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

[standamianwayne]

yandere!batfam/damian’s twin!reader

cw: mentions of death + murder, implied creepy men being creepy men, damian loves his sissy idk what to tell yall

an excerpt, from a certain Damian Wayne’s journal—

“—my sister. One of us would become the heir to the League of Assassins. What would happen to the other, I cannot say as I never found out. We were both perfect. The genes of Talia al Ghul mixed with The Batman— there was no question one of us would be ruling one day. It was only a matter of who got here first.

She was born only a matter of minutes before me. If everything went to plan, she’d rule over the League and I, she had promised me when we were children, would be right beside her. Growing up, she was always trained just a little harder for a little harder. She was praised just a bit heavier, as well as disciplined harsher.

I pitied her some days, others I was much more bitter. Bitter at her, hardly. I was bitter angry with others around us. We’d be studying together, and she’d be pulled away. We’d be training together, and she’d be pulled away. Any time we were together, she was pulled away from me. I look back and wish I had attempted to keep her by my side. Alas, she was going to rule over the League, so I had no other choice than to let her go.

One day, I overheard some guards speaking about us. She’s supposed to be the heir, “but she’s too soft,” one of them said. It gave me pause. My sister was nice to me, though that definition must differ from those here in Gotham (monsters, I remember them calling us). Was she nice to everyone? Was she hesitant to kill? I had yet to see my sister in action, but I knew her. Much more than they did. She was fond of the arts and animals, but she was as assassin regardless of what those guards said. The thought lingered for a few more days, each morning I thought over it even more.

She was not ‘too soft’ I decided. My sister, my twin, the other half of my soul. No, I thought, she was not soft at all. She was sweet, she smiled at others without a hint of mockery or deception. She made sure I was alright after missions, kept up with our studies, ate sufficiently. She was not too soft— she was simply kind.

To the others in the League, that was seen as weak.

I never asked mother about these labels. Perhaps I feared what it meant for my sister. After all, if she could not take over the League due to this ‘weakness,’ what good was she? Would she be forced to harden? Would she be exiled? These scenarios haunted me for many nights. I could never see myself without her. A world without my sister by my side will never be a world I wish to live in.

In a way, I was relieved when we were sent to live with Father. A place, a haven almost, where I did not have to fear my sister leaving me. Maybe here she would be accepted as she was. I had no care for how others saw me. As long as I was not looked down upon, I was indifferent to any impressions one may have of me. With my sister, however, I simply wished she would be treated as normal. To me, she was is an angel, and I was content with being the only one to see that, so long as she was not seen negatively.

The people of Gotham judged us quickly. Father introduced us to his colleagues at some gala, and the news spread quickly. We were born out of wedlock, children of an affair, children of a prostitute, children of a stranger. We were beautiful, angry, exotic, disgusting. We were monsters, though perhaps the fault of that label falls on me (I had punished a man for speaking to her in a manner so disgusting he should be glad he is not dead).

She was weak back in the League, too soft. Here, she was scary, too mean. She was honest and blunt, yes, but she smiled at them. Did they not know what that meant? In Gotham, killing at all made you horrible. In the League, killing quickly made you kind, made her ‘weak.’

My sister and I grew up, and the rumors dwindled down. Nobody knew who our mother was outside of those Father trusted with the information (which was very few). My sister, already perfect, became even more beautiful. Sickeningly so. I hated when a male our age spoke to her, but I let him do so as I knew she wouldn’t mind. She enjoys talking to others freely, about anything other than death.

There was no feeling comparable to when I would see a man speaking with her. One much older than us, who had known her for years. I saw the leering, the flittering of eyes from her eyes to her mouth and then lower. It is comparable to lava burning hot in my veins. I wanted to snap their necks, rip their eyes out, claw at their faces until I saw bone. I wanted to kill them.

I do not doubt our other siblings felt the same. I’m sure even Father thought of it a few times. I hardly spoke to some of them, even then I knew one thing, one person, was keeping us together. I would do anything to keep her safe, happy. I would burn down the world if she asked. I know I am not the only one.”

happy new year 😛 thank you for the support, bye byeee ❤️

[nethhiri]

Smolder

Heat x Reader

Warnings: none

Phew! Just barely made it in time for New Year's Eve! Enjoy! (If there's egregious typos oops. I'm so tired.)

