#(( I sent it in an ask but you must not have seen

[ccsainzleclerc5516]

That’s Not What Friends Do (part 1)

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader

Warnings: smut, cheating

Request: Lando and the Reader have been best friends since they were babies. Lando has been in love with the Reader since he was a teenager, which is why he has never had a serious relationship. He has flings with girls, but nothing serious. On the other hand, the Reader has been in love with Lando for the past one to two years but thinks he doesn't like her that way, which is why she doesn't propose. Lando is very protective of the Reader, and the Reader is equally protective of Lando.... She knows he sleeps around and is protective of him in a way that she advises him to be smart about who he sleeps with and to stay out of the headlines for anything other than racing. The story starts after the Brazil race, where Lando had a tough time and went without sleep for 24-48 hours. When he returns from São Paulo, he finds the Reader already there, ready to comfort him after a bad race. - I changed it up a bit adding Charles into the story, but I hope you still like it!

"Oh, yes, yes, yes-ah.." The girl moans breathlessly into the pillow as Lando animalistically continues pounding her from behind.

"Just like that, Lando, give it to me" She continues talking even though Lando hates hearing it.

He hates the way his name sounds coming from her lips. He also hates that he's giving her what she wants. And most of all, he hates the fact that once again he's fucking someone else, imagining it washer.

Once he closes his eyes and thinks of your innocent face, it sends him over the edge, he twitches pulling out his cock and cumming inside the condom. "Fuck.." He moans throwing his head back as his thighs shake.

"You didn't have to pull out, you know? You have a condom on anyway" The girl smirks turning to look at him and trying to pull him down to her.

Lando doesn't say anything, he raises his eyebrow at her, barely keeping himself from rolling his eyes at her stupid comment.

He's been with so many girls he can't even count them, but even when he's drunk out of his mind, protection is a must have. He's not fucking around when it comes to that, not when he doesn't even know half of those girls' names. Nor is he interested in their names. All he cares about is emptying himself, giving himself a short-term pleasure and maybe just maybe running into someone who is at least slightly similar to her.

"You're not gonna stay?" The girl asks when he gets up from the bed and starts pulling his pants up.

"No, sorry, I gotta go" With curt, almost no explanations, he always leaves minutes after he finishes. Not that he's proud of it, but to be honest, he doesn't care either.

On the other hand, y/n doesn't spend her free nights the way Lando does. She doesn't fuck around with guys to keep her mind off Lando because she knows that's impossible in a way.

Although she spends some of her evenings wishing she had never seen that article a year and a half ago. It was a perfectly normal Monday night, the day after the race, when after a long flight she finally lay down on her couch, snuggled under the blanket and started scrolling through her phone. At one point, her best friend Ruby sent her an article titled "Friends"? and a picture of y/n and Lando that y/n hasn't stopped thinking about ever since.

The picture captured the moment when, after the race, Lando had both arms tightly wrapped around y/n and was kissing her temple with his eyes closed.

At first it seemed like an ordinary picture, I mean it wasn't the first time they shared a close moment like that before. After all they're friends? Friends do that, right? But the longer y/n stared at it, the more it awakened something in her that hadn't been there before.

When she found herself thinking about Lando and herself at night to fall asleep, she realized she was in trouble because she knew she was in love with her best friend. But since she also knew that the night she was staring at their picture, he was fucking some girl because he himself had told her he was meeting her that night, y/n knew she had to suppress her feelings.

That's where y/n had a little help named Charles.

"Where were you?"

Y/n startles almost screaming when she walks into her apartment and turns on the light revealing Lando on her couch.

"Oh my God, Lando!!" She said, barely able to catch her breath as she held her hand over her heart thinking it would jump out at any second. "You scared the shit out of me! How did you get in here?"

"You gave me the key?"

"I did, but to use it in case of emergency only!"

"You not answering my calls is an emergency" He says and you roll your eyes at him as you take off your shoes. "So?"

"So?" You mimic him.

"Where were you?"

"I was" You sigh. "On a date."

"You were on a date?" He asked a little panicked, following you like a puppy into the kitchen where you had gone.

"Mhm" You mumble, avoiding his gaze. "Ready to conquer Brazil?" You ask trying to change the subject.

"Who were you on a date with?" He asks not dropping it.

"Can we please not talk about it?" You sigh. You really had no intention of telling him anytime soon that you were seeing Charles. You knew Lando was never much of a fan of Charles. Although the reason for that was never clear to you, Lando had actually seen the way Charles secretly looked at you on a couple of occasions, and he confirmed his suspicions when Carlos told him that Charles had said he wanted to get to know you better.

"Why not? Since when am I not allowed to know who you're seeing?"

"Oh please, as if you tell me about every girl you see"

"Well..that's n-not the same"

"Oh really? And by the way, the other day Instagram was full of you and some blonde at a club again. I could see how drunk you were through the picture, you know?" You've scolded him for the umpteenth time already. "You really should be more careful who you associate yourself with, it's getting out of hand"

Lando remained silent because he knew you were right and he hated that he knew you were always right.

"Lando, you know I'm only saying that because I don't want them to talk badly about you and play with your head..."

No one really knew Lando the way you did. After all, you've known each other since childhood, inseparable since you were little. Your relationship has always been one of a kind, both of you very protective of each other. For Lando, it was like he wasn't afraid to hurt anyone but you. You were something that cannot be touched.

"I know, but I don't want to talk about that either." He says. "Are you coming with me to Brazil?"

"No, I'm sorry, Lan. I have a project to finish. I have so much to do and so little time."

"So you have time to date but you don't have time to be there when I need you?"

"H-how can you even say that?" You were offended because that was far from the truth. If anyone was always there for Lando, it was you. You just didn't know he was saying this only out of jealousy and because he had a hard time accepting that you had someone in your life besides him.

"Let me guess, he'll be your moral support while you work on your project?"

Oh, if he only knew that the "moral support" he was talking about would be much closer to him than to you that weekend, he would surely lose his mind.

[twopoppies]

Gina, I want to tell you I have been reading your blog for a couple years now. I’ve never sent an ask to anyone. I first came into the fandom when I watched Harrychella and I thought hmm this man isn’t just flagging he is screaming at the top of his lungs. Then I watched the Cosmic Leeds videos and I fell down a rabbit hole. I am not someone who believes “conspiracy theories”. I am however old enough to know closeting has been proven to exist in the entertainment industry. I’m also from a rural area of the U.S. where homophobia is the norm, so unfortunately I had no trouble believing closeting still exists. I went into full information gathering mode about Larry Stylinson, but it was more than that too. I fell in love with 1D and all the boys’ solo work, especially Louis. I loved his voice, his songwriting, and his ‘real’ personality (when he allowed it to shine through all the media training). I read through every tumblr I could, you and Daisie provided a wealth of information that can not be ignored. I feel certain that Larry was real and I hope they are still together. I’m not one of those people who never doubted. It would be hard not to second guess things in this fandom with all the gaslighting that goes on. I write all of this to say that I’ve never felt so sad and like there is no hope for change as I do right now. It feels like Louis’ fandom is falling apart. There is so much division, hate, and intolerance of any idea that doesn’t conform to someone’s own. Louis pr strategy honestly baffles me. A divided fandom is so tiring. It seems less like pr and more like intentional sabatoge, which I guess it could be. I just don’t see any way out for him or Harry. I think Harry’s extended break is partly because of this too. I think he was overworked and emotionally drained for many reasons, but closeting most of all is exhausting. If I’m feeling this way as a fan I can’t imagine how they must be feeling. It breaks my heart. Sometimes I hope I am crazy and Larry was never real because the story is just too sad. Don’t even get me started on bbg because it is the shittiest situation ever. I think I need to take a step back from the fandom for a bit. But this brings me to my point. I’m pretty resilient, I can not be the only person feeling this way. It makes me so worried for Louis’ career and for both Louis and Harry’s mental health. I guess I don’t really have an ask. I just wanted to say thank you for all the information you have provided over the years. And, I needed to get this off my chest. If I posted this on twitter I would be roasted and I’m not strong enough for that right now. I meant it when I said I fell in love with their music, so I will continue to support all the boys. I’m hoping there is a master plan that will eventually set them free. But, I just keep coming back to the line

‘Said I had a plan for us Time had came and changed it all We had to disappear 'Cause nothing gets through here’

I will add one more thing. I believe there are more Larries than people think, but we are tired of the gaslighting and the hate, so many of us step back or hide. This is why the industry wins most of the time. 😥

Hi, sweetheart. Thank you for sharing your thoughts. I'm sorry it feels so overwhelming right now. I do think taking a step back is probably really healthy for most of us. I've actually never seen the fandom in such shambles.

I don't know what Louis' plan is in terms of his fandom or his future plans. But I have dozens and dozens of sad, confused, and angry messages in my inbox, and that fucking sucks. I really don't see a way forward at the moment. I will say, though, that some of the upset stems from some people's tendency to lean into worst-case scenarios and amplify their own worries by jumping to conclusions. Then there are the shit-stirrers who try to make things worse by sending in fake receipts or theories. It's hard to stay grounded when there's insanity whirling around you.

As for Harry and Louis, I do tend to believe they're still together. I don't think their relationship has been as easy as many of us would like to believe – I don't think it could be, given their ages when they met and the conditions they've had to live with. I do think they're soulmates... soulmates don't always end up together, but I tend to think these two will make it. I certainly hope they do.

Our fandom never does well when the boys aren't active. I think if you want to get your sanity back, now is as good a time as any.

[lunarmoonanons]

The Queen Mother

🌕 🌖 🌗 🌘 🌑 🌒 🌓 🌔 🌕

Visenya watches Tyrell Reader like a hawk. Never betraying whether she tolerates her or not.

