#because i'm having way too much fun putting these together

[harmshake]

Jey Uso x Black Fem Reader | 18+, NSFW, fluff, smut | ~2,700 words

a/n: This is a request from my girl, @bboutabbagg. Sorry for the wait and ily!

Happy reading! Read my other Bloodline stories here. ✨

The music was loud but charming, the DJ that Jey hired playing your favorite song as it wafted through the speakers of his backyard that people grooved in as they held their red cups—or as they held their plates and sat along the picnic tables enjoying the catered bbq and seafood. It was your and his family and friends all coming together to have a good time and celebrate you for graduating from nursing school.

The tealights that twinkled all around the space competed with the stars in the sky as Jey stood behind you with his arms draped on your waist covered in a cute, form-fitting dress to sway with him to the beat as well, his husky voice all soft as he mumbled in your ear, "I'm so proud of you, baby."

You couldn't help the little smile that pulled at your lips as you knew he meant it. Taking in the extravagant party he'd put together for you—as well as the gift table that held big, elegantly wrapped boxes you knew were mostly from him—along with his little smile you felt on your cheek before you kissed there, you felt blessed to have a boyfriend that cared so much and showed it.

"Thank you. Still can't believe you did all this, good god," you said with a blush and put your hands around his that were settled on your hips. The 3D photo booth was occupied by your young cousins making duck faces. The tattoo artist sat beneath her tealight-adorned tent touching up the colors on his twin brother's older ink on his shoulder. There was even a blackjack table where your and his uncles were hollering and laughing at the hand someone dealt. You wanted to be surprised Jey went all out like this, but for the couple of years you'd been dating, he'd made it obvious his love language was acts of service.

He sucked his teeth with an affectionate squeeze around you before he agreed with your thoughts and said, "You think I'mma let my girl do her big one without a celebration? You know me betta than that."

"Yeah, I do. Love you." You craned your neck to glance at him and tug at his black dress shirt collar. 

Yet he caught your lips that brushed his with a kiss that you smiled into, especially when you heard your little cousins oooooing at you both before he detached from you with a quick "I love you, too, bae," to playfully chase them away before he scooped up one of them to swing around on his shoulders.

The fun night went on until every last guest left with a big hug to you before you and Jey retired to his bedroom for a shower and, finally, bed. You didn't live together as you had your own apartment across town, but you might as well have because his closet was full of your clothes and pajamas—and yet you still opted for one of his gray t-shirts that fit you like a dress as you laid next to him beneath the comforter. Jey was on his back and scrolling through his phone as you lay your head on his bare chest and peeped up to see him browsing an article that listed "the best things to do in Cancún."

"Uhhh, you going to Mexico soon for work?" you asked with your curious eyes flickering up to him. That made him giggle before he put his phone on his nightstand.

"Look atchu bein' nosey." He slid his arm around your waist to jostle you until you giggled, too. "Naw, not for work. For you." 

"Wait, you're planning a trip for me? For what?"

"C'mon now. You really thought all you was gettin' for your graduation was a party? Be for real." Jey planted a kiss on your hair and you shook your head in surprise.

"You know I appreciate you, but damn, babe! What am I supposed to get you when your birthday comes up? Or when you win King of the Ring, huh? I can't top you." You were half-joking but it was always a struggle to think of ways to treat your boyfriend who seemed to have it all.

But he only grinned at you as he leaned over to cut off the lamp at his bedside, bathing the room in black, save for the glimmer of moonlight beyond his curtains. His dark eyes still shone with that same glimmer, an almost mischievousness that flashed in them, as he held you and let his lips leave little kisses along your cheek before they found yours and murmured on them, "You ain't gotta 'top' me, bae. Just lemme spoil you. Can I do that? Is that alright witchu?"

Jey let a kiss linger on your lips between each sentence, his hand that wasn't cradling your head beneath your pillow cupping your jaw as he made you look at him. You nodded with a smile that he kissed and you kissed him back, your arms falling over his broad shoulders as you fell deeper into the softness of his full lips that you nearly whimpered to be separated from when he trailed those lips to your jaw, your neck, and then your chest.

He was shirtless, which let you run your hands along his warm, smooth, tatted skin as he rolled up his shirt on you until he lifted it over your head to throw it to the floor. He let you feel more of his warmth when he climbed on top of you, your now bare body spiking the temperature beneath his sheets as it combined with his, moreover when his warm, huge hands found your breasts to hold to his lips for more kisses.

Your boyfriend truly did love to spoil you, even with his mouth as he took his time giving each mound of flesh in his gentle grasp kisses, suckles, and licks of his tongue that hardened your nipples underneath it. You didn't hide how good it felt as you chimed with soft moans each time Jey pulled his lips around your nipples, knowing the sound of you felt good to him, too, as you could feel his length growing hard and pressing to your belly behind his black boxers briefs.

"Swear I can make you cum just like this," Jey whispered to your cleavage before he kissed it and glimpsed at you right as your face twisted with a whimper slipping from your lips from his thumbs gliding over your nipples that were slick from his mouth. "You so sexy, baby...everything about you and on you..."

You whimpered again when he dipped his head back down to curl his tongue around your left nipple as he continued to thumb your right, feeling his length twitch at the sound before his entire body did, readjusting himself so you felt his next twitch against your bare clit. And that felt dangerously good..."You got me close, baby...keep going. Just like that."

Jey's little rocks of his hips to nudge his tip to your sweet spot as he massaged and slurped sweetly on your nipples had you rocking your hips beneath him as you tried to push yourself over the edge, the tingling deliciousness on the tip of his tongue as your heart raced to meet you at your finish...but then he pulled away. Your eyes flitted open with shock but he hid his face in the crook of your neck with kisses, his hands freeing themselves from your breasts to grip your waist as he whispered in your ear, "I said I can make you cum like that...didn't say I would. Now get on them knees for me."

"Baby, really? You're going to do me like that? I thought you said you wanted to spoil me," you panted with a stubborn pout when Jey patted your thigh until you rolled over onto your knees. You heard him remove his boxers before he sat on his knees behind you and you hid your smirk as you knew your boyfriend would spoil you, even if he liked to tease and drag it, something you cherished because he would cherish you until you came undone for him.

And that's why you quietly chuckled when Jey got on his elbows with his sultry breath grazing your wet, warm essence that opened for him with his hands on your ass. You knew you would get your way...especially when he pushed his tongue into you to taste how close you still were for him. The man made it feel dangerously good all over again, his tongue just as dangerous with those long, greedy laps on each fold of you, on every spot that quivered for him, his tip tracing them and loving on them until your nails tried to claw his sheets as that delicious tingling returned with a vengeance.

"Jeyyy, baby..." was all you could whimper as you felt his tongue pushing in deeper, pushing you to the edge. He moaned into your wetness that slipped into his salt-and-pepper beard, savoring your pleasure that was about to swallow you whole—but then he withdrew from you again. "Jey, are you serious?!"

Your nostrils flared along with your entire body that radiated from the heat of being so close but being denied a second time. Now you were glaring back at him as he sat back again but kept his hands on your ass with his thumbs holding you open to lovingly stare at you.

"What, bae? You act like you don't like when I play with it..." He let his fingers dip into your soft, gushy folds until they caressed your clit to make you throb around them.

"When I make you wait for it..." He let the fingers of his other hand dip into your hair as he gently pushed your head onto his pillow until it caught your moan from him slowly dipping the head of his thick length into you.

"When I make you beg for it..." Jey then let those fingers slip around your throat to pin you down, hunching over you with his pointer and middle fingers swirling on your clit, matching the swirls of his dick as he carefully thrust deeper, his voice deeper and huskier when it touched your ear. "Mmm...I'mma make you cum, baby. But I need to hear you ask for it nicely."

"Baby, can you please...stop fucking with me and make me cum?" you managed to moan with his strong fingers softly clamped around your throat, your demanding tone making him clamp down a bit harder from you denying him. You usually liked your boyfriend's teasing but being on the edge this long was making you testy. And that made Jey test your limits more with deep strokes that winded in and out and on that spot that had you squeezing him and squeezing your eyes shut before he hit harder...

"You think you funny, huh?" Jey growled from behind you, his hand traveling from your clit to your asscheek that he gripped and smacked lightly with a warning spank that made you moan louder. You wanted to smile as you buried your face in his pillow, but you bit your lip instead as you knew being a brat would make him want to punish you. His steady strokes tunneled to the depths of you where he tapped hard and felt your body shiver on him. "But you gettin' close...so what I say? Ask me nice..."

It felt so good that your mind was trying to get fuzzy with those tingles that spread throughout you, trying to make you give in to him when it should be him giving into you and pushing you over the edge. "Stay right there, baby. Please..."

"Naw, that ain't nice enough..." Jey mumbled before he pulled out. Your body shivered for a different reason, tears of frustration and pleasure dotting your eyes as a cry sounded from your throat. The build was too delicious and the tingles had already claimed your limbs...but Jey merely reclined on his heels as he claimed your hips in his hands to add gruffly, "Thought I was playin', bae?"

His hands ran up the sides of your body before fitting between it and the bed to cup your breasts as he pulled you onto your knees and to his body, his soft lips covering your throat with kisses. When his hand covered it next, you moaned, that moan tapering off into a whine as your boyfriend pressed the tip of his length to your opening. You tried to sit on it, the tingles on your skin and the fuzziness on your mind keeping you needy even though you wanted to curse his cute ass out. But Jey held you up with one arm slung around your waist and a dark chuckle on his lips.

"Aht aht. Just ask for it, baby..." His grip on your throat and waist, along with his head just skimming your little entrance as you tried to grip around him, made a tear roll down your cheek as your body reeled from being denied yet again. You felt like you had no choice but to surrender to him and let him spoil you with what you needed...

"Please...please...can you make me cum, Daddy? Please," you heard yourself whine, the words quickly drowned out by your moans that brushed the ceiling when your head fell onto his shoulder...when he finally let you drown him in your wet that he soaked deep in, stroked deep in. Your orgasm rushed up on you before he could say another word, your body so desperate for him that the slightest contact of him wedging himself on your spot over and over made you lightheaded.

"Feels good when you listen to Daddy, don't it?" Jey said in your ear with his hands kneading for your breasts to keep you upright when you tried to fall forward. He toyed with your nipples between his thick fingers, sending those warm tingles to your core with each rush of your orgasm, softly moaning with you, "Stay right here with me, baby. Tell me how good I make you feel."

"You make me feel so good, Daddy...ohmygod," you whined to him in erratic whimpers, the raspy sound growing more erratic when Jey pushed you back down to the bed and gathered your hips in his hands. His hips then began to move with a quickness, abandoning the slow strokes for pounding strokes that took your breath away altogether. You didn't try to run but instead clutched behind you at him and his sheets again to keep you from sliding up them. He took your hand in his, his touch so delicate with his backshots so brutal, so dedicated to your spot that you felt a second, powerful orgasm crashing into you. You squeezed his hand as you fluttered around his length that throbbed in you from feeling you give in to him again, hearing you cry for him as you sobbed his name into his pillow.

"Goddamn, baby," Jey uttered before he jerkily stumbled back right as his length began to drip that he aimed at your essence still fluttering for him. Your mind was blank with pleasure yet you instinctively reached your middle fingers between your thighs to ease into yourself and ride out the delicious feeling, loving how delicious it felt to feel warm, sticky ropes of your boyfriend's pleasure drip to your knuckles as he groaned for you.

You groaned back but couldn't form words just yet when you breathed heavily as Jey took hold of your waist to kiss up your spine until his kisses met your cheek. 

"Breathe for me, baby...mmm. You did so good for me," Jey breathed to you as he nuzzled his nose to your cheek with a kiss. You were trying your best but he and you both knew the best remedy was for him to put his arms around you and keep you close as you settled. You cozied up to him as he lay behind you and pulled you to him, a whispery chuckle escaping him when you trembled from his fingertips trailing up your belly. "Told you I'd spoil you and you ain't wanna listen. Now look."

"Don't talk shit when...I'm too tired to defend myself," you breathed to him and made him chuckle again as he kissed your shoulder.

"Just statin' facts. You know I'mma take care of you...even when you wanna show out..." Jey got you to smile with his fingers tickling your belly as he left another kiss on your shoulder. "...'Cause you deserve it, bae."

.

.

.

Spoiled

Thanks for reading! Y'all know I don't write for Jeyson anymore (even though my deleted Jey fics are still circulating on here 🙄) but I owed my girl this story since last year. 😭

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[imagine-darksiders]

Eden's Heir, chapter 4 - The Jump.

I can't believe it's been almost a year since I updated this. A lot has happened recently, not all of it good, but I'm still here, and will continue to be by hook or by crook! I've had to cut it into two chapters because the final fight between the Slag Demon and the Horsemen is taking way too long to write. Good news though, there'll be two chapters in [hopefully] quick succession. Hooray! Hope you like this one, guys, thank you all so much for standing by me and waiting so patiently.. I don't know where I'd be without your support. <3 <3 <3

Summary:

As you grapple with the horrifying, new reality you've found yourself in, Strife continues to torment you in the misguided hope that somehow, you'll spontaneously start to like him. His jokes are terrible. It's just a shame you have a weakness for terrible jokes. War, meanwhile, can't stop his eyes from wandering to your fresh, undeserved scar...

You suppose that when Strife said this would be ‘fun,’ he was only factoring himself into the equation. Because for you, there’s nothing very fun about having your particles ripped apart and rocketed through a portal which, according to modern science, should not and does not exist.

Well, modern science owes you a formal apology.

As it turns out, portals very much do exist, and they’re a lot less fun than the media has led you to believe.

The experience - though you hesitate to give it such a mundane moniker - isn’t… painful, per se, mostly because the whole process is over and done with so quickly that your brain and body aren’t given the time to notice that they’ve been squished through one end of a worm hole, reassembled atom by atom, and then spat out on the other side.

Perhaps more disconcertingly than the feeling itself is the fact that when you’re hanging for that split-second moment in a space outside of existence itself, you notice that the temperature around you inexplicably skyrockets.

And frankly, you’re not sure which is worse… The stale, unwelcoming chill of the Void, or the absolute blistering inferno that greets you within less than a second of leaving it.

Before you can even open your mouth to scream at the unnatural process your very human body is being subjected to, the space around you solidifies and stabilises again, and an unexpected jolt shoots straight through you when Strife’s metal boots collide with a hard, stone surface, jarring your stomach painfully against his shoulder pauldron.

At the same time, a wave of hot, dry air sweeps over you from head to toe, cloaking you in uncomfortable and immediate warmth that’s downright oppressive, thick and inescapable, as if you’ve just been tossed onto the fiery surface of the sun and left to sizzle.

Actually, now that you’ve experienced both extremes, perhaps you are sure which is worse. At least that sinister demon’s Void didn’t make you want to peel yourself out of your own skin.

Groaning miserably, you pick your hazy head up and suck in a breath that goes down about as well as spoiled meat, and then nearly retch at the unpleasant texture of heat sliding down the walls of your oesophagus like something squirming and alive.

Even the metal chain on your bag begins to grow warm against the skin of your neck, dangling down below your head near the Horseman’s holsters.

“Hot damn,” Strife announces, concisely putting a voice to your thoughts.

Your lashes are sticky from leftover tears, clumping together when you squeeze your eyes shut and attempt to pry them apart again. It takes a few arduous blinks before your blurry surroundings bleed into focus.

You rather wish you’d just kept your head down and your eyes firmly shut.

If there were any doubts left in your mind that teleportation really is possible, they swiftly fly out of the proverbial window when you catch your first, proper glimpse of the surroundings.

Wherever you are, it definitely isn’t the same place you were in barely ten seconds ago.

Bracing a palm against Strife’s solidly armoured back, you lever your torso up slightly to give yourself a better view of the world around you.

It seems that the portal – your brain starts to ache as it tries to accept the existence of those – has spat you out underneath the roof of an absolutely gargantuan cavern.

Roving your gaze back and forth, mouth ajar, you notice the walls, floor and ceiling are made entirely of dark, igneous rock, and yet all around you, you start to spot signs of… Well, perhaps not civilisation exactly, but definitely an external presence that gives you the impression that this is a keep of some kind, dug by hand rather than time or nature.

Two, immense pillars stand proudly at the far corners of the enormous chamber, large enough to prop up the roof of a veritable mountain.

Craning your neck back until it twinges, you squint through a haze of simmering air at the ceiling far above you, feeling a trickle of dread creep down into the pit of your stomach.

Bolted into the rock between the stalactites, there are numerous, gigantic chains hanging like eerie sentinel over your heads, so large and heavy that it doesn’t look as though anything short of gale-force winds could cause them to sway. You don’t dare to imagine what purpose they might serve.

Pale, unreachable light trickles lazily down from above, dappling little patches of the grey stone underneath Strife’s boots.

With your heart wedged in your throat, you swallow another curl of heat and let your gaze wander over to the side of the keep to where the ground falls away in a sheer drop several feet from the walls. It’s from the resulting pit that a vivid, orange glow rises, carrying with it the distinct sound of cracking, like glass windows slowly splintering apart, or a lake of ice breaking under a heavily placed boot. And below that sound, a deep, subterranean rumble serves as the background noise to this stifling place, constant and oozing.

Coupled with the acrid stench permeating your nostrils and the sweltering heat, you’re suddenly struck by the very disconcerting but plausible notion that you might have found yourself in the heart a volcano.

As if your day wasn’t horrendous enough.

All of a sudden, your ears are pricked by a low grunt from somewhere just a little too close to you, reminding you of your larger tormentor’s presence with a nauseating pang to the stomach. Consequentially, the unsightly welt on your forearm gives an insistent twinge.

Twisting your head to the left, you nearly jump out of your skin to find War has appeared out of thin air beside you, straightening to his full domineering height that easily clears his brother, and subsequently, you. The hooded behemoth only spares you a disinterested glance before his pale, blue eyes dart away again just as quickly and he stomps around to Strife’s front, out of view.

A breath you didn’t know you were keeping behind your teeth shakes itself loose.

You have to peel your tongue from the roof of your bone-dry mouth like a strip of velcro before you’re able to form a small, hesitant question in a voice baked hoarse and thin. “What is this place?”

No sooner has your meek question faded below the rumble of the cavern’s ambiance than an entirely new and harrowing sound punctures the otherwise quiet air.

Howling along the cavern walls comes a piercing, anguished scream, stemming from a place much deeper than you’ve already seen. It’s a raw sound, broken and terrified and primal, like a man with his humanity stripped and skewed just enough that he can’t quite be called human any longer. It prompts a sharp gasp out of you as the sound ricochets off the rocks, curdling your blood and raising the finer hairs on the back of your neck.

As if he’s entirely unconcerned with such a horrifying occurrence, Strife plants his free hand squarely on a hip and draws in a deep, obnoxious breath through his nose before he sighs it all out again, casting a casual glance around with all the air of a man surveying a pleasant sunrise.

“Ahh~ Screams of suffering, chains hanging from the ceiling, no sign of an exit…” he sighs wistfully, clapping the back of your thigh with his palm and announcing, “Yep! We’re definitely in a dungeon.”

He seems oblivious to your apprehension as you dart your eyes to every darkened corner of the cavern as if you might find the source of the tormented scream, curling your legs up under your dress until your knees bump against the Horseman’s chest. “A-a dungeon!?” you gulp, kneading your fingers between the gaps of Strife’s armoured spine, “A dungeon for what?”

Distracted for a fleeting moment by the foreign sensation of fingertips pressing against his leather under-armour, the Horseman almost forgets to respond.

It isn’t until he notices War’s expectant glare burning a hole into the side of his visor that he gives his head a shake and promptly shrugs his massive shoulders, swinging himself around to face away from his brother, and in doing do, bringing you almost nose to chest with the surly giant.

“Beats me,” he hums, utterly heedless of the fearsome stare-down currently happening just behind his head, “Probably for the poor bastard we just heard screaming... And a few others, to boot.”

Angling your head up, you have to gulp past a rather thick lump in your throat as you peer meekly up at War, who in turn, glares right back down at you, his eyes glinting ominously from within the shadow of his hood.

Reluctant to drop your gaze or even breathe for fear of provoking him by committing some unknowable slight, you shrink against Strife and duck your head, peeping up at him through your lashes as you tap your forefinger against one of the silver armour pieces interlocking across your captor’s back.

“Um,” you start, hearing Strife’s helm brush against your dress when he turns to listen, “C-can you, uh, put me down now…” Then, following a notable stretch of deafening silence, you squeakily tack on a hurried, “Please?”

There’s no guarantee that being on the ground will be any better for you than dangling over an uncomfortable, metal shoulder, but you’re at least willing to entertain the illusion that you’ll be safer on your feet without Strife dictating your every move. A modicum of control is better than none at all.

And truthfully, you’d just like to end the humiliation of being carried around like a sack of distraught potatoes.

Yet for some, inane reason, the armour-clad Horseman doesn’t seem as eager to relinquish you as you are to be relinquished.

“Aw, what’s the matter?” he drawls, bumping his shoulder up and down playfully, no doubt to pull a rise out of you which you frustratingly give him in the form of a gasp before he continues, “You’re not afraid of heights, are you?”

Still glaring down at you, unimpressed, War gives an exasperated huff, blasting a jet of warm air onto the crown of your head.

“Put her down,” he states firmly, lifting his gaze from you at last, “You will need both hands free if we run into trouble.”

Knocking his head back over a shoulder to address you, Strife grins beneath his helm and murmurs, “Ha. You’d be amazed what I can pull off one-handed.”

Trying your best to ignore his boast, you roll your eyes and start to squirm, wriggling around under the weight of his arm. “Ugh,” you complain, “Will you please just put me down?”

“Mmm…” Humming obnoxiously, Strife sucks his teeth and replies, “Depends. You gonna try and run away again?”

That, at least, gives you something to consider. Are you going to try and run again? They certainly haven’t given you much of a reason not to.

The scar War gave you still burns when you bend your arm a certain way and the flesh pulls and stretches beyond the limits of the tissue.

More to the point, how do you really know any of what they’ve told you is true?

How do you know you’re not on Earth right now, somewhere remote, yes, but escapable. Because they told you you’re not?

You don’t know these giants from Adam.

You can’t trust anything they say. You don’t trust anything they say. And while you’ve undeniably found yourself smack-dab in the middle of some seriously unnatural goings on, that doesn’t mean you have to accept everything at face value.

Reality might be breaking apart around you, but you don’t have to join it, tempting though it may be to curl up into a ball and sob until the problem sorts itself out.

Desperate, your brain falls into a tailspin as it tries to rationalise such irrational circumstances.

Outwardly however, you’re aware he’s waiting for a response, so, sweeping your tongue nervously over your bottom lip, you finally croak out a hesitant, “No?”

The silence that follows is damn near chilling.

Twisting your neck up and back over your shoulder, you catch the shine in one of Strife’s luminous eyes peering at you, narrow and thin with obvious scepticism.

 “Huh,” he says, clicking his tongue, “That didn’t sound very convincing. I’m not very convinced.” Casting a look over at his brother, he adds, “War, are you very convinced?”

Predictably, War’s only response is to glower down at the shorter Horseman and grumble impatiently at the back of his throat.

Nonplussed, Strife returns his attention to you. “I don’t think he’s very convinced.”

You have to press your lips into a firm, immoveable line and swallow back the vulgar words you’d just love to spew all over his shoulder…. Instead, you heave in a hot, arduous breath and slowly reiterate, “No. I won’t try to run away.” Then for added measure… “Again.”

You loathe that you can feel the scrutiny of not one, but two apocalyptic beings boring into the side of your head with suspicious, calculating glares.

Just as you’re beginning to consider whether pulling his hair will get him to drop you or kill you, Strife suddenly perks up, his sinister doubt disappearing as he raises his chin to pipe, “A’right. Good enough for me.”

Taken wildly aback, you let your mouth hang open whilst Strife simply raises his arms and lays two oversized hands on your hips, causing your jaw to snap shut before you can emit an embarrassing squeak of fright.

With far too much ease, the Horseman lifts you up and off his shoulder.

The moment you lose the stability of his armour under your stomach, you begin to tilt forwards. Choking on a gasp, you throw your hands up and brace them on each of his forearms.

“Don’t worry, I gotcha,” he chuckles brightly, to your immense dismay.

It’s a disconcerting sight. From the tips of your fingers to the heels of your palms, your hands don’t even wrap halfway around his armoured wrists.

Gawking down at your appendages, they seem so lost against the enormity of the arms that lower you gently to the ground.