For months now, you had your eyes on the blue-haired commander. Sure, most people thought the captain or his first mate were the most handsome, and that may be true, but Heat was the sweetest. And you were downright afraid of Wire, so count him out of the running.

Ever since you had been brought on board, Heat was kind to you. You were treated like any rookie, and given the worst jobs. On occasion, Heat would drop by and ask how things were going. When you were finally promoted to full crew member, Heat was the first to congratulate you. It seemed like whenever the crew was split into groups, you were always in his. Maybe it was a coincidence, though you had thought you had seen him staring at you from the corner of your eye several times.

Today was no different, you had been sent along with Heat and a few others into port to restock on things for the next voyage. The new year was also a few days away and there were a few things the captain had requested for a party. You were given the task of finding a few of the items and had found everything but the last one. None of the shops had a "Maritime Cascade Sector Douser" and every shopkeep had given you the same clueless stare when you had inquired about it. You were so frustrated you were about to cry. It was going to look so badly that you couldn't even do a rookie-level job. Heat was going to think you were a total loser. You didn't want to disappoint him, or your captain.

You were already late meeting up with the crew, so you hurried back, easily locating the group of rough-looking punks that were your crew. They sort of stuck out in town squares of normal villages.

"Took you long enough." Heat nodded to your bags. "Did you get everything?"

"Uhh." Your eyes flicked to the ground. "Not everything..." You had to look at the list again to get the name right. "I couldn't find the Maritime Cascade Sector Douser."

"What the fuck?"

"Sorry! I went into every shop and asked for it but no one knew what I was talking about!"

"No, no I didn't mean you, Y/N." Heat pinched the bridge of his nose. "Kid always puts some made up shit on these lists because he thinks it's hilarious. Usually I go through and cross them out. Must have missed this one though." Heat added, "Hope you weren't stressed about it."

When you returned to the ship, Heat offered to take the bags you were carrying. A short while later, Heat turned back up with one of the bags. You stared at it for a while before remembering you had done some personal shopping while you were out as well, some very personal shopping. Heat's face was red and he wouldn't look you in the eye.

"You- you forgot something I think." Heat practically threw the bag at you and ran away.

You had been so worried about not being able to find the last thing on the list, that you had completely forgotten about your own bags. You wondered how much Heat had seen. Did it really matter? Everything in that bag was lace or leather. You didn't have anyone to wear it for, yet. That didn't mean you couldn't wear it for yourself in the meantime. If you felt sexy, maybe you would be more confident. And you needed confidence to finally make a move.

On New Year's Eve, when the clock struck midnight, you were supposed to kiss someone to ring in the new year, and you were going to make sure that someone was Heat.

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

Heat could feel the dread setting in. He hated this time of year, and the closer it got to New Year's Eve, the more he withdrew. He used to celebrate. He loved anything explosive, and fireworks were no exception. Heat used to have a whole fireworks show planned out for the ship. Every year, he became more and more aware of the fact that everyone was getting a kiss but him. And every year, he stayed around the party for less and less time, until he stopped showing his face entirely.

This time of year made him increasingly self-conscious. Heat hated his scars. Most of the time he could ignore them. When everyone around him was enjoying the company of their partner, he was by himself. Who would want to kiss scarred lips? Who would want to kiss someone like him? This year, he dared to think about coming to the party. Ever since you had joined the crew, there was something about you that reeled Heat in. You always smiled so warmly at him when he checked up on you, which is why he checked up on you a little more often than the other new members. He had an addiction to your smile. Even if it wasn't true, he liked to think you reserved that especially warm smile for him. Maybe he imagined it, but your face only lit up for him, no one else.

This year, he thought that if he came to the party, he might finally have someone to kiss, someone that wanted his kiss. That thought was dashed from his mind when he had dumped out the shopping bags from earlier. One of your personal bags had been forgotten and out spilled some rather scanty unmentionables. His heart clenched in his chest. You had someone. Why else would you buy a bunch of new underwear, and very sexy underwear at that? He quickly shoved everything back in the bag before he could think of what you might look like in them. It felt wrong.