🌕 🌖 🌗 🌘 🌑 🌒 🌓 🌔 🌕

Masterlist

9 years ago, Winter

Her babies were a month old now. YN had no choice in their names, but they were pretty names. Pretty names for pretty babes. Each of them named after someone important to Maegor: his father, his mother, himself. Aegon ii looked like his father, Maegor ii looked like the Queen mother, and Visenya ii looked more like a Valyrian child then one of Westeros. The fifteen year old bride wished one would look like her but it seemed she’d have to have more children if she wanted one to look like her. She already knew Maegor wanted more children. He said as much on the day of her labor, making the day that should’ve been joyous sour. Her whole pregnancy was soured by her husband. 

Her husband. She hated to think Maegor was her husband now. A man close to his thirties bedding a barely fifteen year old was not well looked upon for some people. Yes young girls married older men occasionally but most of the time they would be closer in age. And in her family her father promised each of his daughters they’s marry men close in age to them, and marry when they were eighteen. A lot of people whispered that the king was cruel to take a child from her family and marry her against her will. Many whispered the young girl still played with dolls, so how could she mother children?  

It was nighttime again, a week ago she had sent a letter to her mother. Her mother had quickly sent a letter back, full of worry and love that any mother would have for her child. She asked in her letter that YN read a little to her babies, so her the girl was sitting on her bed with her doll and her babies. Two of the babies laid on their back, and one was held close to her chest as she face the boy around to look at the letter. 

“Mommy says ‘I believe your babes are some of the most beautiful. Even though I have not seen them you’ve described them well and I’m sure I will love them if or when I see them.’ Did you hear that? Mommy says you’re beautiful.” YN said, reading off the letter. She scanned the latter half and placed the baby down next to his siblings. “This part is for me only. So you wait there.” 

She read the rest of the letter, getting more emotional at the content. Her mother spoke about needing to love your babies. That it might be hard to love them but you can never take it out on them for they did nothing but be born. She was sure her daughter loved her babies but she must protect them from their father. That she loved her so much and if she ever wanted her to, she would come to Kingslanding and be with her. It made the girl tear up and place the letter on the side table. She grabbed her doll and held it close. Getting lost in her thoughts until her little girl made noises to be picked up. 

So she grabbed the girl and held her in one arm, showing the doll to her baby and playing with the two. Bouncing the doll up and down before making it “kiss” her baby. Smiling at the coos her baby made. When her babies started to get tired and fussy, she one by one set them to sleep in their cribs that she had demanded be moved into her room. When they were all asleep, she went back and sat crisscrossed on her bed holding her doll. Smiling and playing with the carefully crafted toy. 

She focused so much on her doll she didn’t notice her room being entered, only when the person was at the foot of the bed. YN looked up and caught her breath in her throat at the sight of Queen Visenya standing there looking at her. Her hard eyes, tall stature, braided hair, mouth that stretched into a line. YN barely spoke to Visneya, she was frightened of the woman. She stood there and watched this girl shrink into herself. YN felt very small under the gaze of Visenya, no matter if it was in the safety of her rooms or the openness of the court. YN held her doll close to her chest and tried to look down so to not look in her piercing violet eyes. 

“Let me see it.” Visenya said. 

“W..What?” YN asked, holding her doll closer. 

“The doll. Let me see it.” Visenya demanded, holding out her hand. YN’s hands shook as she held out the doll from her chest and into the queen’s hand. The older woman took the doll and examined it closely. “It is well made. Expensive.”

YN nodded and wrung her hands. Looking at her doll that the woman held in her hands with worry. Would she take it away? Would she say that’s a childish thing to have and force her to give it up? Maegor didn’t mind her having the doll, though he said she should focus on motherly duties. 

“Who had it made for you?” Visenya asked. 

“My Aunt. She promised me a present for my nameday…” YN whispered. She silently begged whoever listened for the queen to give her back her doll and leave. 

Eventually, Visenya stopped examining the doll and handed it back to the girl who held it close to her chest. But her respite was short lived as the older woman grabbed her chin and made her look at Visenya’s face. She moved the girl’s head side to side while examining the younger girl’s face. Finally she let go and allowed the girl to scoot back onto the bed. 

“I never wanted my son to wed you.” Visenya revealed. “What could a child know about having children?” 

YN said nothing, feeling small and helpless under her gaze. She wanted to cover her head with her covers and hide under her blankets like she did when there would be storms when she was younger. It was her violet eyes that were the harshest. They pierced her and watched her like a hawk. She never felt so small as she did under Visenya’s eyes. Maegor made her feel small with his sheer size and strength, but his mother pierced you with her hard eyes. She could make you feel small with just a look. 

“You were, you are a child. Aegon never passed the law, but I wanted him to pass a law that a woman must be at least eighteen to marry.” Visenya sighed. She went over to where the babies were sleeping and looked at her grandchildren. “I was not as flattered as you’d think when Maegor named her after me. But she has my name so she will be trained with the sword as I was.” 

The babies slept next to their cradle eggs, all three showing cracks. Visenya had eggs placed in their cribs the day they were born. Showing great interest in her grandchildren. They were the first grandchildren her son had given her. Though she was sure Alys would provide more, this Tyrell girl had proved to be fertile at her young age. 

“I know you are frightened here. Of this place, of Maegor, of me. But you have already pleased him by giving him children. Yes you may need to do that again, but so far you have done well.” Visenya made her way closer to the girl. Placing a hand on the side of her head. Gently holding her head in her hand. “You leave Maegor with me. I won’t let him hurt you more than he has.”

With that the queen left the girl’s room, and YN let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. She held her doll close to her chest and pulled the covers over her head. Hiding under the blankets so no one could get in. She felt her chest grow in pain, the babes had nursed too hard. Everything made her chest hurt. She felt so small in the Red Keep. She just wanted to play with her doll and forget she had children. 

@gulnarsultan

[heresthestorymorningglory]

Would've Could've Should've - Part 3

Happy New Year my lovelies! I hope 2025 has been good to you so far

I decided we'll kick off 2025 with a little bit of my yellow spandex toting husband. As always, @ken-dom your unwavering support must be acknowledged.

Previous parts here

As always, this NSFW 18+, but this go round I'm adding a big part B to this warning; being that this chapter contains SA and rape. If you don't know what the first acronym is, you understand a single word.

This warning does NOT come lightly.

PLEASE proceed with caution and mind your triggers <3

Y'all should know by now I rarely post one shots…..so yeah, this will be multiple parts….I’m just not sure on the final tally yet.

This is your final warning.... ^^^^^^^^^

6 moths earlier

You locked the door with a sigh, turning off the open sign. You turned on your heel, and jumped slightly realizing someone was still there. 

You relaxed a little when you realized it was Logan. 

“Jesus Logan,” you sighed “I thought you left”

He didn't answer, just got to his feet, his eyes locked on you, like a predator with prey. 

“What?” You asked, slowing your steps, coming to a stop in front a few feet away. 

He didn’t answer, just moved closer

You had never been unsettled by Logan before, quite the opposite actually, he was a regular, and god was he a hot mess…no one drank a bottle of whiskey a night who didn’t have some sort of fucked up trauma. 

He wasn’t hard to look at, you flirted shamelessly and he tipped well. 

That had been your regular routine for months, he had taken a liking to you or at least that’s what your coworkers had said. One night on your closing shift you had half jokingly hinted at the idea of sleeping together, told him you lived in the apartment upstairs. You had gotten into a bit of routine, a comfortable one, but now the bar was closed and it was just the two of you….and his eyes had a look like you’d never seen before.

He was quiet, you were both quiet, and unmoving. 

And then he stalked forward, you moved backward just as quickly until you found yourself pinned against the back wall. Everyone else had been sent home for the night, you were alone, the smell of whiskey hung heavy in the air between you.

“You’re a fucking tease”

You watched as he dropped his hand, a single claw slowly appearing from between his knuckles. Heart beating hard against your ribcage. 

“Logan-” you whispered, voice barely audible 

Another hard swallow and you shook your head; your eyes fixed on the single blade as it came to rest between your cleavage

“I…I didn't -” you stammered “I wasn't-”

You squeezed your eyes shut as he reached and squeezed your jaw hard “Don't lie to me”

“I'm-” you opened your eyes “Logan…” you tried keeping your voice even and failed. Your customer service mask was starting to crack. 

Still acutely aware of the blade between your chest. 

Logan's eyes dropped from yours and you couldn't move, you didn't dare try

You watched as the single claw tore through fabric.  

“Logan pl-” 

You were cut off as your head made contact with the wall, giving you an instant headache. 

Tears pricked the corners of your eyes, his bruising grip still around your jaw. 

T-shirt now hanging uselessly with a clean slice down the front. Your chest rising and falling so rapidly you couldn't hide your fear even if you had wanted to. 

You breathed heavily through your nose, a single tear slid down your cheek, pooling on the edge of his finger, where it gripped your cheek hard. 

“I’m not going to hurt you” he breathed, hot against your cheek; despite his not drinking as much as he usually did, he was still drunk. 

“You are hurting me” you said through clenched teeth 

He hummed, cocking his head slightly, seeming to consider this 

“What’s a little more then, hmm?” 

He thrust you hard against the wall, knocking the wind out of you for a beat; you gasped as he hooked his claw where your bra met in the middle, pulling hard, the fabric separating, exposing your bare chest; but Logan seemed uninterested and you shivered, feeling a draft from somewhere in the empty building. 

Your breathing quickened as you watched the tip of his claw press in the centre of your chest and he leaned forward, his weight keeping you stationary against the wall. 

Running had crossed your mind, but even if you did manage to somehow overpower him, drunk or not, he could cover two of your strides in one; you were trapped. 

You whimpered slightly as he pushed the tip of his claw harder against your skin 

“Logan” you pleaded and it seemed to fall on deaf ears, his eyes fixed on the spot where his claw pressed into your flesh. 

“It’s so….” he spoke quietly, almost to himself  “Smooth” he finished 

You watched him study you and all at once it clicked in your brain and it was like you could read his mind “Logan don’t-!

