you didn’t change your mind and when you walked into the restaurant you saw Kit sitting at a booth looking down at her phone with a glass of wine in front of her.

You slid in across from her and she startled slightly before placing her phone face down, “Y/n! You came. Thank you.” She smiled. She looked hopeful and sweet.

Nodding you smiled back, “Of course.”

Kit looked at your hands and then out into the restaurant before back to you, “Would you like anything to drink or eat? It’s on me if you want–“

“No. That’s fine. I’ll just have a water when the server comes by. Not really hungry.”

She sat for a moment and blinked her eyes as she looked at you softly, “I am so sorry, Y/n. I know me just saying that can’t erase what I did. I wasn’t prepared to see him like that with anyone and I took it out on you. I’ll never forgive myself for the way I acted.”

You nodded and looked down at the table. You figured she would eventually forgive herself. Because that’s why she was there wanting to apologize to you in person. She wanted to feel better about what had happened and this was her way of doing that. So, while she would forgive herself eventually, despite saying she wouldn’t, you would never forget what happened to you that night. How she treated you, demeaned you. How it made you feel disgusted with yourself and Harry and her all at once. The horror you felt when the worst possible outcome happened.

“Can you ever forgive me?” She finally said which made you look up at her.

“I don’t think I’ll ever forget it. I’m not really sure how I even feel right now about it. I still need time to negotiate all of this in my head first.”

Kit spread her fingers out on the table and looked down at her hand, “I understand that. I don’t deserve to be forgiven,” she sighed and looked back at you, “I wanted to try something new with Harry. I’ve been so… just trying to figure out how to make myself feel that thing I used to feel for him, ya know?” She laughed and shook her head, “He’s just so… male. I mean he’s sweet and gentle and attractive but in bed, he wants something I can’t give him, and vice versa. And now that the twins are older we get more privacy and can get back into being a little more explorative, and it’s made me really miss how things were when I was single and dating women. I know that sounds awful,” she bit the inside of her cheek, “But I’ve just been reaching for something that I’m never going to be able to have with Harry alone. But turns out,” she laughed, “funnily enough, that I don’t like him with anyone else or feeling that passion with someone else that I wanted to feel. I wanted to feel that with you. But that’s selfish of me. I’m all messed up right now,” she stitched her brows together and you could see how glassy her eyes were, “I’m sorry to dump that on you. That’s not fair to you.”

You nodded. You didn’t know what to say in response. She shouldn’t have told you any of that. That was true. And now you just felt bad for Harry that his wife was seeking something to fill in where she thought he lacked. But all you could think was that he was everything anyone would ever want and yet Kit didn’t even see that somehow.

“I wanted to also give you this. From the boys.” She handed you a small homemade booklet with drawings on it from both William and Warren. You flipped through the pages of marker and pen, drawings and stories written to go with each drawing.

You looked up at Kit with appreciation, “Thank you for this. Tell them I love it. I’ll read it every day.” You hadn’t wanted to cry. Hadn’t wanted to show Kit how sensitive and soft you were. She’d already watched you cry that night and now here you were with tears in your eyes again that you simply could not hold back.

“If you ever want to stop by and say hi to them you could. Or even just send me or Harry a text to tell them hi. They love you so much, Y/n. You’re so good with them. And I wanted to…” she paused as she looked at you with a sudden weight that hadn’t been there just before, “If anything ever, um…” she wavered her gaze from your face to the area behind your head and back, “Never mind. Just know how much both Harry and I trust you and would love for you to still come around to see them if you ever wanted.”

. . .

When you returned to university things started to feel better. You still got caught with feelings of dread and were reminded of the way you felt that night. Of course, Kit had apologized and that was really all you could ask for after it had all been said and done. But it didn’t stop you from zoning out in the shower with thoughts of putting your pink pearl choker on before you went to their home that night. The giddiness you felt beforehand that was torn away from you so viciously only hours later. Now you couldn’t even look at the necklace. It was tucked away in its soft velvet bag in your panties drawer.

And you couldn’t stop thinking of Harry either. You missed him a lot too. But that feeling was mixed with a confusing heartsickness. It wasn’t that you were in love with him or anything. But you had crushed on him for a while and got to experience him in bed and that was. You couldn’t describe it because you tried not to think about it too much. The more you dwelled on the way he handled you and looked at you, the way he spoke to you… it gave you shivers and the unfortunate thing was that you’d never have the pleasure to know that again.

But again, you weren’t in love or anything close to it. It was just a sense of loss more than anything.

After your first month back at school was down you were invited out to a local bar with some of your classmates and friends. Something fun for everyone to let loose a little. And god did you deserve to blow off a little steam.

You would have preferred a club with some awful dancing and too much liquor, to be honest, but darts in a dark bar with pitchers of beer and friends sounded quite nice too.

Jax bought the first pitcher as the rest of you claimed a nice table close to the dart boards at the back of the bar. It was a Friday night so the place got packed not long after you’d arrived.

You lost badly at the first game which meant the next pitcher of beer was on you. You frowned exaggeratedly at the rule that the loser buys the beer, but the truth was that you were feeling amazing. It was nice to not be sitting at home thinking about things that you shouldn’t be. The distraction was welcome. Being out with friends was refreshing.

Waving at the bartender you placed the empty pitcher down and dug into your front pocket for some cash to pay your turn. But a sudden feeling came over you. Like you were being watched. Or noticed at least. You casually looked to your right and then to your left but you saw no one looking at you. And no one looked familiar.

“Another pitcher of beer?” The bartender asked, bringing your attention back to him.

“Oh! Yes, please.”