Yet another year he would spend in his room it seemed.

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

The entire night you waited. You had put in effort to look your best. A few of the crew even complimented you, but it fell on deaf ears. You only wanted to hear it from one person. You wove through the mostly drunk crew looking for Heat. At first you thought he was late, but the longer the night wore on, the more it was apparent he wasn't coming. A steady stream of booze kept you company instead. You nursed a drink, sitting alone out of the way.

"Disappointed?" Wire spoke from next to you, seeming to have materialized from thin air.

"I don't know what you mean."

"You were looking for someone."

"It's fine."

"He doesn't like New Year's Eve. The whole New Year's kiss thing." Wire seemed to hesitate. "Don't tell him I said anything, but he's self-conscious of his scars."

"I don't care about that," you said softly.

"He's in his room." Wire nodded in the direction of the cabins. "If you wanted to find him before midnight."

"I don't know." You swirled your glass. "Would that be weird?"

"I promise you, it would be welcome."

You held Wire's gaze for a few seconds before nodding. You tossed the rest of your drink back and mustered the courage to go knock on Heat's door. You walked there slowly, trying to think of something to say. Before you knew it, you were standing outside his door. And before you knew it, your hand seemed to knock of its own accord.

Even though you were the one who knocked, you were equally as surprised as Heat was when he answered the door. He clearly wasn't expecting anyone. He was only wearing sleep pants. You didn't want to meet his eyes anyway, but the happy trail staring you directly in the face made it near impossible to tear your eyes away.

"Y/N?" Heat seemed groggy, like he might have been sleeping.

"Hi."

"Do you need something?"

"No. I mean yeah. I mean..." You stumbled over your words. "I wanted you- wanted to talk to you."

Heat blinked sleepily before stepping aside. You realized he was inviting you in. Was it okay? To be in your superior's room like this? You stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, looking around superficially. You didn't want to be too nosy.

"Is something wrong?" Heat was concerned.

"Not exactly." You fidgeted with you hands. "Can I speak freely?"

Heat nodded, unsure of where this was going.

"I- I was looking forward to tonight. I waited all night and then you weren't there and Wire said you didn't like New Year's Eve and I've had too much to drink-."

You were cut short by the sound of fireworks. Blues and reds and yellows flashed across Heat's face. It was already midnight. It was too late. You failed to get your point across.

"Fuck!" You yelled, frustrated.

You panicked and grabbed Heat's face, pulling him down to you and kissing him. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to come here after drinking. You abruptly stopped, realizing what you had done.

"Sorry! Sorry! I just really like you and I wanted to kiss you tonight!" You rambled. "You can forget I was here. You can forget this happened. Sorry!"

You turned to make a speedy exit, but found Heat anchoring you in place with his hands on your shoulders.

"What if I don't want to forget?" Heat bent down, saying more softly, "What if I wanted that, too?"

You closed the gap between you again, planting your lips against his. He reciprocated, moving his lips against yours. His hands gently held your face, his fingers a whisper against your skin, like he was afraid if he touched you and made it real, the whole thing would disappear in a dream. You felt him freeze under your touch as you brushed your fingers against the scars on his cheek. Contrary to his belief that you would be disgusted, you actually liked the texture of his skin. You wanted to rub your thumb over his cheek all night, to show him the affection he deserved.

When you finally parted, you held each other, gently swaying. It was entirely possible you were the only one swaying, with the amount you had to drink. You kissed a few more times, unwilling to leave his embrace, nearly falling asleep in his arms.

"Y/N?" Heat sounded apologetic. "I'm actually pretty tired. Uh..."

"Oh. Do you want me to leave? I woke you, didn't I?"

"You don't have to." Heat turned red and hastily added, "But I'm not asking for- I'm not expecting-"

"I want to." You looked up at him. "That way when I wake up I'll know I wasn't dreaming."

A slow smile spread across Heat's features and he kissed your forehead. "Let's go to bed, Y/N. Promise it's not a dream."

[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.”