Your voice was cut short by your own shrill scream as a white hot pain exploded from your chest; your hands trying frantically to pull at Logan’s wrist, trying to stop him from dragging any further. 

All at once, both of your hands were pinned against the wall over your head, gripped tightly in his other hand. 

You gasped in pain, fighting to catch your own breath as tears streamed freely down your cheeks. 

He laughed appreciatively “Ooh she's a screamer” 

A tear slipped off the end of your nose as you dropped your head, watching your blood coat the shiny metal before he stopped just above your belly button. 

You squeezed your eyes shut again, struggling to get air into your lungs.

“Does it hurt?” His brow furrowed slightly before he looked back at you 

“Yes,” you rasped, voice barely audible 

“Interesting…” he mumbled, again more to himself 

Another swift slice, this time across your raised arms; your knees buckled as you screamed in pain. Logan’s grip on your wrists tightened to keep you upright as he hummed appreciatively. Warm blood trickled from the three fresh cuts across both arms. You hadn’t even noticed he had unsheathed the other claws.

You grit your teeth, swallowing hard, wrists aching, your chest throbbing, shirt stained with blood. Logan pulled you from the wall, and you practically tripped over your own feet as he dragged you through the bar and up the small narrow staircase to your apartment. You had mentioned in passing during one of his night long visits that you lived upstairs; apparently he had committed that fact to memory. 

He wrenched the door open and threw you inside, kicking it shut again so hard your picture frames on the wall rattled from the impact. 

When he finally released your wrists your arms immediately found their way around yourself. Logan stood in front of you, pacing back and forth, blocking your exit…although you didn’t really know where you’d go at two o’clock in the morning. The downtown wasn’t exactly busy at this hour. 

So you opted to try something different…

“Logan, you don’t wanna do this” you spoke softly, your eyes never leaving his pacing form “Don’t do this…” 

He stopped mid-stride, turning on his heel to face you directly. 

“What is it you think I’m gonna do?” He asked, his voice low 

“Kill me” you said simply, heart slamming in your chest

He just shook his head with an unnerving chuckle, advancing on you, and you instinctively took steps backwards.

“If I wanted to kill you, you’d already be dead” His eyes darkened as he spoke. Your eyes never left his, and you jumped slightly as your back hit the far wall. That unmistakable metallic ring as at that same second, claws glinted between his knuckles. 

Before you had time to think, they were at your throat, forcing you to lean your head back against the wall. 

“See?” he breathed, the slightest hint of amusement in his tone and you winced as claws dragged down the length of your neck, leaving behind tiny cuts in their wake. “Easy”

“What do  you want then?” you panted, your neck stretched as far back as you could manage in an effort to avoid more injury. Afraid to hear the answer, but already knowing what it may be. 

“You know,” he mused, stepping back only slightly “I watch you with them, every night; you dress like a slut, and you flirt your way through the entire bar for hours. He stressed the last word like it was something painful for him to witness. 

“I don’t-” you started to protest and he thrust you against the wall, hard

“Shut, the fuck, up” he warned

You fell quiet, eyes slipping closed, as you fought to ignore the stinging coming from your cuts.

“You saunter around all night in this tiny fucking skirt, and don’t expect me to do anything about it?” 

As he spoke, the hand not at your throat, forced its way between your legs. You fought to keep them closed, to no avail, he was stronger than you; even more so than you’d thought. 

“Logan-” 

A hot sting across your cheek, snapping your head harshly to the side you bit down hard on your lip, splitting it. 

“I’m still speaking” he snapped “You’re Mine”  he demanded through clenched teeth “Do you understand?”

You stood still, too afraid to speak

Logan’s attention turned to your bloodied lip, now that you were finally able to drop your head. His calloused thumb dragging deliberately slowly over the cut, making you whimper. His other hand, still between your thighs, you jumped when you felt the cold metal bite into the sensitive skin, followed by the all too familiar sting 

He brought his now blood covered thumb to his own lips before sucking it clean.  

You watched as his eyes slipped closed and seized your opportunity, with all the strength you could manage, praying it was enough, shoved him hard, using the wall to your advantage.

You had caught him off guard, sending him stumbling backwards. He landed hard on your glass top coffee table smashing it under the impact of his weight. 

You ran for the door, yanking hard on the handle before your head snapped backward, Logan’s hand tangled in your hair, gripping hard. His free hand shoving the door closed. 

“Where you going, little mouse?” he whispered next to your ear, your neck craned back at a painful angle.

You sucked air through your teeth, but didn’t answer. 

“Not sure what part you didn’t understand” he growled, yanking you backwards, away from the door “You’re mine” 

Your breath caught in your throat as you let out a laughing cry “I wouldn’t be yours if you were the last man alive” you strained “You’re a pathetic drunk”

“You really don’t learn, do you?” he laughed darkly 

He pulled hard on his fistful of your hair and you tripped over your own feet as he dragged you down the hallway toward your bedroom.

You stumbled ahead of him as he pulled you into the bedroom, catching yourself on the edge of the bed before Logan’s hand, painfully gripping your shoulder, turned you to face him, pinning you against the mattress as he stripped his own clothes off; muscles rippling under his tanned, toned skin.

“Don’t know where you thought you’d get looking like that” he scoffed, playing with the tattered remains of your t-shirt. 

“And now, you pissed me off” 

Thick fingers closed around your throat, squeezing too hard. Your mouth dropped open, fighting for air as your feet left the ground and Logan picked you up by the throat, like you were a rag doll. Nails clawed uselessly at his forearm, little red welts disappearing almost as fast as you could make them. 

He dropped you on the bed, and you gasped, filling your lungs with air as soon as you were able. 

Then, before you could think to do much else, your head still spinning from lack of oxygen, he was there,looming over you, teeth bared as he tore the fabric of your skirt like tissue paper and thrust one hand between your legs.

You tried in vain to kick him off and failed, crying out as your knee twisted at an unnatural angle and he used his own knee to pin it to the bed. 

You screamed, more in frustration than in pain. You struck him hard across the face, the ring on your finger, turned the wrong way around slicing him across the cheek. 

He growled, deep in the back of his throat, grabbing your wrist tightly as you watched the tiny, insignificant cut disappear. 

His grip was painful as his eyes locked with yours. “Move again, and I’ll break them”

You ignored him, wrenching your wrist free, striking him hard across the face a second time. 

He sighed heavily, grabbing both wrists twisting hard, the bones splintered like cheap chopsticks. 

You screamed with a hiccupping sob; the tough no nonsense exterior facade you used at work had long vanished. 

Logan took both your wrists in one hand, thrusting them up over your head, the white hot pain shooting down the length of your arms. Using his free hand and his teeth to tear a chunk of fabric from your already ruined skirt, tying them tightly to the headboard. 

You closed your eyes, catching your breath, but also trying with everything you had to pull your hands free. Your pulling only making the binds tighter and your vision go white with excruciating pain. 

“Logan,” you pleaded “Please don’t do this, you don’t want to do this; I know you don’t” 

Cheeks streaked with tears as you fought against every instinct to keep from vomiting from the pain 

This made him snort with a laugh “Aside from what I drink, you don’t know anything about me” 

His fingers curled around your extended forearm and pulled. 

You screamed, breath catching in the back of your throat as you sobbed in pain. You couldn't even find your voice to beg him to stop. 

His eyes raked over your naked, bloody body. One hand still between your thighs, fingertips of the other playing with the tacky drying blood that had dripped down your chest. 

“I know what I want,” he spoke softly, not looking at you, but focused on his fingers drawing crude patterns in the blood over your skin; leaving goosebumps in their wake. “And I’m going to take it” 

He shoved your legs apart, putting himself between them; fingers digging into the meaty flesh of your thighs as he kept you still; your sobs of pain and fear only drove him further.

A guttural scream as claws dragged themselves down both thighs, before hands gripped them painfully. Logan’s breath hot against your core as you felt fresh blood trickle down your thighs, staining your sheets. 

“Not wearing any panties” he noted “And you’re going to tell me, you don’t want this?” he chided before his head dropped between your legs.

You pulled hard on your binds, screaming in pain before slipping into darkness.

***

You jerked awake, pain bringing back to your nightmarish reality

Twisting in the sheets, Logan’s hands gripping you tighter; until his tongue lapped at your centre. You cried out, the warm, wet sensation in stark contrast to all the pain he had inflicted. 

The iron grip of his hands tightening as he fucked you with his tongue, and in spite of yourself, a moan slipped from between your lips. 

You hated yourself for it… but it wasn’t painful.

He sucked your clit into his mouth, flicking the little bundle of nerves with his tongue and you bit your lips together, fighting against the words threatening to spill from your lips. Fighting to keep yourself quiet.

The contrast of your screaming wrists, stinging thighs and the gentleness of his tongue were too many sensations at once. 

Logan let out a hum of his own from between your legs, his tongue never stopped moving.

Your hips shuddered against his hands, desperate to feel anything other than pain and then, Logan stopped.

Your heart slammed against your ribcage, maybe he had thought better of it…maybe he changed his-

Your breath caught in the back of your throat, your body lurching upward on the bed, blazing hot pain shooting through your shattered bones making you scream as he thrust two thick calloused fingers inside you; your back arched off of the mattress as you cried out, desperate to catch your breath as Logan moved to lean over you.

“That's it” 

You breathed hard through clenched teeth, letting out a broken sob as his fingers moved, thrusting…stretching…tearing.

You squeezed your eyes shut as tears streamed down your face and Logan’s free hand gripped your jaw hard “Look at me” he growled 

When you didn't open your eyes he struck you hard across the face, gripping your jaw with a bruising strength.

“Don't make me break something else”

The pain of your wrists was enough to make you open your eyes; lashes wet and irises glassy, still gritting your teeth hard as he spoke

“We're gonna play by my rules” his breath hot against your cheek “Is that understood?” 