As soon as the soles of your shoes touch a solid surface again, you waste no time in ripping your hands away from him and staggering backwards, trying but failing to extract yourself from his sturdy grasp.

Before you can get very far at all, fingers of solid steel bury themselves into your dress at the hip and you jerk to an immediate halt for fear of tearing the fabric by struggling. Arms held aloft to avoid touching his own again, you throw a wary look up at Strife’s visor, reluctantly meeting those sharp, alien eyes and finding they’ve narrowed to thin lines of gold, gleaming brightly against the shadows cast by his helm.

“You’re gonna have to get used to sticking close to one of us, kid,” he warns, his tone brooking no argument and devoid of any previous jocularity, “Cause as nasty as you think we are, I guarantee there’re things in here that are a thousand times worse.”

The well you typically draw your courage from ran dry long ago, long before you came here, long before you quietly agreed to marry Cain. So, you aren’t sure where you find the nerve to jut out your chin and bitterly remark, “Worse than trying to slice off my limbs?”

Sudden movement freezes you in your shoes as War emerges from behind his brother, moving to stand at his side and swallowing you up in the egregious shadow he casts across the ground.

Ignoring his approach, the gunslinger continues to hold you still.

“Yeah,” he replies simply, “A lot worse.”

Squeezing your lips into a tight, anxious pout, you swallow, unnerved by the way his gaze instantly dips to watch your throat bob around the undulating motion.

Gradually, you lower your head, losing the defiance of a jutting chin to instead tuck it timidly away against your chest, consumed by the sudden and unwarranted ideas that start to flash in your mind’s eye, showing you gruesome fates that could await you just around the corner.

If two gigantic maniacs wielding guns and a sword aren’t the worst you could face…

Just what the Hell have you walked into?

Regarding you closely for a few more moments, Strife eventually gives his head a satisfied bob, deeming that you’ve read him loud and clear.

Gingerly, he starts to peel his fingers from your dress, wincing when the gaps in his gauntlets pinch the delicate fabric as he returns his hands to his sides. Regardless, all of his muscles remain bunched, ready to spring into action at the first sign that you might go back on your word and attempt to flee after all.

He’s almost more caught off guard when you don’t move.

Instead, you murmur a soft, “Thank you,” which just about smacks the jaw clean off his face. Staring down at you, his lips parted by a fraction, he watches you fiddle with a jewelled band of gold sitting at the base of one of your fingers for several seconds before he remembers to blink.

Indifferent, and admittedly ignorant of his sudden bout of silence, you try to distract yourself by absently brushing the palms of your hands over your dress, tutting softly at the creases and rumples in the tulle.

It’s all you can think to do now that you’ve got a little freedom back.

Nearby, War shifts his immense weight to stand even closer to Strife’s flank, and together, the brothers share a sidelong glance before returning their attention to the fussy, little human in front of them.

Even with the helm obscuring most of Strife’s angular features, War only needs to take one glance at his profile to catch the distinct and unmistakable gleam of fascination bleeding through the cracks in his armour.

Typical Strife, he scoffs to himself. The minute something new and shiny comes along, it’s all he seems to be able to think about. And there are very few things newer and shinier than a lost human dressed from head to toe in sparkling, white garb.

Hauling his eyes up towards the cavernous ceiling, War lets out an exasperated sigh and brusquely elbows Strife aside, sweeping him backwards with the palm of his prosthetic gauntlet, much to his brother’s belligerence.

“Hey!” he barks, though he goes entirely ignored.

Stepping sideways into the spot Strife had once occupied, War places his back to the smaller Nephilim and clears his throat, curious at the way you quickly stiffen like a prey animal and gradually lift your head.

He stands so close that you have to tip it all the way back before you’re even able to meet his eye, reminding him of how much smaller humans are. Smaller, and weaker…

The colossal Horseman almost can’t quite believe that for a member of a species so vulnerable, you don’t seem to possess any weapons. Natural or otherwise.

His eyes drift down to the long, pink line he’d marked you with. You hadn’t tried to claw or bite or do much of anything to stop him, not that it would have made an iota of difference. You were helpless… And he…

A pair of snowy white brows twitch microscopically inwards.

“Do you know how to fight?” he utters at last, lifting his gaze to meet your otherworldly stare. He doesn’t miss how you seem to be fixated on something behind his crimson hood, and if he has to hazard a guess, you’re staring directly at Chaoseater’s hilt.

Pulling a face, you look back at him and croak, “I… I-I’m sorry?”

Briefly wondering why in the nine Hells you’re apologising, he presses, “Have you any weapons training?” When all he receives it a blank stare, he casts his mind about for something primitive you’ll have heard of and adds, “Swords? Axes…? Bows?”

“Guns?” Strife eagerly pipes up from somewhere behind him.

Heaving an irritated sigh, War half turns his head over a shoulder and snaps, “She is a human. She doesn’t know what guns are.”

“I… What?” you peep, wrenched from your stupor by the absurdity of his declaration, “Uh… Yes, I do.”

Bemused, War raises his brow at you and retorts, “No, you do not.”

For a moment, you’re so dumbstruck by his apparent ignorance that you forget how much larger and more dangerous he is, enough that you pluck up the gall to scoff at him and insist, “Uh. I’m pretty sure I do? Humans have been using guns for centuries.”

Raising your hands, you start to knock a list off your fingers, unaware of the behemoth’s eyes growing wide.

“Shotguns, rifles, pistols-“ you state, pausing to throw a hand out and gesture at the guns in Strife’s leather holsters.  “Revolvers-!”

You’re unprepared for War to suddenly move forwards, instantly cutting off your rambling list and sending your glimmer of nerve scurrying back down your throat as he leans towards you, filling your field of view with his indomitable, ferocious scowl.

On a reflex, you tilt backwards with a hand on your chest, blinking owlishly up into the depths of his hood.

“How could you possibly know about firearms?” he demands, the sigil on his forehead burning with fiery heat as his temper flares.

Shaking your head rapidly, you stammer out, “I.. I don’t, I’m not-“

“-Hey,” Strife tries to interject, “C’mon, War. You’re scarin’ her.”

Disregarding his brother, the Horseman raises his voice and growls, “Who has been supplying you?! Speak!”

Your hands wring together as you try to form an answer, struggling in the face of someone who has proven they have no qualms about hurting you. But all you can produce is another pitiable whimper. “Nobody! We just-“

Before you can utter another sound, a large, silver hand suddenly appears over War’s shoulder, grabbing the metal pauldron that’s been forged in the likeness of a snarling face and tugging him away from you.

“War!” Strife barks, trying to wrench his brother around to face him, “I said back off.”

Savagely tearing his arm out of his grasp, War rounds on him, nostrils flaring like a raging bull. Flinging his arm out towards you indicatively, he bellows, “If humans are being supplied with weapons-!”

“-Then why’re you takin’ it out on her, and not the asshole trying to arm her species?”

War’s teeth click shut, his shoulders heaving with every breath he pulls into his train carriage chest.

Letting out a sigh, Strife sends a sideways glance at you, lowering his voice to add, “Come on. Look at who you’re trying to intimidate.”

Begrudgingly, War follows his brother’s line of sight.

You’re well aware you aren’t exactly giving humanity a good name right now, shivering like a wet leaf and holding your injured arm guardedly against your chest, all the while stifling a sob and eyeing War as if he’ll draw his sword and run you through at any moment.

For several, terrible seconds, the Horseman’s sneer remains locked in place, rigid and threatening, but as he watches you cower away from him, something in War’s almighty resolve shudders…

And yields.

Slowly, at a pace that would make a glacier yawn, his hard snarl recedes.

“See,” Strife points out, “You just look like a dick.”

The furious expression is back on War’s face in the blink of an eye, but at least this time, he aims it at his brother, opening his mouth to suck down a sharp breath, ready to berate him…

Rocks skitter across the ground somewhere too close for comfort, snatching the attention of your unlikely troop.

As one unit, Strife and War spin towards the far end of the chamber where the noise had come from, reaching for their weapons and placing their broad, armoured backs to you.

It would be the perfect opportunity to make a break for it, if you weren’t frozen solid by the prospect of running into whatever made these juggernauts so jumpy.

The former Horseman draws both of his guns from their holsters so quickly, your eyes can barely keep track of the movement. War, in the meantime, takes a gigantic step backwards as he swings his accursed sword over his shoulder, crowding you into a clumsy retreat to avoid having your toes stepped on.

Frantic, you try to peer through the gap between the titans, scanning the chamber walls for any sign of life.

“What the hell was that?” you can’t help but whisper-shout, hardly daring to breathe.

Neither of them replies for a time, not even Strife, who has his revolvers aimed out at the room, his arms still as statues as if he isn’t even vaguely affected by the weight of his guns.

Seconds tick by at an agonising pace, and the three of you wait, and wait, straining your ears to try and pick up another sound. But aside from the crackle of lava cooling as it hits the air, everything remains perfectly still and silent once more.  

After another minute, War grunts, lowering his sword and casting a dark look up at the ceiling. “We’ve lingered here for too long,” he remarks, half turning to peer down at you again, his eyes skimming over you from head to toe.

“So,” he starts, “You’ve handled guns?”

Shaking your head, you hold your hands out helplessly and say, “No, I mean, I know about them, but I-I’ve never actually shot one.”

“I could teach you,” Strife pipes up, thrusting the revolvers back into their holsters with casual ease.

“Now is hardly the time, brother,” War snaps, still eyeing you pensively.

Something very strange has been hovering about you like a miasma ever since you crashed into his brother in the Void. Something unplaceable that he can’t quite put his finger on. You are human, that much is confirmed, but you’re not like any human he’s ever heard of. It’s a troubling notion, that some unseen force might be trying to arm your species. If that’s the case, they’ll need to figure out who. Then why.

But in the meantime, he and Strife have a job to do, here and now.

First thing’s first…

“… Never handled a weapon,” he murmurs aloud.

It makes sense, he concedes. Humans aren’t a war-faring species, so it’s little wonder that you don’t know how to use weapons… For War, however, a Nephilim who has been holding a blade since the day he was risen from dust, the concept seems so alien, not to mention disconcerting.

Inclining his head, he gives you another once-over before turning away, stating matter-of-factly, “You will be a liability.”

It’s such a blasé statement, accusing, as if you’re culpable of something you’ve had no control over thus far. It actually makes you recoil as you draw your head back to fix him with an incredulous frown, lips parted, and your brows furrowed heavily above your eyes.

Despite every fibre of your being telling you that there’s a terrible idea forming at the back of your mind, you take a step away, lean your weight on your heel, and start to size him up.

Now, you’ve picked some battles before, tried to stand up to people you had no business standing up to. Cain and Delilah nipped that streak in the bud back when you thought asserting your opinion on matters of marriage should make a difference. Those battles were wildly different from this one, and you lost, every time, worn down and beaten back from the woman you used to be by wills stronger and more tempered than yours. You used to think you could face the world bravely, and all it took were a few people to show you that you weren’t as strong as you liked to think you were. It humbled you, and over time, you learned an easier life was synonymous with a passive life.

But you’ve been passive a lot lately.

Maybe you’ve been running on cold feet for too long. Maybe this whole, nightmarish interruption to your routine is finally catching up to you and numbing you to sense and logic, but truth be told?

You really don’t like hearing that this is somehow your fault.

Balling your hands into fists, you swallow thickly, and steady yourself with a noisy breath, wondering if this will be the moment you get to learn if there’s a Heaven as well as a Hell.

“Hey! I didn’t ask you to bring me with you, okay?” you say in a wobbly voice, staring at a spot just past his left arm to avoid his glare lest your words fail you completely, “Maybe, if I’m such a liability, you should just leave me to find my own way home!”

His head snaps properly in your direction with such velocity, you let out a gasp, flinching backwards and shrinking in on yourself again, your eyes darting to his lips that curl just the slightest in one corner, and the little bit of gall sitting on your tongue shrivels up and dies at the back of your throat.

Oh well. It was nice to have your guts back while it lasted. Just a pity they’re probably about to get ripped out of you for raising your voice.

For a number of unpleasant seconds, War merely regards you like you’ve just completely thrown him for a loop, neither raising his sword nor his fist to send you spinning off your mortal coil into the aether.

Finally, just as you’re beginning to fidget under his inspection, he quirks his brow at you and slowly states, “If you leave… you will die.”

You were expecting him to lose his temper again, to shout you down or put you down, not remark on your chances of survival.

“Oh, as if you give a shit about that,” you huff guardedly, curling a palm over your marred forearm and eyeing the Horseman like he’ll tear you in half for daring to call attention to the injury he caused.

War’s stance and expression don’t change in the slightest. He only continues to observe you coolly from inside his hood, ignoring the frequent looks Strife keeps flicking between the pair of you.

After a further spell of silence in which you seem to grow impossibly smaller, he at last gives an appraising hum and straightens his shoulders, jerking his head towards his brother and declaring, “You will stay close to Strife.”

Wait… You will?

“I will?” you say aloud, sending the other Horseman a distrustful glance. Strife, for his part, looks conversely pleased with the verdict, his head tipping coltishly to one side as he gives you a little wave.

… Well, you suppose if you have to choose between the two, the less time you spend near War the better. You assume he feels the same about having to be close to you, at least until he adds, “If we run into trouble, his guns allow him range. He will not let anything to get close to you.”

“They’re welcome to try,” his brother says cheerfully, thumbing the stock of a revolver.

Wilting like a helpless flower plucked from its patch of earth, you weakly ask, “Do I have a choice?”

Giving a hearty chuckle, Strife takes an exaggerated step closer to your side and pivots on his heel to face the same direction, cheerfully replying, “Ah, c’mon. Don’t be like that. I thought you humans were social. Safety in numbers, and all that?”

Disconcerted by his proximity, you lean away from him, cupping your elbows. “That’s not true for all of us,” you mumble.

You hear his intake of breath and prepare yourself for yet more inane chatter, but at that moment, you jump as another howl – distant but hair-raising – comes drifting into the chamber from some unknown offshoot deeper in the keep’s depths.

“Fucking hell,” you quake, your voice shaking like glass on the verge of shattering.

At your side, Strife mutters, “My sentiments exactly.”

Raising his head to catch War’s eye, he swings his chin towards the only visible exit; the apex of a wide, stone staircase that winds down away from the chamber, disappearing into a tunnel below. “You wanna take point?”

War’s response is a rich, throaty hum, accompanied by a decisive nod. “Indeed, we have wasted more than enough time here. Let us find Vulgrim’s troubling demon and pry the artifact from its cold, dead hands.”

“Ohho-okay!” Strife grins, suddenly gleeful as he claps his hands together, “Now you’re getting me excited.”

Rolling his eyes, War turns away and makes for the stairs, swinging his arm up to clip Chaoseater into its usual place on his back. Blankly watching him leave, you give a start when something metal and solid nudges at the small of your back, prodding you to stumble forwards awkwardly until Strife’s knuckles drop and he falls into step beside you, one stride for every two and a half of yours.

 “I love it when he gets like this,” he remarks.

 Begrudgingly, you resign yourself to trail after his brother and ask, “What? Murderous?”

“Oh yeah. Even he can be fun.” Tilting his head to the side in thought, he adds, “On occasion.”

Sweat has been steadily gathering on your forehead, and as you finally begin to move, a tiny droplet breaks free of your brow and trickles slowly down the side of your face. Of all the days to get swept up in a Universe-spanning caper, it would be the day you elected to wear one of the most awkward and cumbersome dresses known to man.

“So far none of this has been fun,” you huff, reaching up to flick the sweat drop away with a finger.

Strife’s boots hit the top step and he twists his helm sideways to shoot you a mock-offended smirk, “Not even me?”

You don’t bother to respond to that, instead throwing nervous glances around the room as you lift the front of your skirts and start to descend the staircase, your heels clacking noisily against the hard stone underfoot and echoing off the high walls. Somewhere nearby, you can hear liquid lava squeaking and splintering as it hits the marginally cooler air, though the heat only seems to grow more stifling the further you venture.

Absently, you wonder if you remembered to put your setting spray in the bag.

The staircase spirals down into the depths of a tunnel, twisting out of view and giving you no concept of what might lay ahead. To your left, you note the presence of tall, metal spikes jutting from a pit that runs alongside the stairs, like a wrought-iron fence whose purpose has been retrofitted into an inefficient and hostile railing. From the corner of an eye, you spot something round and ivory impaled halfway down one of those spikes. A single glimpse is all you need before you immediately avert your gaze to the stairs ahead, heart thumping in your chest. Behind you, a pair of dark, unseeing eye sockets seem to sear into your back as you continue your descent.

As you move lower, more signs start to appear that you aren’t the only visitors to this keep. Sconces line the wall, roaring with open flames that cast the path ahead in an orange glow. Two, iron firepits stand on either side of the staircase at its base, and it’s here that War has paused. It strikes you that in spite of his size, he’s slightly more camouflaged in this place than he was in the void, his scarlet cloak and dark grey armour blending well with the rock and heat around him.

As you and Strife come to a stop behind War, you lean sideways and find yourself peering tentatively into the space beyond his bulk.

The tunnel has opened up into another spacious chamber, and the path beyond the stairs has opened up too, into a vast, circular area with no walls or boundaries, nothing but another deep pit that sweeps around it, carrying a river of flowing, basaltic lava to somewhere further into the - as Strife had called it -‘dungeon.’

Maybe you really are in some kind of volcano. The urge to find a way out of here increases dramatically, but with Strife watching your back a little too closely and War cutting off an escape from the front, your options, at the moment, are quite limited.

At last, War takes a step out onto the level ground, then another and another, stalking forwards with his head on a constant swivel, vigilant. Strife, in the meantime, walks out with a confident swagger, ensuring to walk slightly behind you to keep you moving up in front.

Tearing your eyes off the pit, you focus instead on the behemoth stomping ahead of you. He’s already on the other side by the time you and Strife make it halfway across. For a split second, you almost let yourself feel a pinch of guilt for wearing such inappropriate shoes and slowing the Horsemen down, but you’re just as quick to take the feeling and grind it up under said heels, curling your lip distastefully. You weren’t exactly given a chance to pack for this ‘excursion.’

“Y’know,” Strife says abruptly, breaking you from your thoughts, and just in time too. You glance down and see the lip of the platform’s edge rise up to meet you. It likely would have tripped you if you’d remained lost in your head. “I’ve been thinking…”

“Death will be pleased to hear it,” War remarks from up ahead.

The back of his hood receives a simmering glare, but Strife is quick to brush the dig aside and continue, “If Lucifer is as dangerous as the Council says he is, why’d they send just the two of us?”

If the uneven ground didn’t manage to trip you up, his comment definitely does. Stumbling on the heel of your foot, you hurriedly try to right yourself, swatting irritably at Strife’s hand that reaches out to steady you. There’s that name again. Lucifer. Would it be naïve of you to hope that their ‘mission’ doesn’t somehow involve the Biblical Devil? You’ve managed to survive for the better part of an hour, but you don’t like how the odds are quickly stacking up against you with every step you take.

“Death and Fury attend to other matters,” War responds simply, “It is not our place to question the will of the Council.”

Apparently unable to let his brother’s earlier tease slide after all, Strife rolls his eyes and quips, “It’s not my place to question your wardrobe, but I still think your armour could use some more creepy faces on it.”

You’re not sure how much you like trailing in between the sizeable men, especially when the more sizeable of the two slows his gait to aim a vicious snarl over his shoulder. “Must everything be a joke to you?” War snaps, “The Council-!”

“-Ugh!” Cutting his brother off with a pompous groan, Strife throws his helm back. “You really need to lighten up.” Then, lowering his voice to a deeper pitch, apparently for the sole purpose of mocking the far scarier Horseman, he taunts, “The Council this, and The Council that! You wanna hear an actual joke?”

Facing forwards again, War responds with a firm, flat, “No.”

Strife, of course, doesn’t seem to have the same reservations as you do about antagonising someone with the name ‘War.’

In fact, you carry yourself so rigidly in fear of being caught in the middle of a scrap that you almost have the wind knocked out of you quite literally when Strife chimes in with a phrase so familiar to you, you just about choke on your own spit.

“Knock knock…”

The classic setup, so universally understood that you almost wonder if humans are born with an inbuilt recognition system designed to identify two simple, unassuming words.

The three of you pass beneath an open portcullis, but you barely notice the jagged bars of iron looming above you because you’re so busy trying to pick your jaw up off the ground.

You can’t see Strife’s face, and you don’t dare turn around to gape at him in case you end up taking a painful tumble. Instead, numbly, you continue to stare ahead with unblinking eyes, vaguely taking in the narrow path ahead of you, and the apparent end of it fast approaching.

War makes a dismissive sound, an irked mutter of something too low for you to make out.

Clearing his throat when he doesn’t receive a response, Strife prompts, “You’re supposed to say, ‘who’s there?”

You can’t quite believe you’re hearing this. Perhaps the idea that you’ve been drugged isn’t so unlikely after all because this isn’t something you could ever come up with sober.

Ahead of you, the stone pathway falls away in an abrupt drop, and the ceiling of the tunnel disappears, both opening out into yet another cavern, this one more spacious than the first two.

Or, you continue to muse to yourself, maybe you really did die in that church graveyard, and the chemicals released in your brain have conjured a hallucination of this pair of giants to serve as some unconvincing reapers who will guide you into the afterlife.

War comes to a stop at the edge of the escarpment, and unseen by you or Strife, his expression scrunches up in confusion and he asks, “Why would I give away my location? I would simply smash through the door and face my assailant.”

Oh. Wow. That’s…

“Ugh, you’re hopeless,” Strife complains as he draws to a halt just behind you and his brother on the rocky ledge. For a second, he’s distracted with casting his keen eye over the chamber, so he doesn’t notice you lower your face to the floor, your lips pursed like you’re trying to keep a cough in.

He does, however, notice straight away when, instead of escaping through your mouth, the sound you’re desperately trying to hold in finds its escape through your nose instead, and out jumps a sharp, unbecoming ‘snort!’

It’s unexpected. So much so that you’re just as surprised to hear it as the Horsemen. At once, you slap a palm over the lower half of your face in horror, a cold rush of dread trickling down into your stomach.

Eyes blown wide open, you stare at the ground, only too aware of the heavy silence that settles over you like a blanket, thicker than the heat pressing in all around you. You’re not even willing to raise your head because you can feel two sets of eyes watching you from above.

For too long, all you can hear is the ringing in your ears and your own pulse throbbing just beneath the skin of your temples. The silence swells, tuning up like an orchestra, deafening you to every sound save for that accursed, high-pitched ringing caused by the crushing grit of your teeth.

“Did…?” Strife’s voice cuts through the atmosphere like a headsman’s axe, “Did you just… laugh?”

Your jaw eases apart, and the ringing fades.

The telltale ‘clunk’ of War’s boots alert you to him turning from the ledge, pointing himself in your direction instead.

Suddenly and appropriately alarmed that you just snorted at someone nearly three times your size, you instantly shift from freeze to flight and throw your head up, only to find yourself blinking apprehensively into War’s face, etched with his signature frown.

“I-I wasn’t laughing at you,” you rush out, backing away from the scowling Horseman a little too far and ending up colliding right into Strife’s torso.

With a tiny yelp, you leap forwards again, tossing glances back and forth between them whilst they continue to stare you down. “It’s just-! I haven’t heard a knock-knock joke in so long, it… It just surprised me.”

A pause ensues, and then quietly – eagerly – Strife asks, “You know what knock-knock jokes are?”

Wondering why that’s his first question, you offer him a timid nod. And then you’re immediately flinching away from him when he barks out an abrupt, disbelieving laugh and straightens up, his chest swelling proudly.

“No kidding. Y’know, not to brag,” he brags, jabbing a thumb into his sternum, “But I practically invented knock-knock jokes.”

Well, who are you to argue with the man carrying two guns? “O-oh?”

“Brother,” War complains, “We do not have time for your-“

“-Here! Here, try this one,” Strife rushes out, leaning towards you a little too fast for your liking, “Knock knock.”

You start to get the impression he’s been waiting for an opportunity like this to come along for quite some time. Sparing his brother a nervous glance, you wet your lips and tentatively indulge him, “Uh, okay, who’s there?”

Taking a breath as if he means to brace himself, Strife says, “The interrupting War.”

Oh… Oh, for God’s sake...

You try to steady the muscles in your cheeks, sending another wary look over at the juggernaut clenching his fists by the ledge.