[foxy-eva]

Send Nudes

Summary: Chaos ensues after you accidentally send Spencer a nude pic

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader 

Category: Smut

Content Warnings: (18+, minors DNI) dub-con (Spencer receives an unsolicited nude pic), embarrassment, awkwardness, tension, heavy kissing, male masturbation, oral (fem receiving), handjob, protected penetrative sex

Author's Note: I wrote this for @imagining-in-the-margins Wrong Recipient Challenge!

Word count: 3.2k

Masterlist

Panic. Embarrassment. Shame. 

It was hard to describe what you felt when you stared at your phone, realizing that you had just sent Spencer Reid a nude picture of yourself. 

It was a mistake, of course – right when you wanted to send him a screenshot of an article, you stumbled over the mess in your apartment and selected the wrong picture. Frozen in place, you watched in horror as the read receipt showed up instantly. 

Spencer had just seen your naked body light up on the screen of his phone. 

A picture he never asked for and probably didn't want to see. It wasn’t a bad photo, some might even call it aesthetically pleasing. But you had never intended for anyone else to see it. It was just a way for you to make yourself feel good about your body. 

You contemplated your options. Burning your phone, moving across the country and changing your identity sounded intriguing but difficult to arrange. Instead you decided to text Spencer, hoping that soon you’d both be able to laugh about the embarrassing thing you just did. 

“I am so sorry about that. I really didn't mean to send that! Can you please delete the pic and forget about it?” 

You didn't get a response. Spencer was never great at texting but you had really hoped to hear back from him. It was hard to tell if he felt just as embarrassed or maybe even offended – you certainly wouldn't want to receive unsolicited nude pics either. 

You had barely gotten any sleep when you walked into work the next morning. Worst case scenarios had plagued your mind all night – from another painful workplace sexual harassment seminar to maybe even losing your job over your mishap – you had no idea what would expect you today. 

Everything seemed normal when you got to your desk, except for the fact that your favorite coworker didn't even look at you when you walked by him. Spencer usually liked sitting beside you in the conference room and also on the jet, but he did neither of those things that day. 

“Wow you really must have pissed Reid off, huh?” Luke whispered when he sat down beside you on the plane. 

“Did he say anything to you?” you wanted to know. 

“No, he didn't. What did you do? Spill coffee over his favorite chess board?” he teased. 

“Oh it’s so much worse than that,” you whined while heat rushed to your face. 

Emily decided to discuss the case before Luke could ask more questions. Spencer avoided you for the next couple of hours until you decided you both had suffered enough. 

A quiet moment in the coffee kitchen of the police precinct seemed good enough to approach him.

“Hey Spencer,” you said and noticed how he almost jumped at the sound of your voice. 

“H…hi,” he mumbled, his eyes fixated on the floor.

Stepping closer, he finally looked at you for the first time that day. The rosy shade spreading over his cheeks was impossible to ignore. 

“I’m very sorry about the… you know. I didn't mean to send it but I understand if you feel offended by it,” you sincerely told him. 

“I’m not… offended.”

You took a deep breath before you continued talking, “All I want to say is… if you want to discuss this incident with Emily or even HR, I would understand. I never wanted to make you uncomfortable in any way.” 

“No, it’s okay, really,” he lied. “We can just forget about it.” 

Spencer Reid was good at many things. Lying, however, definitely wasn’t his strong suit. You decided to drop the subject for now, aware that talking more about it would probably not make him less uncomfortable. 

The tension between you two was palpable for the rest of the workday. When you stepped into your hotel room that night, you were relieved to finally have a couple of walls between the two of you. 

If this thing didn't resolve soon, you’d have to talk to Emily about it eventually. But there was still hope that it wouldn't come to that. The embarrassment about your mishap was already bad enough as is.

The three knocks on your hotel door startled you. With your heart beating uncomfortably fast, you walked over to the door to find Spencer on the other side. 

He walked into your room without saying a word. Then he began slowly pacing up and down your room, still silent. He looked at you for a second but his sight fell to the floor immediately after that. 

“I uh…” he began before taking a deep breath. “I lied to you earlier.”

“About what?” you wanted to clarify. “Wanting to go to HR?” 

He shook his head. “I said that we can just forget about it but I don’t think I can do that.” 