You nodded with a grimace 

“I can’t hear you” he snapped

You swallowed hard; your voice barely a whisper as you struggled to get out the word “Yes”

His fingers thrusting too hard, dragging over the same spot repeatedly; making you shudder underneath him. It had started to numb.

His hand still gripping your face hard, lessened if only a fraction, tipping your head down slightly, the tip of his nose meeting yours.

You swallowed hard, letting out a shaky breath, his fingers had slowed, but were still moving.

He stayed like that, hovering over you for what felt like an eternity, his breath mingling with yours as your arms ached painfully over your head. 

Fingers gripping your chin tightly, keeping you where he wanted. 

 Fighting against his grip as he kissed over your face, across your jaw and down your neck. His tongue licking tears from your cheeks. 

You gasped as his mouth latched on to your neck, sucking harshly; teeth piercing your skin, soothed immediately by his tongue. Making you cry out

He either didn’t notice, or didn’t care as he carried on down the expanse of your body; you whimpered each time his teeth would pierce your flesh, then gasp as he would run his tongue over the wound, making it sting slightly. Fingers still pumping with a slow, deliberate rhythm. 

“L-Logan please” you voice shuddered 

Your senses were overloaded, your whole body shook under his hands as he reached the apex of your thighs.

He ignored you, moving lower, dragging the tip of his nose from the edge of your knee, all the way back up to the apex of your thigh; his breath hot and heavy against your skin. Then, more harsh bites, piercing skin, little droplets of blood beading off of the broken skin. Then his tongue, warm, wet and gentle, tasting you, making you sob. 

Finally, as if he couldn’t stand any more, he sucked your clit into his mouth, his voice vibrating with a moan against the overstimulated bundle of nerves, making you scream. Logan hooked your legs around his shoulders, creating a different angle, you gasped hard, pulling even hard on the fabric around your wrists, voice breaking with the effort of another cry of pain as he tongue fucked you, teetering on the brink of an orgasm you didn't want; you squeezed your eyes shut, as your sobs filled your tiny bedroom.

His teeth scraped against your dripping folds, tongue lapping up everything your body had betrayed you to give him

Logan however wasn't ready to be finished. 

His tongue continued dragging over your folds; making you gasp with each pass. 

Your breath hitched in your throat, your entire body twitched as you let out a strangled cry, Logan's tongue relentless between your thighs. 

You tried in vain to pull away, only for him to grip your hips in either one of his hands, and pin them to the bed. 

Heels digging uselessly into the mattress, slipping on the sheets as Logan growled in protest. 

You whimpered, twisting against him, his grip holding tighter on your hips as a second orgasm rocked your frame. 

Your near screams like music to his ears. 

He lifted his head, chin glistening with your slick; your chest burned as you caught your breath and he moved back up the length of your body; he smirked as you swallowed hard.

Heart feel like it’s going to explode out of your chest yet?” he asked, a sly smile playing on his lips. 

You didn't answer, fresh tears slipped down your cheeks. 

“Good” 

Before you had a chance to breathe, the head of his cock pushed inside you; your cries muffled by the invasion of his tongue pushing between your lips. Your fingers digging into your own palms

He pulled his mouth from yours, leaning into your neck with a deep groan in your ear. “So fuck- so tight” he breathed through clenched teeth.

You sobbed, pinned underneath him; your body, mind and senses completely overwhelmed; feeling yourself being stretched to accommodate his swollen cock. 

Hearing his strained growl against the shell of your ear as he thrust his hips, grinding against you, forcing you into the mattress. 

You struggled to take a full breath; between your own sobs, Logan’s weight crushing down on top of you and your painfully overstimulated core, you couldn’t focus long enough to fill your lungs with air. 

“Logan-” you choked out and earned a harsh bite to your neck, making you scream. 

This earned a breathy laugh of approval next to your ear. “That’s it,” he said “I want you-” he paused “What was it you said?” he taunted “Pathetic?” 

He drew out the last word in time with a slow deliberate movement of his hips, making you gasp and fight underneath him; more tears streaming down your cheeks. 

“Please” you pleaded, your voice barely audible “I…” 

The rest of your plea died in the back of your throat as squeezed your eyes shut; your entire body ached with need; a need for Logan to stop. 

He was toying with you, you were nothing more to him than a plaything at this point; he knew he had broken you and he was relishing in it. 

His teeth scraped up under your chin. 

He lifted his head to meet your gaze, your eyes glassy and filled with tears. His dark and full of lust.

Your brow furrowed and you whined against his mouth as his tongue filled yours a second time.

He moaned into your mouth before prying his lips from yours and breathing hard, his hips never stopped moving 

You turned your head and sank your teeth into his toned flesh, feeling the muscles flex in his arm as you pierced skin. 

“Fuck” he boomed over you as your teeth let go; crying out as his hips stopped abruptly “Again” 

Your teeth sinking into his bottom lip, nearly biting through as you pulled hard before he pulled away. 

He let out a deep groan and he cocked his head slightly.

Both of you were panting hard; you watched the blood pool on his lip as he searched your tear stained face. 

His lips twitched into the slightest hint of a smile as he licked the blood from his own lip. 

“You’re just as fucked in the head as I am” 

When you didn’t acknowledge his accusation his hips snapped roughly, making you scream; your arms instinctively pulled on your binds before you stopped abruptly. The pain too much

“Do it” he grunted against your neck. 

Fresh tears streamed down your cheeks as his throbbing cock pounded relentlessly against your insides. 

You sobbed as he gripped your extended forearms and yanked hard, the fabric biting into your broken wrists. Fingers bruising your arms as he gripped hard, chasing his release. Your screams only pushing him closer to the edge. He dropped his head, teeth sinking into your extended neck as you felt him spill inside you.

You could feel the vibration of his moan against your throat as you broke, shuddering sobs as your nails bit into your own balled fists, your body in so much pain your brain wasn't sure where to focus first. Voice breaking with a desperate strained cry as your body betrayed you with a second orgasm.

Your body shook all over and you cried out as he slid from inside you; hands tingling as he released your arms, blood returning to your fingertips. 

You laid still, a handful more tears still sliding down your cheeks. 

“See?” he whispered, lips moving against yours as he spoke; his breath mingling with yours. “Mine” he breathed, his lips dragging over yours as he reached to untie your shattered wrists and you bit back another scream of agony. 

You felt his weight lift off of you, eyes still closed. You lurched forward as his calloused fingers grazed the inside of your thigh. 

“No, please” you whimpered, weakly reaching to push his hands away and his fingers disappeared. 

Without another word, he turned on his heel and left.

[tsireyast]

I feel like we dont talk about one of the main reasons nico was ostracized at camp, not just because hes a son of hades.

Camp half blood is small enough so that rumors and information spread fast, but that doesn't mean they are always right. So imagine you're a random camper, and you're told nico, one of the new campers, gets in a big fight with Percy. During which he makes skeletons appear and somehow opens a huge crack in the floor. But percy wins and nico leaves camp.

Don't you think it would've rang a bell?

Don't you think it would've reminded them too much of two summers ago, with luke?

Dont you think everyone would've been even more scared, because now they know nico is a child of hades, one of the big three, and therefore very powerful?

There must have been so many rumors that summer of nico being part of the kronos army. Betraying camp just like luke did.

Of course after the battle of manhattan many people would've changed their minds. Hes in their side now, after all. But there are probably still many campers who think nico left them to join luke, before he changed their mind and helped them win against luke and kronos. People who still hold a grudge against him for joining the "enemy".

[skitskatdacat63]

2011 Japan Post-Qualifying

[hcdragonwrites]

Just one night (a @journey-to-the-au Drabble)

Ok this is the part two! This is the comfort/ fluff of what happens after Six Eared Macaques previous rampage from Nightmares. I am glad I split these into two so people can pick and choose.

Mild trigger warning: Brief mentions of attempted SA (again nothing goes into detail at all but still sometimes this can still be a trigger.)

It’s over.

The nightmare is over.

Then why does it feel like i'm breathing but I can’t catch my breath?

Willow felt her heart beating too fast, her mind repeating the nightmare.

The cave still smelled of blood.

The imposter was dead. He lay there, finally revealed, a monkey of gray blue fur with a face of shadows. Nothing to be distinguishable of who, or what, his personality had been before it assumed the skin of their leader. Of her friend.

Of Wukong.

Her Wukong had come through the water of Water Curtain Cave in a flash of gold, eyes blazing red. Almost like a Heaven send. A blessing.

In that moment Willow had stepped forward, to the embrace of this nightmare she had dutifully taken as her yoke, a blur or fiery orange had smashed its way through the curtain of water.

“IMPOSTER!” He had called in challenge, his staff coming free of his ear. With a flick of the Kings wrist, the weapon grew in tremendous size.

The imposter had turned, hackles rising, bloody mouth circling back into a snarl. Wukong had roared. The imposter had screamed. Then they were upon each other. It had been a battle, long and difficult. Fur had flown, stone had shaken. At times the combatants had traversed the skies, shooting like two wayward stars from a bow through the Heavens. More blood fell.

In the midst of it, the imposter had cleaned the remnants of its meal from his mouth, making it impossible to tell the twisting and twining fighters apart. Which was which?

Willow had waited as finally, after gods and other immortals had been unable to tell who was who, Mama Courage and Wisdom stepped forward. Willow couldn’t hear the words being spoken between the celestials and Wisdom. She could only hear a ringing in her ears, a drumming of her heart.

She couldn’t catch her breath.

Willow's palms were wet with sweat and white. Whiter than porcelain. Courage took one of those hands, holding it tight. Breaking her numbness, her shock. Willow grasped the hand, holding on. The fear still coiled in her gut, a snake tightening its hold on her. But Courages hand was the anchor she clung to as her body battles within itself.