With that strange feeling crawling its way up your spine you turned slowly and looked back at your friends and then across the bar to the table next to the window.

You jolted and felt your scalp prick and fingertips sizzle when you made eye contact with him. Harry. He was seated at a high-top table. He appeared to be alone.

He lifted a hand in greeting before bringing it back down to grasp his pint and looked out the window.

You hadn’t even become unfrozen from the shock of seeing him by the time the bartender was back with your pitcher. You settled up with him and looked to where Harry was seated. He didn’t look back at you. You wondered how long he’d been there. Had he seen you before you walked up to the bar?

“Hey, here’s the pitcher,” you placed it at the center of the table. “I’m gonna sit this game out. Someone I know is here and I’m gonna go say hi.”

After refilling your glass you hesitantly made your way to Harry. The least you could do was say hi. You had wondered about him all this time and had been tempted to text him a time or two but never felt it was right.

“Hi.” You stood next to his table, at a safe distance in case he wasn’t interested in talking.

He pulled his gaze away from whatever he was looking at outside to you, “Hi, Y/n.”

“I was, uh, surprised to see you. I don’t want to bother you. I just–“

“Sit if you want,” he gestured at the other stool. So obviously you did, placing your glass on the table and keeping your eyes on him.

Harry took a sip of his beer and his eyes were as deep and full of warmth as ever.

“How have you been?” You asked. You didn’t really know what to say to him. Which was silly when you thought about it.

“Things are complicated at home. But I’m okay. How are you?”

You shrugged as you took a drink from your glass, “Good. School’s been good. Here for a night without worrying about homework and quizzes. Just needed a night out with some friends.”

He nodded and leaned forward, resting his forearms onto the lacquered wooden tabletop, caging in his beer, “I’ve wanted to text you to see how you were doing but figured you wouldn’t want to hear from me again after what happened.”

You pinched your brows together and shook your head, “That’s not… I wish you would have. I wanted to text you a few times too. Just to check-in. I’ve missed you guys.”

“The boys really miss you. They talk about you still. I mean…” he rotated his arm so his palm was face up in a passive gesture, “it hasn’t been that long since– well, anyway.”

You smiled, “I miss them a lot. Hey, did Warner ever finish learning that song on the piano you were teaching him? He was doing so well learning the parts. I kind of hoped to hear him complete it but then…” you didn’t dare finish that sentence.

Harry grinned. It was the first genuine smile you’d seen from him since you approached him.

“Yeah. He’s pretty much got it down now. I’m really proud of him. He’s gonna be starting guitar and singing lessons soon. He wants to learn so he can start a band with some friends so I encouraged him to take lessons.”

“Takes after his father. Musically talented.” You gleamed at Harry.

Harry gulped the lump down his throat. He had really missed you around. But he’d been quite caught up in the aftermath of that night with Kit ever since. That night had changed everything.

“Ahh, I just dabble. Warner has real natural talent.”

You couldn’t be sure but you thought the apples of his cheeks were turning a shade pinker than they had been.

“I’ve heard you play the piano and sing. I’d say you have plenty of natural talent, Harry.”

You meant it too. He had a beautiful voice full of dark timbre and vibrant airy notes. And of course, he was so confident when he sang that if he had told you he made an album and played for audiences in sold-out venues you would have believed it.

“That’s nice to hear. Thank you, Y/n,” you watched a dimple slowly work its way deeper into his cheek as his smile widened. It was nice to see him smile.

You both sat quietly for a bit looking out the window at the dark street as cars drove by, headlamps beaming over the dark asphalt. You wondered if you should press him more about how he really was. You could tell something was off. He wasn’t as happy as he normally was. And when he told you things were complicated at home you figured it had something to do with Kit.

“We’re getting divorced,” he said defeatedly as he stared out the window.

“What? Why?”

Harry took a deep breath and looked at you, “She wants more than I can give her. She needs to be with women, she said. And…” he gulped and looked back out the window, “… she said she couldn’t ever look at me the same after that night. Said I’d never be able to have that with her.”

You kept your brows pinched together as you listened to him. It broke your heart that things had fallen apart for them. That it had all been too much.

“But I thought you two were happy. There was never any indication before that something was wrong.”

He nodded, “I thought so too. But she couldn’t get passed it and she said she’d been thinking about it for a long time. Before we even thought of having you join,” he glanced at you before looking down at his glass, “She’s been needing something else for a while. I never knew. I thought it was enough. I knew she missed women and that kind of softness in bed but I had no idea that it affected her so much. To me, her confession was sudden. But supposedly she’s been keeping it in for a long time.”

Without even thinking you reached out and grabbed his hand, “I’m so sorry, Harry.”

Harry looked down at your small hand covering his and up to your eyes, “She said that when she apologized to you she felt free to finally be herself. I was blindsided. Then last week she told me she was going to go on a date with a woman she’s known for years. Ripped me right half. She was gone all night. But I mean, our marriage is over anyway.”

You gently smoothed your thumb over his knuckles and kept your eyes on his face.

“So I offered her a divorce and told her I can’t tolerate her dating someone if I’m not involved somehow. She understood that. She told me she hoped I would find someone,” he paused as he sighed to collect his words so they didn’t come out as a surprise to you, “…with whom I could have the kind of chemistry she saw that night between us.”

You didn’t know how to respond. Or if you should. You were well aware of the way you and Harry connected and how natural everything felt with him. But at the same time, you never thought it was much more than just good chemistry. You couldn’t allow yourself to think of it as more than that.