Your heart felt heavy at his words. His discomfort pained you and you wished nothing more than to be able to take it back. “I’m so sorry Spencer.”

“I deleted the image off my phone but…” he paused to finally look at you. The expression written over his face was hard to read. What you didn't find was the discomfort you expected. Instead he looked… cocky?

He continued, “...it seems like it’s burned into my brain. And I can’t help but wonder, was it really an accident?”

“What?! Of course!” you squeaked. “Believe me, I would never want to send you a picture like that unprompted.”

That was when you saw a subtle smirk on his face. “Interesting choice of words.” 

You thought about it for a moment. Had you really just implied that you would want to send him nudes if he’d ask you to? 

“That's not what I meant,” you tried to brush it off. “And please don’t give me a lecture about Freudian slips.”

His presence filled the room and you felt like you couldn't take deep enough breaths to satiate your need for oxygen. His demeanor was so different from what you were used to and you had trouble wrapping your head around it.

His next question was even more surprising. “Who did you take this picture for?” 

The undertone in his voice was unsettling and you started feeling defensive. “I don’t see how that's any of your business but just for the record, I took it for myself. I do that occasionally to make myself feel good about my body.” 

It seemed as if he was content, almost relieved with your answer. You scanned his body language again and replayed his words in your head. Then it hit you all at once. Spencer was not here to scold you for what you did. 

He was jealous. And he wanted to make sure no one else got to see your picture. 

A grin formed on your face as you realized that you could play this game too.

Your tone was laced with a certain playfulness when you asked, “What did you do after you saw the picture?”

The change of your demeanor seemed to take Spencer by surprise. “I just told you, I deleted it.” 

“I don't think that's all you did.” He audibly gulped and you noticed his cheeks taking on a reddish color. Stepping closer to him, you whispered, “Did you touch yourself, Spencer?”

A shaky breath left his mouth before he confessed, “Yes.”

“Naughty boy,” You teased him. “You really liked that image, hm?” 

Nodding, he took a step forward until there was barely any space between the two of you. “I can't stop thinking about you.”

His words boosted your confidence. “I know I look great in that pic. But I think I would look even better in this lighting right here, don’t you think?” 

Before you could bring to action what you had insinuated, you felt Spencer's hands cupping your face to pull you into a kiss. The surprised gasp escaping your throat was muffled by his lips against yours. 

He kissed you with a fervor that knocked the air out of your lungs. Weakness rushed to your knees and you had to hold onto him to not tumble back. One hand pawed at his shirt while the other one held onto his shoulder. His lips felt soft yet firm against yours. 

When his tongue begged for entrance, you let it. As he deepened the kiss, you could feel heat rushing through body. A few moments ago you really thought you’d have the upper hand in this game you were playing but now realized you were just as pathetic as he was. 

Maybe sending him that image was a Freudian slip of some kind. Or maybe it was just some odd plan the universe had to bring you together. Either way, you were grateful for how things turned out. 

Your hands became curious as they wandered over Spencer’s body. The tingling in your fingertips could only be soothed by feeling his skin underneath them, so they quickly began unbuttoning his shirt. Spencer showed a similar interest in feeling more of you by the way his fingers dropped down to the hem of your shirt. 

Piece after piece both of your clothes fell to the floor, only ever breaking the kiss for as long as necessary. When you stood completely bare in front of one another, you dared to press your body against his to feel him. 

It was impossible to tell who moaned first when his length pressed against your stomach. With a firm grip on his shoulders, you moved him back until his legs made contact with the edge of the bed. You pushed down until he sat on the mattress, staring up at you with a curiosity in his eyes that made your heart jump. 

As you stepped back, his tongue darted out of his mouth to lick over his lips and you wondered if he thought about tasting you. To your surprise, he managed to not break eye contact until you challenged him, “Go on, take a look.”

His sight scanned your body, lingering on your breasts for a second before moving further down, taking everything in. You couldn’t hold back from looking at him, too. A rosy color had spread all over his cheeks and chest and when you dared to drop your eyes to his cock, you noticed how it twitched slightly against his thigh. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he cooed when your eyes met again. 

“Better than the image?” you teased, smirking at him. 