Still, with Strife waiting for an answer, you slowly and dutifully sigh, “The interrupting War wh-“

You knew it was coming. You knew the gist of the punchline if not the punchline itself, but you’re still wholly unprepared when Strife cuts you off by crossing his arms over his chest and letting out a loud, resounding growl.

 “Grr! The Council~!”

Squeezing your eyes shut, you immediately purse your lips, your cheeks aching with the effort of keeping a straight face. You wonder if this is the start of another emotional breakdown because the joke isn’t even particularly funny, but there’s just a familiarity to the formula that almost comes as a welcome relief, like Earth isn’t so far away after all.

A brother teasing his sibling… There’s something almost human about it, abating just the tiniest modicum of terror bubbling away inside your stomach.

Clearing your throat, you keep your lips puckered and inhale deeply through your nostrils in an attempt to compose yourself. Perhaps its Strife’s enthusiasm that lends itself to the humour of the situation, or perhaps it’s simply the absurdity of such a large and formidable brute doing something as innocuous as telling you a knock-knock joke at the expense of his brother, but whatever the case may be, when you open your mouth to tell him it wasn’t that funny, your lips spring up at their corners, contradicting you immediately.

“Think it needs some work,” you say, your voice wobbling.

“Needs work?” he parrots, his own mouth quirking into a grin as he clocks your expression, “Then why are you smiling?”

It takes no small amount of effort to wrestle your face back under control. “I’m not smiling,” you insist, “That isn’t how humans smile.”

Strife, naturally, isn’t fooled at all.

“Ah ha! It is! She’s smiling!” he gloats, jabbing his thumbs at his own mask, “I’m funny! And you-!” Swivelling his head up to War, he pokes a finger at his brother’s face and declares, “You were wrong.”

You make the mistake of glimpsing underneath the stoic Horseman’s hood, wincing when you find him sporting an expression of absolute thunder. He glowers down at you as if to say, ‘Now look at what you’ve started.’

Outwardly, he flattens his brows and exhales slowly through his nose, “Yes, you must be very proud that you’ve found the one, sole creature in the Universe who finds you almost as funny as you find yourself.”

Flapping a hand dismissively at his brother’s words, Strife blows a snort through his lips and tuts, “Ah, you’re just jealous she likes me better.”

You decide not to chime in with the fact that you don’t, in fact, particularly like either of them.

Besides, if War is at all concerned with his new ranking, he certainly doesn’t bother to let you know.

“If you are quite finished cheapening our reputation…” he growls, whirling away from Strife and stepping up to the very edge of the platform.

“Oh, I haven’t even gotten started.”

Before you can protest, the masked Horseman lays a hand on your back and nudges you forwards until you’re standing next to his brother, then takes up his own lookout on the escarpment to your left.

Snugly sandwiched between them, you squash your arms into your sides, grimacing at the sharp angles of their armour that threaten to snag your dress as you try to shuffle backwards, but you don’t manage to retreat further than a few inches before you happen to cast a cursory look out at the view ahead and promptly freeze in your tracks.

Eyes bulging, your jaw falls open and you let out a soft, incredulous breath, your brain racing to take stock of what it’s seeing.

“Oh god.”

The path ends abruptly, falling away just a few paces from the toes of your shoes. And waiting beyond the precipice is a rock-walled cavern of absolutely phenomenal scale, far larger than those you’ve already come through. At its centre, rising from a chasm down below, there’s a rocky platform large enough to fit your house within its dimensions several times over. From what you can see, there isn’t any conceivable way to cross over to it, save for sprouting wings and flying. You’re not even confident you could pitch a tennis ball across the gap and have it land on the other side.

Scalding heat prickles your brow, and when you glance down to see where it stems from, you give an audible gasp as you look past the toes of your shoes and over the pathway’s crumbling edge.

Far, far below you, a stomach-churning drop lays in wait.

Thirty… forty-something feet of shimmering air is all that stands between you and a vast lake of red-hot lava.

“Hey, look down there,” Strife’s voice twitches your ear.

At your side, he raises an arm to point at the platform and says, “See that grate?”

With no small effort, you wrench your eyes off the pit of death and lift it to the level of raised stone, blinking your eyes hard to moisten them again after staring at the lava.

At once, you spot what he’s indicating.

Right at the centre of the platform, set into the stone floor itself, is a large, circular grate, vaguely reminiscent of the bars of a prison cell.

From the darkness below it, you can just make out a faint, pink glow seeping through the metal gridiron.

War answers his brother with a hum that vibrates in your chest.

“What’d you think?” Strife prods, “Reckon that’s where they’ve stashed Vulgrim’s artefact?”

Studying it for a few seconds, War eventually nods. “Something is definitely down there…” he murmurs, “No doubt that grate is heavily fortified.”

Shooting him a sly look, the smaller Horseman adds, “Shouldn’t be too much of a problem for you to pick the lock though, right?”

It’s disconcerting to see War with any expression other than a scowl, so to witness him return a smirk over the top of your head sends a veritable shiver right up your spine.

Lifting his arms, he slams his fist into the palm of his gauntlet with a resounding ‘thwack.’

Amused, Strife turns to thrust his chin at the gut-wrenching gap between the path you’re standing on and the edge of the central platform.

“What about that? Think you can make that jump?”

“J-jump!?” you blurt out, whipping your head up to stare at him like he’s lost his mind.

Hell, maybe he has.

Briefly, War’s eyes flit down to you before he returns his gaze to his fellow Horseman, scoffing, “Is that a serious question?”

And without another word, he begins taking several steps backwards, away from the ledge.

“Wait,” you sputter, shooting him an incredulous look as he continues to back up along the path, “You’re not really going to-“

You don’t even get to finish your sentence.

Before you can blink, War pushes off on his back foot and lurches forwards, his boots pounding against the stone hard enough to send powerful quakes all along the path as he charges straight for the edge.

You think you let out an alarmed yelp, but there’s not much else you can do except helplessly gawk as the Horseman, laden down by his heavy, clanking armour, plants his boot centimetres from the crumbling edge of the path and unceremoniously launches himself, his sword, and all of his bulk off solid ground, soaring out over the lava-drowned chasm below.

With a comically loud gasp, you slap your palms over your eyes, yet you can’t resist peeking through splayed fingers to watch.

Why the Hell would he do that!? There’s no way he’ll make it, you tell yourself, not with all that weight dragging him down.

You wanted to get away from him, yes but… shit. You didn’t want him to get himself killed doing it!

It’s as if you’re staring at a runaway train, waiting in morbid fascination for it to derail. Something in the nature of a disaster unfolding keeps you rooted to the spot, unable to tear your attention away from it.  

There’s power and grace in the way War sails over the gap, an impossible feat, further than any Olympic gold medallist would ever hope to achieve. And then, to your utmost astonishment, he makes it.

Metal boots hit the stone platform with an almighty ‘clang’ on the other side, and he dips his knees as he lands to absorb the impact.

You’re almost certain you can see the whole structure quiver from the force.

For several moments, you merely stand there with your mouth hanging ajar whilst War rises to his full height again and turns around, tipping his face up to see you staring back at him, your eyes wide with unconcealed awe.

“How. The fuck…?” you say emphatically, blowing out a disbelieving little whistle. You might not trust the man, but even you can appreciate a good stunt when you see one. Giving your head a shake, you briefly forget you’re supposed to be their kidnappee and gush, “That was incredible!”

Your voice carries easily across the sizeable gap and reaches the Horseman’s ears, erasing the hard line between his brows. Taken aback, War blinks, pressing his lips together bashfully in lieu of a response. ‘Perhaps it was rather impressive,’ he privately concedes, ‘from a human’s perspective…’

Back on the escarpment, Strife’s keen gaze makes out the befuddled expression warping his brother’s typically impassive face, and he sends several glances between you and War, pursing his lips at the glimmer lighting up your eyes.

“Oh yeah?” he huffs, “You think that was impressive?”

A loud clap rings out across the cavern, causing you to jump as Strife smacks his palms together. “Okay, little miss,” he announces behind you, “Your turn.”

Just like that, the colour promptly drains from your face. “My what?”

You don’t have time to spin around and face him, for not a second later, a powerful arm scoops your legs out from underneath you whilst the other snakes around the back of your shoulders, hauling you clean off the floor and pressing you to a hard, armoured chest.

“Oh for-! Stop grabbing me!” you complain, planting your hands on his clavicle and shoving yourself away as best you can, “Are you insane!? I am not jumping over that!”

Cocking his helm at you, he spares you an innocent blink. “You’re not?”

You don’t like how much levity is lacing his tone.

“NO!” you squawk, aghast, “Absolutely not! Let me go!”

One of the Horseman’s eyes narrows to squint at you before he angles his helm very pointedly towards the platform. “You sure?”

Something about his question gives you pause.

Hesitating, you snap your head in the same direction and follow his line of sight. It doesn’t take you more than a second to glean the bastard’s intent.

Now you really don’t like the way he’s looking at you, his upturned eyelids the clearest indication that he’s smiling quite broadly underneath his visor.

Your stomach gives an unpleasant lurch.

“Oh, if you dare…” you hiss.

Daringly, he raises his sizeable shoulders in a shrug and chirps, “Lesson one; Don’t ever dare a Horseman, kid. You’re always bound to lose.”

He wouldn’t…

Flashing you a golden wink, Strife turns his body sideways and swings you to the right, like a rugby player readying a forward pass.

It finally occurs to you that, oh, good god, he would.

“Wait-! WA-WAIT! STRIFE!” Issuing a high-pitched, wordless scream, you start to flail, but his ironclad grip on your legs and shoulders keeps you from launching yourself out of his arms.

Somewhere across the chasm, War’s voice drifts up to you, though you hardly hear it above your undignified shrieks. “Brother?”

The muscles around you bunch up, solidifying as hard as the stone underfoot.

“See you on the other side!” is all the cheery warning you get.

“Don’t you DA---AAAAARRRGGHHH!”

He’s moving before you can think to adhere yourself to his arm.

Sidestepping into a purposeful bound, the Horseman flings his arms to the left, with you in tow, and when they get to the zenith of his reach, they disappear out from under you, letting you go hurtling spine first out over the chasm like a screaming, thrashing blimp, dress and all.

You have several phobias that you were aware of before you fell into this godforsaken place. Phobias that, for the most part, have been quite avoidable in your day-to-day life.

Finding yourself suspended in the air over a pit without a safety net underneath you… add some lava to break your fall, and you suddenly realise as you’re flying through empty space that you’ve just discovered an entirely new phobia to add to the list.

Sailing in a none-too graceful arch, you stare in disbelief back at the silver Horseman on the ledge, your dress billows out behind you and the scorching air whips your veil over your face, tugging at your hair where the grips are heroically keeping it situated. Likewise, some subconscious part of you instructs your toes to grip like vices on the insoles of your heels, valiantly trying to stop them from plummeting off your feet.

Inevitably, as is the case with the laws of physics, you reach the height of your curve, and that’s when gravity seizes you by the heart and starts to drag you back down, sending your stomach crashing up into your diaphragm.

Time seems to slow as you descend, reaching back for Strife as if he could somehow stretch across the gap and catch you. You can’t see behind yourself, and it’s all you can do to hope that you pass out on the way down, so you don’t have to feel your body melt into a puddle in the hungry maw of the lava below.

It hurts your chest something fierce to think that the last anyone will see of you is your terror-stricken face and your raised hand closing into a fist, bar one choicely extended finger.

The hot wind screams past your ears and you screw your eyes shut tight, squeezing out the last tears you’re ever going to cry. Your father’s face flashes in your mind’s eye, and you wonder what you did to set off this chain of events.

Strife said he wouldn’t hurt you…

What a joke.

‘WHAM!’

Your mouth jerks open, wheezing out a gasp as something suddenly slams into you from behind, knocking the air violently from your lungs. Or rather, you crash into something with the force of a white, ruffled meteorite and nearly lose your heart through your open mouth.

At first, you assume you must have smacked into the hard side of the platform, but then the Something you’ve collided with grunts, and you hurriedly wrench your eyes open, coming to focus on a monstrous, metal gauntlet that’s secured itself under your knees, crushing your dress between prodigious fingers whilst something equally large presses across your shoulder blades.

With a kick in the guts, you realise you’re being held aloft in much the same way Strife had been holding you mere moments ago.

He caught you… War caught you.

Finally, you remember to gulp in a noisy breath to refill your desperate lungs.

You’re not dead.

But you are, in fact, shaking.

And as the revelation that you’re still alive sets in, your limbs start to wobble in earnest.

“STRIFE!” You visibly flinch when War’s terrible, wonderful, abrasive, beautiful voice booms like a claxon right above your head. “You fool!”

Even through layers of solid metal and leather padding, the Horseman can feel you trembling under his palms. Propping your neck in the crook of his elbow, he lifts his head to level a snarl up at where Strife still stands on the escarpment whilst you unclench your fists from your lap, heaving air in and out of your lungs in hysterical little bursts.

“What were you thinking!?” he bellows.

Leaning over the side to look down at you and your unwitting saviour, Strife throws his arms out wide and argues, “She said to let her go!”

“You knew what she meant!” A deep thrum rolls around in his chest, spreading up his throat and spilling out in another growl so deep it rattles the teeth in your skull. “You could have damaged her!”

“Oh relax, I wouldn’t have tossed her if I didn’t think you’d catch her.”

War slides his lips back to reveal his inhumanly sharp canines, but at that moment, something tugs very lightly at the fabric of his cowl.

Faltering, he angles his chin down and nearly gives a start.

Tiny hands have wandered towards him, found the scarlet material hanging from around his neck and latched onto it with possessive intent, fingers twisting themselves into his cowl and getting lost amongst the folds, as if you fully expect him to toss you over the side as well. The strange, white veneer lays draped across your face, so he can’t see your expression when you unexpectedly twist about in his arms and pull yourself a little closer to his chest.

Caught off guard, War remains stock-still, seriously contemplating whether or not he should drop you right then and there to spare himself from Strife’s potential teasing.

His bulging arms give a twitch, which in turn causes you to cringe, letting out a quiet bleat and further entangling your fingers around his cowl.

This, War decides, was not in the job description when the Charred Council made him a Horseman. Still, whatever he might think of you, he can’t bring himself to drop you in a heap on the ground.

For once, he might be out of his depth.

As soon as the notion occurs to him, he brusquely flicks it away with a toss of his head.

Taking a large step back, he slowly ambles himself about until he’s facing away from Strife and the platform’s edge, then stomps several paces towards the central grate, only stopping once he hears the loud clang of metallic boots hitting the stone behind him as his fellow Horseman leaps to the lower level.

Gingerly, almost as though he expects you to shatter if he moves too quickly, War bends down until he’s almost on a knee and starts to withdraw the arm that’s wrapped around your legs, a stoic frown tugging his brows towards the centre of his forehead when you refuse to let go of his hood.

Grumbling, he lowers you until your shoes click on the stone floor, and then he slips his hand out from under your knees, moving it up and taking both of your wrists between his gauntlet’s fingertips and thumb, mindful of the delicate limbs he’s handling.

He can still recall how you’d nearly crumpled to your knees when he got a little heavy handed trying to apply the poultice to your arm. He truly thought he had been correct in gauging the pressure he needed to apply to your flesh to draw blood. He’d only meant to take a little. Just enough to prove the validity of your claim. What an idea that had turned out to be. If War were being honest with himself, he’d been outright startled when your skin peeled open so readily to admit Chaoseater’s blade.

So, if he’s a little more careful in prying your hands off his cowl than he ought to be, well, that’s his own business.

It doesn’t take much coaxing before you seem to come back into yourself.

With a sudden jolt, you wrench your hands away from his hood and start to struggle valiantly with the veil on your face, flipping it back over your head and choking on a sob as your knees start to buckle.

Planting both of his palms on your shoulders, War hauls you upright again.

“Steady,” he murmurs as if he’s addressing a wounded soldier, not a frightened human, “On your feet.”

The sound of clanking boots drifts closer, approaching from his rear.

War bristles, but he’s not the only one who heard Strife’s footsteps.

“You okay, kid?” the gunslinger’s voice drifts over to you, and War watches your jaw cinch shut, the hands at your sides curling into fists as you attempt to stop them from shaking.

Whirling around, you tear yourself from the Horseman’s gauntlets, your dress twirling gracefully around your ankles to find Strife standing a few paces behind you, paused halfway between one step and the next.

Blurting out a delirious laugh, you shoot him a bloodshot stare, half tempted to rip your bag off and lob it at his head.

“Am I okay?!” you echo, “Have you completely lost your mind!?”

Peering down at you appraisingly, War makes a sound that might be affirming, and even his brother lifts a hand to tilt it back and forth in a ‘so-so’ motion.

Breathing hard, you resist the urge to scream and instead lower your head, massaging at your throbbing temples.

Slowly, through gritted teeth, you seethe, “I am trapped… inside a volcano… with two of the scariest people I’ve ever met…”

Strife shares a look with War, the former’s frame wilting as if he’s put out, while the latter, by contrast, almost seems proud of the achievement.

“I,” you continue, a humourless grin straining at your lips, “Just found out that demons exist! I also found out that Lucifer is apparently real…! It is my fucking wedding day!” Vitriol drips from your teeth like venom, and with each passing word, your voice grows louder and louder. “And! I just got chucked! Like a…  like a fucking pigskin over a river! Of LAVA!”

All around you, the cavern echoes with the throes of your furious shout, bouncing off the rock walls and coming back to you ten times over before it fades into an uneasy silence.

Lungs heaving with the effort of raising your voice, you stop to breathe, finding, to your dismay, that tears are spilling onto your cheeks, only to start evaporating on your skin in the smouldering heat.

Clearing your throat, you sweep a few fingertips delicately beneath your eyes and wipe away the lingering evidence of moisture cutting tracks through your blusher. “So, no,” you sniffle, “For your information, I am not o-fucking-kay… I think I’m about as far from okay as it gets.”

It’s almost satisfying that the gung-ho Horseman can in fact be made to shut up.

Fidgeting idly with the gauntlet on his left hand, Strife shoots several glances at War, but finds no source of assistance in his fellow Nephilim’s cold, critical glare.

“Uh,” he starts, clenching his hands into fists and opening them again, “I mean… it was kind of funny, right?” He lets out a chuckle that falls painfully flat. “You should’ve seen your face.”

Your jaw begins to ache from grinding your teeth together like you’re trying to crush coal into diamonds.

“Knock-knock jokes are funny,” you say stiffly, turning away from him to scowl at the ground, “People don’t get hurt.”

Draping a hand over his hip, Strife lowers his voice and asks, “Come on, you really thought I’d let you get hurt?”

“OF COURSE I DID!” you suddenly bellow so loudly your voice cracks, “You threw me over a lava pit!”

“War caught you, didn’t he?”

“What if he hadn’t!?”

Strife doesn’t even hesitate before he offers his palms to the ceiling and says, “Then I wouldn’t’ve done it.”

“Why the hell would you-!? Why even take the risk!?”

“There never was any risk,” he shrugs far too nonchalantly, sending his brother a knowing look, “Besides, this is a good thing, right? Now you know you can trust War to keep you alive.”

Pulling a face, you allow a spiteful scoff to burst out of your mouth, arms folding sternly across your chest. “Oh, so that was all so you could prove some point to me, was it? Jesus, what is wrong with you?!”

“Now there’s a door best left unopened,” War chimes in.

At last recognising that there’s some, invisible line he’s crossed, Strife holds his hands up placatingly. “Look,” he concedes, scratching at the back of his head and disturbing the thick spines of ebony hair growing behind his helm, “After what happened back in the Void, I just thought, if we proved we could keep you safe, you’d… maybe start to trust us a little more, y’know?”

You have to take a moment to stare at him, waiting for his words to sink in for you, and hopefully for him as well. “So… you thought you’d show me you can keep me safe by… launching me over a lava pit, and expecting me to know your brother would catch me?”

The Horseman doesn’t speak for several seconds. When he eventually does, he crosses his arms over his chest and huffs, “I mean, if you’re only gonna focus on the first part, sure the plan had holes.”

“Well,” you say haughtily, “No offence, but I trust you two about as far as I could throw you. Which, you’ll be shocked to hear, isn’t very far at all. And unlike you-“ Here, you jab a finger up at his silver visor. “- I’m not strong enough to go around throwing people off the edge of cliffs!”

Once again, Strife remains silent, rapping his fingertips on a metal bicep. Soon enough however, he lowers his head and peers up at you from beneath the lip of his helm’s sockets, prodding, “It was a pretty good throw though, huh?”

“It was a very good throw!” you agree sharply, blowing out a rough exhale as your heartbeat finally begins to ease off the throttle, “Neither of you even had a run up. You two are like something straight out of a comic book… Except without the charisma… and altruism...”

“Comic…?” War asks, frowning, “Then… you are amused?”

“No, not comic like-…” You inhale. You exhale. “Never mind. Weren’t you guys supposed to be looking for something?”

Just like that, the pair of titans straighten up with a start, and you wonder if their ‘mission’ really had slipped their minds for a while.

Rolling his shoulders back, War just grumbles something inaudible and begins moving purposefully towards the grate.

You stand back to let him pass, chewing thoughtfully on your bottom lip as you mull over what you’re about to say.

“Hey, big guy?”

At once, War stops and swivels his head sideways, silver hair spilling out from underneath his hood.

Shuffling awkwardly on your feet, you avoid the pale, unblinking eye that’s trained on your face and call, “Thanks…. For catching me.”

You won’t thank him for healing your arm when he was the one who cut it in the first place. But this? You can swallow your grudge for this. At least for a little while.

Several seconds tick by without a response, and the only sound you can hear is the heavy clanking of boots on stone as Strife ventures up behind you.

And then at last, War’s head falls and rises in an almost imperceptible nod.

When he turns away, you suddenly feel like you can breathe again.

How can one man be so intimidating just by standing still and saying nothing?

You’ve already deduced that the two Horsemen are like chalk and cheese, with one half of the duo serving as the strong, silent type, and the other, a smart-mouthed chatterbox.

… Speaking of whom.

Just as you start to trail after War towards the centre of the platform, an enormous shape sidles up next to you, easily keeping pace with your diminutive gait.

“Hey…” Strife tries, actually sounding hesitant for a change, “Knock-knock.”

Ah. There it is.

“Strife…” His name still sounds foreign on your tongue. “I’m… look, I’m not in the mood, okay?”

“…”

Scoffing quietly, you give your head a defeated shake and sigh, “Fine… Who’s there?”

“Eyes wear.”

… Okay?

“…Eyes wear who?” you venture, hesitant.

Swivelling his helm towards you, Strife bends his neck down, chasing after your face even as you try to ignore him by staring straight ahead.

“Eyes wear to… never throw you across any more chasms,” he offers, tipping his helm upright again, “Lava filled or otherwise. How’s that sound?”

Your lips quiver. “Wow,” you drawl, “I think that was even worse than the last one.”

“Oh yeah?” he replies coyly, “Then why’re you smiling?”

You jerk to a halt mid stride, taking stock of your expression.

Damnit. You are smiling.

You’re a little too slow to force the corners of your lips back down into a straight line, and of course, Strife sees it, tipping his chin back to peer at you triumphantly. You may not be able to see his mouth beneath the visor but judging by the upturned curve of his golden eyes, you just know the smug son of a bitch is grinning from ear to ear.

“I was not smiling,” you insist.

Quick as a whip, he retorts, “Well now you’re lying.”

Stuffing your teeth into your bottom lip, you kick yourself into gear and speed up, marching up to where War has stopped by the grate. “I am not lying, I’m leaving.”

The Horseman’s chuckle haunts you all the way across the platform.

#darksiders #darksiders genesis #strife x reader #war x reader #bride reader #fluff #angst #hurt/comfort #Strife being Strife #Fear #Bad Knock knock jokes #Reader has had enough

[hadesoftheladies]

FEMALE MOVIE/TV RECS (PART 5 / HORROR & CRIME DRAMA)

got inspired from a recommendation post so decided to make a list of movies and shows with female-centric stories/female protagonists. since i can't post all of the genres in one post, i'll split it into multiple posts and y'all can save or add to the list as you wish. (disclaimer: i have watched most of these, but i only know about the existence of others. not every movie/show on these lists will be my recommendation. my recommendations will be beneath the list with reasons. also some of these are way better than others in terms of storytelling/performance--which is why i'll list my faves separately):

Common Themes:

-Dangerous girls (they ain't innocent)/ girlhood as violent

-Stressed out and melancholic female detectives and authors (lots of drinking/smoking)

-Mothers who've seen too fucking much to play games/I'm a good mother until it doesn't let up

-Women handling shit/getting shit done

-Mothers who didn't want to be mothers but here we fucking are so might as well handle shit

-Evil women who are also unfortunately hot

-Female sociopaths (not always negatively portrayed)

HAVEN'T WATCHED

The Royal Hotel

The Silent Twins

The Kitchen

The Lost Flowers of Alice Hart

I'm Thinking of Ending Things

Sharp Objects

Killing Eve

Abigail

Heavenly Creatures

A Quiet Place Part 2

Panic Room

Alice, Darling

Blood Red Sky

Rust Creek

The Marsh King's Daughter

Pearl

GOOD STUFF (NEVER WATCHING AGAIN THOUGH!)