“Anyway, she’s at home with the boys and I needed to get out and breathe. Figured I’d have a beer or two and then go back home. Sleep in the guest room like I have been. We’re still trying to figure out how to tell the kids.”

You nodded softly, “That’s awful, Harry. I don’t know what to say except I’m so sorry.”

Harry breathed out a laugh through his nostrils and shook his head, “You don’t need to pity me. I’m sad but I’ll be okay. It’s better anyway, I think in the end. She wasn’t fulfilled and part of me knows I wasn’t either. We could have made it work but I don’t think she’d have been happy for much longer. It was only a matter of time I suppose.”

“Y/n! Next game’s about to start. You wanna join?” Arla suddenly interrupted.

You turned to look at her and back to Harry, “This is Harry, and Harry, this is my friend Arla. She and I have two classes together.”

Harry smiled at your friend and looked at you, “I’m just about to finish up. You go and enjoy your night off with your friends.”

You didn’t want to part ways with Harry yet. It felt like you needed to sit with him longer. So you turned to Arla, “I’m gonna pass. But you guys go ahead!”

“Are you sure?” She looked from you to Harry and back to you again.

“Yeah. I’m sure.”

When she walked off Harry grabbed your hand, “You don’t have to pity me I said. I’m okay, really. I know this has to be boring for you to sit here listening to me whine about my life. You should go.”

Shaking your head you frowned, “I didn’t want to go, Harry. Thought maybe if you’re leaving anyway I could walk you out. Hug you goodbye. I don’t know when I’ll ever see you again. Or if I see you again…”

Harry tilted his head and nodded, “Okay. Deal. I’ll settle up and be right back.”

You watched Harry make his way to the bar and get his credit card back from the bartender. He was achingly attractive, even doing absolutely nothing, he was the most attractive man you’d ever laid eyes on. And far and away the kindest.

When he returned you stood from the stool and he gestured for you to lead the way to the door. The night air was warm as you turned to look up at Harry.

“I’m parked just up the street,” he jutted his chin in the direction of his car, “It was really nice to see you–“

“I’ll walk with you to your car,” you rushed the words out. You weren’t ready for him to leave. You were certain you’d never see him again and that thought was scarier than insisting you walk him to his car. Maybe just being near him for a few extra moments would make you feel better.

Silently you both walked side by side down the sidewalk toward his car. And when you got to his spot he smiled down at you, “Did you drive here?”

You shook your head, “Shared an Uber with two of my friends.”

He nodded, “Well, Y/n…” he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around your shoulders and you pulled your arms around his middle and smushed your face against his chest. He squeezed you tight and you squeezed back.

You felt his breath at your temple, “God I’m gonna miss you.”

You tilted your head back to look up at him, “I’m gonna miss you too, Harry.”

The streetlamp that cast the smallest bit of light from across the street flickered off and then sputtered back on again as you kept your eyes locked with Harry’s. You’d miss his eyes and his cologne and how nice he was to you. It felt wrong to simply let him leave.

“Y/n…” Harry spoke softly as he brought a hand up to your face, his fingers slid behind your ear and his thumb caressed your cheekbone, “Can I have one more kiss? If it’s okay?”

Nodding your head you felt his hand pull your face closer to his. He pressed his nose against yours as you fluttered your eyes shut and then felt his lips gently move over yours.

And something inside of you felt like it’d been unlocked as you opened your mouth and let him slip his tongue inside, to which you pressed yours against his and heard him moan.

You gripped his shirt tight and felt him push your back into his car as he caged you in with his arms and his hips pressed against yours. It had all happened so fast but your head was spinning and you both were lost in each other with a hungry kiss and wet lips.

He moved his hand to your neck and wrapped his palm around the front of your throat, keeping his lips attached to yours before he parted with a soft gasp, “Want to hear you say it just one more time f’me, sweet girl. What do you call me?”

You closed your eyes and felt the tips of his fingers squeezing gently at the side of your neck. You knew exactly what he was asking.

“Daddy,” you breathed before you felt his warm lips slot between yours again. He moaned deeply and you clung to his back in hopes of him staying. You didn’t want this to be it.

When you shifted your hips he lowered a hand to your thigh and pulled it upward, tucking himself in closer.

It turned out, that one more kiss wasn’t just any old kiss. Wasn’t just something you could pull away from once his lips smeared against yours, once his tongue lapped against your tongue. You held him tight through his shirt and he kept your thigh hitched over his hip and his hand at your neck as his mouth moved with yours under the flickering streetlamp.

When he pulled back and looked down at you, you tightened your fingers around his shirt, “Do you want to come over? To my place?” You couldn’t let the moment getaway. Couldn’t let Harry just leave like that. You also couldn’t believe you’d asked him over. But it was that or watch him drive away and never see him again.

Harry pulled his hand off your neck and softly tucked his fingers to the back of your head, “Really?”

You nodded and raised your brows, suddenly feeling the heat of embarrassment, “If you want. I mean you don’t–“

Your words were swallowed by Harry’s mouth over yours again. Soft lips and wet tongue making you ache and filling you with just enough gall to ask for what you’d wanted. And that was to have him in your apartment. Alone. You just wanted a little bit more. Before it was all over and forgotten and in the past. Before the moment was just something you’d look back on in the future with a tinge of sadness but with a smile on your face.

Harry opened his passenger side door for you to get inside and you texted Jax quickly explaining your sudden absence with an apology. You could explain to your friends later.

You felt Harry scoop your hand into his as he started his car and pulled out into the street. The song on the radio had just come to an end and a commercial began to play, “You’ll have to remind me of your address,” Harry glanced at you before looking back at the street.