He only nodded before looking at your body again. It was like he was mesmerized, as if a miracle had just unfolded right before him. It became obvious that he was ready to worship you if you’d let him. But first, you had something else in your mind. 

“Show me exactly what you did when you saw my picture,” you told him. 

He raised his eyebrows in disbelief. “Wh… what?” 

“Don’t be shy now,” you snickered. “Come on, I wanna see how pretty you think I am.” 

The sweet smile on your face seemed to encourage him enough to let his right hand move towards his hardness. It was as if he needed reassurance when he found your eyes and you nodded.

He wrapped his fingers around his cock, giving himself a squeeze and you watched as precum spilled over the tip. Slowly, he began moving his fist up and down his length, swiping his thumb over the head each time he got to the top. The groan that slipped from his lips could only be described as absolutely sinful. 

You couldn’t deny how much the sight in front of you turned you on. Spencer was so incredibly beautiful and the thought that your body had the ability to make him feral like that drove you insane. 

Arousal gathered at your entrance the longer you watched him. This show was no longer enough for you, you needed more. Your hands found the curve of your chest, gently kneading them before your fingers began toying with your hardened peaks. Spencer’s eyes were fixated on your hands, his mouth hanging wide open and unabashedly moaning at the sight while accelerating the pace of his hand. 

Then suddenly, he stopped and got up from bed. Desperation was written all over his face when he looked at you. 

“Please,” he begged as he stepped closer. “I need to touch you.” 

It was everything you wanted right then, too. 

“I’m all yours, Spencer.” 

His mouth was on yours in an instant and he didn’t waste any time to move you over to the bed to push you onto the mattress. He followed quickly, towering over you as he kissed down your neck, making you moan in anticipation of what would follow. 

He moved further down your body, kissing and nipping on the tender flesh of your breasts before focusing his attention on your nipples. The sensation was almost unbearable and you could feel how your arousal began coating the insides of your thighs. 

Spencer smiled against your skin when he noticed you rocking your hips against his leg every so slightly. His confidence grew as he realized that you wanted him just as much as he wanted you. 

“Needy,” he chuckled as he kissed down your stomach. “That’s cute.” 

Right then you couldn’t care less about being in charge, you just wanted to be taken care of. When his lips brushed over your inner thigh, you opened your legs further to give him better access. He lay down between your legs and didn’t waste any time before he began leaving feather light kisses against your folds. 

You watched as he licked his own lips, tasting your essence on them before he found your eyes. 

“You’re so wet,” he teased and let a finger move along your slit. “Is that all for me?” 

He expected a witty response, like you telling him to bring his mouth to good use for once. So it took him by surprise when you simply sighed, “Yes.” 

There was no more game to play. No more back and forth of who was in charge. It was just the two of you, equally as desperate to finally do what you both had been dreaming of for weeks.

“Good,” Spencer whispered, his hot breath tickling your core, before he finally granted you some relief. 

His tongue moved through your folds, collecting your taste before he focussed on your most sensitive spot. He experimented with different motions for a few moments, paying attention to your reactions until he found what you enjoyed the most. Your hand flew to his hair, your fingers intertwining with his curls to hinder him from moving away – even though he had no intention to do so, anyway. 

With one arm wrapped around your thigh he hindered you from bucking uncontrollably against his face while his other hand found your entrance, letting two fingers slip into you with ease. He moved with great precision, adjusting the angle and the pace according to your reactions, bringing you closer to your breaking point with every second passing. 

The sounds of your pleasure filled the room as you began dancing along the brink of euphoria. With just a few more skillful motions, he pushed you over it. Your walls pulsed around his fingers while your entire body shook. He worked you through your orgasm before he lay back down beside you, placing a gentle kiss against your lips. 

You were still panting when you found his eyes. The warm amber of his irises was almost completely swallowed by his pupils, the lust visible in his eyes contradicting the saccharine smile he showed you. 

“You okay?” he breathed as he wrapped one arm around your waist. 

“Yeah,” you confirmed while one of your hands moved down his body. 

Tentatively, you let your fingertips brush along his length, feeling his velvety skin under your touch. “Now what are we gonna do with you?” you purred as you wrapped your fingers tightly around him, making him gasp. 

