#the monster could have had an intention! it could have been a mirror! it could have BEEN the town!

[canwriteitbetterthanueverfeltit]

y'know I think horror is such a cool genre bc you're literally looking at these things that are deep seated fears based on culture- like having your personhood taken away based on your queerness, body horror surrounding pregnancy and fertility, self destruction from your own strive to be seen as good enough- and you can do it in so many COOL and weird and varied ways that it's always suuuuuch a downer when someone goes "what if there was a monster trying to kill you. um. that's the whole idea"

[onmyyan]

Ain't no sunshine chapter 3

A/n: canon typical violence someone gets stabbed (not you) feedback is always welcome

The clock ticks in an uncomfortable rhythm, almost pounding in your ears, you swallow around nothing and try to take a deep breath, only a few more minutes now.

Sitting cross cross felt childish but you needed the comfort of being low to the ground, before you stood a proud grandfather clock, the thing always intimidated you for some reason, maybe it's because you could smell how expensive it was, how priceless, but it was the only room in the house you could guarantee would be free of any nuisances, aka your estranged family.

A lone little Debbie cupcake in hand, a candle in another, you stick the candle inside the soft flesh of the treat, lighting it with the silver zippo, the seconds begin to count down as the wax melts, today was your eighteenth birthday, and the day you'd find true freedom. A day you'd been waiting for since you'd decided to wash your hands of the Wayne's and all who associated with them.

Bruce had begun to add to his collection of broken people one by one a new face was added to the house, and one by one you were met with the same cold indifference.

Barbara Gordon came into your life warmly, on the arm of Dick, she was kind to you in the beginning, making a point to ask you questions and listening intently when you answered, immediately you admired the older woman, her charming grin and bright demeanor was like a light inside the house, until she became who you eventually discovered was Oracle, tied up in the world of heroes and monsters, she too joined the club of exclusion, unintentionally forgetting plans the two of you had made more often than not, sharing inside jokes with Dick about last night's patrol or even taking on a mentor role for Damian, each action like a stab to the heart.

The last straw felt like the smallest one. And it came in the form of Cassandra Cain.

The girl came to the family under reasons you couldn't know, but she was troubled, you could see the same look in her eyes you had when you looked in the mirror as a child, she didn't outright reject your friendship like Damian, but she was seemingly as disinterested in you as the rest of your family, the real kick to your heart came when you walked past a moment shared between her and Bruce, he was comforting her, you couldn't hear the words spoken but you could feel the love pouring from Bruce, how he had a gentle hand on her shoulder, showing her a kind of love he'd never once shown you.

It wasn't her fault and you held no grudge against her, but it still felt like a slap to the face, and every time you saw her, every time she followed them down to their little hiding spot, the acid-like sting deep in your chest got worse. It was then you made a promise to yourself, you'd stop trying, no more reaching out to Dick or praying Jason would message you back, no more begging for Tim's attention or Damian's respect, and you were sure as shit done asking Bruce to love you.

You're brought back to the present moment by the loud ring of the clock before you, the echoing sound brought a ear splitting grin to your face, finally, you were done.

Blowing out the candle, you toss it on the floor, standing with a pep in your step. You'd had your bags moved out days ago so the only thing left was to leave. A chatter could be heard the closer you got to the front door, male and female voices happily spoke with one another, but you were so unfazed, too excited about your current plans to care they'd gathered without you on your birthday.

"Oh hey (Y/n)" Dick says after spotting your form in the doorway, see the only reason you were here is because the dining room lead to the front door, and your new found freedom.

You nod at him, taking in the sight of popcorn and half empty pizza boxes, a movie projected on the wall, ah so they decided to have a little get together?

None of your concern.

"Sorry we didn't call you down, didn't realize you were home" Dick says a look of pity in his eyes, "do you want some?" It's almost said with a wince.

"Nah." Was your simple response, and with that you walked out of their door and lives.