“Oh! Yeah! Of course. Um… Just take this street to Caldwell and take a right and then we’ll go to the bridge and merge onto the highway but you’ll only be on for one exit and then the first right off the access road. Then it’s like two miles and the apartments are on the left.”

Harry laughed, “Maybe you can tell me as we approach where I need to turn. I’m a little wound up right now. Might not remember all that,” he grinned.

You were feeling your nerves begin to bubble with each mile closer to your apartment. But Harry was trying to keep you calm, you could tell.

“So, you told me once you don’t have roommates. Is that still the case?”

You nodded and looked at his handsome side profile, “Yeah. No roommates. It’s only a one bedroom. My uncle is the apartment manager and so I get rent super cheap otherwise I wouldn’t be able to have a place on my own.” “That’s nice. Looking forward to seeing it.”

Biting your lip you looked out the window and felt a pinch of anxiety. You knew what was probably about to happen and you’d welcome it! But then after that what? Would he stick around? Would you see him again? Would Kit be mad?

“What are your plans for tomorrow, Y/n?”

You released your bottom lip from your teeth, “I have a paper due on Monday so I planned on getting my sources and starting the outline. I have it mostly written but now I need to back up what I’m saying and that means I’ll probably wind up needing to rewrite some portions. But that’s my plan for tomorrow and Sunday. Get that finished up. What about you?” You looked back at him as you asked.

“Tomorrow afternoon I’m taking the boys to that Science and Play place. Not sure if you ever heard of it?” He peeked at you quickly.

“I have! I’ve actually been there,” you laughed and Harry softly rubbed his thumb along yours.

“William loves it. He’s been begging to go back. And they have a restaurant there so we’ll make a whole afternoon of it. Let the boys explore. Kit’s going out tomorrow and I don’t want the boys to see her getting all dressed up so I’m going to stay out of the house with them as long as possible.”

You nodded, “That makes sense. I’m sorry, Harry.”

He shook his head, “Don’t be. I’m suddenly not feeling so down about it all right now,” he squeezed your hand as you directed him onto the highway.

You smiled to yourself at his comment and understood what he meant exactly.

After Harry parked in the guest parking spot, you led him to your apartment up a flight of metal stairs to the second floor. You were normally very tidy and neat but you’d been a bit out of sorts since that fateful night and plus getting back into the swing of the new semester meant you had a few things strewn about which all came into view once you turned on the light.

“Sorry about the mess,” you gestured at your couch and the small chair next to it with your clothes draped over the arms.

But Harry didn’t seem to care as he pulled you into his arms and cupped your face, bringing his lips down to yours. You kissed him back with as much heat as he was putting into the kiss. You grasped onto the lats of his back as he moved you with him slowly until he pulled you into his lap on the couch and your fervor only increased.

You ran your fingers into his hair as he kissed his way down your jaw and then to your neck, pecking gently along the front of your throat and back up to your lips, “Loved when you wore that little pearl choker.”

He drew his hands along the outside of your jeans-clad thighs and you pulled away to look at his beautiful face, “I still have it.”

“Mmm… It goes with your innocent act so perfectly,” he grinned, “But I know you’re not innocent, baby. Far from it.”

You could feel his breath against your lips as he spoke and you felt that recognizable hardness under his pants.

“Why don’t you go put that pretty thing on your neck for Daddy and take off everything else?”

You were quick to push yourself off his lap and go into your bedroom. You smiled as you pulled the choker from its velvet bag and happily put it back onto your neck. You thought you’d never want it on again, but if Harry wanted it on, you would absolutely wear it.

You pulled your shirt off and began to unbutton your pants before pushing them down your legs. You hadn’t done much upkeep on yourself other than just shaving around your bikini line to keep it neat, but you knew better than to start rethinking everything now. If you had a bit of a bush so be it. You were mostly certain Harry wouldn’t mind.

When you unhooked your bra Harry was standing in your doorway watching you. His hands slowly undoing the buttons on his shirt as he watched you peel your panties down your legs.

His shirt hung open as he stepped in front of you and cupped your face. His eyes wandered over your breasts and up to your choker before setting them back on your face, “Do you know how hard you make me, Y/n? This little thing on your neck,” he lowered his thumb to the pearls and pressed on it, “…these sexy lips,” he dipped in and kissed you as he lowered both hands to your tits, “…and these gorgeous breasts.”

You smoothed your hands over his warm chest as his mouth covered yours with lazy, sloppy kisses.

“Want you to bend over the bed. Show me that pretty ass. I think you need a little spanking for making Daddy wait a month and a half to see you again.”

You moaned and then swallowed as you turned around and draped your upper half over your unmade bed, baring your full ass to him.

You felt his hands cupping your bottom and smoothing up and down to your thighs as he cooed at you, “God damn, baby. Look at you. So fucking sweet and naughty for me,” the first strike against your bottom came unexpectedly and immediately after he spoke.

He brought his other palm down on your other side and you yelped and turned to look at him over your shoulder.

He lifted his gaze from your bum to your eyes and smirked at you as he smacked you again. You dropped your mouth open and groaned when he did it again and again until you squeezed your eyes closed and stuffed your face into the mattress as he left stinging handprints on your backside.

When you felt him move away you lifted and turned to look at him behind you as he removed his clothes. He watched you with dark eyes, his sight moving from your bum to your face, “On your knees. Face me,” he motioned for you to move.

You brought yourself to your knees and looked up at him, your eyes big and round and sweet. He licked his lips and ran his knuckles over your temple, “Gotta burn this image into my brain. The sweetest thing I’ve ever seen.”