With a torturously slow pace, you moved along his cock. “Tell me, Spencer. What do you want?” 

“I uhm…,” he audibly swallowed. “I have a condom in my pocket.” 

The fact that he brought a condom to your hotel room when he came over early amused you. He never had any intention of just talking to you. 

“So, you want to fuck me?” 

“Yes,” he admitted unabashedly. “If you want that, too, of course.”

With a nod you confirmed that that was exactly what you wanted as well. Right after you let go of him, he grabbed his pants from the floor to take out the foil wrapper. You watched as he ripped it open and carefully rolled down the condom. 

Then, he kneeled down between your legs, taking a moment to admire the beauty of the woman in front of him. 

“Come here,” you cooed and he leaned over you without hesitation. 

Reaching between your bodies, you guided him to your entrance. He closed his eyes when he slowly entered you, relishing the sensation of stretching you open inch by inch. When he was fully inside you, he kissed you before he began moving with slow thrusts.

Wrapping your legs around his hips, you brought him even closer. When he was sure that you could take it, he accelerated his pace, fucking you against the mattress until you were sure you would lose your mind. 

Spencer’s body began trembling and he suddenly stopped moving. 

“Sorry, I’m really close,” he whined and tried to pull out slightly. 

“Don’t stop,” you pleaded as you kept him in place with your legs around him. “Please, I need it.”

One of your hands moved down to where your bodies were joined to desperately draw circles around your little nub, making you clench hard around his hardness. 

“Fuck,” he whimpered as he began moving again. “I can’t, ah–” 

With just a few more deep thrusts Spencer came, his cock twitching inside you as his whole body shook. It was enough to throw you over edge too, entering a state of pure bliss together with him. After you had both come down from your high, you welcomed him inside your embrace, your fingertips gently dancing over his back as he caught his breath. 

For the sake of getting cleaned up you separated for a few moments, only to lay back down together soon after. A shaky breath fell from Spencer’s lips and caught your attention. 

“So…,” he began talking but didn’t continue. 

You propped yourself up on one elbow to find his eyes. “Yeah?”

“I wanted to ask if maybe–” 

“You want me to send you that pic again?” you interrupted him with a grin on your face. 

“No,” he laughed. “I mean… that’s not what I wanted to say.”

Still in a teasing mood, you snickered, “But you would like to see that pic again?”

“You know what,” he chuckled as he lifted the blanket to get a peek at your naked body. “I think I actually prefer this.”

“Good,” you chirped. “If you want to see more of me you’ll have to take me on a date though.”

Placing a soft kiss on your lips, he whispered, “Deal.”

Thank you for reading! Please like, reblog and leave a comment to show your support and help me stay motivated to write more stories!

Taglist: @adoredfromafar @grumpyy-bearr @frickin-bats @pleasantwitchgarden @cynbx @xserenax-13 @alexxavicry @samuel-de-champagne-problems @evvy96 @reidsbookclub @lover-of-books-and-tea @sebs-oxygen @nomajdetective @kobaltdragon @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @castiels-majestic-wings

[rafecameronssl4t]

Chosen p.t 2 || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader love island au

Summary: read part one here

Warnings: angst

Word count: 1,173

A/n: help i forgot i had this in my queue LOL mb!!!

MASTERLIST (love island au masterlist)

divider by @h-aewo

You laid in bed, staring at the ceiling, Rafe’s absence a hollow ache beside you. You’d grown used to the warmth of his arm around you, the gentle rise and fall of his chest that lulled you to sleep each night. Without him, the bed felt colder, lonelier, and you couldn’t shake the memory of Kayla’s confident words as she chose him, as if she held a secret you didn’t.

Leah rubbed your arm in comfort, her eyes softening. “Yeah, must be tough after last night. The whole situation was shit. I don’t know what Kayla was thinking.” You managed a small smile, but it didn’t reach your eyes. “Neither do I, honestly. Rafe said there was nothing to worry about, but then she just… picked him. It just doesn’t make sense.”