Bad Sisters (8/10) (sisters plan to kill their sister's abusive husband)

Yellowjackets (9/10) (love as cannibalism)

Candy (7.5/10) (she's just a killer lol)

Cruella (6.5/10)(help my mom is a narcissist and it's hereditary)

Jennifer's Body (7/10) (boys aren't people lmao)

Bird Box (8/10)

Under the Bridge (8/10)

PERSONAL NOTES

I watched Tragedy Girls years ago, and I remember being grossed out and having a lot of fun as well. If you like Jennifer's Body, you'll probably like Tragedy Girls, too. And if you like Tragedy Girls, you may also enjoy Thoroughbreds. All three have a twisted sense of girlpower.

The Call isn't scary so much as its nerve-wracking and upsetting. It's not gory (although there is violence), but it deals with heavy subject matter. I can, however, promise a satisfying ending. Even though I doubt it would put you at ease.

Horror is my least favourite genre so bear that in mind. I just hate jump scares (because I hate being startled) and I don't like gore though there are times where it doesn't bother me so much. So this is definitely not an exhaustive list on horror recs. Crime is as close as I usually get to such dark stuff so I put the dark crimes, psychological thrillers and horrors together. I don't even want to talk about these that much because I'm nauseous already.

Watch at your own risk.

#this stuff isn't good for people with anxiety like me #but some of these are so dern interesting #radblr #feminism #female centric media #horror #drama #crime drama #thriller #female centric crime #female horror #female psychological thrillers #psychological thrillers #hadesoftheladies rec list #pearl #birdbox #abigail #the royal hotel #tragedy girls #thoroughbreds #heavenly creatures #jennifer's body #the call #alice darling #panic room #blood red sky #cruella #the quiet place 2 #killing eve #rust creek

[wingsofescape]

I hope I'm not jinxing this, but...

Also having way too much fun with Scapple's image drag and drop option for mind-mapping

(Yes chapter 12 - working title: Something Can Grow - is shaping up to be angsty as fuck)

#in the cracks of light fic #we're writing bitches!! #edwin #when i tell you i really was about to hang my hat and abandon this fic #but we're almost at 1k for the first draft and i don't *hate* what i've written so it's progress #finally getting excited about the process again #also also would you readers be interested in chapter moodboards? Like a collection of quotes that reflect the themes of each itcol chapter #because i'm having way too much fun putting these together

[cerise-on-top]

Easter with König

It's another holiday, which means I'm going to make my favorite fictional Austrian go through the holidays as well. First was Fasching, now it's Easter! If I have to celebrate it, then so does König, except he gets to have a better time doing it!

I wouldn’t be surprised if you’d meet his family during Easter. It’s a tradition of his to go to his parents’ home during that time for a visit and a chat, he only sees them maybe twice a year, so he can appreciate having a small get together with them. He normally gets along well with his parents, but he’s lost most of the contact he had with them ever since he hit his mid 20’s, but he does look forward to seeing them. Naturally, he’d take you along for the ride, regardless of whether you actually know German or not. He can play interpreter for you, it’s not a problem for him. But if you know German already? All the better, that way his parents and you can just talk to each other with no problems. He does hope that you’ll get along with them, they did play an important part in his life when he was younger.

König genuinely hopes that you will like the traditional Osterjause*, though. He’s loved Easter for that reason, and for the freshly baked lambs, but mostly for the best Brettljause*. In fact, he’s probably called his mother two weeks before his visit to let her know what kind of meat and sausages to get for him and you as well so that there shall be plenty to go around. If you’re not from around, then you likely don’t know what a “Gsöchts”* or “Schweinsbratn”* is, but he will assure you that it’s something delicious. König could rave on and on about that one farmer’s “Hauswiaschtl”. In fact, if he can, he’d love to go to the farmer’s market on Friday with you just so he can get you something to eat. Not above grabbing some Bauernbrot* and Krenn* either while he’s at it. Mans needs his Krenn when eating his Osterjause. Although it will have been a while since he’s seen everyone, he will introduce you to all the farmers there since he knows a good chunk of them growing up.

Naturally, he’ll be drinking a few beers here and there as well. He’s Austrian, it’s in his blood. Will have you try everything off the plate, from the Nuss* to the low-fat Karree*. Loves having you with him and will actively try to involve you in any conversation there may be so that you get to talk as well. Again, it might be a bit awkward if you don’t know any German, especially since he’s not the most reliable translator, but you’ll get by somehow. His parents have been curious about you for a while now anyway and have been wanting to meet you.

Although he claims to be far too old for that sort of thing, he wouldn’t mind looking for an “Osterkerberl”* with you. It’s a nice tradition that he used to love as a child and he wants you to experience Austrian Easter with him, so he likely asked his mother to hide one for you somewhere around the yard so you can go find it. She won’t give you any clues as to where it could be found. It’s childish, but it’s a lot of fun. In fact, if König were to ask her to prepare a Kerberl* for you, then chances are she prepared one for him as well, for old time’s sake. And then the both of you, two fully grown adults, will run around the yard, looking for the basket. Once you found it, you had to admit it was rather cute, filled with a few hand painted eggs, some colorful chocolate, a baked lamb and some crafted chicks and bunnies. Clearly, his mother put in a lot of thought into what goes into such a small basket. In fact, even the “grass” was made of edible paper, it seemed.

König would feel somewhat stupid, looking for a basket of all things during Easter, but it did remind him of his childhood, so he wouldn’t outwardly complain. Besides, you walking up to him, all happy with your little basket, does something to him. The sight was just too adorable, so he’d likely ask you, the master sleuth, to assist him in his hunt. Once you’ve both found them, you’d return back to his parents’ apartment and continue just chatting while occasionally eating a bit of the Jause*.

_________________________

Osterjause - Food that’s been prepared for Easter. It usually consists of meat, sausage, cheese, tomatoes and horseradish.

Brettljause - Same as Osterjause except it can be eaten at any point during the year.

Gsöchts - Geselchtes - Salted and smoked meat.

Schweinsbratn - Schweinebraten - Specifically prepared roast pork, eaten cold in this context.

Hauswiaschtl - Hauswürstel - A hard sausage.

Bauernbrot - A special type of bread.

Krenn - Horseradish.

Nuss, Karree - Types of meat

Osterkerberl - Osterkörbchen - Easter basket, a basket filled with easter themed food. Sometimes has a gift in it as well, mostly for children.

Kerberl - Körbchen - A basket

Jause - In this context it refers to the Osterjause.

#cod #cod x reader #könig #konig #könig x reader #konig x reader #I wrote this a week prior to posting it and just put it in my queue #I am not back just yet I just wanted to post something for another big day for König #I think he wouldn't drink as much during Easter. maybe three beers at most #also he gets along well with his family because I said so. I want the big guy to be happy his childhood was rough enough as it was #I sort of miss looking for the baskets in all honesty. that was always so much fun #it's a shame that I'm too old for that sort of thing these days. I also want a chocolate bunny in a colorful basket!! #if König was real I'd drag him around like a doll to all the places I don't wanna go to alone. and that includes seeing my family #we'd just sit in the other room and play UNO together until we get to leave because we don't wanna talk to anyone #König is good because I get to imagine what it would be like to go literally anywhere here with him #if I had cared about Call of Duty during my high school years I likely would have thought about attending my graduation with him as well #König comforts me in that way. at least I'm not alone in wanting nothing to do with other people while being forced to socialise every time

[p5x-theories]

I mean, how many characters have models that you haven’t posted yet? Bc I would like to see all of the models but if there’s a ton then I wouldn’t ask that of you

To be clear, literally every character in the game has one or more 3D models. Every single NPC, those faceless people that you walk by/through while walking through the city, every playable character (and every outfit they have; every single one of Wonder's outfit options), every shadow, every Persona, etc. The game's all 3D models (with 2D images over them making up the UI and portraits), and the files are where those 3D models and 2D images are stored, so quite literally, anything you see in the game is somewhere in the files, and something I could theoretically extract for you.

There's also a ton of stuff in the files that doesn't show up in the game (yet?), like 3D models and portraits for a bunch of the Confidants and Palace rulers in P5. Even stuff you only see for a few seconds, like the table and tea set that appears for Noir during her AOA finisher in the split second before it swaps to the 2D image people usually think of for her AOA, have their own 3D models.

So I appreciate that you're not asking me for all of them, haha!

I just focus on posting the interesting things and the new stuff; new portraits for main characters, 3D models for civilian outfits of the Phantom Idols that we haven't really gotten to see, characters indicated as future Phantom Thieves/Idols, stuff like that. And then if anyone asks me for specific stuff outside of that, I don't mind going back for it, because I noted down where everything is in the (massively disorganized) files, so it theoretically shouldn't take me too long to hunt down the pieces for any given character and put them together to post.

All that to say, I try to post the things that I know myself and others are probably most interested in seeing. You're not really missing much in the rest of the files, unless, for instance, there's a sidequest NPC or something you have a particular interest in and want to see the full portraits/model for.

#anonymous #I think the only models I grabbed just because *I* thought they were fun and wasn't going to bother posting #are the nameless kokatsu students that play instruments in the background with wonder during the music minigame #they are quite literally nameless. their files don't even have a name or nickname for them they're just student_drum and etc #posting the portraits and models is also kind of tedious though not difficult #because the portraits are broken up into a head base + a bunch of eyes + a bunch of mouths + a mask where applicable #so I have to put those files back together and layer them correctly to give you a complete portrait #and 3d models need 2d textures to show up as anything but featureless grey #so for those I have to hunt down all the 3d model pieces (hair face eyes body. usually) and then match up all their textures to them #it's a lot of work haha! #but I don't mind it too much because I know most people don't really know how to get into the files and do it themselves #in fact I learned *for* the sake of datamining p5x! #I basically haven't done anything but sort through files. watch gameplay. and put things together to post. since the beta started haha #my life sort of goes on hold (as much as possible) each beta until I'm done with the files so I can get them posted asap! #but this is partially because *I* want to see them as bad as you guys do haha #so uh. yeah! that's probably way more of an answer than you wanted but that's the true reality of the work going into this behind the scene

[torchickentacos]

anyways. having fun with the album project thing I mentioned. Using the flat small brush from here for krita. One brush only, no undo button, all done on 1/54th of a 1.5k x 1k canvas. it's actually pretty therapeutic, I listen to the album I'm drawing while I draw it. This does mean that for AM I got to like. track 2 though and most of that was bc of formatting issues lol.

#vent in tags though bc i need. somewhere that isn't yet another 4:30 am vent google doc. too many of those and they're not helping #i don't want to talk but i don't want to be fully alone right now but i can't just spring this on someone in dms either so . tags it is #tw death. like really not a fun time over on torchickentacos dot tumblr dot com right now. genuine warning here #but i'm not doing well and i need this right now. anyways told my therapist i feel like i should be more okay right now than I am #and he was like. you. think you should be MORE okay after someone you knew died? #like. ah. hm. i see. now. how that might not be rational thinking. #i mean in my brain it was like. okay we're approaching day three and i haven't reached back out to my other irls #and i'm awake at 4 am #and i feel like need to pull it together because other people need me for stuff #and like. this happened before but harder. i should KNOW that there's no way to expedite this #because unfortunately I've been through this before!!! people make that choice to leave and it sucks and that's that! #like i KNOW how hard this is especially since it's a very personal topic. #but i'm still trying to rush myself here #it stresses me out to think that I'm not there enough for myself to be there for other people right now #sigh. i wonder how much of it's because i feel like i should have been there for those friends more even though it's irrational. #because that's genuinely not how it fucking works and I KNOW THAT PERSONALLY yet I still put that on myself. #people can have all the support they need and still choose to not take it. and there's not a damn thing you can do about it. #well. tomorrow i return to socializing and being a human person again #little bit at a time.

[tossawary]

Listening to someone else watch the original ATLA again, just starting season 3, and there's this line where Aang suggests that it didn't just look like he died, but he DID actually die and Katara brought him back. And look, I don't know much about the lore introduced by TLOK, but this sounds like a really fun place to start an AU inspired by "Buffy the Vampire Slayer"'s take on the temporary death and resurrection of a cyclical chosen one: Aang is brought back to life and is STILL the Avatar, but his temporary death still also causes another Avatar to be born into the Southern Water Tribe (or Swamp People or refugees on some southern island, whatever).

Like, I know the Avatar is a reincarnation thing, but weird things can happen with spirits! Maybe this glitch in the cycle causes the spiritual equivalent of mitosis to happen to the Avatar and the spirit attached to them, so there's just two of them now! Maybe having two Avatars has some spiritual downsides, maybe not, it's up to whatever path you choose to explore in this AU.

I just think it would be really funny for post-canon 21yo Aang (and the Gaang and the White Lotus and all the spiritual / religious orders on the planet) to suddenly be confronted with a 10yo water tribe kid who is ALSO the Avatar.

A water tribe couple shuffle awkwardly up to Sokka, like, "Sooooo... we think our 10 year old daughter might be the Avatar...? She can, uh, bend all the elements and all that. Look at this shit." And Sokka is like, "Fuck, Aang is dead?!" Before he's like, "Wait, I saw Aang last week, this kid is way too old?!" And he has to hastily contact Aang like, "Hey, buddy, you're still alive, right?" And Aang can only reply, "Uhhh, last I checked, yes?!?!"

It's probably Sokka and Katara who put the pieces of the timeline together and figure out what caused this, because all of the other Avatars are probably initially like, "Yeah, I have no idea what's happening here. I'm you and you're me, but I'm also her and she's also me, and you and her are kind of the same person, but you're obviously different people now? Wow! Good luck figuring all that out, kid! You're really going places none of us have gone before! A real groundbreaker!"

Aang, through gritted teeth, "I am really not TRYING to do that, thank you!"

#tossawary atla #fic ideas #spoilers #aang #korra #sokka #katara #character death

[chuluoyi]

MARRIED ON PURPOSE

- gojo satoru x reader

"for one, i can show you incredible things!" jujutsu, madness, heaven, sin. the strongest sorcerer is sure to show you all of that during the whole duration of your six-month marriage contract.

genre: marriage of convenience, enemies to lovers, crack, fluff, slight satosugu angst/comfort, kamo!reader, very suggestive. gojo clan is portrayed as very traditional, meanwhile kamo clan is rather unpleasant here

note: the unholy amount of times i've edited this story *sigh* but okay i must drop it here or else i'm going to keep editing it and losing my mind. despite my misgivings and all, i really had fun writing this and i hope you enjoy it! wc. 5k !

a part of 1K MILESTONE EVENT

series masterlist | oneshot masterlist

Some would say... marrying Gojo Satoru would be living the dream.

“Don't look that sour now, wife.”

“…sigh.”

A playful nudge at your side, a lighthearted voice— “You're going to make them question our veeery happy marriage, you know… We don't want that now, do we?”

But to you, it was more like nightmare dressed in a daydream.

It was peak comedy because why would you put marrying Gojo Satoru in your life plans? He was incorrigible, a child trapped in a man's body, and there was also the very fact that you hate him. His only redeeming trait was being born in the esteemed Gojo clan, and now held the title of the strongest.

You know you must have accumulated karma, but out of everything else, why must you end up in this predicament?

Hailing from the great clans of jujutsu society, both of you know well that marriage is the essence to make the clan greater. And when it involves the big three clans, its importance amplifies even further.

It was just that you two were too rebellious to follow it through, for one reason or another. Everyone knows Gojo Satoru was faithless to any woman, and you were not exactly thrilled with the idea of marriage as a whole.

He was the one who came to you, proposing this insane idea of a temporary marriage.

"Look at it this way," Satoru said with a wry grin, contrasting your puzzled frown on that fateful afternoon. "It's either me or Zen'in Naoya for you, isn't it? It's so clear which is the better man."

That was what grated you the most. You would be damned if you married the misogynist.

"What do you get from this arrangement, really?" you questioned begrudgingly.

His name would give you security, stop the harassment from your clan, and maybe even a better life, but you didn't quite get what he'd get from the offer he willingly extended to you.

Satoru flippantly shrugged. "Nah, you are not exactly my type, but you're still far better than the boring puppet my family have considered to be my wife."

"Who?"

"Don't remember her name. All she goes on about is that she'll be the good wife and mother of my child. Ew."

Seven hells. You scowled. Gojo Satoru and his penchant for chasing the thrill. Boring women would kill him before an actual curse would.

"And hey, for one," he shot you a smirk, visibly smug. "I can show you incredible things!"

"That's not the point! Gojo, do you even realize—" your voice rose, pulsating with righteous fury, "—how serious all of this is? My life, your life! We're going to be stuck—together!"

"Six months," he blurted, tilting his head slightly. His sunglasses slipped down just enough for you to catch a glimpse of his sparkling eyes. "It's enough time to work through our shits, and by then if you have enough, we're through."

At that time, it seemed feasible. Both of you tolerating each other to avoid a much worse match.

. . .

BACK TO PRESENT—barely a week ever since you were paraded around as his wife, now you and Satoru were stiffly poised in the studio in your formal garbs, capturing your official wedding photos.

At that time, it seemed feasible, but now, it felt like a chore, as you realized that conversing with him either spiked your blood pressure so much that you wouldn't even be surprised if you ended up with hypertension or completely sapped your energy that you were left exhausted.

"Come on, show a smiiile," Satoru said in a sing-song voice, gesturing toward the camera as it flashed for the pictures. You were beyond appalled, shooting a glare in his direction.

"I am smiling, Gojo."

"Liar. You're pouting, wifey~"

Sigh… this really is going to be one hella of a ride, huh?

MONTH ONE, and you found out that Gojo Satoru is apparently as mad as people made him out to be.

"You've got to be kidding me!" you fumed, right after he hauled you into one of the rooms in his grand, traditional estate. Your glare pierced through him, a blood vessel ready to burst. "We never agreed on ‘consummating’ the marriage!"

You wrote him a goddamn contract. And the three conditions of this chaotic marriage are: one, it would only last six months; two, no personal feelings involved; and three, nothing borderline disturbing.

And this, you concluded, was the height of what could be called as disturbing.

"We will not," Satoru replied with a hint of disdain, grimacing, as if the notion didn't sit well with him either. The audacity! "We're just going to make it as if we are—"

"And why?! Why should I do that?!"

"Why else? Because my old fart believes that we indeed haven't done so."

"Then it's your fault? For failing to convince him? Why turn it into my problem!"

"Because, dear wife," he drawled, his tone taunting on the final note. "Now we're on the same page, in case you have forgotten."

Great clans and their hollow expectations spare no one, not even Gojo Satoru. They place importance in the most banal things, such as the continuity of sacred bloodlines and such.

The only alternative wasn't appealing either. Should you be found out that you married only to divorce... sigh, you didn't even want to know how big of a scandal it would be. One thing was certain: your clan would chop you to shreds.

You really had no choice, huh?

"Five minutes," you warned, glaring at him. "Make it loud. Make it so that no one wouldn't question this anymore."

Oh and sure he would. As Satoru pulled that shit-eating grin, you were in for another ride. You waited out until several maids were nearby, left the wooden door ajar, and began the show—

His hands wrapped around your waist—the feeling was peculiar, but you ignored it—and you let him pull you near that open door. He snuggled his face on your neck—his hair tickling you in the process, but you ignored that peculiarity again—as he started making suggestive noises. "Mm, you're so pretty, darling."

You could hear those maids gasp in surprise. And to add the flavor, you faked a moan.

This is... kinda fun? A twisted part of you suddenly found satisfaction in fooling the maids. A smile tugged at your lips as you shoved him away, and Satoru eyed you in surprise and irritation.

"Husband, you're... insatiable," you worded languidly, and he immediately caught on your act, grinning. "Anyone can walk by, you know."

"Oh? But that's the point." Satoru's bright blue eyes twinkled with utter mischief, and even you couldn't deny the exhilarating rush. "I want them to know."

And suddenly you got this very brilliant idea. You swiftly moved past him and sent the books and trinkets on his desk flying to the floor, causing questionable noises.

"Oh my!" a girlish voice exclaimed.

"The master! And the lady!"

Satoru shook his head, thoroughly entertained. And you rolled your eyes. Those nosy maids would finally have enough now, and this charade would end—

"What's happening here?"

The old fart. Both you and Satoru grunted in unison. You really thought you would leave it up to the maids to spread the word, but then you were taken by surprise when he wrapped his hands around you and flung the door open, slamming you against it—and damn it hurt!—offering everyone a front-row seat to your charade.

The maids squealed. His grandfather raised a righteous, demanding eyebrow. You wanted to scream.

"Hey, gramps," he greeted jovially, breathless, his grip on you tightening and you felt heat radiating from his palm. "Ah, sorry, opened it by accident—the wife here is feisty, you see."

Your veins felt ready to burst. Was this a part of his plan all along? How would you show your face before your grandfather-in-law now that he had seen this... atrocity?!

"So, yeah, we'll resume our business!" Satoru, the idiot, said it as if it was the most normal thing in the world. "See ya!"

With that the door slammed shut, but oh no, it was not the end.

"Mmmph!?" you protested, unintentionally loud and eyes widening in alarm when Satoru muffled your mouth with his hand.

The rotten bastard! You found it nearly impossible to breathe, shooting daggers at him. "Mmmrgh! Mmmrrgh!"

"Oh... so that boy really does it huh," you heard the elder mutter in thoughtful manner from outside—and you were in disbelief at how trusting he was—before rounding the stunned maids and barked, "What are all you doing here? Go!"

You nearly sagged with relief when Satoru loosened his grip slightly, allowing you to breathe, as his meddlesome grandpa finally stalked away. Done. This horrible act was over! But wait, why did he still had his hand on your mouth?

"That went splendidly!" he snickered, appearing rather pleased with what had unfolded. "Now, if only we work together like this more often—"

This is… my life now, you lamented the reality. The feeling of his calloused hand on you made you feel things, honestly speaking, but another emotion—and impulse—currently overpowered that.

Seething with resentment, you fiercely chomped down on his hand hard, causing him to swear and pull his hand out of you.

"You—you devil! You bit me!"

"Serves you right!"

Okay, he was bad. He was insufferable. But to be frank, sometimes it wasn't all chaos.

And what's more, by MONTH TWO, you realized that being married to Gojo Satoru also comes with several perks.

"Miss, please, you're trespassing—"

You looked at the police with the haughtiest look you could muster, unamused. "Don't you know who I am?"

"No, but it shouldn't—"

"I'm that man's wife," you declared regally, motioning towards a certain tall shuttlecock a few meters away. "Is that not clear enough for you?"

For one, no one can look down on you anymore, because should they try, you have the power to raise your chin high and declare yourself as the wife of the infamous sorcerer. The very moment you did, that nosy police stopped yapping, and let you through.

The cursed boy, Yuta and his classmate had just been trapped inside a barrier a curse user pulled down, and you were assigned to look into this case by the headquarters. As much as it boggled you—because certainly, the strongest sorcerer was enough to investigate this—you still had to do your job.

“What is this?” you asked Satoru, who was observing something far beyond what your measly ordinary eyes could see. “What happened here?”

He turned to you, all with bandaged eyes. “Hmm? Oh, you’re here too?”

“Don't act surprised. Answer my question, Gojo.”

"You’re too uptight, wifey," Satoru's lips curved upwards playfully. He had taken to addressing you with pet names as of late, if anything, only to get a rise out of you. "Isn't it the time for you to start calling me by my given name?"

You let out a weary exhale, exasperated. "I'm serious, did you find anything? Who is behind this?"

"Nah, nothing for you to worry about," Satoru waved his hand dismissively, grinning. "More importantly! Let's head back and have dinner! My treat!"

You weren't that oblivious. You noticed things too.

"What do you want tonight? Sukiyaki? Sushi?" he hummed nonchalantly. "Or shabu-shabu?"