You'd bought an apartment with your own money, you'd been working since you were fourteen, saving every penny for this moment exactly. It was in a shit part of town with an even shitter interior but it was yours and you loved it. Water dripped into a mostly full bucket in the corner, the lights took a full forty seconds to turn on and it reeked of old cigarettes.

Yet you couldn't wipe the smile off your face.

Feeling that euphoric rush had you buzzing all night, besides the bed in your room was, questionable to say the least, so you decided to stay up. Cleaning what you could with what you had made you feel even better, this terrible little space was all yours, no condescending people or assholes in sight.

Feeling hungry, you throw on a black puffer coat and a matching beanie and start to brave the Gotham cold. Each step is taken with a new gratitude, the farther you get from that family the better you feel.

Your happiness is pulled to a grinding halt by the sound of rapid footsteps behind you, without thinking you turn, fist balled tightly in perfect form, Patty would be proud if she saw the way you decked the bastard running up on you.

You nailed him right in the throat sending him to his knees, his knife cluttering to the ground before your feet, grabbing the weapon you point it down at his choking body, your hands still despite your rapid heartbeat. The wheezing man made a swipe at your ankles causing you to bring the knife down right into his shoulder, a scream rips though his throat, the adrenaline in your body has you running on autopilot.

Kicking him in the side of the head to quickly sprint to the corner store where you'd planned on going in the first place, your hands shake as you grab your food, but again, that smile stays on your face.

Not only had you moved out today, you'd proved to yourself you didn't need them for anything, not protection, not validation, nothing, it was like you could breathe again.

The next few weeks are business as usual at the manor, until Barbara looks at the calendar and realizes she'd, along with everyone, had forgotten your birthday. The guilt ate at her until she made her way to your room knocking softly, a cupcake in hand she called out, "(Y/n)? Listen I'm so sorry about your birthday, I got my dates mixed up." The lie came easy, but no response was heard, "I get if you're completely pissed at me, at us but-"

"Miss (L/n) has moved out."

"what? How is that possible we would have noticed her moving out." As if to prove Alfred wrong Barbara opens your door, only to find a barren room, empty of any signs of life. She turns to the older man, a thousand questions burning on her tongue, but he seemed to read her, "you'd be surprised what goes unnoticed in this house miss Gordon, have a good afternoon." He leaves her with this and it only makes the guilt and confusion worse.

She pulls out her phone scrolling to a number she hadn't used in a while, biting her thumb as it rings she's hoping you clear all her confusion when you answered, but you don't, instead an automated message tells her your phone has been disconnected. Now she begins to worry, you were so young, just barely an adult, the idea of you out on your own in Gotham had her heart sinking, clicking the family group chat she sends a message that will change everything.

"We need to talk about (Y/n)."

[obsessivevoidkitten]

The Monster Under Your Bed

Yandere Sleep Demon x Gender Neutral Reader CW: Noncon, kidnapping, somnophilia, sleep magic, delusional yandere, implied future stockholm syndrome, general yandere behavior

Word Count: 779

Lately you had been struggling with some of the weirdest dreams. Some were nightmares, some were even erotic, but most of them were just odd. As time went on you had gotten pretty good at just ignoring them.

The reason for all of your strange dreaming was the monster who dwelled under your bed, Rix. Rix was not an incubus, but he did get energy from the sleeping when he made physical contact with them. His kind was a somewhat common occurrence in older homes that had built up a lot of ambient emotional energy within their walls.

He used his magic to cause you to sleep deeply when he put his hands on you so that you would never find out what was happening. But one night things didn’t work out as well as they normally did.

You had been away for well over a week for work and Rix was extremely hungry. The ambient emotions radiating from the old walls sustained him, but just barely. He could have gone to seek out another source of nourishment, but he was rather attached to you.

It would have felt… improper… for him to feed off of someone who wasn’t you. He had a bit of a crush on you. It was rare but not unheard of for sleep demons to fall in love with someone who they were feeding from. It made sense, they were ingesting emotional energy, thoughts, and dreams. It was a very thorough way to get to know someone.