He stroked himself slowly, his cock was already fully thickened and mouthwatering. You looked from his big dick up to his face as he dragged a soft thumb over your lips. He pressed his thumb into your mouth and you opened up for him.

“Keep your mouth open like this,” he pressed down on your tongue, making your jaw widen, “There we go. Need space for me in there. You want Daddy’s cock inside your mouth?”

You nodded and gurgled a yes which made him grin proudly, “I know you do. You like having your face fucked, don’t you? Little naughty girl desperate to choke and make Daddy happy.”

“Yes. Please…” you panted and opened your mouth wider for him.

Harry smeared his cock over your lips. His warm tip dragged against the soft skin of your mouth as you poked your tongue out to dab at his slit.

“Go on then. Suck.” He prodded himself forward a bit and you wrapped your lips around his smooth tip and grasped at this base. Swirling your tongue around the skin under his crown you pushed yourself down on him and pulled back, sucking in and dragging your tongue along the way before edging back down again, trying to get him as deep as possible.

You’d given head before. You had never much enjoyed it. Felt it was more a means to an end sometimes. But with Harry standing over you and cradling the back of your head, his eyes on your mouth as you took him on your tongue you realized you loved giving head. Maybe it was just Harry, though. Maybe you only loved sucking his cock because it was attached to him and you wanted to please him in every way you possibly could.

“Fuck,” Harry moaned breathily as you looked up at him with your puffy lips parted around him, moving up and down, sucking and licking, hollowing your cheeks every time you pulled back to his tip just before pushing him further into your mouth.

When you put a hand on his ball sac and softly rolled it in your palm Harry threw his head back and panted breathily, “Oh my god, baby.”

You continued your work as your eyes became blurred with tears and your chin wet with drool. You stuffed yourself down over him until his tip was poked into your throat and you gagged around him. When you repeated that move, causing you to swallow around him and gag lightly, still gently massaging his balls he pulled you off and lifted you to stand up.

“Enough for now. Think you’ve earned a reward for that.” He gently walked you backward to your bed and then gestured for you to get on just as he climbed on and pulled you over his lap again. Harry laid down, bringing you with him, and kissed you. You could feel his solid, damp cock against your pussy as you kissed him and he groped your bottom, moving you up and down against him slowly, your pussylips pushed apart and dragged over his cock.

Suddenly he pushed at you, making you sit upright, your hands on his pecs as he cupped your tits in his hands, “I want you to ride my face. Get yourself off.”

You laughed and looked at him, “How should I…”

But you let out a small squeak as he pulled at you and dragged you up his chest and over his face, gripping onto your hips and making you settle your pussy over his lips. He began kissing and licking right away, his eyes on you.

“Ohhh…” you placed your hands on the top of the headboard as you looked down and watched Harry under you. It felt so good having him naked in your bed. Having his eyes on you. Having his hands on your ass. His lips on your pussy.

You slowly tilted your hips forward and felt the sparkle of your clit being pressed into his mouth. Harry held you down tight and lapped at you, concentrating on your clit as he sucked on it.

Harry’s fingers dug into your soft bum and you felt as he moved one hand, reaching further back and dipping a finger into your pussy before smearing your arousal up and over your anus. You gasped as you stared down at his eyes. He softly circled the spot as he continued working on your clit with his mouth.

You’d never had anything done to your bottom before, but if Harry wanted to, you’d let him. You were pretty much all yes and please when it came to him anyway. You’d happily let him do what he wanted.

But he never pressed in. He only pushed at your hole and circled over the outside with a wet finger and it had you reeling.

“Daddy, oh my god!”

Harry moved his hand away and put it back on your hips so he could pull you down and move you back and forth over his face. You felt like you were in such a vulnerable position, naked, sitting on his mouth the way you were. There was part of you that worried you were crushing him but he only pulled you against his mouth harder, his brows furrowing as he tried to draw an orgasm out of you.

He moaned against your clit and drew it into his mouth, letting his tongue flick against it. The little wet noises coming from his mouth against you sounded dirty with the backdrop of your loud moaning.

Sometimes you were able to force an orgasm from yourself if you held your vibrator against your clit. Even if you weren’t worked up at all. Just for a quick release.

But you were definitely worked up with Harry. Wet and puffy and the way he was mouthing and pulling at your clit with his lips you couldn’t stop your climax even if you wanted to. It dripped from your cunt all over his mouth as you loudly cried out. Your thighs quivered around his head as you leaned forward and felt wave after wave of your release.

Harry kept his hands tight on you, holding you close so he could make sure you were feeling everything he gave you.

“Fffffuuuu!” You were feeling overwhelmed as he continued sucking you in and holding you down over him. You whined and tried lifting your hips up but he swatted at your ass before gripping your thigh and doubling down on your clit.

“Oooh ssssshhit! Ffuck!” You were trembling uncontrollably as you white-knuckled the headboard and looked down at the scene of the crime. Harry’s head between your thighs with his eyes on yours and his wet nose was lewd.

But then something snapped and the overwhelming feeling started to melt into yet another orgasm that was drawn from you without warning. You cried and whimpered as Harry let go of your thighs and put his hands at your waist to keep you steady. Your whole body trembled as you tried to hold onto the headboard but you were feeling out of your mind and blurry.

When he moved you to your back you were still coming down from the back-to-back orgasms and your brain was trying to fight its way back to the surface of clarity and awareness. Harry lay next to you and kissed your neck, his fingers trailing up your tummy and over your breasts and to your little choker, “You okay, Y/n?” His voice was barely above a whisper.

Your chest was still rising and falling heavily as you nodded, “I’m so good.”