You gave him the stink eye. "Is that all you think about? Food?"

"As a responsible husband, it's my duty to feed my wife, no?"

"News flash: temporary wife."

"But still my wife, regardless. I overheard you earlier. Being Mrs. Gojo is convenient, yeah?"

You ignored how a part of your jolted at the emphasis he placed on that word, grunting. "Nah, it's meh."

Call it a feeling or hypothesis. It was similar to how he treated his students. He always said the dumbest things, but it actually served to make them feel at ease.

Then it occurred to you, could this be actually his attempt to change the subject?

"You can't cheat your way out of this." You shot him a pointed look. "You know something. Tell me."

"Hmmm? And what would I get in return?"

"Don't make this difficult. I'm on this assignment too!"

"Nah, if you call me by my name, I might consider it."

Hah. You should really read a parenting book one of these days. Taking on your husband was more or less the same as facing a kid.

"Satoru," you tested, the name rolling out of your lips far easier than you thought. Somehow, using his given name felt like some sort of a leap of faith.

He stopped right in his tracks, turning to you. His glossy lips quirked into a meaningful smile, and you felt funny.

"Wasn't that difficult, was it?" he winked, and you covered the strange heat creeping onto your face by rolling your eyes and huffed.

Needless to say, he still didn't tell you even a clue. You finally gave up, thinking that if he insisted on not disclosing it, then so be it. You trusted him on this, even as he turned your help away, and you hated admitting it, because, well…

You’d trust him with your life. He knows how to handle this better than anyone.

Being a a woman in Kamo clan is, in fact, not any better than in Zen'in—you're regarded more as a commodity than a human being.

"When will you bear the child of the bearer of Six Eyes?" in your father's eyes, you were but a tool to tie the Gojo at his hip, and your worth probably wasn't even twice of Noritoshi's. You had known he would ask this when he summoned you to Kamo ancestral home, and you weren't that naive—you had asked Satoru to join you too. But your father had insisted him to stay at the foyer, while he dragged you into his chamber.

Just because you had seen it coming didn’t mean you liked it. "Is that all? Do you really make me come here just to ask me that?"

And what came next was like a crack of thunder.

"How insolent!"

You shuddered, hating how his voice still had control over you. You wanted to stay deviant, but you couldn't keep yourself from shaking. You thought you would have to endure this shit just like you did before, until—

"Now, now... That's my wife you're talking to. I'd watch your words, if I were you."

You had never whipped your head so fast.

There stood Gojo Satoru, your husband, in all his glory. He was smiling but it was clear that he was displeased, evident from his cutting remark, and most notably, how he had unveiled his striking cerulean eyes for all to see. Truth to be told, you didn't expect him to barge in here at all.

"Gojo-sama," your father bowed his head, displaying utter respect towards him, contrasting the blatant disrespect he showed towards you just now. Satoru paid him no heed, as took big strides towards you and seized your arm, prompting you to rise to your feet.

"What is this? Why are you yelling at her?" His voice lacked its usual hint of amusement or teasing, sending a chill down your spine.

"Gojo-sama, I apologize for my tone towards my daughter earlier. I was just trying to educate—"

“My wife. She is my wife now, and it would do you better to remember that,” Satoru asserted firmly, putting emphasis in the way he addressed you, his gaze hardening. "She is an adult. There's nothing left for you to educate her." Pausing, he added, "And the way I saw it, you were just unnecessarily rude."

"Gojo-sama, there were just certain things in our clan that—"

"Please, don't call on us again," Satoru interjected decisively with a light yet firm voice. You could swear your heart was somersaulting at the sight of him staring down your natural enemy. "I'm sure you're aware, but your daughter bears my name now, and she will get the respect she is due. I will have a word with anyone who fails to treat her accordingly."

Somehow or another, Satoru whisked you away from that hellhole, your hand tightly clasped in his. Your relieved sigh didn't go unnoticed by him, as he looked back to you.

"Have you gone soft?" he teased, eyeing you with a playful snort. "Did you forget who your husband is? You've got nothing to fear. Not even him."

"Thank you," you murmured. Your heart was still pounding and your mind blanked, rendering you unable to engage in your usual banters.

His clear blue eyes widened a touch, blinking at your display of vulnerability, Then, he wore the most innocent expression, even sporting a silly smirk—the hardness from earlier gone. "I was really cool, huh? Totally made you swoon I bet."

And in MONTH THREE, you realized, as he laced his fingers with yours, as his laughter filled the air, as calmness swelled on your chest, and as you loudly snorted at his remark, that—

You felt warm, so warm, in fact, and maybe—

"Pfft, you wish."

—maybe... being with him isn't so bad after all.

MONTH FOUR, and you finally found out that it was Geto Suguru.

Everyone knew that your husband and the criminal used to be the best of friends. You saw them during your high school days, and heck, you used to think that Geto was the better man.

You could only imagine what he must feel.

. . .

When he got back to your shared house after the whole ordeal—after he ended his best friend with his own hands, Satoru honestly didn't expect that you would be waiting for him.

"You okay?" you asked him, brows furrowed in concern. It was probably one of the very few times you had displayed emotions other than contempt towards him.

It felt strange because he was used to your jabs, and he was not sure what sort of expression he should pull now, because truthfully, now he felt empty. Blank. All he comprehended was that he had killed Suguru, that he was gone, and that was something he must do.

It would be just like any other day if hadn't just committed a murder. On someone he held dear.

"Of course, who do you think I am?" Satoru swiftly replied, sounding smug—or at least tried to. "I'm the strongest. I’m unscat—"

"No, not that." You frowned, meeting his gaze squarely. "After everything."

Satoru struggled to choose how he should react, partly because most of his energy had gone after walking Yuta back and reassuring him earlier, and by default, the two of you should be hellbent on hating each other and wishing for this contract to end soon.

"Aww, are you worried about me?" he quipped with a touch of sarcasm just because he had to, to show you that it wasn't enough to ruffle him.

Because he is still the strongest, even when alone. Especially when he is alone.

You let out a sigh, looking away. "Can't I?"

"Whoa, that's sweet of—"

"Don't fool yourself," you stated in straight-laced manner, meeting his gaze with a composed expression. "You're not okay. You might be Gojo Satoru, but no one will be after doing what you just did."

You might be Gojo Satoru, but no one will be after doing what you just did.

Despite himself, his smile fell, and his chest burns. What is this? Were you sympathizing with him?

Does that mean that you don't see him as the entity... that was the strongest?

Before now, Satoru remembered you as the most uncooperative Kyoto girl he had ever met. Your first meeting in high school sealed your fate as the two of you could hardly get along. You didn't mince words, you didn't take shit from anyone else—heck, sometimes when he thought of you, what came up to mind was an impenetrable diamond.

Which was why he chose you. You were someone he could trust. You were pretty in the eyes and certainly wouldn't bore him either. His reasons were purely based on logic. And after four months with you, Satoru came to a conclusion that you indeed fulfilled all his expectations, if not more.

And he felt comfortable, or dare he say, secure even. He felt like he had gained a friend, who could see past his bravado and wouldn't judge him for it.

"You're..." you sighed, casting a sympathetic glance at him, your forehead slightly creased. At that moment, Satoru couldn't help but think you were incredibly endearing, fretting over him. "...an idiot."

"Heh." I really am, aren't I?

"I never knew him well..." you chose your words carefully, hesitant. "Did you try to convince him, before this?"

He barked a bitter laugh. "I did, we even made a scene in front of freaking KFC," he remarked with a scoff. "He didn't listen to me, until the very end."

You wanted to tell him “You have done everything you could” but the words faltered on your tongue. You couldn't bring yourself to say it when you saw the faint quiver of his lips, the slump of his shoulders—the very sight of a boy grieving the loss of his friend.

Your heart pricked too, somehow, seeing that expression on him. And you once again realized that your silly, exalted husband was just as human as anyone else who made him think he wasn’t.

"And you know what he said in the end?" Satoru's tone was flippant, as if asking the most normal thing around, but carried a trace of grief, evident in the slight drop in his tone if you squinted. "He said he didn't regret it, not even a bit."

"I'm sorry," was all you could manage.

Satoru's smile was lopsided. Now that he had finally accepted it, something inside him finally bleeds, and it freaking hurts. The pain gripped his chest like a swirling inferno.

But then, you boldly clasped his hand in yours, gently tracing soothing circles on its back.

"What?" he peered at you, feeling a ghost of a smile forming.

"Consider this emotional support."

And he chuckled softly. Despite the lingering ache, despite the gloom he was sure he would carry for the rest of his life, he felt the pain was more bearable with you by his side, somewhat.

How?

You blamed it on the alcohol, because it was MONTH FIVE and you were kissing Gojo Satoru, daringly.

"We shouldn't be doing this," you rasped between kisses, breathless, as your own sinful hands plucked the buttons off his shirt. The intoxication might have played a part, but the intense heat coursing through you made it hard to think straight.

Satoru crashed his lips against yours again, consumed by blind lust. "Yeah, we shouldn't," he replied in a rush. His breath was hot as he trailed his lips down your jaw and neck next, savoring the softness of your skin.

You two had attended a banquet for the elite, and you were unbelievably beautiful. Standing by his side as his wife, you drew admiring glances, with everyone marveling at what a remarkable couple you made. The Gojo heir who was born with the legendary Limitless and the Kamo heiress, as lovely as her clan's name was powerful.

His deft hands roamed the curves of your body, exploring every inch of you. The warmth of his hands tickled something inside you as you closed your eyes to sink into this very moment. Next you knew, his bare body was against yours and you were stripped out of your evening dress.

Lust flickered in his honored eyes, as he took in the sight of you in your undergarments.

"You're really pretty, you know," he whispered. The intensity with which his eyes scanned your form made you nearly squirm. "Shame we don't always get along."

"You're one to talk," you retorted, a hint of exasperation in your tone, as you willed all other thoughts away. Thoughts like what comes after this. Thoughts like—

Is it heaven or sin, if you feel both at once?

His thumb tenderly caressed your plush lips, a hint of a smirk on his beautiful face.

He has long been thinking about your body. He was but a man, after all. He just didn't expect that you wanted this too.

There was always this tension, only this time, neither of you could hold it back anymore. Perhaps it was impulse—hell, most certainly it is, but there was another thing, something more that even Gojo Satoru still didn't dare to say out loud.

"Eager, are we?" he taunted when you leaned in, yearning for the touch of his lips on yours again.

You huffed. “Shut up and kiss me.”

A rush of heat flooded your cheeks at the slip of those words. You were about to rectify it, taken aback by your own boldness, but then he drew you close, silencing any further protest with a gentle hush—

"Too late, sweetheart," his husky voice entered your ears, lips curling into the most wicked smile, and you were in a trance. And Satoru was once again convinced, that choosing you as his wife was the rightest thing there was.

If the two of you went with this, then there would be consequences. Things would become more complicated, harder to sort out.

But, he decided, as he captured your lips in another heated kiss, everything else can wait.

MONTH SIX, and you were dreading the day of your divorce.

You brought this upon yourself. Whenever you reminisced about that night, you wanted to smack yourself in the face and bang your head against the nearest wall.

This marriage has a time limit. And you were doing it out of convenience in the first place.

You weren't supposed to… goddammit—fall in love with him.

But what's done is done, there is no going back in time. Awkward exchanges and lingering stares had been gnawing at your insides these days, and you were sure Satoru too must have noticed them too. You two used to be more relaxed with each other, and he'd even flirt with you, but weeks ever since that night of drunken passion, you almost reverted back to your high school personas—ignoring each other.

This was tough. You didn't like this. And more than that, you were faced with a more pressuring matter...

Gojo Satoru, with everything he possessed, could have had any woman he wanted. This arrangement with you was temporary in the first place, soon he would forget you and flit to the next woman.

The thought made your heart ache, because you had involuntarily gave your heart away to him. Siiigh… What a predicament you put yourself into, huh?

With just a month left together, maybe you should just make the best of it.

. . .

If you thought that things were any better with Satoru, then you were sorely wrong because he too, was debating with himself often nowadays.

Days spent with you were fun and fulfilling. You irked expression somehow had made its mark in his heart. You were pretty, fit to be by his side publicly and preferably, behind the closed doors. With you, he didn't feel the need to carry this facade of being strong—he could be a clown tripping over his own trap and you would amuse him with your deadpan expression.

And ever since that night, he was constantly reminded by how soft your skin was against his. It almost drove him crazy now that he was deprived of it.

How was it the last month already? He wasn't ready to let you go yet.

When he got back home later after his class ended and found you in the dinner table setting the food, all he could muster was, "Hey. Haven't eaten?"

You whirled around to face him in surprise. "Oh... you're back. Just about to. Want to join me?"

Of course he would. And yet as the two of you sat down, it was so painfully awkward Satoru felt like he was dying inside.

Why couldn't he pull off a smart line or two? Where did his suaveness go? He was smoother than this, surely, with his colorful history. One night of passion was supposed to enhance the relationship, not to derail it. What happened to you both?

The salt was near his side when you reached to grab it and bumped into his hand. "Uh-oh."

Turning towards you, he found your spooked expression and your adorable eyes widening in surprise. "S-sorry..."

It was just freaking salt! Salt! Why on earth were you apologizing?!

Enough, he thought. This utter madness of being jumpy with each other. He'd start from his side.

Does he want you to keep being his wife even after all this ends? Yes.

Why? All reasons already listed above.

Does this mean he likes you? Apparently and supposedly, yes. Because if it isn't then he doesn't know what this funny feeling driving him mad is.

With that sorted out, then he only had one more thing to confirm. He put down his spoon and crossed his arms together. "Tell me the truth. Do you like living with me?"

His question obviously took you by surprise. "Huh? What brought this on?"

"Just give me an answer."

"You're so pushy," you grumbled, lips pursed, and he felt like you were finally back to your usual dynamics somewhat. Good.

"Sooo, the verdict? Do you enjoy being with me or not?"

Because to him, it was a resounding yes and more.

Ignoring the warmth that surged to your cheeks, you rolled your eyes. "Surprisingly, not bad, yeah," you admitted, mustering the courage to meet his gaze. "You're annoying, an idiot, a bit crazy—"

"Hey!"

"—but eventually you're still... manageable," you added, feeling your face truly start to sizzle. But covered it up by looking down and playing with your fingers as you still had more to go on. "What I want to say is... I'm glad that I agreed to this—with you—because I can’t imagine it with anyone else."

An unfamiliar tingling emotion rushed to his chest as his face too started to heat up, letting your words sink in. Is he blushing? Oh God. He sure is. And so did he feel hella giddy.

Then it’s sealed.

Suddenly he procured a piece of paper from his work uniform and showed it to you. You first saw his lazily scrawled signature before it dawned on you.

The contract. You almost forgot that you made him sign that looming piece of paper. You were almost dismayed, thinking that he would end this right then and there, but then—

“Well, then… I suppose we no longer need this.”

Riiip~

Your eyes nearly popped out of their sockets when Gojo Satoru tore out your contract right in front of your face, the most brilliant of his devilish grin adorned his handsome face, as he took of his blindfold to see you far clearly than ever. Heavens, you are cute, he thought.

“Soooo~ seems like you’re stuck with me from now on!”

You gaped, awestruck at the blatant meaning of it all, feeling how your heartbeat started to pick up the pace, when he pulled the rag out of your feet once more by tilting his head to the side, looking at you with a winning smile.

“Let’s start over! What did they say again? Ah, yeah. Here’s to the first day of our lives!”

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #satoru gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen #jjk imagines #jjk x you #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen x you #gojo x you #gojo #gojo fluff #gojo satoru imagines #jjk fluff #gojo satoru fluff #satoru gojo fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jutusu kaisen x reader #satoru x reader #satoru gojo #—⭐️ chu’s 1k milestone event

[reasonsforhope]

Legit though, we should start turning ecosystem restoration and work to make our world more tolerant to the effects of climate change into annual holidays and festivals

Like how just about every culture used to have festivals to celebrate the beginning of the harvest or its end, or the beginning of planting, or how whole communities used to host barn raisings and quilting bees - everyone coming together at once to turn the work of months or years into the work of a few days

Humble suggestions for festival types:

Goat festival

Besides controlled burns (which you can't do if there's too much dead brush), the fastest, most effective, and most cost-efficient way to clear brush before fire season - esp really heavy dead brush - is to just. Put a bunch of goats on your land for a few days!

Remember that Shark Tank competitor who wanted to start a goat rental company, and everyone was like wtf? There was even a whole John Oliver bit making fun of the idea? Well THAT JUST PROVES THEY'RE FROM NICE WET PLACES, because goat rental companies are totally a thing, and they're great.

So like. Why don't we have a weekend where everyone with goats just takes those goats to the nearest land that needs a ton of clearing? Public officials could put up maps of where on public lands grazing is needed, and where it definitely shouldn't happen. Farmers and people/groups with a lot of acres that need clearing can post Goat Requests.

Little kids can make goat-themed crafts and give the goats lots of pets or treats at the end of the day for doing such a good job. Volunteers can help wrangle things so goats don't get where they're not supposed to (and everyone fences off land nowadays anyway, mostly). And the goats, of course, would be in fucking banquet paradise.

Planting Festival and Harvest Festival

Why mess with success??? Bring these back where they've disappeared!!! Time to swarm the community gardens and help everyone near you with a farm make sure that all of their seeds are sown and none of the food goes to waste in the fields, decaying and unpicked.

And then set up distribution parts of the festival so all the extra food gets where it needs to be! Boxes of free lemons in front of your house because you have 80 goddamned lemons are great, but you know what else would be great? An organized effort to take that shit to food pantries (which SUPER rarely get fresh produce, because they can't hold anything perishable for long at all) and community/farmer's markets

Rain Capture Festival

The "water year" - how we track annual rainfall and precipitation - is offset from the regular calendar year because, like, that's just when water cycles through the ecosystems (e.g. meltwater). At least in the US, the water year is October 1st through September 30th of the next year, because October 1st is around when all the snowmelt from last year is gone, and a new cycle is starting as rain begins to fall again in earnest.

So why don't we all have a big barn raising equivalent every September to build rain capture infrastructure?

Team up with some neighbors to turn one of those little grass strips on the sidewalk into a rain-garden with fall-planting plants. Go down to your local church and help them install some gutters and rain barrels. Help deculvert rivers so they run through the dirt again, and make sure all the storm drains in your neighborhood are nice and clear.

Even better, all of this - ESPECIALLY the rain gardens - will also help a ton with flood control!

I'm so serious about how cool this could be, yall.

And people who can't or don't want to do physical stuff for any of these festivals could volunteer to watch children or cook food for the festival or whatever else might need to be done!

Parties afterward to celebrate all the good work done! Community building and direct local improvements to help protect ourselves from climate change!

The possibilities are literally endless, so not to sound like an influencer or some shit, but please DO comment or reply or put it in the notes if you have thoughts, esp on other things we could hold festivals like this for.

Canning festivals. "Dig your elderly neighbors out of the snow" festivals. Endangered species nesting count festival. Plant fruit trees on public land and parks festival. All of the things that I don't know anywhere near enough to think of. Especially in more niche or extreme ecosystems, there are so many possibilities that could do a lot of good

#climate change #climate action #climate crisis #climate hope #solarpunk #hopepunk #hope posting #community building #ecosystem #ecosystem restoration #forest fire #fire prevention #flood #flood prevention #harvest #harvest festival #regenerative agriculture #modern farming #water conservation #meteorology #festival #not news #hope #climate optimism

[sutorus]

✰ HC: BEING IN A SITUATIONSHIP WITH THE JJK F*CKBOYS

DESCRIPTION: my hcs on what it’d be like to be in a situationship/fwb situation with the jjk men hehe

FEATURED: gojo satoru, geto suguru, nanami kento, fushiguro toji

WARNINGS: 18+ MINORS DNI. fem + afab reader, this is fully self indulgent i'm just taking my own shiddy experiences and coping via hot anime men, suggestive content/smut, pretty standard manwhore behavior, slightly toxic, not wholesome, kinda crack tbh, some mentions of degradation as a kink, objectifying women, just like the real thing lol!

A/N: LONG BUT READ! this will Not have an ending where you get together at least not rn these are just my hcs all in good fun ur just having fun ok ur not heartbroken everything is okay. they are not good boys here they are normal regular boys

GOJO SATORU

has way too many hoes. way too many

so much so that he gave up on remembering their names and just saves their numbers like “osaka w the hand kink”, “big tits shibari”, “slut from trig”, “hostess best bjs”

has someone’s boobs with his name written on them in sharpie as his wallpaper

says i love you when he cums inside and you never know if you should believe it

throws you off when he agrees to meet your friends only for him to flirt with them in front of you

takes you to the best clubs with bottle service, lets the girls sit on his lap and laughs when you get mad

pays for your ubers everywhere every time

into the weirdest shit like wearing your underwear laughing like a lunatic the whole time he’s fucking you then after he cums gets sulky and embarrassed

lays it on thick with the pet names, gives zero fucks if that confuses you even further

very public with you and it makes you wonder how many other girls put themselves through this humiliation just for the d

gets jealous about you being with other people and needs to prove himself by eating it from the back or something

fwb with gojo is just a huge mindfuck honestly he doesn’t take anything seriously and this is no different sorry! it’s fun tho!

GETO SUGURU

keeps it extremely platonic because he likes to tell himself he has a conscience

too busy for regular chit chat ignores your texts all day then hits you up when he wants to fuck

even more of a whore than gojo is which is why he makes sure not to lead anyone on he just does not need the trouble

answers all your personal questions about him with one word answers

he lets you choose the movie for netflix and chill at least! but will never remember it or the fact that it’s your favorite :(

cleans you up after sex and brings you water

has female hygiene products in his bathroom which is both a red and a green flag

lets you stay after sex and you just lay there on his bed watching him do stuff on his computer but he will not be talking to you

never calls you baby or anything when he’s fucking you just goes oh fuck yeah right there fuuuuck your pussy

genuinely respects you and has nice decent sex with you unless you tell him that you’re kinky

in which case he fucks you just how you want it and gets off on how turned on you are

not one of those guys who gets jealous of sex toys and holds the wand on your clit for you

likes to make you cum over and over and over again

fwb with geto makes your heart clench because he’s just such a gentleman but you got way too much competition to even think about it

NANAMI KENTO

a professional in every sense of the word

uses sex as stress relief

thinks he's too old for this shit but you make him feel alive so he fucks you like he can empty all of his frustrations into you

invites you to his apartment serves you expensive liquor and lets you initiate things most times unless he’s too pent up

can actually have very nice conversations with you

never has the “what are we talk” because he makes it clear he’s too busy for a relationship

lets you spend the night if it’s too late but solely for your safety/logistics

does your taxes for you but will not call you anything beyond an “acquaintance”

texts you happy holidays but does not know when your birthday is

gets tested consistently even though he’s not fucking anyone else and always uses a condom unless you beg him not to

eats you out because he thinks it’s relaxing and spends hours prepping you

the sexual tension is soooo thick when you two fuck all you can hear is grunts and growls and moans and wet slapping sounds and it’s so hot

has some random turn ons like gets bricked up when you’re wearing lipstick or stockings

fwb with nanami is very enjoyable and easy it’ll get complicated if you develop feelings because he does not want to date but who cares yolo am i right

FUSHIGURO TOJI

broke ass deadbeat dad why are you into him

absolutely nasty sex

you know if he had a girlfriend he’d respect her too much to do the things he does to you

dick game so bomb that you’re scared he’s gonna give you a child even when he’s wearing a condom

wants to fuck you every way he possibly can on every fuckable surface with zero regard for your physical integrity

eats his cum right out of you

ego is so big, grins so wide and fucks you so hard when you stroke his muscles

loves to eat pussy but only after he’s fucked you because he likes it tight and hot with minimal prep

doesn’t follow you on any social media but jerks off to your instagram pics

has like 3 different phone numbers and you don’t know why

has only let you come over once, didn’t let you shower after

no pet names but calls you a dirty whore and other degrading shit

loves it if you cry on his dick

doesn’t give a fuck about your safety sorry you’re on your own

has never told you his last name

one time you asked to see a picture of his son and he didn’t speak for 3 whole minutes

fwb with toji is the nastiest sex you’ve ever had truly it’s just sinful and everyone’s dark hidden fantasy half of it you couldn’t tell your closest friends because it’s just too much

a/n sorry

#✩.petra.doc #✩.gojo #✩.geto #✩.nanami #✩.toji #✩.jjk hcs #✩.gojo hcs #✩.geto hcs #✩.toji hcs #✩.nanami hcs #tw toxic #✩.tw toxic #gojo satoru hcs #gojo satoru headcanons #gojo satoru smut #gojo smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo x you #geto suguru hcs #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru x you #geto x you #geto x reader #nanami kento hcs #nanami kento headcannons #nanami kento x you #nanami kento x reader #geto suguru smut

[avatarchic]

— FOREIGNER

How the Karasuno boys would react to meeting Shoyo's foreign cousin.