Wisdom had found him out, had picked out the real Wukong. A mother knew her child. That’s when the imposter had lost. He had felt it, probably, sensing the shift in the wind. In that moment he tried to run. The mirage of his disguise had fallen off in the fright. Wild white eyes, teeth bared of flesh. And now.

He was nothing more than a stain on the floor.

“Don’t you want to kiss me?” The words echo, still alive within Willows head.

Willow was trying to drown those words out.

She’s failing.

The storm inside her body is a rage of water, threatening to drag her down. Those blue eyes flash sharply in her head and Willow feels herself shake.

“Willow?”

She startles. She flinches, shaken from the very real echo of what had almost happened. “Reaffirm our union… Maybe more later.”

Willow looks up, kneeling on the stone floor of the cave. She doesn’t remember when she sat back down. Wukong stands before her. He blocks her view from the rest of the cave, from what the other troop members are beginning to clean up. He blocks her view from the bodies. But Willow still sees the imposter, has to see it. She has to kill the fear in her head that at any moment, any second, those ice eyes can come back and stare into her. To ask things of her that make her soul pull away and her body go cold.

“Willow?”

Wukong stands before her, eyes o so vulnerable. His voice is bleeding uncertainty, his hands fidgeting. He looks to her then looks away, confused on what to do.

Willow also doesn’t know what to do.

How do you tell your friend that someone wore their skin and killed and began to stalk her every step? Willow feels Mama Courage beside her, the hand squeezing. She looks up.

‘It’s him Willow. It’s our Stone Monkey.’ She signs and taps in her unique monkey way. It had taken a long time for Willow to learn this sign language, struggling but wanting to understand. Now, after decades of living together she had mastered this speech. ‘Go. You both need each other.’

‘What of you? He needs his mothers too.’ Willow signs back, not trusting her voice. That storm inside her throat is threatening to release, the track of her tears still wet. Mama Courage notices this and frowns in concern.

‘He needs a friend more. He needs you.’ She signs back. ‘And you need him most of all. To banish that demon, that nightmare. You are still shaking.’

It was true. Willows body still shook as if she had caught a deep bone chill. The blue eyes flash in her memory. Ice cold and drowning her from within Wukongs face. She had been chilled in a sense.

Before she could respond, Mama Courage had stepped away. She disappeared behind Wukong, going to help Wisdom with the mess and to spread the word of what had occurred. To reveal the truth.

Now it is just the two of them.

“It’s ok Willow.” Wukong spoke, gaze still averted. “I asked my Master if I could spend a night to … to fix the problems at home.” Willow watched as those hands wrung against each other. “But if - if what has happened- if my face brings you concern- makes you uncomfortable— I understand.”

Willow saw him step a bit off, unsure of what to do.

The eye of the hurricane was moving over Willow, that numb silence beginning to break.

Another half shuffle. He was moving closer to the carnage behind him, further from her reach. Further from her.

He’s just as afraid as I am that something has broken between us. The realization hits her like a slap.

The great wave within her, the one she had tampered down to keep her calm, to keep her cool as she had faced that monster covered in blood—

It broke through her.

Before Wukong could step further back, to disappear, to help, Willow had his face in her hands.

Willow braced her courage and stared into those eyes, determined to banish the fear that somehow, the monster had escaped. The Monkey King's eyes widened, gold within a sea of red. Willow pressed a kiss to his temple, a test.

If you are my sweet boy, my handsome monkey, she thought vehemently, this will prove it.

If you are that monster … I’ll see it in your eyes.

Willow waited.

Wukongs face was full of surprise. He blinked rapidly, uncomfortable about the intense eye contact. He looked away, looked to the side. Then he looked back up.

“Willow… what … what happened ?” For he could sense something beginning to churn within his friend. A tipping point of sorts and he, the cliff she balanced on.

The monster is dead.

Relief.

Willow breathed out. The air in her lungs shook.

Relief broke the iron in her spine. What little courage she had clung to swept away and she let it. In the dozens of decades she had been with Wukong, had cultivated and grown their trust and friendship, she had found and grown a safe place to be herself. Not Earth Reaching Willow of Polestar Palace, Eldest Daughter. To be her true self. To be one with the emotions she had suppressed. The feelings she had to repress as a princess unless she gave the wrong impression, put on the wrong face, among her fathers courtiers.

I want my friend. The longing was fierce and wild. It scorched her veins and pricked her eyes with fresh tears. A strangled sob passed between her teeth as she tried to stifle it with her fist.

“Willow?”

I need my friend - I need him.

She could be just Willow here, in his arms. She didn’t need to be a shield. She didn’t need to be a princess. She pressed her face into the crook of his neck, holding.

“The last thing I want is for you to go.” She whispered. And that’s when it fell. The tears came fast and hard, her body shaking with it. The hurricane was passing over here, the eye of the storm now past. The wind within her was full of the past years spent with the imitation of her friend. His watching eyes, his burning brushes against her hands. Those days when he had hinted, suggested, and plainly stated he wanted more—

Wukongs hands held her arms, cooed in her ear. “It’s ok Willow. Let it out. Breathe.”

“Don’t go…” she whispered, making a mess of tears on his shoulder.

“I’m not going anywhere. I’m here. I’m right here.”

Nightmares. She felt them all coming across her mind then, each time she lifted her face to catch a breath. The nightmares flashed into her head. But they weren’t nightmares.

“He can’t hurt you Willow. He can’t hurt anyone ever again.” Wukongs voice was fierce in that promise as he turned to press a kiss to her temple. Sealing the promise as he rubbed her arms like a mother to a babe.

They were memories. Of all the times the imposter, the Six Eared Macaque, had pressed her for touches. Had asked for kisses. Had attempted many times to get her away from the eyes of others. Earth Reaching Willow had walked the halls feeling eyes always upon her.

He had cornered her one terrible night and had reached for her. Willow had felt like a rabbit caught in a snare as his hand had caressed her face, had trailed to her lips. He had been interrupted by Rin Rin coming in to ask for bouquet suggestions, wanting to know what blossoms to pair best with what greens in preparation for a feast. Her friend had saved her that night and she didn’t even know.

None of them had known.

Each time the memory popped up, Willow flinched away, trying to curl deeper into the orange fur. Trying to burrow into her friend because he was real. And she needed that reality from the wake that was her mind. It grounded her, allowed her to be scared. Willow breathed him in. The imposter had never smelled quite right, had never felt quite right, hadn’t talked quite right. At least to her.

Wukong, this Wukong- her Wukong, smelled of the world, of growing things and sunlight, of ozone and wind. Of rain upon dry stone. The Six Eared Macaque had been floral and fruity, sweet like a honeyed nectar trap, like a carnivorous flower. And she the unwitting fly.

All the things he had tried to do to lure her in had failed. Willow had survived.

Barely.

My Wukong is here. My friend, my confidant, my partner in this eternity. I do not have to be brave anymore. I don’t have to be strong. Here, I can cry.

Nothing could ever replicate the muscle memory, the familial way that Willow and Wukong both folded into each other's embrace. They had hundreds of years to build this body-deep familiarity with one another. This instinctual trust.

Not even a six eared all knowing demonic monkey could copy that.

Willows sobs were not slowing. They were gaining traction instead. All the fear of years of living with a masked monster in their midst, all the close calls that Willow was remembering now, battered her. Wukong shifted a bit and she felt more than saw Wukong grow in size. Her arms moved apart, having to move from holding his face to grab his middle.

“I’m going to move us Willow. Is that alright ?” His voice is soft, questioning.

My sweet friend, so tender in his asking.

She can’t trust her own voice but nods. Then they were up, an arm beneath her leg and another holding her back. As the sounds of the waterfall retreated, Willow felt the tightness in her chest start to loosen. Breaths she couldn’t take before, that seemed to catch in her throat, came easier.

Each step took them away from the roar of the water. With each crash of tears, Willow curled into her friend. Mama Courage had been right. She had needed him.

Wukong finally stopped moving, settling the both of them down onto the stone floor. They were in an alcove, a bit of a stone hollow off of the main passageway. Willow looked up at Wukong then as he crossed his legs. He nestled her into his lap. His tail wrapped her own lags, a warm blanket against the cold.

“Comfortable?”

“Mhm..” Willow sniffed. Her nose would be stuffed later but she didn’t care. Couldn’t care. She wiped her eyes and tried to see through them.

Wukong looked terribly sad, his face on the brink of breaking itself.

“Oh darling…” she hiccuped. Willow touched his forehead. The golden circlet was cold across her fingers. “It’s not your fault.”

She could see it hurting, eating away at her friend. A worm within an apple core, destroying all the good fruit about it.

They only had one night. One night.

Willow wished for more than just a night.

“Wu-Wukong.” Her voice came out thick. Her monkey leaned into her touch, those golden eyes warm and full of love.

“You don’t need to relive those things.” He said. “Not tonight. Not ever again if you wish. You don’t even have to trust me again. My face … it has been used for terrible things…monstrous things. I see it in all of your eyes.”

Unspilled tears pooled in his face. “I can see it in your eyes. In my mothers. In my friends. In Ba and Ma and Liu and Rin Rins eyes.”

“You all have ghosts in your eyes and I can’t banish them. Because I caused them. ”

Those sad words were spoken with such sorrow, with such rejection that Willows was moving before she could think. Willow pulled his face down to hers.

“This isn’t your fault Wukong.” Willow said.

“It is completely my fault…”

“Oh my sweet Monkey…” She said into his fur. I wish you didn’t have to go- I wish you could stay here, stay with us with me, to help chase those memories into the dark. “How I missed you.”

Wukong swiped some of her tears off her cheek, rumbling not words but noises.

“But you have a pilgrimage to be a part of. You are needed there.” Willow says.

“I’m needed here.” The guilt is eating him, swallowing him up bit by bit. The words he couldn’t say were evident in his eyes. If I had been here none of this would have happened, they said.