You felt Harry’s thigh draped over the tops of yours as he trailed soft kisses up your neck and to your jaw, “You are so good.”

Reaching across your body you placed your fingers in Harry’s hair, “I want you to come, Daddy.”

Harry laughed out a puff of breath against your jaw and lifted his face to look at you, “Oh you do? You’re so sweet, honey,” his voice came out raspy and deep as he kneed his way between your legs, pushing your thighs apart and fitting himself comfortably over you, pulling at your knees to bend them up so your feet were flat.

He smiled down at you, breaking the lusty moment, “You don’t happen to have a condom do you?”

You thought for a moment. You were sure you didn’t, “I don’t really think I do. But,” you gulped and flexed your fingers nervously into the skin of his back, “I’m on birth control, so…”

Harry pursed his lips in pause as he kept his eyes on yours, “Okay,” he dipped down to kiss you, “You sure?”

“Yes. I’m sure. Want to feel you,” you nodded.

You were still so wet between your legs. You could feel Harry’s length easily slide against your pussy as he shifted himself down and pressed the top of his thighs into the back of yours, pushing your legs up slightly.

He placed his forearms down on the bed, caging you in, and pressed his mouth to yours softly. You felt him nudging at your opening so you lifted your hips, pushing against him as his tongue licked at the crease of your lips. The moment you felt his bulbous tip press through the tight muscle of your opening you gasped, dropping your mouth wide open. The feel of him entering you slowly with the weight of his hips against yours had you melting.

“That feels so good, doesn’t it baby?”

You whimpered with a nod, “Yes, Daddy…”

“Fuck I can hear how wet you are for me,” he pulled back and then pressed in. “Gonna make me come so hard, sweet girl.”

The deeper he went in the more you felt your body floating away. There was no question that Harry had a big dick. And you knew he was aware of this as well because he was gentle with you as he inched his way in and pulled back slowly.

When he’d finally poked in as deep as possible and his balls were tucked into your ass he sloppily kissed you as he began to fuck into you with slow and languid strokes. Gushy and hot and unforgiving. Even as slow as he was going every time his head nudged into your cervix you hissed into his mouth. But there was something about the little ache that you loved. Probably because it was Harry.

His pelvis dragged against your clit every time he pushed in and you felt his hand clutch the back of your neck as he licked into your mouth.

Your pussy was so full. So happy. You could feel yourself open and stretch around him. It had your head spinning.

Harry grunted as he lifted himself and softly pressed his nose against yours, “Feel that, baby? Feel Daddy’s cock sliding inside of your tight pussy? You’re gripping me so good.”

His slow rhythmic thrusts grew faster as he let go of the back of your neck and pushed himself up, palms on the mattress. His plunges were deeper and stronger and his thighs and back were flexing as he worked himself in and out, faster little by little.

“Shit! Daddy!” You shakily yelped at the faster cadence and the way he was now punching into your cervix, “It’s so fucking deep,” you gritted your teeth and threw your neck back.

“Is it too deep for your little pussy, honey? Huh?” He rutted his hips in as he asked, punctuating what he meant.

You inhaled sharply when he plunged in again, grinding his hips against yours and stuffing himself into the hilt, “Oh my god, yes! But I need it!”

Harry groaned as kept himself balls deep and sat back onto his haunches, grabbing onto your thighs to keep you in place.

With his hands at the back of your knees, he began to slide into you in long, heavy strokes until he was smacking into you just enough that your tits were bouncing and your bed was creaking in time with his thrusts.

Harry licked his thumb and lowered it to your clit which had you jolting with a small cry. Your clit was super sensitive after the way he’d handled you moments earlier.

He watched his cock move through your hole, your pussy wrapped around him tight and coating him in your cream. He moaned as his thumb was lathered in your arousal from how he was slipping it back and forth over your puffy clit.

Your small grunts and squeaks increased the wetter you got and the harder the mattress bounced under you. The patting of his skin against yours was rhythmic and bumped you upward every time he slammed into you.

You started to see stars, you could swear it as your limbs began to tingle and disintegrate. Harry was grunting and moaning at the view of your pussy wrapped around him tight and the way it felt to be swallowed by you, warm and wet and clenching.

Harry gasped and paused his strokes as he breathed heavily. His chest was red as leaned back over you and kissed you so sweetly it took your breath away. You both moaned in synch as your tongues wound around each other and wet lips slobbered together when he began to drill into you again, slower but with muscle.

You started to quiver with his chest pressed to yours and his cock deep inside of you, his pelvis grinding against yours.

“There you go… let me feel that pussy coming. Oh, baby that feels good doesn’t it,” he rutted into you as he spoke against your lips.

You nearly howled with your third orgasm. It was one thing to come from clitoral stimulation but quite another to have your clit being smeared into while having a big cock nudging in and out of you as you lost control of all functions.

Harry watched your face as you scrunched your brow and chanted Daddy and he drove into you in solid, squelching plunges. His cock made its way over your spongy insides repeatedly, hitting that one spot with his big crown over and over again until you were spent. Done for. There was nothing left for you to give.

Harry kissed you softly, stuffing himself into you gently, and moaned, “M’gonna come baby but I’m gonna pull out okay? Where do you want it sweet girl?”

You peeled your eyes open and exhaled softly, “In my mouth. Let me have it in my mouth, Daddy,” you nodded as you gripped his shoulders.

Harry stopped his motions and looked at you, almost as if in awe as he ticked his head back in forth like he was in disbelief, “Yeah?”