— starring. karasuno boys x foreign exchange student!reader (separately), student teacher!reader in ukai's

— tags. fluff, first meetings, pining

— warnings. use of 'pretty' and 'cute' to describe reader, but no pronouns are used, you slap ryuu in his LOL, mild suggestive comment in ryuu's if you squint

— requested? yes! thank you so much for your request this was fun to write :)

— notes. some of these are longer than others sorry ADHKWH my biases are showing a lil // this ended up being a first meeting + how they act when they start crushing on you, but it they're so cute so i didnt wanna change it lolol

daichi is whipped for you from the start

he doesn't show it (or he doesn't think he does) but he's attracted to you the second he lays eyes on you

he's extra sure to be polite to you, too embarrassed too show his brasher nature in case it scares you off

he loses his backbone whenever you're around

he needs to scold some of the first years for goofing off, but you're standing there? he's all sunshine and rainbows

when he finds out that you're a foreign exchange student, he's over the moon

he subtly finds out your classes from shoyo, who of course doesn't realize his intentions as he blurts out your schedule happily

he checks up on you often, making sure you're adjusting well to japan because "what kind of captain would he be if he let his underclassman's cousin have a hard time?"

the team is none the wiser, except for maybe koshi who sees through his shit immediately

he has a habit of patting your head as a greeting, even if he's just passing you in the hallways even if you complain about him messing up your hair

overall, he's super soft with you :)

sawamura daichi! was annoyed when he met you. shoyo hadn't shown up to practice and wasn't answering his phone, which left the captain ready to send the orange-haired freshman to an early grave. after kei made a smart remark that he saw shoyo lingering near the school entrance, he was on a mission to give the boy hell.

kei was right, of course. when daichi made his way to the entrance, he saw shoyo right away. he stomps over, lips parting to lecture the younger male about responsibilities when his eyes ghost over you. he stops short, shoyo's name barely dropping from his mouth as he pauses.

when you both turn to him, daichi feels his breath catch in his throat. it was clear that you weren't from around here. your odd sense of dress stuck out like a sore thumb—not to mention he had never seen you before. but if anything, he thought you were pretty.

"you're late for practice," daichi states lamely, barely managing to tear his gaze away from you to glower at shoyo. "i ought to put you on cleaning duty tonight."

the threat fell on deaf ears, shoyo's large grin unfaltering as he wraps an arm around your midsection in a tight hug. "captain! sorry, sorry," he apologizes, though the wide grin on his face told daichi he wasn't serious. "my cousin texted me that they were here, so i had to say hi!"

at his words, you finally snap out of your stupor, offering daichi a small smile. "i didn't realize he had practice. i wouldn't have called him out if i knew."

daichi presses his lips together, feeling his ears warm at your kind tone. "it's okay," he says softly. "i'll let him off for now. it's nice to meet you—i'm sawamura daichi."

when you introduce yourself, he finds himself repeating your name in his head.

"oi," he clears his throat, turning to shoyo with a deadpan expression. "c'mon. we're late enough already." daichi turns to bow his head at you politely, quickly turning around before you can see the warmth in his cheeks.

your sweet voice calls out a goodbye, and daichi decides then and there that he wants to get to know you better.

"hey, hey—why are you so red?"

"you're gonna shut up now if you want to go home early tonight."

koshi didn't realize you were shoyo's cousin until after he got to know you a little

he couldn't help it—when he saw you he just thought you were super cute lmao

he fumbles a bit in front of you

he really really tries to be a cool, calm, and collected person but sometimes he embarrasses himself by saying odd things or staring at you a little too long

when he does figure out you're related to his underclassman, he takes the opportunity to get to know you better

and when he finds out you're in his homeroom? even better

the type to arrange study session together with you every weekend just to spend time with you

he actually invites you to watch their practices and games before shoyo does LOL

the whole team knows about his feelings and he doesn't even care, constantly throwing an arm over you shoulder and hanging around you during downtimes

wants to impress you, so he gives it his all (and then some) whenever you're there

his sets get more accurate and he even blocks more hits than he would've before

he really wants you to think he's cool

but if you compliment him, he's exploding on the spot

suguwara koshi! had no idea you were shoyo's cousin when he met you. you looked nothing alike and your personalities were completely different. despite you being a complete stranger, the lost look on your face amused him.

you met koshi when shoyo accidentally stranded you at the train station. you were supposed to take the same train to his house, but he didn't notice you weren't right behind him when he stepped into the train car. the last you saw of the tangerine-haired boy was the back of his head as the doors closed on you.

you were standing there in a panic, though no one stopped to check if you were okay. shoyo had you hold his schoolbag while he dragged your suitcase along, and when you tried calling his cellphone you heard it buzz in the bag that hung on your shoulder. for the life of you, you couldn't remember which stop to get off or which streets to take to get to his house.

"are you lost?" a gentle voice asks you, pulling you from your anxious thoughts.

your eyes meet and koshi can't help but think you're cute as hell. you look doe-eyed in your panic, rounded eyes and parted lips. when you don't answer right away, koshi's cool demeanor switches and he stumbles into an embarrassed frenzy. "wait, can you even understand japanese?"

thankfully, you do, having learned it from shoyo at a younger age. you blink away the remnants of your panic with a few hasty nods. "yes, sorry. my cousin accidentally left me here, and i don't really know how to get to his house..."

koshi calms down at your insistence, chuckling to himself. "do you know the address?"

you wince, "no."

"alright," he says in a way that he hopes is soothing for you. "i can keep you company while you wait for him to return, then. it'd probably be nicer than just standing here by yourself."

when you agree, he hides his smile. he asks you several icebreakers, such as your name and your favourite colour. with every passing second, he only thinks you're even cuter than when he first saw you.

eventually, shoyo does come back, panting and heaving as he runs up the stairs to the station platform. his bright eyes widen when he sees you together with koshi. "oh, sugawara? you've met my cousin?"

koshi meets your eyes with a grin. "i guess we'll be seeing each other more often."

honestly asahi doesn't even acknowledge you when you first meet

he doesn't find out you're shoyo's cousin for weeks, so you're really just another classmate to him

you don't even talk to each other until like a month or so after you transferred

and even then, your conversations are short

he's polite to you when you work together, but he doesn't really try to become friends with you

don't get him wrong! he thinks you're nice and pretty, but he is too damn shy to initiate anything with you

you kinda think he hates you at first, but after you realize that he's just not an outgoing person you relax around him

when he does find out you're related to shoyo, you end up seeing each other more often out of class

you show up to more practices, even if you're just sitting on the benches doing homework

shoyo even drags you along whenever the team meets up outside of school to hang out

as a result, you and asahi eventually grow closer and he opens up more bit by bit

he doesn't actually start crushing on you until graduation nears

he realizes it when he hears you cheering his name at one of their bigger games

he thinks his name sounds prettier coming from you

he doesn't initiate any skinship with you, but he's always asking about your day and checking on you in his own ways

will absolutely combust if you even so much as brush pinkies as you're walking together

azumane asahi! first met you in class. like koshi, he doesn't know you're related to shoyo initially. when the teacher introduces you, making you write your name on the board, you don't have the same last name as shoyo. he doesn't really pay much attention to you, minding his own business as he takes out his notebook and pens.

several weeks pass and your homeroom teacher announces that you'll be partnering up for a group presentation. your first real conversation with him goes as expected—you exchange contact information and go your separate ways when the bell rings.

he thinks you're attractive, but he's too shy to actually act on those thoughts and he just pushes through the project, interacting with you as little as possible.

it's only when shoyo forgets his volleyball uniform at your house that asahi figures out you're related.

he sees you first, standing in the gym entrance while you wait to be invited in. you look hesitant as your eyes cast over the several members of the volleyball club, your gaze landing on asahi. when recognition flickers behind your eyes, he thinks you're there for him.

he opens his mouth to greet you, but before he can even utter a word, an orange blur runs past him. you're almost knocked on your ass as shoyo tackles you, excitedly calling out your name. "what're you doing here?" he asks you, tilting his head as he releases you from his death grip. "you never come to practice."

"you left your uniform at mine," you explain quietly, pulling the clothing out of your bag.

there's a moment of silence, before all hell breaks loose. the others scream and yell at shoyo, yuu and ryuunosuke shaking him by the shoulders as they demand why they weren't informed about his girlfriend.

even asahi's jaw drops at the thought of you, his classmate and group partner, dating shoyo, of all people.

"we aren't dating!" you exclaim, shaking your hands in front of you adamantly as disgust paints over your facial features. "we're cousins."

as the club eventually quiets down, you meet asahi's gaze over the commotion. when you offer him a bashful smile, he can't help but return it.

as expected, yuu is also whipped for you the second you meet

he swears on his life that he has never met someone as perfect as you—not even kiyoko (which says a lot)

at first, his attraction to you is entirely physical and he doesn't hide it

he compliments you every time he sees you he even compliments your outfits even if you're just wearing the karasuno uniform

he practically begs shoyo to bring you to practice just so he has an excuse to ogle at you and profess his 'undying love'

you'd probably make good friends with kiyoko, bonding over the second years' unabashed feelings and loud professions of love lol

though he's completely smitten with your looks, yuu doesn't learn a thing about you until like two months after your transfer

he realizes it when koshi asks if he knows anything about you and no, the fact that you're pretty doesn't count as something

during a late night run to the nearest convenience store, he runs into you

you're dressed casually, and he realizes it's actually the first time he's seen you outside of uniform

he thinks you're very cute in your bunny pajamas

he approaches you with koshi's words in mind, and asks if you want to hang out for a bit

your hang outs become a common thing, and eventually it's your weekend tradition to meet at the convenient store after sundown

after really getting to know you, he realizes that he likes more than just your appearance

shockingly, once he figures out his feelings for you, he tones down a lot

he would stop confessing his love for you every moment he could, but he gets casually affectionate with you

he'd always stand close enough for your shoulders to touch and would absentmindedly guide you places by taking your hand

he's never had a real crush on anyone before, so he's feeling it out with you

nishinoya yuu! has hearts in his eyes the moment he meets you. shoyo brought you to practice one day, excited to introduce his favourite cousin to his teammates. he had all but dragged you to the gym by the wrist, ignoring your insistent utterings that you can walk on your own.

"this is my cousin!" shoyo announces the second he bursts through the doors in true hinata shoyo fashion. you were the last ones to show up, so the entire team was there to witness you getting dragged in by shoyo. "they transferred here from overseas."

yuu feels the world stop once he glances over at you after receiving a particularly harsh spike from tobio, freezing into his squatted position. his world becomes a romcom movie—he swears someone must be blowing a fan in your direction with the way your hair sways as you walk into the gym. he might even be seeing the air sparkle in your presence.

he's absolutely starstruck with you, and he makes no effort to hide it as he bounds over to you. he takes your hands in his, looking at you with wide eyes as he takes you in. he can hear someone groaning, maybe daichi, as they mutter something along the lines of "he's at it again."

"i'm nishinoya yuu," he introduces himself. "you're really cute!"

your mouth opens, but no words come out as you simply stare at yuu in surprise. shoyo had given you a brief rundown of his group members, and you realize that this might be why he warned you about the libero in particular.

even when daichi smacks the back of his head, apologizing to you quietly, yuu remains in his lovestruck gaze.

you stay to watch their practice, at both shoyo and yuu's insistence, and yuu makes a point to be even more extravagant than usual. you can't help but laugh at his boisterous rolling receives and the way he calls out ridiculous move names.

oh ryuu. typical ryuu.

the first words he ever speaks to you end up with him getting slapped

like yuu, he thinks you've been blessed by the gods with your looks and he makes it clear to you when you meet

he asks you to go out with him, only to blatantly check you out right after, which earned him a smack to the face

eventually, he does apologize for his behaviour, though you don't accept it right away

when you tell him that you hate guys who treat others like eye candy, he's sure to tone it down for you

of course, a man can't change overnight

he still flirts with you, and with other women—he can't help it ;( him n yuu are menaces

however, when he's not being an absolute pest, he gets to know you

he learns about your interests and hobbies, and finds himself indulging you in them (who would've thought he'd end up enjoying the art of bracelet making?)

when you become close friends, you become his person

he goes to you whenever he wants to talk about something, and he lends an ear whenever you need to vent

he asks you about your home country often, wanting to know more about your life before you came to japan

he'd even go out of his way to do things for you that remind you of home whenever you start feeling homesick :)

it's not until well after graduation when he realizes that he might actually like you

tanaka ryuunosuke! was mid confession when you met. shoyo had brought you to one of their games, and just as ryuunosuke was getting on his knees to ask kiyoko to marry him, his eyes fall on you.

it's almost astounding how quickly the second year moved from the glasses-wearing beauty to you, appearing in front of you in an instant. before shoyo can even introduce you, he stares you down with a steeled expression, his eyes narrowing.

"you're the prettiest person i've ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on," he claims in his most serious tone. he takes your hands in his as he presses his lips to your knuckles. "please go out with me."

there's a collective sigh as the team turns away at his antics. you, on the other hand, feel your head pound in irritation. "excuse me?"

ryuunosuke doesn't hear the vexation in your tone, or chooses to ignore it, as his eyes trail over your features. even when you're staring at him in an angry disbelief, he thinks you're incredibly pretty. however, as his eyes drop lower and lower, his mind enters a less-than-appropriate headspace.

the feeling of your hand connecting with his cheek rips him out of his lewd daydreams. you didn't slap him hard, but the sound echoed over the loud chatter of the audience members anyway. "you pervert," you utter, gritting your teeth as you turn on your heel. you barely tell shoyo good luck as you all but stomp off to the bleachers.

ryuunosuke stares at your back, holding his reddening cheek in mild awe. yuu nudges his side. "don't tell me you're into that, man."

he at least has the grace to blush.

to be honest, you and tobio do not get along until much later

it's not because you're related to shoyo it is

he just genuinely has no idea how to talk to you lmao

you meet him on the first day of school with shoyo

the realization that he may be teammates with the very guy he had practically berated in middle school took priority over greeting you tbh

it's only after their initial fight when he realizes that you, a complete stranger, saw him yell at shoyo as harshly as he did (even if shoyo didn't have many nice things to say either)

he's kinda embarrassed abt it tbh

like?? you had to see him like that?? he's mortified

so when he joins the volleyball club and you're a manager, he avoids you like the plague

when he talks to you, he accidentally comes across as if he hates your guts (he doesn't, he just cannot properly converse with people to save his life)

your relationship is extremely terse for months, since you get pissed off at his behaviour and he doesn't know how to act normally around you

he doesn't warm up to you until one of their games later in the season, where the morale is low and the team is hanging their heads

you give them an uplifting speech, telling the team that they're stronger than they think

it's the first time tobio looks at you in a pleasant light, and he merely puts a hand on your shoulder to say thanks as he makes his way back to the court

slowburn as fuck tbh he might not even realize he likes you until you're about to graduate (cut him some slack he's only a lil slow)

kageyama tobio! barely acknowledges your existence when you meet. you had moved to japan before their first year at karasuno began, so you showed up with shoyo to the first day.

of course, tobio recognized shoyo immediately from their encounter in middle school. shoyo had dragged you to the gym to go with him to sign up for the volleyball club, insistent that you try to apply to be a manager or something. tobio was there, about to spike a volleyball.

the second shoyo and tobio lock eyes on each other, they're at it like cats and dogs, and you're left standing there in confusion. seeing shoyo as angry as he was is shocking to you and you wonder what the hell this other guy must've done to rile up your sunshine cousin so much.

tobio doesn't even look at you as he argues with shoyo, not meeting your eyes until after the fight has 'calmed' down. he stares at you quietly for a moment before averting his gaze, grumbling something under his breath as he leaves to retrieve the volleyball shoyo made him drop.

he doesn't say anything to you as you talk quietly with daichi about becoming a manager. he vaguely overhears shoyo introducing you as his cousin, but he's too annoyed to listen.

later on, when him and shoyo are finally accepted into the club, and you're brought on as a manager-in-training, tobio still ignores you.

you don't have your first conversation until a week later, when you corner him after practice. "what is your problem?" you demand, your hands propped on your hips. "i know you don't like sho, but you haven't said a single word to me since you joined the club."

tobio flushes in embarrassment as he stares at you. he doesn't mean to, but his eyes narrow into what could be perceived as a harsh glare. "i don't have anything to say," he says truthfully, his voice coming out colder than necessary.

when he rushes off to hide his growing fluster, you're left standing there confused.

you and kei barely interacted at first tbh

he had never seen you before and it was the weekend when you met so he had no reason to assume you'd ever talk again really

even after finding out you were related to shoyo, he didn't bat an eye

after all, he's not exactly going over to the orange-haired boy's house for sleepovers lolol

but to his surprise, you're in his classroom the next monday morning as a foreign exchange student

your classmates rush to you, overwhelming you with numerous questions about your hometown, and it's clear to kei that you're flustered

you meet his gaze over the crowd of people, and for a moment you're shocked to see him

however, before either of you can do anything, you get bombarded with even more questions

to your surprise and his, kei scoffs as he approaches your crowded desk

"can't you see you're bothering them?"

the gaggle of students dissipates with embarrassed apologies, leaving you and kei alone

your relationship with him from then on is odd

there's an unspoken agreement that you both don't like being bothered by other people, and you lowkey bond over it

he would never admit you're friends, but he comes to your rescue often

if you can't understand a phrase or if you don't know the answer to a question in class, he'll quietly help you out (but don't bother asking about it, 'cus he'll deny it vehemently)

when you start hanging out during practices, he ruffles your hair and rests his arm on your head regardless of your height

making fun of you is his love language (not that he'd ever admit he has feelings)

tsukishima kei! meets you when you're babysitting natsu. the team had been out getting ice cream (as per koshi's insistence—for team building), leaving kei in a sour mood because he would rather be anywhere than here.

"shoyo! sho!"

the whole team looks over, seeing a little girl who is the spitting image of their short middle blocker running toward them. kei's expression drops even more, because there's two of them?

shoyo almost drops his ice cream cone with the way the little girl jumps on him. "what are you doing here?" shoyo asks, scrambling to catch his sweet treat. "where's—"

before he can finish his sentence, another figure comes running at them, out of breath. "natsu!" you scold airily as you make your way up to the team, hunching over and resting your hands on your knees as you try to catch your breath. "jesus, don't just run off like that!"

you look up at shoyo from your hunched position, letting kei get a good look at your face. you're flushed, sweat beading on your brow bone and lips are parted as you breathe harshly through them. it's clear to the blond that you've been running around for some time now, something that makes him snort into his strawberry ice cream cup.

"sorry, sho," you wince, practically dragging the little girl, natsu, to your side. "she ran off while i was paying for her snacks. she probably saw you through the window." you vaguely gesture to a nearby convenience store, holding up a bag of candy.

you talk with shoyo for another moment, before turning to the rest of the team. your eyes briefly meet kei's and he arches a brow at you. you apologize for interrupting them, but daichi insists that you're fine and that you and natsu can hang around since you're there anyway.

as a result, you and kei end up standing near each other as the group converses. kei had been hanging a little bit away from the others, minus tadashi of course. you end up near him by coincidence—you don't know the others, and the three of you end up quietly sitting in acknowledgement that you didn't want to talk.

my darling baby tadashi is a mess when you meet <3

he was practicing his volleyball skills when he accidentally whams you in the face

he'd feel guilty about it for a while (even if you insist you're fine) and would use it as an excuse to buy you drinks from the vending machines lol

"this is the fourth drink you've bought me this week??"

"i have to make up for hitting you somehow :((("

becoming friends with tadashi is surprisingly easy, given how shy he can be

it becomes a habit to meet you by the vending machines before practice

the time in the halls between classes and volleyball are spent getting to know you

he asks a lot of questions about what it's like in your hometown and the differences in your culture

i don't think he'd start liking you until after you also get close with kei though lol good luck

the first time he sees you joking around with the tall blond, he thinks his heart is about to beat out of his chest

you must be an angel, he decides as he watches you get along with kei

the three of you form a trio and you end up spending more time with them than shoyo LOL

kei absolutely knows about tadashi's feelings and takes every opportunity to tease him about it whilst you're blissfully unaware

he's so so smitten around you after he realizes he likes you

the type to look at you like you hung the stars in the sky yourself and to becoming maddeningly red whenever you so much as make eye contact with him

yamaguchi tadashi! hits you in the head the first time he meets you. he was in the gym alone, practicing his float serve. you pushed through the heavy metal doors just in time to get slammed in the face with a ball gone awry.

he feels his heart drop to his toes as he quickly rushes over to you, asking if you're alright and if you need to see the nurse. his panic only worsens when he realizes you're bleeding from your nose.

although the hit shocked you, you're left watching in amusement as tadashi scrambles to find something to stop your nosebleed with. when he eventually returns to you, having ran from the boys washroom to grab a wad of papertowel, he apologizes again softly.

"are you okay now...?" he asks when your nosebleed finally stops. he looks almost like a kicked puppy, his hair falling limply into his eyes.

even after you reassure him that you're fine, tadashi still wears his guilt like a crown. he offers to buy you something from the vending machines, and does so despite your insistence that he doesn't need to.

"you can accept it for my sake," he says sheepishly as he offers you the cold can. the two of you converse quietly, with you introducing yourself as a new foreign exchange student.

"oh!" he suddenly lets out, looking over at you. "did you need something in the gym?"

"i was looking for my cousin," you sigh. "he said he was in the volleyball club and i haven't been able to find him at all today."

he's shocked when he finds out that you're shoyo's cousin—the boy had talked about you earlier in the week when he found out you were transferring to karasuno. as you talk, tadashi thinks to himself that shoyo never mentioned how cute you were.

your first meeting with keishin is awkward

ltrly knocks you off your feet when he runs into you

he's kind of brash when he meets you, not caring if you think of him badly because of it

you don't have much of a relationship at first—your work pulls you to the classrooms after all, so he doesn't really see you around often

the next time he sees you, you're stomping into the gymnasium mid practice with an irked expression

he's about to tell you off for interrupting practice, but he quiets when he sees you make your way to your younger cousin

he only watches in amusement when you tell him off for his horrid grades

when shoyo turns to keishin for help, he only shrugs with a lazy grin on his face

"sorry, little man, you heard 'em. no volleyball games until you raise your grades"

to shoyo's chagrin, you and keishin make a terrifying pair for him (and the other three idiots lolol)

you only really start hanging out with him when you end up making a late night run at his convenience store

it's the first time he sees you in casual clothing and the case of beer in your hands makes him laugh

"you wanna share that?"

he becomes your drinking buddy every other weekend, and he grows to cherish the time you spend chugging back cans of beer with him

keeps his feelings on the downlow, but as time goes on even the boys realize that their coach has a soft spot for you

ukai keishin! bodies you the first time you meet. the man doesn't realize his own strength until he literally knocks you flat on his ass after he turns a corner and bumps into you. his eyes go wide when the books and papers in your hands go flying, falling around you in a frenzy.

"shit," he curses under his breath, bending down to pick up your things. "sorry 'bout that." his voice is gruff as he speaks, collecting your papers without much care. when he returns them to you, some of them are scuffed and crumpled.

as he's handing you your things, he finally gets a good look at you. you're dressed more formally than he is by a mile. he holds a hand out to help you to your feet, his brown eyes falling to the lanyard around your neck.

"you new here?" he asks, jutting his chin out to gesture to your nametag. student teacher is typed above your name and picture.

you nod deftly, brushing off any dirt from your dress pants. "i started today. and you are?" your eyes meet his, and he knows you're silently scrutinizing him. he's much too old to be a student, you deduce easily, but he's dressed far more casually than any other other teachers.

when your eyes drift up to his bleached hair, he snorts. "i'm the coach for the volleyball club," he grumbles. "i don't need to be wearing fancy shit like you."

he sees your eyes light up in recognition as he analyzes your face with crossed arms. "the volleyball club? you must know my cousin then. hinata shoyo?"

keishin deadpans at you. "you're the runt's cousin?"