Rix was convinced, justifiably so, that the feeling would not be mutual. You were a human, he was a demon. He had a tall hulking form, scary tusks, shaggy black hair, and yellow eyes that glowed in the night. The only time you had any notion of him was from fleeting visions of him in some of the dreams you had while under his spell. A consequence of the magic and nothing intentional.

When you returned from your work trip Rix was too hungry and did not have the normal presence of mind to use his magic to its normal strength. As a consequence you ended up waking up while he leaned over you with his hand on your cheek. He went wide-eyed and silent, but you just looked up and gave him a sleepy smile and briefly placed your hand on his cheek in a mirror of what he was doing to you.

You just thought you were dreaming again so you mumbled something in a sweet and gentle tone that he couldn’t make out but it made his heart melt. Then you just grabbed his arm and snuggled up to it as you fell back asleep. Maybe you loved him too? Or at least liked him a lot from what you saw of him in your sleep? Either way it was clear there was something he could work with.

The more he thought about how you had brushed his cheek and then snuggled up to his arm the more delusional he became. He began inserting himself consciously into your dreams. You were never mean to him and always regarded him politely. It fueled his passion for you.

Rix decided to gently pick you up and pull you into the realm that existed beneath your bed, a place normally only accessible to him. He began to use stronger sleep spells on you so he could get away with exploring your entire body, even going so far as sliding his dick into you after carefully stretching your delicate human entrance.

The few times you had awoken while he was fucking into you, you didn’t have a bad reaction. Sometimes initially a bit startled, but once the pleasure won you over you got settled in and just enjoyed it. Of course you assumed that everything you experienced was just part of your erratic dreams. The two of you had sex in every position imaginable and on practically every surface of his otherworldly home.

But as Rix slowly started to wean you off of his sleeping spells and you spent more and more time awake, something began to seem off. This wasn’t a dream. Rix wasn’t a figment of your imagination. When you confronted him he quickly came clean, he just couldn’t lie to you directly.

You begged to go free but he refused to give in. He could keep you here for eternity and eventually you would turn to him out of loneliness. Besides, you had to fall asleep sometime, and he could do whatever he wanted to you once you did.

Your life may have become a nightmare but for Rix it was a dream come true.

[kiame-sama]