You nodded as he plunged in a few more times, pressing you upward, his eyes on yours as his moaning progressively got softer and you swore whiney even.

He pushed himself up and pulled out, taking his cock in his hand and pumping himself, smoothing your creamy arousal around his shaft and smothering his palm. He took his other hand and pulled you up by your neck and brought your mouth over his cock as he sat back onto his haunches.

You quickly lowered your mouth over him, tasting your juices as you sucked him in and then felt him begin to release down your throat in spurts. He coughed out a loud groan as he rutted upward, his tip slipping down your throat with his hand at the back of your head, “Fuck!” He panted and you felt his thighs shaking as he rolled his hips upward.

You swallowed and gurgled him down the best you could, gripping the base of his shaft in your hand and sucking while swirling your tongue around him until his cock stopped throbbing and pumping and he was softly gasping and breathing.

You licked your way up and popped your mouth off of him but you were in a daze.

Harry smoothed his lips against yours and easily laid you down on your back, “Just lay here and rest. I’ll be right back sweetheart.”

You closed your eyes and hummed to yourself at the taste in your mouth and the way your body was buzzing with satisfaction.

Opening your eyes just as Harry walked back into the room he was buck naked, cock swinging, chest slightly damp, and impossibly strong thighs. A god really. You’d never get over his body.

He held a glass of water out to you and had brought in a damp towel to wipe you up. You sat up to take a few gulps of water before he delicately pushed you to lie back down. The towel was warm and it felt so good on your sensitive skin.

Harry laid next to you and kissed your cheek and then nuzzled into your neck, his hot breath falling over your skin, “You’re amazing, baby. I’m never gonna forget tonight. So good for me.”

You sighed and turned to face him as he gently dabbed between your legs, “Kiss me, Daddy.”

His grin made the edges of his eyes crinkle, “Happily.” He pressed his mouth against yours and you both kissed soft and lazy as he tossed the damp towel to your floor and wrapped you in his arms.

You couldn’t be sure of how he kissed you but when he was helping you out of bed and speaking softly to you about having a bath with him so he could hold you longer you felt wobbly still.

With your eyes closed and your back against his chest in the warm water, he started talking. And as you felt more aware and conscious you realized he was sort of spilling his guts to you.

“I was so sad when I woke up this morning. But seeing you and all this,” he squeezed your arms, “I think I can breathe now. You made everything feel better, Y/n.”

You listened closely as he continued, his chest vibrating as he spoke, “I haven’t stopped thinking about you since that night. And I realized something too. Tonight. Just now. I think Kit was right. You and I do really have good chemistry. We fit so well together don’t we?”

You hummed and nodded with a small smile on your face.

He sighed and pulled his arms around you, “Don’t want this night to end. Want to just stay here with you, holding you like this.”

Your heart began to pound as you started to feel his words. You knew what he meant and you felt it. You could feel his scruff on your temple as he rubbed his face in toward yours, “You feeling better now?”

You nodded and turned toward his face, “Yes. So much better. You make me feel so good.”

Harry slowly blinked as he kept his gaze on yours, “You make me feel so good too.”

When the water grew tepid Harry wrapped you in a towel and tightly hugged you as he walked you to your room and made you drink more water.

He took your towel off and helped you into your bed and pulled your blankets over your naked body before he began to pick up his clothes from the floor.

You pouted and sat up, “Please don’t go. Will you stay here tonight? I need you here with me. I think I just…” you felt tears in your eyes as you looked upward to will them away.

Harry dropped his pants to the floor and sat on your bed, cupping your face to look at you, “I didn’t want to assume you wanted me to stay. But I’ll stay tonight. I’d love to stay with you.

So he did. He held you in his arms, pet your back, and kissed your forehead until you had drifted away into a deep sleep.

The morning was slow with the first bit of sun shining through the cracks of your window. You were burning hot in Harry’s arms so you poked your head up and breathed as you wiggled out of his hold.

“Where you going?” His groggy morning voice was too sexy to make sense.

“I have to pee,” you laughed as he released your wrist and you quickly padded to your bathroom.

When you got back into your room Harry was already dressed and running a hand through his hair as he looked at himself in your mirror.

Turning to face you he grinned at your Pokemon robe, “Cute. You’re always so fucking cute, Y/n.”

You looked down at the robe and shrugged at him with a small smile.

“I have to go. I hate to leave so quickly but I’ve got to get home to the boys and get them ready for our little outing today.”

You nodded, “Yeah. That’s okay. I understand.”

Harry tilted his head as he stepped in front of you and pulled you in for a hug. It felt like one of those this-is-it hugs. It felt so final.

“Y/n,” Harry pulled back to look at you, “You’re amazing. If you ever need anything or just want to say hi, you know how to reach me.”

You walked him to your door and watched as he made his way down the steps and out of your sight. Your final view of the only man you were sure you’d never get over.

. . .

“This is cute,” your cousin reached out to touch your pink pearl choker as you stuffed your bag with clothes.

You paused what you were doing and placed your fingers over the necklace with a smile, “Thank you.”

The necklace gave you warm and happy memories now. As much as you wished something could have happened between you and Harry you knew that just wasn’t possible. He was going through a divorce, had kids, a broken heart… But your last night together had mended you wholly. You knew it was something you’d never forget and you were grateful to him. You just hoped that maybe it did him some good too. Maybe it was something he took with him that made him smile like it did you.

The days and weeks after had been hard for you. Often you’d pick up your phone and compose a text, only to read it over and over again before deleting it. It was hard to let him go completely but now it was Christmas Eve and you felt like you were on the other side of it. Mostly. You still thought of him every day but it was easier.