©AVATARCHIC please do not plagiarize, repost, translate, or copy any of my works.

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #sawamura daichi #sugawara koshi #azumane asahi #nishinoya yuu #tanaka ryuunosuke #kageyama tobio #hinata shoyo #tsukishima kei #yamaguchi tadashi #ukai keishin #sawamura daichi x reader #daichi x reader #sugawara koshi x reader #sugawara x reader #azumane asahi x reader #asahi x reader #nishinoya yuu x reader #yuu x reader #tanaka ryunosuke x reader #tanaka x reader #kageyama tobio x reader #kageyama x reader #tsukishima kei x reader #tsukishima x reader #yamaguchi tadashi x reader #yamaguchi x reader

[bettyfrommars]

Whole Lotta Love

Eddie x fem!Reader

18+MDNI, oral (f!receiving), fingering, unprotected piv, creampie, pet names like baby and sweetheart, both Eddie and reader are over 20.

I received a request for a fic where, no matter how hard he tries, Eddie can't make you cum, and I was happy to do it because it's a much more common situation than how it's represented in most media. I'm not sure this is exactly what they were looking for, but it was a very fun thing to write. This Eddie had me giggling.

a/n: I wasn't sure I would finish this wip after I wrote the first two lines, but then I was in the mood yesterday and smashed it out. It was a very quick write, definitely not my opus, but a true joy, all the same. I hope you like.

wc: 3.1k

Eddie flopped onto his back, huffing out a satisfied breath. “That was so good,” he hummed. 

The fingers of one hand drew a lazy circle on his bare chest as it rose and fell, while his other hand scrambled over to capture yours.  

Shifting his gaze, he caught you staring at the ceiling, unblinking.  “Was that…did you…?”

“Um,” you paused.  It wasn’t that you were afraid to be truthful with him, but the fact that orgasms weren’t flying out of you at the same rate made you feel inadequate, like maybe you were the problem. 

He propped up on his forearm, searching your face, brow creased with concern.  “Did I hurt you or…?”

“No, no,” you rolled over, pulling the sheet up over your hips.  “It felt great.”

At that, he gave an actual sigh of relief.

“But, I didn’t cum.  Or at least, I don’t think I did.”

“You’re not sure?” 

You chewed at your top lip.  “No, I am sure.  I didn’t.”

He traced a few hearts on your shoulder with the tip of his calloused finger.  “Have you ever? With me?”

Your silence spoke volumes, and Eddie’s mind raced to all of the times you’d been intimate in the past few weeks since you’d been together.  He blamed himself for being too eager and sloppy, and shit—he was so crazy about you, it made him dizzy.  He couldn’t believe you let him touch you, let alone cum inside.  

His head snapped up.  “But what about that time I went down on you in the closet at Robin’s party? I swear I felt you—”

“I was close that time,” you admitted, remembering how your legs shook and that heat began to build, in the same way it did when you pleasured yourself.  “But then Gareth was shouting, looking for you and it went away.”

“Fucking Gareth,” he mumbled. “You were close then, okay.  Can I try that again? Now?”

He was already moving down the bed, palming the crook of your knee to slide your leg open.

You put your hand on his head, glancing over at the digital alarm clock.  “Not now, silly, I have to get ready for work.”

You wrapped the sheet around you and got to your feet, leaving Eddie to stare into space, alone with his tortured thoughts.  “Come over tonight?” He yelled while you were in the bathroom. “Wayne leaves for work at 6, we’ll have the place to ourselves.”

“I’ll come over,” you said with your mouth around a toothbrush.  You spat into the sink and then, “But I might be too tired for…other stuff,” your words were met with nothing but silence from the next room.  “We can watch a movie or something?”

Eddie appeared sullen in the doorway next to you in his checkered blue and white boxers. “Do you not want to have sex with me anymore?”

“No, baby I do!” You assured him, eyebrows high on your forehead.  You cupped some water into your mouth and spat it out while he ran his knuckle down your arm. “I really really want to, I just don’t want us to force this.  It’s okay if I don’t have an orgasm every single time.”

“Yeah but it’s not okay with me,” he muttered. 

You turned and planted kisses down his throat, dotting smooches along his collarbone, and then the final peck was on his pouty mouth. You rubbed the tip of your nose against his, “I’ll see you tonight.  I love you.”

—------

You parked on the other side of Eddie's van at the trailer that night and assessed the windows curiously.  At a glance, it looked like the living room had caught fire from the amount of candles that were lit. The song Whole Lotta Love by Led Zeppelin poured out into the soft yellow light of the porch, and you knocked.  

A few raps of your knuckles were met with a loud curse and something like a metal pot crashed to the floor in the kitchen.  No one came to the door, so you entered with caution, and your senses were greeted with the smell of something burning in the oven.

Eddie was by the sink and he spun around with a startled look, wiping his hands down his jeans. He wore a Slayer shirt with the sleeves ripped off, and his feet were bare, letting you see the black toe nail polish you’d delicately painted on a few days earlier.  

“What’s with all this?” You blinked a few times, marveling at how tidy it was.  But also, there were at least 15 mismatched candles ablaze on the side table, the top of the tv, and the counter. 

He wiped his mouth and went over to greet you.   “I just wanted to set the mood,” he grinned, grabbing onto your hips to pull you close. “I read somewhere that the atmosphere can help with, you know.”

“You read somewhere?”

“Just one of those magazines at the grocery checkout.”

“I missed you,” he smiled against your mouth as you said it.  His warm skin smelled spicy and sweet, like he’d recently showered and put on cologne. The yearning you felt for him was all-consuming.  A few hours apart weighed on you like an eternity.  You tilted your head to deepen the kiss, and already your loins were giving you the nod like, “yep, we need to have him inside of us.”  You absolutely craved him on a sexual level, so why was it so hard to find your climax?  It seemed to come easy for everyone else in the world: everybody at the party was cumming but you.  

Eddie was nervous.  He hadn’t felt that out of his mind since the day he confessed he had feelings for you, but if you didn’t feel the same that would be cool, because he didn’t want to fuck up the friendship: you were too precious to him.  Your presence in his life made him feel sane and loved and seen in a way he’d rarely experienced in his life, if ever.  A miracle happened that day, and you’d flown into his arms, asking him what took him so long.

But what kind of boyfriend would he be if he couldn’t please you? In every way?

You watched a sitcom while you ate dinner on TV trays, and when you came back from using the restroom, he had everything put away, dishes thrown in the sink, and he was sitting very propper at the end of the couch, watching you expectantly.  

“Are you, um,” he cleared his throat.  “How are you feeling?”

This was weird, he thought. He was making it weird.  He needed to loosen up and not be so hyper focused on his mission.  Maybe you were tired, maybe you needed to let your spaghetti and burnt french bread settle.  

You straddled his lap, brushing hair away so that you could kiss his forehead. 

“I think I’m ready to try again,” you whispered, and then you ducked down to nibble his earlobe.  “Unless you’d rather stay here and—”

Before you could finish the thought, he was up and the two of you were moving out of the room and down the hall, kissing and fumbling with clothes as you went.  

“I’ve been thinking about this all day,” he nipped your jaw and side of your neck, banging the bedroom door open with the side of his fist. “I hate being away from you.”

There were a few candles around the bed too; on his nightstand, and a red one dripped wax from the window sill down the wall.  

You stopped abruptly, staring at the bed.  “Are those…rose petals?” 

“Tulips, actually,” he rushed to the scene and swiped the soft pink curls away with his arm. “That was stupid, I just thought it would be—”

You caught his mouth with yours, tongues lashing at each other in such an erotic way that a small moan escaped him. 

He wondered if that night would be the night he came in his jeans.

He wasn’t going to let himself cum before you, that was the plan.  He’d jerked off shortly before you’d arrived, but that didn’t mean shit because he was absolutely ready again.  

Suck it up, Munson.

All was off but for your underwear and while Eddie licked greedily at one of your nipples, you reached down to undo his button fly.  “Release the beast,” you cooed.  

He caught your wrist.  “Not just yet, I can’t, I mean, I want this to be about you.”

“I need an even playing field if I’m going to be relaxed enough to…you know.”

He couldn’t get his pants off fast enough at the urging of your hand that was quick to breach the waistband of his boxers to stroke him. He was rock hard and the tip was already weeping, needy for you.  

“Is this all for me?” You ran your thumb in circles over the tip.

Eddie tensed and huffed out a breath that fanned the hair away from his face.  “Fuck, baby, every inch.”

If he wasn’t sharp, he’d cum right there on the spot.

You bounced when your body hit the bed, and Eddie dropped to his knees between your legs.  The visible wetness on your panties were taking a toll on his already fragile state.  He wasn’t patient enough to take them off of you, he just put his mouth right on the material, nuzzling at your pussy through the fabric in a way that pulled a few sharp gasps out of you.  

“I missed her so much,” he pulled back the final barrier with one finger, licking a few times on your swollen lips, and then cursed.  “You’re so wet already.”

“Well, that’s what you do to me,” you propped up on your elbows to look down at him, sucking in your bottom lip at the sensation of his breath on you.

He slid your underwear off the rest of the way, trying to recall what he’d read in that Playboy article he read a while back? Something about writing out the alphabet, and the woman you are with won’t make it to “x” without cumming.

“How does this feel?” His tongue rolled along your folds in a way that made you wonder what he was doing.  He lost track of the letters at around “M”, hips bucking into the side of the bed, cock pulsing so hard, he had to reach down and take some of the pressure off.  

“G-good,” you gasped.  “Just like that but then, up a bit higher.”

You weren’t exactly an expert when it came to your own pleasure, either, you only knew what felt good when you touched yourself.  If Eddie made you cum, it would be the first time you ever experienced that with another person.  You wondered if you should tell him that.  

He followed your instructions, swallowing while he consumed you, until he found the tiny pearl treasure at the top and your grip tightened on him.

“Hmm I think I found it. Hey there pretty baby,” he murmured into your cunt rolling his tongue around the spot. 

“Yesyesyes, right thereeeee Eddieeee.”

The pressure and the speed was perfect and your hand went to his head for encouragement, but then he slowed down and moved locations, licking up the arousal that dripped down  your slit.

“Baby? Could you go back to that thing you were doing a second ago?”

He compiled without a word, trying to find the same pacing again, but the moment was gone. 

“Eddie—” you spread your legs wider as an invitation. “I really need you inside of me now.”

Well, he wanted that more than anything.  But one pump and it would be all over for his dignity.  His eyes were rolling back, seeing cartoon stars just thinking about it.  

Truth? He wasn’t going to make it.  

You noticed his hesitation.  “We can keep trying…after.  But I need to feel you.  It’s lonely up here.”

“You’re so beautiful it hurts,” he crawled up onto the bed, kissing along your stomach, up between your breasts as he went, and then nuzzled at your neck.  “My dick can wait until—”

But he choked on his last words when you took hold of him and rubbed the tip of his length along your wetness.

“Sssshittt,” his whole body trembled. 

Sliding himself in, becoming one with you, made him emotional in a way he’d be embarrassed to share with anyone else. 

“I love you so much,” your voice came out as a cry when he sank halfway in, locking eyes with you.  The stretch made you squeeze around him, eliciting a whimper from so far back in his throat that he wondered if it came from somewhere else, some far off place. 

Once he started to move, he thought about that sweet little pearl and lifted up enough to put his thumb there and move it around.  Your head went back and  you exposed your throat to him.

Eddie grimaced at how close he was, fuck that—he had to slow down.  The way he was touching you, it was making you stiffen like you had when he was on his knees, and he was taking note of everything.

But then you started telling him how bad you needed him to cum, to fill you up, to make you his.  He tried to hold out but then his eyes locked onto yours when you told him you loved him again and he couldn’t stop the wave once it started, no matter how hard he clenched his jaw and his buttcheeks.

One long babble came out of him as his thrusts got sloppy.  “Oh fuck I love you so much I’m cumming so hard, I’m…I’m…holy shit I love you.”

He didn’t ask if you had come that time, because he knew better.

After he caught his breath, he pulled you with him, twisting onto his side, slipping two fingers where his cock had been.  “What if I push all of this cum back inside so it will stay there? Hmm?”

You moaned against his mouth, grabbing a fistful of his hair.  “That feels good, keep doing that.”

“You like that?” He asked, just to be certain.

You nodded, and then, your hand slotted down between your bodies and his arousal spiked when he realized you were touching yourself.  

He curled his fingers to feel that soft, spongy spot, asking how fast you wanted it.

You couldn’t speak, your concentration was intense, eyes screwed shut. 

Oh sure, he was getting hard again.  The feel of his warm spend in your tight hole was doing nothing for his resolve.  

You clenched around him, and then he was whispering, “let me try again,” as he kept his digits buried and made his way down between your thighs.

His mouth had no trouble finding the treasure that time; it practically peeked up at him, begging for a resolution.  He relaxed his shoulders, breathed in the musk of your arousal, and took you into his mouth with a vibrating groan.

“Right there!” You hadn’t meant to scream it, but it was an actual eureka moment.  “Oh fuck Eddie, don’t stop…keep doing…keep doing that.”

He hadn’t moved his fingers in a while, but when he tried to incorporate that into the mix, you stopped him.  “Keep them still,” you held his head, locking him in place—not that there was anywhere else he wanted to be.  “Don’t move your hand just…Ahh yes yes…”

Your jaw went slack in a silent scream, but then his pace quickened, and before you knew what was happening, the blinding white wave crashed through you, rolling through your limbs like satin electricity, making you whine an extended, “cummingcummingcumming,” while you clung to his hair so you wouldn’t fall off the earth. 

Eddie was astonished to learn that could feel it happening.  The juicy walls around his fingers spasmed, fluttering like tight ripples, and he drove his tongue in eager circles, wondering if he could make you cum twice in one go.  Was that even possible? His heart all but flew out of his chest, it was beating so fast, and he moaned long and hard.

But after a bit, you were trying to push his mouth away.  “Wait wait, now it’s sensitive,” but he was so determined, he didn’t pull off until you physically lifted his head.  

He stared up at you, licking his wet, swollen lips.  

You were breathless, letting the final bits of glitter swim through your veins.  “That was—”

He kissed your cunt one two three times.  “That was what?”

He was grinning now, feeling like he’d just won the lottery, or at least a new car. The sense of satisfaction was officially unmatched.

He made his way up the bed to hold you, but you surprised him by taking his fingers into your mouth to suck them clean, dragging teeth along his flesh.  

“I’ve never cum that way with anyone else before,” you said in a whisper, but when he finally registered the weight of the words, his eyes widened.

“My sweetheart,” he pulled you flush against him, giddy, holding your face to brush his lips over yours. “I’m really your first?”

You gave his shoulder a teasing love bite. “And my last.”

“Oh nowww you’re in trouble,” he rolled on top of you, interlacing his fingers with yours to brace your hands above your head, and then he went to work munching at the side of your throat, growling as he did so.  

You screamed and giggled, realizing he was hard again as it nudged at your hip. “I see you’re ready for battle again.”

“I was born ready, baby,” he straightened to see your face. “You want to try a new position? I was reading this—”

The front door to the trailer burst open.

“What the hell? Edward? You tryin’ to burn the place down?”

It was Wayne.

Shit shit shit shit it was Wayne!

Home hours early from work, for whatever reason.

The door to the bedroom was wide open and his heavy footfalls were rapidly approaching from the hall.

Eddie threw the sheet up over you, and a few tulip petals fluttered to your face.  “I’ll be right there!” He shouted, trying to jump into his jeans. He missed a leg hole and stumbled back onto the mattress, making you snort out a laugh. 

He got to the door just in time to greet his Uncle, blocking any view of the room, buttoning his pants as he stood there.  

You could hear Wayne’s voice change. “Is, ah, is your girlfriend here? Sorry, I didn’t see her car.”

“No that’s cool, we were just—” and then he maneuvered him out into the hall, shutting the door behind him.

You lifted up to listen to their murmuring voices, and then Wayne asked, “why is there wax all over the carpet? Blow these fuckers out before the curtains catch fire.”

You had to bury your face in the pillow to muffle your laughter.  

#Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson fic #Eddie Munson smut #Eddie Munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #Stranger Things fanfic #smut

[rogueddie]

A gay bar is the last place Steve ever thought he'd be, yet here he sits.

He keeps looking over to Robin- not too much, just enough to keep an eye on her. Make sure she's still having fun. Although, he's sure he doesn't need to be worrying.

The girl who'd caught Robins eye is small, feminine. She looks like a sweetheart and she keeps getting Robin flustered. They're cute together, clearly into eachother, and Steve couldn't be happier.

Even sat alone, feeling completely out of place and a little uncomfortable, seeing Robin able to flirt with someone so openly is… he just feels relieved.

He should have thought to bring her here sooner.

"Hey there." The man smiles when Steve flinches. It's a soft smile, kind. "You wanna dance?"

"Oh, uh, I don't- I mean, uh-"

"Woah, don't panic. It's just a dance, right? You look uncomfortable is all and seeing you sat alone with your big fucking puppy dog eyes is just sad." He gently nudges Steves chin up when he tries to look down, feeling awkward. His finger lingers a little, brushing along his jaw. "You don't wanna have a fun night out? I won't be offended if you say no."

And, ok, Steve's a little tipsy. He's sure he'd never agree if he were sober- it wouldn't have felt fair. The guy is clearly attracted to him, not even trying to hide the way he's eyeing him.

But Steve's buzz is more annoying than pleasant and dancing does sound fun. So he agrees, accepts the hand offered and lets the guy pull him into the crowd.

The guy keeps his distance. Anytime the crowd jolts Steve toward him, he steps back the same amount, keeping a solid foot between them. But he's grinning, yelling jokes over the music, unabashedly dancing like an idiot.

It's great, it's fun. Steve can't stop grinning, stomach starting to ache with how much he's been laughing.

Eventually, a slower song comes on, stronger sexual undertones. The guy (Eddie, he'd leant in to tell Steve when asked, explaining that he knew Steve because they used to be in the same year as in Hawkins) shrugs, pulling an exaggerated face that screams 'what-can-you-do'. He's turning away.

But Steve grabs his wrist, Eddie looking back with raised eyebrows.

"This alright then, pretty boy?" He asks after stepping in close. His hands rest low on his hips.

Steve nods, flushing. He automatically puts his hands on his shoulders, letting Eddie lead him through a weirdly intimate sort of slow dance. And Steve is suprised to find himself… into it? He's not sure.

He feels less tipsy, so he can't blame the easy blushes or the way his stomach flips on the alcohol. There's no excuse for how he's started looking at Eddie either, paying a little too much attention to the way he moves, how his hands feel when they slowly start to wonder.

He gently brushes Eddies hair out the way without thinking, tucking it behind his ear so he can see the tattoo on his neck. Eddie tilts his head slightly, baring his neck a little more. When he glances up, Eddie is watching him, curiously.

"Hate to sound pressumptious," he drawls, taking a small step forward so their chests are pressed together, "but it feels like you're making moves on me, big boy."

"What if I am? What happens then?"

"Maybe I'd ask if you're sober enough to drive or if we need to call a cab." He leans back a little when Steve moves to kiss him. He hums, smirking. "Or maybe I'd ask for your number. I'm a classy lady, Harrington; what if I don't put out on the first date?"

"I've never said no to a challange."

Eddie barks out a laugh, loud enough to startle some of the people swaying beside them. "As if."

"What? You're like... pretty."

"Pretty," he repeats, rolling his eyes. "People know I'm a fag, Steve. Even being seen with me like we're 'just friends' would fucking ruin you."

"Your point?"

"You wouldn't dare."

"Wanna put money on that?"

Eddie eyes him for a second, his derision melting into curiosity. "You want to make a bet on whether you'll date me or not?"

"Why not? One of us wins money in a bet, we both score a date, and-"

"I thought you were straight."

"Yeah, me too. But I don't think straight guys think about you like I am, right now."

Eddie steps back, considering. It's a long, tense, moment before he finally sticks his hand out. Steve quickly shakes his hand, grinning.

"You've got yourself a deal."

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie fic #ficlet #alittlelaughtime

[sankttealeaf]

Can I request Tav and astarion but they get trapped together and astarion has to feed but feels like Tav offering isn’t really giving consent since they are trapped and he thinks they feel obligated. Bonus points if they’re also bickering and pining for other

this was so much fun to write! i may have gotten a little carried away but i hope you enjoy!! requests are still open if anyone is interested<3 i'm really enjoying writing these and am open for more ideas!!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

trapped

pairing ; astarion x gender neutral!reader

summary ; a wild treasure hunt leads to an unfortunate situation where you find yourself stuck in a cave-in with Astarion. / ao3

other info ; wyll, karlach and gale get special roles in this because i physically cannot stop myself from including other companions in the background. no real spoilers for the game so you're free to read wherever you are in the game!!

warnings ; vampire feeding, blood mention, vague mention of Astarion's past, general conversation surrounding consent (but everything is consensual because that's hot)

word count ; 5.9k (again. went a little wild)

You have no idea how long you have been walking for. It feels like days though you are certain it was only a few hours. The lack of sunlight is starting to get to you and the cramped cave system you are walking through is really not where you wanted to be today.

Was it a little ridiculous to be chasing a lead you found on a note on a dead traveller? Probably. Did you have to convince everyone that it wouldn't be a waste of their time? Yes. But here you are, travelling in the dark to hunt down buried treasure.

Karlach was more than happy to join you, in fact she was the first one who volunteered to be part of the “treasure hunting team”, as she called it. She managed to get Wyll involved and you were happy with this group. As you were getting ready to leave you had a last minute addition to the team - Astarion. Why he wanted to join you trekking through a damp cave, you had no idea. You weren’t going to ask, either.

So, here you are in the depths of a cave system, following a badly drawn map that should lead you all to hidden treasure. It took you way too long to get to this location and the day is already drawing to a close. You are certain you weren’t going to make it back to camp before nightfall. This treasure has to be worth it.

Through flooded areas and tight walkways, the deeper you get into the cave the quicker your hopes that this treasure would be easy to find crumbles. On the map it looks simple, yet the actual cave was difficult to navigate and you are not as prepared as you thought you would be. Perhaps you should have taken the spare rope from Halsin before you left camp. Karlach spends the time picking up interesting rocks she comes across, rushing over to show you with a grin on her face and a list of places to put it back at camp. You have a few rocks she gave to you in your pocket and you are glad that her optimism never falters the longer you travel. Wyll has marked arrows on the walls to keep track of where you have been, which is an idea that didn't even cross your mind until you noticed him doing it. And Astarion is… complaining.

Maybe complaining is the wrong word. It's more like he has been announcing loudly how he thought this would be an easy task to complete. He didn't sign up to be wading through knee deep cave water or scrambling over rocks to get to the next area. Neither did you, but you aren’t complaining about it.

You have managed to drown out his comments for the most part, keeping your focus on following the map and making sure not to get lost. There have been a few times where you almost walked on some loose stone and went plummeting down into the depths of the cave and you really didn't fancy getting stuck down here. You have also noticed the further you went into the cave the more dust and debris that fell from the ceiling. A sinking feeling begins to settle in your stomach and you approach each step with caution.

“Personally I think this map is leading us to a dead end,” Astarion says as he slinks up next to you, ignoring how lost in focus you were. “We should cut our losses and return back to camp before nightfall, don’t you agree?”

The dust from the ceiling drops in front of you again as you pause, reaching an arm out to stop Astarion in his tracks. “Be quiet, would you?”

“Everything alright?” Wyll asks from behind, hand reaching for his rapier in case something jumps out to attack.

Either something was down here with you or the cave ceiling isn’t as strong as you would like. You didn't know which thought was worse. Turning back to Wyll and Karlach, you shake your head slightly. “Be on your guard. Something’s off.”

“This is what I’ve been saying for the past five minutes. Have you seriously not been listening to me?” Astarion asks as you continue walking at a slower pace now, acutely aware of every foreign noise that doesn’t come from your group.

“Not really. I’m trying to keep us alive here,” you reply quietly, eyes darting from the floor to your surroundings in quick succession.

You stop in your steps as you hear the rumbling grow louder, though Astarion keeps talking even after you shush him again. It’s a rolling noise, one that grows the more you focus on it; a sound of rock against rock and a low rumble from above. You cast your gaze upwards and spot the beginnings of a large crack splitting the ceiling. Like pressure on ice, it splits into several off shoots before crumbling beneath whatever weight was on it.