“You will always be needed here.”

“Maybe not as welcome.” Wukong pulled back, looking away. “ A stranger took my face and committed atrocities. That face, my face, hurt you. My mothers. My friends. My home.” His voice is shaking. From anger, from sorrow, she did not know. Wukong was powerful. He had challenged Heaven, had defeated dragons, outwitted gods. He had shapeshifted into a thousand different things, had gained a weapon that matched his own abilities. He was a warrior, a King who cared for his people.

Wukong hadn’t been able to protect them. It ate at him. Swallowed him in an endless loop of pain.

“I wasn’t here to protect you.” He whispered. Wukong had burst through the cave, seeking his doppleganger with anger. When he had seen the bloody remains of Cloud, the smiling face of his imitation covered in blood and approaching his mothers and Willow—

He had lost it.

“Wukong look at me.”

He didn’t move his head, despondent. Willow dug her fingers in deeper to the fur, twisting the large monkey about just enough to see him clearly.

She carded those fingers through Wukongs fur, half comfort for her and half comfort for him. Those fingers plucked and pulled, tugged and tended in the ways the monkey king had shown her, all those years ago when she first came to Flower Fruit Mountain.

“It’s better than brushing,” He had said. “It’s a way we say we love one another and strengthen that love. A language spoken through our hands.”

Willow spoke that silent language now. She moved the fingers through and around his face, over his ears. Willow silently kissed the tears from his cheeks as she cried her own. His pain was hers. And hers was his.

In that silent and dark place the two took shelter against the world. Willow from her own memories. Wukong from his own perceived failings.

The story of what happened fell slowly from Willows lips. She held nothing back. Wukong would either stiffen or growl, huff or pull her closer at each new unearthed memory. Willow lived them again here and now, feeling the night slip between her fingers like grains of sand. She had only one night.

One night to banish that blue-eyed monster from its association with Wukong. I won’t let that demon take him from me.

It was a fierceness that surprised Willow. It gave back some of her strength, allowing her to speak nakedly about the truth of what had happened since Wukong began his pilgrimage.

I won’t let him be poisoned to me. I won’t let my experience of a few years erase more than a lifetime of memories.

Willow would not leave that between them. She loved Wukong too much to lose him to some faceless cannibal that had been a drop in the ocean of time they had spent together.

It would take more than a night Willow knew, to repair what things had been shaken. But she would get the worst of it done. She would find a way to see him again before his journey was done. She needed him. And he needed her.

If I have to blackmail all of Heaven I will. I’ll air my fathers own dirty laundry to steal a few moments with Wukong on the road. Then once he’s home I won’t let him go till he knows he’s wanted and loved by all of us. He’s family.

Willow cried and in turn counseled her friend. Wukong simply sat at times to listen, at others times he spoke of promises and things he would do, ways he would make it up to her. Willow would shake her head.

“Just be you. Just always and forever be my lovely Monkey.”

“I promise.”

And together, in the very heart of the mountain, the two wept. Once the sun rose, Wukong brought Willow back to his mothers. He said his goodbyes. The pain and indecision on his face was at war with itself. Willow, when her turn came to say goodbye, took Wukongs hand. She wrapped her pinky around his.

“When I see you again I’ll tell you of all the things we’ve done.” Willow whispered, pressing her forehead to his. “I will tell you of the seasons change and I will tell you of the coconut toddy and sweet plumb wine we drink for you on your birthday. Of Ba and Ma’s latest stunts, of how Liu and Rin Rin act cuter than ever as they continue to court. I will tell you of all the babies born and all of the younglings who try to prove themselves to their amors.”

Willow felt Wukong shake a bit. She tightened her hold on his other hand, squeezing. “I will tell you of the new trees we plant, of the new games we invent, of the new relationships we cultivate.”

“The most important thing I will tell you though is how much we love and miss you, Wukong. How we are all eagerly awaiting you back at home. How, even now, I can’t wait for your return.”

“You … mean that?” He stared, golden sunset eyes misting over with new tears.

“Oh love. You don’t have to ask. I always miss you.” She smiled. “You are my handsome monkey. My lovely monkey. My best friend. I want you to be happy. And if ever those fellows you travel with make you guess or judge yourself harshly— then I will remind them why I chose you. Of all the beings and people of the world and Heaven, I picked you. And you picked me.”

“I don’t want to go.”

“The sooner you go.” Willow said softly. “The sooner you will come back to Flower Fruit Mountain. And the sooner I can enjoy those peaceful days with my husband.”

Wukong gave one last desperate look back, and it took all of his family’s willpower not to call him, to beg him to stay. Instead, Willow waved smiling at him. Mama Courage and Mama Wisdom both held each other, smiling at their boy.

Marshal Liu stepped closer to the smaller group, along with Ma and Ba and Beng. A silent gesture of we will take care of them, in that action.

Wukong smiled, half heartedly, and leapt through the water. Gone as quickly as he had arrived.

Willow turned then, hands clasped within their robed sleeves. She had a task to do now.

“Marshal Liu?”

“You have an idea, don’t you Mrs Willow?”

“Are my thoughts that evident?” Willow smiled as Marshal Liu nodded. He kept pace with her. walking as Willow turned deeper into the cave.

“I need a few scrolls of parchment.” The idea had already taken shape in her mind. Wukong may be stuck within his duties to his pilgrims. But she was not. She would have to be wise, be careful. She didn’t want to turn this into a heavenly spectacle. She did have a few contacts, however, that could be trusted with the whole truth of her urgency. “I need to write a few letters to Heaven.”

“Heaven?”

“Yes. I know Liu. I don't write home often.” As the sounds of the waterfall faded again, Willow felt her heart thrum with determination. “One night is hardly enough time to heal what has been wrecked here. And I intend on calling on a few favors.” She would send her letters, seeking out sympathetic ears discreetly. She would help Sun Wukong heal just as much as he had helped her. They would do so together. Even if the distance may be great I will find a way.

[gideonisms]

Prev post I post this in a "I hope they do fuck" type of way

[mycological-mariner]

I’ve just been informed that my grandmother and my mother are in the same room as one another. I am wreaking havoc an ocean away.

[raeathnos]

.

[itsalwaysdark]

sorry it took me a second to get to those i rbed it instantly forgot and went to go do my little conlanging.

[chuluoyi]

✎ throughout heaven and earth

- gojo satoru x reader

a sudden mission. a curse beyond your grade. all hell breaks loose when gojo realizes that there are hidden machinations behind the incident that befalls you

genre: feral!gojo, injured!reader, hurt/comfort, exponential fluff !

note: we need a gojo who will go ballistic against the higher-ups for dragging you in their mess :) refer to this for the reader's CT, and this loosely takes place after the events in heaven's fury, and the epilogue is based on this very brilliant idea :))

a part of gojo's love entries

general masterlist

Something isn’t right.

You should’ve known it was strange when they assigned you with a sudden mission with little to no briefing. You should’ve gone through with your gut feeling and informed Satoru about it.

Because if you did... now you wouldn’t be running for your life like this, frantically dodging the hacks and slashes of this chainsaw-like cursed spirit that was evidently not a Grade 2 as what you were told.

“Ah!” you yelped as the sharp ends of its body struck your shoulder, leaving you bleeding openly. This was no small wound—it was deep enough to make you stagger.

You had to do something about this because merely avoiding wouldn’t save your life. You had to come back in one piece. You have to— for your baby and Satoru.

What if I can’t? The sheer thought made you tremble. Your baby boy was still so little and he needed you more than anyone, and Satoru...

God, you couldn’t bear to leave him alone. Not again. He couldn't handle losing someone again, not after all he had already lost.

You gripped your whip—your cursed weapon—tightly amidst your bleeding hand. You had barely enough cursed energy for a domain expansion that guaranteed a sure-hit effect. You have one shot. This was all or nothing.

But you weren’t sure if it would work, because you were on the verge of exhaustion, and this was a special grade curse. Your domain expansion was definitely not as refined as the Satoru’s, and this monster was an enemy of his class.

“Satoru...” your voice came out in a sob. You were terribly scared, and honestly you were entitled to. You weren’t even sure you would survive this at all, and all you could think now was your husband’s silly grin and how much you loved him.

And right afterwards, you saw the cursed spirit lunging at you, and with everything left that you had, you screamed—

“Domain Expansion: Transcendent Veil!”

“Gojo-sensei, p-please come back... Nee-san is...!”

Satoru was in Kyoto when he received that call from Megumi— and that moment shattered his world as he knew it.

“Megumi, what is it?”

“She w-was sent on a mission... but then it's a special grade— a-and... she... she e-exorcised it b-but—!”

He teleported without second thought to Tokyo. His mind was blank, the only sound he could hear was his own violent heartbeats, and his fists were clenched so tightly.

“The cursed spirit got her too… It made a cut on her neck.”

His most precious wife... the one person he must protect at all cost, was now possibly—

“Megumi.” He saw him sitting on the hallway of the headquarters’ hospital the with his son on his lap—you had asked him to look after your baby—and the boy looked up to him.

“Gojo-sensei...” Megumi appeared shaken, and seeing that, Satoru immediately took his child from his hands, pulling the little kid into his embrace.

“Go back home, I’ll stay here.”

In all his life, Megumi had never seen Gojo Satoru as calm as he was now. He looked fearsome, as if he was in the battlefield.

“Ichiji.” Satoru turned to the other man rigidly standing next to Megumi, causing him to stiffen up even more. He didn’t say anything further as he pat his little son’s back, and yet Ichiji knew all the same what he wanted from him.

“It’s from… the higher ups, Gojo-san.” Ichiji gulped as he said it. “Y/N-san was suddenly called in yesterday night, and she was told it was an urgent mission.”

“Who called her?”