“You have such good taste. You’ll have to go with me shopping sometime.” Chandy spoke as she plopped down on your bed next to your bag.

“That sounds fun actually.”

Chandy had come over to your apartment to pick you up since she lived so close. You were heading to her family home an hour out of the city. It was tradition for the whole family to get together at your aunt and uncle’s lake home. It was gorgeous in the winter with their soaring windows and snow all around.

You stacked presents into two grocery bags and slung your overnight bag over your shoulder, “Ready?”

“Yes! First, I have to use your bathroom then we’ll hit the road.” Chandy rushed off.

You sat on the edge of the arm of your couch and pulled out your phone to see a text that had your heart squeezing and throbbing.

It was a picture of Harry and the boys in front of a Christmas tree and his text read:

Merry Christmas, Y/n. We miss you!

You quickly typed out a response.

Merry Christmas! I miss you guys so much!

You placed your hand over your heart to calm yourself and the sudden rush of all your feelings you thought had begun to fade away came rushing back.

You closed your eyes after you watched your sent text go from delivered to read.

When you opened your eyes and saw that he was typing something your entire body grew hot as you stared intently at your phone.

“Okay! Ready!” Chandy chirped.

You stood up with your phone in your hand, “Uh, I’m gonna just go to the bathroom too real quick!”

You closed the bathroom door and felt the vibration from an incoming text. A wide grin on your face.

What are you doing for New Year’s?

As fast as your fingers allowed you responded.

No plans. What about you?

It was the longest wait while you watched the bouncing dots stop and restart. A full minute of waiting as you flushed the toilet (to pretend you’d been using it so Chandy didn’t wonder) and then washed your hands, staring at your screen.

The boys and I will be making a very “special” dinner and then we’ll ring in the New Year with sparkling grape juice and The Poseidon Adventure. They each invited a friend and told me I had to invite someone too.

Drying your hands off, you bit your lip and typed.

That sounds so fun. Who will you invite?

You chuckled to yourself. You were almost certain he was inviting you but you couldn’t be sure until you saw his response.

I’m inviting YOU. Wasn’t it obvious? ; )

Well, in that case, I’ll be there. I wouldn’t miss it. <3

. . .

You had no idea what to expect for New Year’s but you and Harry hadn’t stopped texting since he reached out. The whole time you were with your family on Christmas you kept your phone by your side so you wouldn’t miss a single message.

You dressed casually for the New Year’s Eve party at Harry’s because there were going to be 4 ten-year-old boys there. And you learned the “special” dinner they were making was grilled cheese sandwiches, French fries, and for dessert chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream. It honestly sounded amazing.

You also learned that Kit had moved out, leaving the house to Harry and they were on very good terms. They would split custody of the boys 50 / 50. And that technically they were still married but the divorce was moving along quickly because there were very few things that needed to be worked out. They seemed to be on the same page.

You parked in the street in front of the Styles house and noticed lights strung up on the columns of the porch and a Christmas wreath on the front door.

The moment you closed the door to your car you saw the front door open and Warner and William busted out and ran toward you, “Y/n!! You came!” – “Dad said you were coming!”

They both hugged you, one on each side and you could have cried. You hadn’t seen them since August and it was already December. You felt like they’d grown bigger in those few months.

They started to pull you toward the house but you laughed and stopped, “Hold on! I have presents for everyone in the car I have to get.”

You opened your trunk and pulled out two bags that had presents inside and when you closed it Harry was there in the yard watching you with a soft grin. You felt blood rush to the apples of your cheeks at the sight of him and your heart throbbed in your chest.

“Hi, Y/n,” his dimples winked awake and the corners of his eyes crinkled as he stepped forward to take your bags, handing one to Warner and one to William, “Take these inside and pour Y/n a glass of the New Year’s mocktail we made. We’ll be right in.”

You clasped your hands behind your back as you let your eyes fall over his outfit. He was wearing a red chunky knit sweater with a big green Christmas tree in the center that had gold and silver balls all over it, “Love the sweater.”

Harry looked down at it and back at you, “Love that you’re here.”

The heat that spread over your face stretched down your neck and your back as he stepped in closer. He was far too handsome for his own good and all the memories you had with him were flooding your brain with inappropriate thoughts but also with fondness and excitement.

“Thank you for inviting me.” You looked up at him as he stood directly in front of you.

Harry stared down at you for a moment, his eyes blinking and his pink lips twitching tremulously, “I know I look ridiculous in this,” he gestured at his sweater looking down at it and then back at you, “and this isn’t the most romantic reunion but I wanted to ask you before the festivities started if you’d like to go on a date with me tomorrow night?”

Your lips parted as the question floated around in the air between you two. You couldn’t believe he was asking you on a date.

“A date? Like…” You bit your lip and looked down at the ground and back up at Harry, “A date date?”

Harry smiled widely and nodded, “A date date.”

You exhaled a small laugh and nodded, “Harry, I’d love that. Yes.”

Suddenly his arms were wound around your middle and you squealed as he lifted you from the ground and spun you in his arms. The moment your feet hit the grass he gave you a quick kiss, cupping your face in his hands, and then parted as he looked back at the house.

Harry let you go and smirked at you as he took your hand to lead you to the house whispering, “Now I know this sweater is pure sex but you’re just gonna have to keep your hands to yourself tonight.”

You laughed and squeezed his hand, “It’s gonna be hard but I think I can behave.”

Harry stopped and turned his face toward you, his warm mouth at your ear, “Y/n, I’m so glad you’re here.”

A/N: I hope you guys loved this! Let me know your thoughts please!!

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