You quickly pull Astarion towards you, dragging him away from the collapsing ceiling as you both fall to the floor with a thud. In an instant, your surroundings grow darker as a wall of stone and rubble barricades you and Astarion from Wyll and Karlach. The dust settles from the sudden upheaval of rock and the noise you have been hearing stops. Shit.

“Are you both alright?” Wyll calls out from behind the rubble and you can hear the sound of stone grating against stone which only cements your idea that this could be an early grave for you both if you didn't think fast.

You glance over at Astarion who is dusting himself off, rubbing at his elbow in a way that makes you assume he landed on it wrong. “We’re alive… just.”

“Does the map show any other ways to get to you? I’m not certain we can budge all this stone…” Wyll asks as you hear the sound of metal against the stone and a disappointed sigh from Karlach. You sit upright, grabbing the map from where it fell onto the ground and frown. It was a one way system, looping back around the way you came once you got to where the treasure was. This pathway is the only way in and out of the cave. You are stuck.

“So, uh… bad news… There’s no other way around,” you reply. The silence that follows on their end is not a good sign, however it is quickly broken by Astarion.

“What?!” He looks at you in dismay, his face falling at the thought of being stuck here. “You cannot be serious.”

“We’ll find a way to get you guys out! Don’t even stress!” Karlach yells. Her voice gets quiet but you can still hear her. “Do you think they’re stressed, Wyll?”

You take a moment to assess the cave-in, trying to budge a few rocks out of place but nothing moves. Perhaps with enough force they could be displaced, but you don’t have anything on that level right now.

“Wyll? Do you have anything that could push the rocks away?” you ask, hoping he has something in or on him that could force the rocks out of place.

“I don’t…” he pauses for a moment, before you hear him click his fingers together as an idea forms. “But Gale does. I know the spell you are hinting at. We can go back and get him?” he suggests, and you run the time it would take for them to get back to camp and back here again in your head. They would be back by early morning at the earliest… Which means you will need to spend the night in a cold, slightly damp cave. You give Astarion a look.

“Don’t look at me like that. I’m not going to dig our way out. My hands are way too delicate for that,” he says, turning his back to the problem at hand.

“Gale seems to be our only way out, which means we may need to spend the night here��” you tell him.

“Gale? Our only hope? What is he going to do, talk the rocks to death?” He rolls his eyes. “Surely there’s another way out?”

“There isn’t.” You sigh, rubbing at your temples as you begin to feel a stress headache forming. “And he can use spells, Astarion. Gale can shatter the rocks or something. They’re too tightly packed to move them normally. We’re stuck here until he can sort it out.”

“Great. Wonderful, actually. I’ve always wanted to spend a night in a cave. Thanks for this, really!” His voice drips with sarcasm and you have to physically hold yourself back from getting annoyed at him.

“I didn't personally cause this cave in! You think I want to be stuck here with you like this? Gods, you are infuriating.”

Before the argument could escalate, Wyll calls out from behind the wall of rocks that he and Karlach are going to head back to camp and grab Gale. They’ll be as quick as they can, he promises. It gives you some reassurance that you will not be stuck here for too long with Astarion.

The sound of your fellow companions leaving fills you with anxiety as the clock begins to tick on getting you both out alive. This is not how you planned this trip to go and you are starting to wonder if this was even worth it at this point. Astarion didn't seem to think so.

"For your information, I am not sleeping on the floor with no bedroll. This is expensive fabric, I’m not ruining it.” Astarion gestures to his outfit as you begin to set yourself down on the ground, ready to call it a day.

“We’ve camped in worse places, I don’t understand why you’re complaining so much about this,” you say, rummaging through your bag and thanking the Gods you packed some food for yourself.

“At least at camp I have my tent. And all my belongings. And comfort. Do I need to go on?” He shifts in his stance, looking down the tunnel to avoid your gaze.

You glare at him. “Okay, fine, I guess this isn’t an ideal place to rest. But I don’t want to travel too far in case we get lost. And then we’ll probably die down here. Do you want that?”

He sighs but doesn’t make a comment. You take it as a win.

After placing the contents of your bag onto the ground you come to two conclusions. One: the floor is far too damp to start a fire which means you are going to spend the next few hours cold. Two: you have enough food for yourself, but you aren’t sure if Astarion bought anything of use with him. You didn't see him pack much before he said he was joining you. He is still standing when you look over to him again.

“Are you going to stand all night?” you ask as he nods, still avoiding your gaze.

“Like I said. Expensive fabric. I’m not ruining it because someone got us trapped in here,” he replies and you roll your eyes. Wordlessly, you unbuckle your cloak from your shoulders and place it down on the floor for him. The dampness of the floor is most likely going to ruin your nice and expensive cloak, but at least it will stop him complaining. Hopefully.

He looks from you to the cloak and back again, confusion crossing his face and disappearing as quickly as it arrived. “What’s that for?”

“Just sit down. Please.” You start to reorganise the contents of your back, returning the tinderbox and an almost empty waterskin but keeping out the food you swiped before you left. When you look back up, you see Astarion has sat down atop your cloak. You hold back a smile.

The silence that falls over the both of you is broken by droplets of water or the sound of other vaguely ominous cave noises. If your timing is right you are certain it was now early evening. Hopefully Karlach and Wyll have left the cave by now.

“Did you bring any food?” you ask after a little while passes. It’s only when the question leaves your lips that you realise it is a stupid one. The look Astarion gives you only enhances your point.

“Yes, actually. I have three live rabbits tucked neatly away in my bag in case I fancied a snack,” he responds, opening up his pack with a flourish. “Did you want one? I’m so happy to share.” A few books and his trusty thieves tools were the only things you spot before he shoves his bag to the side with a frown. “Of course I didn't bring any food.”

You feel bad holding a stale bread roll in your hand as he tells you that and you lower it down slightly, letting him continue his rant.

“I was considering going to hunt down a cave bat or something. Not what I wanted, but I guess a life of “adventure”-” he says the word with exaggerated air quotes around them, “means that I bury the idea that I’ll ever get a lavish meal again.” He crosses his arms in annoyance.

“You shouldn’t eat a bat. You could get sick. Rabies, or something like that,” you tell him, though you aren’t sure your fun fact is a welcomed sight right now. The look on his face tells you that it isn't. “Halsin told me that after I tried to convince him to keep a family of bats that were living near one of the spots we set up camp a while ago…”

Astarion blinks, unsure of how he is supposed to react to that nugget of information. “Now my meal options have been reduced to nothing. Thanks. You’re truly a beacon of hope.”

An idea pings into your mind as you take in how irritated he is getting, most likely from the lack of food on his part. Not that you have been keeping tabs on when he would feed but from your calculations it had been a while. The last time he fed on you was a week or so ago and you still felt the sting of his fangs against your neck even now. It is an uncomfortable sensation and you were certain that it would only happen again in dire circumstances.

This feels like a dire circumstance…

“You can feed on me if you want.” The words come out quickly before you have a chance to think too deeply about the implications of it. You take a mouthful of bread to stop yourself from taking back the offer.

The irritation on his face dissipates into a softer look, one you didn't recognize. His usual quick remarks have vanished at your suggestion and it takes him a good minute to respond. The minute feels like hours to you as you start to regret even offering. Was it weird? Did you say it in a strange way?

“You don’t… I mean, I’m sure I’ll manage until we get back to camp.” He waves nonchalantly though you are unsure if he really means it.

“No offence but I have noticed you lagging behind a little lately…” you begin, unable to hold your gaze on him. “I just assumed, well, y’know… Plus I have a lot of blood to spare, so I don’t mind.” You cringe a little at that last sentence, wondering why you said it like that.

“It’s really not a big deal, I’m perfectly fine! If need be I can always go and find…” he grimaces at the next few words that leave his mouth, “a cave rat or something.”

You aren’t sure if you should feel offended at how he hasn’t jumped on the opportunity to feed from a person. Maybe it is because of how little you allowed him to feed on you. Maybe he hates you and would rather drink blood from a rat than you. You push that thought away with a frown.

“Astarion, I’m offering this to you if you need to,” you say as you set down your own food. “I’d rather you do it while I’m awake this time.” You see that he is thinking of more ways to put barriers between him and feeding on you and you wish he could be straightforward with you and say no.

“You’re all the way over there and like I said before, I don’t want to get my clothes wet,” he says and you can’t help but laugh at that. “What?”

“You can tell me no, it’s okay. I just thought I’d offer seeing as I really doubt you’ll find many cave rats around.”

He’s quiet for a moment and you can’t work out what he’s thinking. With what little you know about Astarion and his past you can’t help but assume he hasn’t had that many opportunities to say no to things.

He considers his words, opening and closing his mouth a few times before sighing, looking at you with a soft frown. “I don’t want you to feel like you are obligated to do this considering our circumstance.”

You blink in confusion at that, unsure why he feels that way. You wouldn't have offered if you didn't feel comfortable in allowing him to feed, so why was he convinced you were doing this because there was no other option?

“We haven’t built up much of a feeding rapport, that’s all! We haven’t… done this much. It still feels new.” He looks away and it clicks in your head at once - he’s nervous. You are also incredibly nervous about this, but if it means he is at the top of his game afterwards then the pain would be a small price to pay for it.

“I have no idea how else I’m supposed to say this: I’m giving you permission to feed on me, Astarion.” You want to know what he is thinking as your words hang in the air. You want to tell him that this is you telling him it’s okay, you’re wanting this just as much as he needs it.

He waits a moment, like he is expecting you to tell him you're joking or change your mind but it doesn't happen. When he realises you mean this and aren't saying it for the sake of it, he gives you a nod.

"Alright. Only if you're sure," he says quietly, moving over on your cloak to give you room beside him. You move over to sit next to him, glad to be off the cold floor and sitting on something that wasn't as uncomfortable.

"Is this alright? Do you need me to be in a certain position?" you ask quickly, shifting yourself from sitting on your knees to crossing your legs.

"It's easier if you lay down," he replies, quickly adding, "for the blood flow."

"Right. That makes sense." You check to see how much room you have of your cloak behind you before shuffling forward, coming face to face with Astarion for a moment. The sudden closeness causes you to stop in your tracks for a moment, holding his gaze for a moment longer than what is normal.

It's strange how you never really see Astarion without his guard up. Whenever you two bicker it was always with his signature smile on his face and a carefree laugh after each comment. But seeing him here and now with the gentle furrow of his brows and the soft lines etched along his face you can't help but try to memorise it all. Without even realising you found yourself moving a hand up to brush some hair from his face, stopping yourself once it rested ever so lightly against his cheek. You are about to pull away until you feel him lean into the touch, something you had not planned on happening.

The sound of a loose rock falling a little way away causes the moment to break as you pull away from him quickly, ready to move in case there was another cave in.

In an instant, the facade he has is pulled back up. "Are you trying to get me to starve to my death?" he asks once you have realised there was no chance of another incident. You laugh a little in response, cheeks warming up at the moment the two of you just shared.

"Wanted the last thing I saw to be something good. You know, in case you drink all of my blood and I die," you tease, before laying back on your cloak. The reality of what was about to happen is starting to settle in now and you keep your focus on the ceiling above you, not on Astarion.

"I promise you I won't kill you. I don't have any way of getting you back and I'd rather not have to explain to the others what happened," he replies, hands moving to either side of your head to hold himself up. He's at an angle, legs staying to one side of you. It's a little awkward and you can tell it's not ideal for him.

"That's good to hear! I do bring a scroll of revivify with me everywhere so we have a backup plan… just in case." It is hard to keep your gaze on the ceiling now as Astarion leans over you. Your heart pounds heavily against your chest and you cannot work out if it's because you know you are about to lose blood and it was working to keep it flowing or perhaps because of something else you didn't want to admit to yourself.

"Are you ready?" he asks softly, and you can already anticipate the sharp sting of his fangs piercing your skin. You give him a nod and turn your head to the side, exposing your neck to him.

He leans in and you can feel his breath against your neck. It takes everything in you to not turn to look at him, even seeing him so close out of the corner of your eye was enough to redden your cheeks. You hope he didn't notice.

The sudden pain is sharp and takes you off guard, reaching to grab onto Astarion's shoulder tightly to try and take your mind off of it. It's not as bad as the first time he fed from you, but it certainly isn't any better. He shifts positions as you see his legs now straddling you, and if anyone were to suddenly burst down the wall of rock it would be a rather embarrassing encounter for everyone. You forgot how intimate this whole ordeal could be.

You close your eyes as the pain subsides, now giving way to a feeling of numbness that crashes over you. You're very aware of the feeling of his lips against your neck and it would be so easy to let yourself imagine this was something else entirely. But then you move and the discomfort of your blood being removed from your body kicks back in and you have to stop yourself from allowing him to take too much from you. You give his shoulder a soft squeeze, and when there's no response from him you are forced to find your voice.

"Hey…" You mumble, tightening your grip on his shoulder. "Astarion..?"

He does nothing except press himself closer to you, savouring every last drop he could get. Black spots begin to fill your vision and with what little strength you had in you, you smack your arm down into his side to get him to stop.

He pulls away from your neck at the impact, blood smeared across his lips and his pupils dilated - you can hardly see the red anymore. Would it be odd to say that he looked so very handsome like this?

"Shit," he says breathlessly, "might have over indulged there. Sorry."

You give him a weak laugh, feeling your head spin at the sudden blood loss. "S'alright. Just glad you didn't kill me."

His eyes glance back at your neck as you speak, and when he leans you worry that he was going in for round two. You are taken aback when he licks across the area he had just bitten. If you weren't so dizzy you would have questioned him as he sits back, still straddling your waist.

"I'm not about to waste perfectly good blood," he says, noticing the confusion on your face. "Are you alright, though? You look a little pale."

You give him a thumbs up, still laying down. "All good. Missing some blood, that's all."

He nods, watching as you close your eyes again. You could quite easily drift off to sleep right now, the dizziness and the general feeling of not being right only adding to the need to rest. When you don't feel Astarion move off of you, you open one of your eyes to make sure he was okay.

"Are you alright?" you ask, catching him deep in thought.

"Oh, yes, I'm great. Wonderful. Absolutely perfect," he replies too quickly for it to be truthful. You frown, sitting up slowly to be at eye level with him.

"Is there more blood there still?" you ask him, watching as his eyes keep going back to your neck. "If there is, you should get it."

His touch is so soft you cannot discern if he was cleaning up some blood on your neck or if it is a kiss. When it happens again you realise he isn't cleaning up your neck but kissing over the spot he had just bitten. It is a strange feeling and one you didn't expect to feel after being drained from your blood, but as he moves along your neck leaving faint kisses in his trail you wonder if perhaps he had similar feelings towards you as you did him. You have always been happy to push those feelings down, keeping your focus on the main goal at hand. But here, trapped in a cave with no one to bug you to keep on track, maybe you could indulge yourself this once.

Astarion pulls back from your neck to look at you, his lips are still tinted a softer red from your blood and you find yourself staring at them for a little too long. Gently, you place your hand back on his cheek, smiling when he leans into the touch again. His hand moves to cover yours and you are still in shock at how soft his movements are.

The gap between you both closes slowly and you are aware of what this would lead to. Playful remarks and comments about hooking up were one thing, but this was not playing out like how you imagined it would. You didn't picture yourself being stuck in a cave with him, for starters. You want to ask him if this was okay, if this was even allowed.

You opened your mouth to speak and are suddenly caught off guard by the sound of more rocks falling elsewhere, echoing through the cave. The sudden sound causes you to flinch as you both turn to look in the direction it came from, further along the tunnel. At least it wasn't the way you came, you thought.

Astarion looks back at you after a moment and clears his throat, sitting back to put some distance between you both.

"You should get some rest. I'll, uh, keep watch in case the others turn up," he says quickly, climbing off of your lap in a clumsy manner. You can't help but feel slightly sad at the loss of his touch, but sleep was begging for you to join it.

"Wake me if anything happens," you tell him as you lay back down, already closing your eyes. You don't hear his response as sleep greets you with open arms.

Sounds of your name being called over and over again wakes you up from your slumber. Your head hurts and you feel as if you've been fighting fifty different battles and didn't win one of them. There was a pressure on your chest and as you come to you are met with a mess of white hair laying on you, Astarion's arms wrapped tightly around your midriff. You smile softly at the scene, hand moving to brush through his hair slowly. He hums in response but the moment is broken by your names being called again.

"Are you both still alive?" It's Wyll, you note, which only means he and Karlach had either gotten lost and returned back or they had Gale with them.

"We're still here!" you call back, still groggy from sleep. "Is Gale with you?"

Gale's voice is heard next and you have never been so happy to hear him speak. "The one and only!"

"Thank the Gods. Gale, I promise you that I will buy you whatever you want when we get to Baldur's Gate, just please tell me you have a way to get us out of here," you say, hoping that he had good news with him.

Astarion stirs from all the loud conversation, pressing himself closer to you in an attempt to drown out the noise. You move your hand from his head as you try to sit yourself up. It doesn't work.

Gale continues speaking. "I have a way to get you both out, don't you worry. I will need to ask you both to stand as far back as possible. I mean it. Far. Back."

You give Astarion a shake of his shoulder, trying to wake him. "Hey. Get up. We're almost out of here."

"This is not a good time to wake me up," he grumbles, swatting your hand away with a groan. "Too early."

"Gale is literally on the other side ready to blow this wall of rocks up. Wake up." You continue to shake him awake, ignoring the groans of protest.

He turns to look up at you with pleading eyes. "He can wait five more minutes. Please?"

You want to say yes, to give in and allow himself a moment of comfort. But your back hurts from laying on rock for hours and you want nothing more than to sit in your own tent and get some fresh air. You sit up quickly, causing Astarion to lose his place on your chest and sit up with you.

"I cannot believe this betrayal," he exclaims dramatically, giving you a half-asleep but playful glare. "Being this pretty doesn't come easy, you know. I need my sleep."

"You don't even sleep," you mumble, ignoring how your head sways as you push yourself up to your feet. "And you're pretty enough already." You blame the aches and pains for that last comment, though it doesn't seem to go past Astarion as quickly as you wish it did.

He grins. "You think I'm pretty?"

"Shut up and move your things. I want to get back to camp." You begin to pack away your belongings, shoving things back into your pack and waiting for Astarion to do the same. He picks up your cloak and gives it a quick brush off before putting it on himself. You're too busy putting distance between yourself and the rocks to even notice this. He slides up next to you after a moment, arm wrapping around your shoulder with a grin.

"Okay, I think you're good to go!" you yell, hoping Gale can hear you through the wall. You get confirmation almost immediately afterwards.

You feel Astarion lean towards you as you wait. "I think we should get trapped together more often. Who knows what else it could lead to?"

"More puncture holes in my neck, probably," you mumble in response. He laughs, his lips meeting your neck again just under the place where he drank from you hours ago.

"But you're so delectable," he whispers and you glare at him. The blush rising on your cheeks tells him you aren't mad.

With an almighty crash of thunder, the rocks that made up the wall you have been trapped behind suddenly disperse, the larger ones shattering and the smaller ones turning into dust. You cover your face at the impact and when your ears stop ringing you turn to see Gale, Wyll and Karlach on the other side.

Karlach immediately runs over, arms outstretched and embracing both you and Astarion without thinking.

"I'm so glad you both aren't dead. I have no idea how I'd break the news to Scratch and the Cub! Or everyone else, I suppose," she says once she lets go of you both, your clothes slightly singed by the warmth emanating from her.

"Did you find the treasure?" Gale asks when the three of you walk back to him and Wyll and is only slightly disappointed when you shake your head no. "Ah, well, nothing lost then! I'm sure there's plenty of other treasure to be found. Hopefully not in caves, though. Might I suggest avoiding them in the future?"

"Suggestion taken. I miss sunlight," you reply, feeling Astarion's hand move from your shoulder to the small of your back.

"We had fun though, didn't we? A cave-in can certainly bring people closer together. Right, my dear?" Astarion grins, giving you a wink.

"As much as we all would love to know what that's insinuating, we really should get out of here before there's another freak accident," Wyll suggests, gesturing to the way out.

You nod, wanting nothing more than to breathe fresh air and be away from cramped spaces.

The journey out of the cave is long and feels longer due to the woozy feeling of having a little less blood than you started the journey with. You find yourself leaning on Astarion for support every now and then and he is more than happy to wrap an arm around you to keep you up. The two of you are at the back of the group; you didn't want your slow pace slowing everyone else down.

"I never thanked you earlier," Astarion says quietly to you, a look of sincerity on his face.

"Oh, it's no problem," you reply, nudging him with your elbow. "Just don't almost kill me next time."

"Next time?" He raises an eyebrow with a grin. "You'll allow me to go for seconds?"

"As long as you treat me as nicely as you did afterwards, I may consider it." Thinking about the almost kiss that happened after makes you blush and Astarion shrugs casually, though you can spot the faintest hint of pink spreading across his cheeks.

"Maybe. We can always do that without the biting part," he suggests. "Only if you want."

"I'd like that." You give him a smile, leaning over to press a kiss onto his cheek. "Only if you want, too."

The first sign of daylight causes you to pull away from him before he can respond as you rush over to the opening of the cave with Karlach, thankful to get fresh air again.

Astarion watches you go, listening to you cheering and praising Gods you didn't believe in. How quickly his plans could crumble. How quickly you made him feel accepted. There was a knot present in his stomach that was slowly untangling itself the more he thought about intimacy with you. Perhaps, one day, he would want that with you.

#astarion x reader #astarion x tav #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #astarion x gender neutral reader #; tealeaf's writing

[whereonhermitcraftisjoel]

joel and iskall go through a breakupo (???) and iskall begins his yandere ex gf arc around 4 hours and thirty something minutes in.

This week on hermitcraft: the anime: the harem isekai protaganist joel is being lusted after by at least five different people

I really can’t overstate how weird this is, and how thirty four minutes long it is. I wanted to cut it down but there's never thirty seconds w/out Joel (or Jimmy) talk. I guess I’ll put some clips on youtube? I haven’t even finished all my weird flirty mcc clips (including iskall/jimmy)

Real quotes:

Joel: "Secret relationship???" Iskall: "Do you not love me?" Joel: "Not like that, we're just friends." Iskall: "I just got friendzoned?" Joel: "Deal with it."

Iskall's Crazy Ex Arc Twitch link , 04:26:00

(he also does youtube vods so hopefully it will wind up there)

Timestamps:

04:25:47 - Joel logs on and heads to Iskall Iskall claims it’s all cool ha ha it’s a prank he’s fine 04:31:15 - Joel is gone, threatens restraining order over chat 04:34:55 - Iskall declares his Jimmy arc 04:37 - Iskall is trying to frame Etho 04:39 - Iskall starts writing crazed letters and sending them 04:44 - Joel is back 04:47 - Etho reference 04:54 - Joel leaves for good 04:55 - Iskall brainstorms ways to be very weird about Joel 04:58 - Iskall worried people won’t get the joke is he gets too weird about Joel

(some of the screenshots or my summary may have gotten a bit out of order)

Summary: Joel is back from Japan and has seen all the mail from Iskall. He logs on, Iskall starts flirting. Iskall tells his chat that ha ha it's all funny Joel doesn't realize it's all funny.

Iskall explains why he thought he and Joel were in a "secret relationship" because of a prank and note Joel left him. Joel says it was not him. (His chat says it was False.) Joel seems utterly baffled and friendzones him. Iskall is also baffled.

Iskall: "Do you not love me?" Joel: "Not like that, we're just friends."

Iskall: "I just got friendzoned?"

Iskall gets weird in chat, with Gem shouting and begging to get banned, Iskall sends Joel... crazy ex letters, I guess? I'm not screenshoting those, too many images, probably in his next ep.

Iskall declares he's moving on to his Jimmy arc, with his beautiful hair and eyes.

(Note: Iskall and Jimmy spent a bunch of time together for the Hermit Charity Stream. Maybe Iskall saw him with others and said, "Oh I can get much more homoerotic with hermits, huh." I'm new to Iskall but my friends say his obsession was never quite so... romantic framed.)

The previous day, on MCC, Iskall's first in three years:

Iskall somehow thinks he can pin anything here on Etho.

Iskall then tries to hire Joel to do armor stands and to sell him an apartment. Throughout all this, Etho is brought up several times.

I recommend keeping Iskall's chat up, it's not overwhelming and pretty fun. I've got some more chat quotes below the cut

#hermitcraft #smallishbeans #joel smallishbeans #hermitcraft season 10 #hermit joel #hermitcraft s10 #hermitblr #iskall85 #swedishbeans #geminitay