“It was…”

When Ichiji told him the name, suddenly Satoru barked a snort, and his lips curled into a manic grin. It was a menacing sight for both Ichiji and Megumi, as he looked almost unhinged if not for his secure grip on his son.

But contrary to what they were thinking, what filled Satoru at that moment was pure, unadulterated fury. A righteous sense of being crossed—because, how fucking dare they?

Those higher ups first pressed him to execute Yuji, and when he paid them no mind… now they staged this atrocity against you, most definitely to serve as a warning to him.

“Ichiji, tell them that I’ll pay a visit tomorrow. And drive Megumi home tonight.”

He would make his point loud and clear. He would show them how wrong it was to ever test him. But…

The plan barely satisfied him. They hurt you. His heart finally lurched as he processed the fact… when he heard his baby’s soft whimper against his shoulder.

. . .

You sustained serious injuries, but finally, you were out of critical condition.

When Satoru was allowed to see you, you were still connected to many monitors and breathing machine. He brought your baby too inside, and upon clearly seeing both of them, suddenly your eyes welled up with tears.

“Hey…” his hand gripped yours reassuringly. You sniffled when the strain of your broken ribs made you almost cry out in pain, and Satoru immediately calmed you down.

“Sweets— hey, don’t cry, yeah? You did good.” He pressed a soft kiss on the back of your hand. “You did freaking good. You’re okay now. You’re going to recover, yeah?”

You gave him a tearful little nod, feeling so grateful that you could see him again. And unbeknownst to you, seeing you like this broke his heart too.

“Mwa...” your baby, cradled in your husband’s arms, suddenly stretched his tiny hands towards you, and Satoru handed him over for you to hold.

With the little strength you possessed, you reached out to stroke his soft cheeks. Your son... the thought of how close you came to death brought another tear rolling down your cheek.

All sort of thoughts went through Satoru’s head at the sight. His wife, the mother of his son, who is proud of him for everything he does—

—and their sorry asses dared to hurt you.

Suddenly all he saw was red.

And he swore he would make it right to you. Soon.

“Ah, Satoru-kun… to what I owe the pleasure?”

“…I’ve heard that it was you who assigned that special grade mission to my wife, correct?”

“Oh, that. First of all, I must apologize for my... oversight. We were misinformed... Our scouts made a mistake while filling the files.”

Satoru was trying not to lose his composure first thing after coming here. Really.

But the knowing tone of the elderly Jujutsu Commander only fueled his rage, growing stronger the longer he stood behind this stupid paper divider.

“So it’s a mistake, huh?” he repeated in a satire manner. “Then do you know that my wife has just gotten out of her maternity leave this week?”

The man behind the divider chuckled quietly. “Satoru-kun… I know the sentiment. Of course you’ll be worried, and it did end in a rather… unfortunate incident. However, jujutsu sorcerers are bound to their duty, and your wife cannot rely too heavily on her status as a member of the Gojo clan to be excluded from—”

Fuck it. He had no patience any longer.

“Seems like I need to be a lot rougher, after all.”

Suddenly the room crackled with electricity and the Jujutsu Commander gasped at the sense of foreboding he felt. “Gojo, you can’t—!”

“Heh, but I can.” He let out the most satisfied laugh before opening his palm and chanting in a lower voice: “Cursed Technique Lapse: Blue.”

In a matter of seconds, the audience chamber of jujutsu headquarters turned into a pile of destruction. The commander barely made it out the deadly vacuum vortex with a shriek.

“Ah! N-no! Get a-away from me!” Satoru stared down at him coldly through his unobstructed heavenly eyes, as he pitifully tried to crawl away. He took one step towards him, stomped on his hand ruthlessly—causing the man to scream, before he got down to his level.

“N-no! Please, s-spare me...!”

“This is my first and last warning to you.” It was beyond terrifying, to see those six eyes in this close proximity. But even more dreadful was the tight chokehold on his throat—

“If you ever try to pull this idiotic stunt again on my wife, know that I can and I will snap your neck.” Satoru’s face split into a sinister grin as he tapped the man’s nape, before he crushed the bones of his hand with a crack and made him howl. “Remember that, yeah?”

. . . that day, none in jujutsu headquarters dared to spread any word about Gojo Satoru’s outrageous conduct, even when it was an attack against their own highest ranking leader.

“Satoru, you don’t have to, really—”

“Nuh, uh! I’ve promised you I’ll nurse you back to health!”

Unaware of anything and everything, you thought that your loving husband was a silly jester trying to make you feel better. On the fifth day of your stay in hospital, you were well enough to eat solid food, and Satoru insisted on spoon feeding you the fruits he cut himself.

“Good girl,” he praised with a wholly playful smile as you chewed on the watermelon. You looked at him with a mock frown, pursing your lips.

“You’re making me look like a kid.”

“You are, in fact, my second kid, so I have all rights to baby you.”

You let out a giggle, but then suddenly your throat felt like it was closing in and you coughed. Instinctively, you reached for your neck— your fingers tracing the scar there.

You still could remember the sense of paralyzing fear you felt as soon as your neck was cut. The heavy bleeding that followed, the way the world blacking out around you…

“Sweets…?” Satoru put down the plate and got a grip on your trembling figure. He gently pushed your chin up to meet his eyes. “Hey, look at me. Look at me, hmm?”

Your frantic eyes locked onto his, and your rapid breathing steadied. Your clammy hand reached out to touch his face... before you lunged forward, throwing your arms around him.

“Sweetheart…” Satoru hugged you back in return, sighing against the nape on your neck, as he planted a soft kiss there.

You tried your best not to cry but it was hard not to while remembering everything.

“I-I was so scared…”

“Mhm.”

“I-I kept thinking… w-what if I c-can’t see you… or baby again…? I… I s-still want to do a lot of… things… w-with you…”

The way you shook in his arms like a fragile leaf made something inside him burn. He was supposed to provide you with security, give you a life far removed from curses—

Having left that warning against the higher-ups wasn’t enough, he should’ve made him beg for his life more—

“Listen to me,” Satoru said as he broke the hug, the deep frown in his grave expression made you almost sob. He gently wiped your overflowing tears with the pads of his thumbs.

“Stop thinking that. You’re alright. You’re going to get better. You and me—we are going to raise our son together.”

You took in each of his words fully, even as your lips quivered.

“And mark my words…” Right in this moment, you thought that your husband was most dashing as he gave you his promises—as his blue eyes glimmered under the light. “They won’t ever lay their hands on you ever again. Not while I’m here. Not ever. I already made sure of that.”

You were curious about what he did, but you chose not to press further when Satoru leaned in suddenly and brushed his lips against yours in a soft kiss, melting your heart into mush.

When he pulled away, it was his usual teasing grin on his handsome face. “Now, I only have one duty left— that is to get my cute wife back on her feet. So, be a good little wifey and have lots of fruits and sleep, okay?”

You giggled freely this time, feeling tremendously safe and loved, and instead of answering, you chose to peck his lips instead— hoping that he’d know that you trusted him with your whole life.

. . .

“By the way… Satoru, where’s our baby?” you missed your pumpkin, and while being with your funny husband lifted your spirits, you wanted to cuddle him too.

He chuckled in response. “Ah! Since Megumi is on an assignment, I left him with Ichiji earlier! Don’t worry, I’ll come pick him up soon, ‘kay?”

Epilogue

“I’m going out for a bit, and if you ever make him upset or cry… I can and I will sense it! So Ichiji—do your best!”

“Bwa…”

“Eeek!”

Ichiji stared at Baby Gojo with literal sweat on his forehead, as the little being curiously looked up at him.

By all means, this baby was adorable. Even more so when his father dressed him in a shark onesie. It was a peculiar choice—just like any of Gojo’s choices were—but it sure made the baby look even more endearing.

But the thing is… he didn’t feel secure enough to hold him! Especially when he didn’t know if Gojo’s claim of telepathic connection with his son was true or not!

Amidst his thoughts, suddenly Ichiji felt a soft touch on his arm and immediately turned to find the little munchkin putting his little hand on him and staring at him with such pureness unbefitting of Gojo Satoru’s son.

How can this baby be a stark contrast to his father? Ichiji was almost tempted to snuggle him, but he knew better.

“O-oh… d-don’t touch me…”

And as he retracted his hand back, the baby suddenly widened his eyes, feeling betrayed apparently, as his little lips wobbled and face scrunched up, so ready to burst into tears—

“Hic…”

“—!! Nooo! Don’t cry! Your father will fry me! Eeek!!”

[yanderedrabbles]

Letters from a Yandere Vampire

December 7th, 1886

Dear y/n,

Please do not think me presumptuous for writing to you so soon, but my heart would give me no rest. I have been unable to stop thinking of you since our encounter at the Duke's soiree.

Perhaps it is my countenance or perhaps my foreign heritage, but London's débutantes seem to find me positively frightful. I had resigned myself to yet another evening of disappointment when you introduced yourself to me.

In all my travels, I have met few ladies with your boldness of spirit. You transformed my dour evening into one of unimaginable enjoyment.

I have included with my letter some pressed flowers from my native Transylvania. You expressed much interest in the botany of my homeland and I hope these will intrigue you.

Your interest in my travels is remarkably flattering. And, if I may be so bold, may I invite you to a dinner at my salon? I have much still to share.

Yours sincerely,

Count Nicolae Drăculești

December 17th, 1886

My dearest y/n,

How I enjoyed our evening together! When we danced, I felt my soul set afire. In my travels, none have so captivated me.

Do not think me hasty, but I have sent my messenger with a gift. I can think of no better place for these jewels than around your neck. Please, accept them with my most sincere compliments.

You amused me very much when you pointed out my teeth. My fangs are indeed much longer and sharper than a normal man's. Perhaps you wish to feel their sharpness against your skin?

The nights grow longer and colder. Do you dislike the winter darkness, I wonder. Or do you only long for someone to share it with, as I do?