You caught Sofia’s gaze, and she gave you a small, reassuring nod. “Maybe it’s not as deep as it seems,” she offered. “Maybe she just picked him because he looks good on paper—he’s confident, attractive, all that. She probably just wanted attention.” You nodded, trying to take comfort in her words, but the unease still simmered.

You nodded, trying to find comfort in her words, but the uncertainty still twisted inside you. Rafe had reassured you last night, had looked you in the eyes and held your hand with that steady, familiar touch that always made you feel seen. But now, with the memory of Kayla confidently choosing him and the doubt simmering beneath, it was harder to trust that feeling.

Leah’s voice broke the silence, softer now. “Have you talked to him about it?” You sighed, closing your eyes briefly as if that might ease the knot in your chest. “He tried last night. But I… I couldn’t. I was too hurt, too angry. I didn’t even know if I could believe him.”

Sofia’s hand found yours, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I think he’s probably feeling the same, People make decisions that don’t always make sense because they’re worried about what everyone thinks.” You leaned your head back, closing your eyes for a moment as you tried to steady your breathing.

Maybe they were right—maybe it was all just the game getting in your head, Kayla’s pick a calculated move, an attempt to create drama or stir things up. But the memory of Rafe looking away as Sophie announced your single status felt too raw to ignore.

~

Later that morning, as you sat in the makeup room, humming softly to yourself as you applied your skincare, a knock sounded at the door. The other girls exchanged glances, then called out, “Yeah, we’re dressed!” The door creaked open, and Rafe peeked in, his gaze instantly landing on you. He lingered in the doorway, holding a tray with coffee and breakfast.

“Hey,” he said quietly, his expression somewhere between hopeful and tentative. “Brought you breakfast.“ You blinked, caught off guard by the gesture. “Thanks,” you replied softly, surprised at how sincere he looked, how he seemed to truly want to make up for the night before. He set the tray down beside you and took a step back, as if unsure whether he should stay.

“Could we… talk?” he asked, his gaze flickering to the other girls, who quickly exchanged sympathetic glances. Leah gave you a small nod, then ushered everyone else out with a quiet, “Alright, let’s go, girls.” You sent her a grateful look as they slipped out, leaving you alone with Rafe.“Can I sit?” he asked, watching you closely, his eyes searching for any sign of welcome.

You nodded, and he pulled up a chair, watching you as you took a sip of coffee. It was exactly how you liked it, and that little detail twisted something in your chest. Neither of you spoke for a moment, the silence thick with unspoken words. Finally, he sighed, running a hand through his hair as he struggled to meet your eyes.

“I need you to believe me,” he began, his voice barely above a whisper. “I swear, I didn’t think she’d actually pick me. I thought I’d made it clear I wasn’t interested.” You looked away, biting down on the emotions that threatened to spill over. “Rafe, you don’t understand. You were there, comforting me, telling me everything was fine… and then she chose you. It felt like a slap in the face.”

He nodded, his expression pained. “I know. And I’m so sorry. I tried to make it clear to her, but I should’ve done more. I shouldn’t have let her think there was even a chance. I just… I don’t want to lose you over this.” For the first time, his words began to chip away at your hurt. His eyes held that raw sincerity, the vulnerability that he rarely let anyone see.

And as much as you wanted to cling to the anger, to shield yourself from the fear of being hurt again, a part of you knew he was being honest. You bit your lip, studying his face as he spoke, trying to gauge his sincerity. He looked back at you, a hint of desperation in his gaze that you couldn’t ignore. “You have to believe me,” he continued, voice almost a whisper. “I don’t want anyone else. It’s just you.”

Your shoulders relaxed, the anger ebbing slightly, though the doubt was still there. “Okay, Rafe,” you said finally, your tone soft but uncertain. “But actions speak louder than words. If you really mean it, you’ll have to prove it.” He nodded earnestly, relief flickering in his eyes as he reached for your hand.

“I will,” he promised. “I’ll prove it every single day if I have to. Just… give me a chance.” You nodded, feeling the weight of his words settle over you. He gave your hand a gentle squeeze, then smiled—a genuine, soft smile that reminded you of all the moments that had made you fall for him in the first place. “Finish your breakfast,” he murmured, nodding toward the tray. “I’ll be right here.”