Ah, forgive my rambling! I'm writing to ask if you will allow me the privilege of escorting you to the Yuletide ball? I can think of no finer gift to celebrate Christmas.

I must soon depart for my home and I insist on spending more time together before then.

Yours,

Nicolae Drăculești

December 25th, 1886

My love,

Merry Christmas! I walked through the untouched snow and even London seemed beautiful and pure.

In this cold, I can think of nothing but having you with me. A day without you is an eternity past.

It seems I have been waiting for you for centuries. Is it to bold to say you are the woman of my dreams? Forgive this fool his insolence, but when I write to you I feel possessed.

You have asked me at length about my aversion to the Church and silver. You are such a logical creature but there are some things beyond the realm of science.

Seek to know no more, for both our sakes.

Another matter has been bothering me of late. I have noticed Lord Lancaster has expressed an interest in you.

The man fawns over you like a slobering hound. As your companion, it is my duty to advise against him. He is unworthy of your attention, much less your sympathy. 

Surely you see that it is you and I that are the more compatible match?

Ever yours,

Nicușor

January 1st, 1887

Dear,

I wished to keep you ignorant of my nature. And yet, you have seen me unmasked. A creature of the night.

It was your blood that did it. A single drop was all it took for my instinct to take over.

I hope you are unhurt. If I were in my right mind, I never would have pinned you against the wall as I did. I never would have forced my kiss upon you.

I could hear your heart racing when I showed you my fangs. Why did you not scream?

Did I fighten you into silence? Or was it something else?

You asked me what you are to me and at the time I had no answer to give. Are you my prey? My meal?

I have spent all night in thought and still I fear uttering these words.

You are my beloved.

My heart belongs entirely to you, wretched and sinful though it may be. No blood is sweeter than yours.

I burn for you, my darling.

I grow agitated at each day that passes when we are not together. My treacherous mind plays such awful tricks on me. Surely you have not cast me aside for another? Or worse, have I frightened you beyond redemption?

Oh, banish the thought! Who has your affection? Your love?

Please, put my poor heart at ease. Meet me in the gazebo at the end of your garden after sunset.

I cannot bear to be parted from you much longer.

Ever your slave,

Nicușor

y/n,

My castle must be prepared for your arrival and I have set forth with great haste to do so. In case you awake before my return, I've left you this letter.

You are currently on board a private train car bound for Transylvania. Do not attempt to leave. My guards have strict orders to ensure you reach home.

You are changed, my dear.

I have bitten you and transformed you into a creature like myself. Upon our final meeting, I intended only to say goodbye. You are too fine and beautiful a creature to be wasted on the likes of me.

But when I saw you in the moonlight, I could not help myself.

You are so beautiful. So bright and lively. You are what my cold halls have lacked all these many years.

My love, I drank your blood. Every drop of it. Nothing in my centuries of existence has ever tasted so sweet, so right.

It can be frightening, I know. But do not despair.

The light of the sun will forever be out of reach, but there are a thousand traits you've gained. Strength. Speed. Immortality.

The grave will never taste your flesh, old age will never hound at your door.

As I am the one who changed you, I am also your Lord and Master. The bond between us is forged in blood. Wherever I go, you must always follow. If I am to die, so shall you. If I am to command, you must obey.

It is a tight leash and not one of my devising, I assure you.

I intend to be your partner and not your Lord. So for both our sakes, my love, do not give me cause to use that power.

You and I have all eternity together. Does it please you as it does me?

I have longed for a bride for centuries. You cannot imagine the loneliness. And in all those years, none have impressed themselves upon my heart as you have.

I have stolen you from the sunshine and into my world of night and blood. I have ripped away any hope of heaven and salvation. No God now, no church or altar.

I am a rogue and a thief and still I beg of you. Please love, do not hate me.

I've made you into my vampire bride.

Your husband,

Nicușor Drăculești

[ars-matron]

I really need to talk for a minute about this new mobile update and how much I as a legally blind person hate whatever the hell is going on with the photos and how it's making this app nearly impossible for me to use

I'm not sure the same thing is happening on the desktop version but for those who may not know in the app whenever you tap on a photo it used to just pop up and you could double tap to enlarge it and zoom in and scroll around and all was great.

A double tap now likes the photo and it must be pinched and pulled to zoom in and out. A mild annoyance, and nothing compared to the rest of the update. If you scroll up, which I do frequently when trying to navigate an enlarged photo, it will send you to ANOTHER photo based on the tags of the post.

That's right, a completely different photo!!! A feature no one asked for and no one wants!! This isn't facebook, or instagram, and maybe tiktok but I never had that so this is a guess. When I click on the photo I only want to see that photo (or in the case of multiple photos in a post I want to be able to easily scroll side to side for those). I do not want to be taken to another post!!! Also if you scroll too far to the left you are then sent to the profile of the person who reblogged the post. I do not know why. Who wants this feature? Is it a feature at all?

As someone who only taps on a photo because I cannot see it and I need to enlarge it, this is beyond a simple annoyance. I cannot navigate the photo like I need, there's a hair trigger on whether it sends you to a new post completely or if you are sent to the profile of the reblogger. Neither, again, are things I want. this leaves me having to back track a lot, re-zoom the photo as it reverts back to normal, and hope dearly that this time I can just read the damned text before it freaks out again.

I haven't seen anyone else talk about this outside of the tags, but really this is making the app unusable for me, and I'm sure for many others.

@staff I know you guys haven't cared about your disabled community much in the past (other photo updates that stopped allowing me to zoom into gifs is proof of that) but please don't make this app unusable for me. I would rather not have to leave.

[tizeline]

Find the sigma, stop the alpha

The message came to our blogs through our askboxes.

The message that was sent looked like this.

Why are you telling me this?

Because Mikey is about to send you back in time to the day the message first was sent.

Wait, he's gonna what!?

The person who sent the messages did so anonymously. You have to find the blogs who'll get the message and tell them to turn off anon before that happens.

Find the blogs, turn off anon.

(i've seen several people i follow recieve this ask, you are a menace to society anon and you must be stoppped!! /j)

[thestuffedalligator]

When ogres travel, they do so in human shape.

They hate doing this. They think it’s beneath them. But they do it anyway.

The Vicomte Graoul de Saucisson – and this is another thing about ogres. Ogres as a species are nobility. There is no such thing as a low-born ogre. There is always room in the ogrish peerage for another vicomte, another prince, another branch to tie to the rotted tree – strode up to the chateau in human shape. The roses in the garden shivered as he passed by. The huge, high doors opened by themselves and he walked through them without a shift in his stride.

When the doors slammed shut behind him, he moved to shrug the shape off his shoulders like a coat.

Then he saw the woman.

He froze. He stared. She stared back.

He slowly pulled the shape back on. “Who are you?” he asked.

She looked mildly appalled. “Who are you?” she asked. “What are you doing in my home?”

“Your home? This is–” He stopped. He reconsidered. “I am the Vicomte de Saucisson,” he said. “I’m looking for the Marquis de Pamplemousse. He is a… colleague of mine.”

“Oh,” she said. She could’ve looked more abashed. “I’m sorry, monsieur, he’s never mentioned you before. You must be here to share your congratulations, of course, I can fetch him right away.”

“He’s never mentioned you either,” the vicomte did not say. “Of course,” he said. “Congratulations. What about?”

She seemed surprised. “Have you not heard? Monsieur, the curse on my husband has been lifted.”

He stared. His lips started to form the words “What curse,” and then there was a sound like a horse falling down a set of stairs and a man he had never seen before wearing the marquis’s clothes came barrelling down the hall.

“Vicomte!” said the man with the marquis’s voice. “My human friend! The curse has been lifted, and I am a human once again!”

He was slightly out of breath when he reached the woman. He clasped her arm and grinned at him with manic desperation. “This is wonderful news! You must be here to share your congratulations!”

“Lie like hell,” said the man’s eyes.

The vicomte stared. “Oh!” he said. “My – human friend! Human once again! Words fail me. After all these–” (there was the slightest hesitation) “–years?”

The woman put her head at an angle and narrowed her eyes at him.

The man walked up, still grinning like a rictus chimpanzee, and clasped a hand on his shoulder. “Yes, of course! Darling, me and the vicomte are going to have a manly one-on-one conversation while he shares his congratulations, as we human men are wont to do.” And then with a strength that could only be ogrish, the marquis pulled the vicomte by the shoulder down the hall and into a drawing room.

When the bolt of the lock clicked into place behind them, the man wearing the marquis’s clothes visibly sagged.

“What the hell,” said the vicomte.

“You should’ve sent word ahead that you'd be coming today.”

“I never do.” He gesticulated and tried to conjure a single question out of the swarm buzzing in his brain. “What the hell is going on? Who was that? Why are you pretending to be human? What curse are we talking about?”

The marquis groaned and crumpled into a chair. As he did he shifted out of human shape, clothes magically tailoring themselves to contain his ogrish form, something like a moose and an orangutan.

“I had a moment of weakness.”

“Are you sure it wasn’t a stroke?”

“I got married.”

“And that’s another thing–”

“Graoul, please.” He sighed and put his face in his talons. “Last winter a merchant broke into my home. He stole one of my roses, and in exchange I asked him to send me one of his daughters to be my bride.”

The vicomte nodded. This at least was a sacred and recognizable ogrish custom, and he did like to see the old ways in practice.

“And it was fine! It was perfectly lovely. She’s a wonderful woman, but one night I decided to put on a human shape to change things up in the bedroom, and she lost her mind! Started talking about how I was clearly an enchanted prince and that her love for me must’ve broken some curse and turned me human again! I had no idea how to tell her otherwise, and now I’ve done it for too long to back out.”

The vicomte stared. “Sorry,” he said. “You decided to turn into a human to spice things up in the bedroom, and that was the face you chose?”

The marquis growled. “If I knew I was going to be wearing it for the rest of my life I would’ve gone with something better.”