Humans Are Extinct (Yandere!TWST x Fem!Reader) Monster AU

Warnings; Several yanderes, platonic yanderes, romantic yanderes, yandere behavior, monster au, fem reader, no one starts off knowing reader is fem so they/them pronouns used, deranged behavior, spiders, driders, centaurs, unicorns, Nemean lions, werewolves, selkies, minotaurs, genies, nagas, magic, threats, panic,

~~~~~~~~

Nothing made sense anymore.

None of what you saw could have possibly been real, and even if it was, where did that leave you? The area was not familiar and you had gone through one of those mirrors to get where you were. Hopefully those... things... wouldn't think to look for you where you decided to hide out until you got a plan together. This was all provided you could think of a plan despite everything going on around you.

When you had woken up inside a coffin, the panic had set in so quickly. Since the very second that coffin spilled you out on the marble floors to the odd creatures that greeted you with unhindered curiosity, you were afraid and lost. Even now as impossible things had taken place, a thought echoed in your head from what one of the creatures had said.

I thought Humans were extinct?

Certainly a few of those you saw around you looked human, but most were some kind of creature or abominable hybrid. None of it made sense because creatures like this couldn't possibly exist, right? If that was true, you were suffering some kind of psychotic break. But if it wasn't true, if you could actually trust your eyes to tell you the truth, then you had something completely new to deal with.

Exhaustion hit you hard enough that you couldn't help but cuddle close to your stone companion and shelter, seeking comfort in the cold statue.

~•§•~

Eyes slowly flickered open in the dark, searching with sleep-hazed confusion at the oddly cramped surroundings. Attempting to lift your hands only made more confusion race through your mind as some kind of lid stopped you from completing the motion. The fog of sleep that had hung so heavy in your mind was now replaced with sharp awareness and clarity, throwing you into a state of panic as you realized you were trapped.

The dark container you found yourself in had you thrashing and desperate for freedom from your newfound confines. Your kicking and thrashing- painful against the lid of your container- managed to actually knock the top loose and slightly ajar. That bit of light from outside was the only encouragement your knowledge deprived brain needed to know it was doing the right thing by struggling. What you didn't expect was the feeling of this human-sized container pitching forward to spill you out unceremoniously on the ground.

The cold surface beneath you felt even colder on your soft face, wondering just where you were and why all of your memories leading up to that moment were just a blur. You didn't have long to spend on your musings before an unusual voice reached your ears, closer to a baritone than a tenor but still a masculine sounding tone.

"Oh my, I thought we had all of the students accounted for. Could it be I miscounted?"

You pushed yourself up with your hands to try and face whoever was speaking, seeing an oddly feathered man with dark black hair walking towards you. He wore a mask- or perhaps he truly had a beak- that made him look like a rather large corvid walking towards you. Despite his humanoid features, something in the back of your mind told you that this man was not what he appeared at first glance. Even his bright yellow eyes that shined from beneath the black mask seemed inhuman as they studied you intently.

"You certainly don't seem like one of the sudents I selected. I'm fairly sure I would remember someone odd... like you..?"

The man stopped in his tracks, regarding you strangely as if he were actually looking at you now. He certainly wasn't recognizeable to you and you had no sense of familiarity upon seeing him. Something about you must have caught the man's attention as he cocked his head to the side, crouching next to you and observing you keenly. Something about the way he moved was so bird-like you wondered if he was pretending to be some character or if there were actually something inhuman about him.

"I don't often need to ask this question, and I am very curious now what your answer will be, but what are you?"

That was certainly an odd question. You thought the answer would have been obvious, but something about the whole situation made you feel like what you were going through wasn't normal.

"Human..? Isn't everyone?"

There was a long moment of silence and it was in this silence you decided to look around now that your poor face stopped hurting from your abrupt meeting with the ground. You were in the center of a large room where what seemed to be dozens of coffins with various sizes and shapes floated around you. The container you came from was also a coffin and you could see where you had actually damaged the smooth wood with your desperate attempt at freedom.

Beyond the floating coffins- as surreal as they were- you noticed that you were not the only two present. Many others were standing around you, all in the same black, purple, and gold robes. All looking at you with unguarded curiosity. It was as you looked at these unusually robed people that you began to realize none of them looked particularly human. The more you searched, the clearer it became that none of those standing around you seemed to be fully human.

One of those standing there was a heartbreakingly beautiful bird-man with smooth complexion and flawless makeup darkening his lovely purple eyes. His fair blond hair woven with long feathers. Behind him was a long train of peacock feathers in iridescent colors that seemed all the more colorful beneath the flicking candlelight. As he noticed you glance at him, he seemed to almost puff out his chest in pride and the feather train behind him ruffled ever so slightly.

There was what you could only describe as a some kind of horned horse-man standing not too far from the bird-man. He had fiery red hair that complimented his smokey blue eyes, a prominent golden horn sat in the middle of his forehead with two long strands of hair framing the protrusion. His horse-half had pure white fur, the tail of the horse sporting the same flaming hair the human-half had. The hooves on the horse half were that same sparkling golden that made the hybrid almost seem regal in a way.

Even beyond the two oddities you saw more and more inhuman features on the beings standing around you. There was a light murmur of conversation humming through the air and that was when you caught something unusual.

"I thought humans were extinct?"

You were brought back to attention by the man in front of you clapping his hands as he stood back to full height. He had an unsettling smile playing on his lips and he regarded you the same way one would regard a lost puppy sitting, shivering from fear and cold at their door.

"You actually are a human, aren't you? How amazing! To think, a human just appeared at my College after centuries of one not even being sighted! How thrilling. This certainly is an unusual situation, and it is my duty as Headmage to safeguard such an endangered creature. Worry not, little human, you are safe here. Aren't I just the kindest?"

You felt like you had been dropped in some wretched nightmare that made no sense despite how desperately you searched for it. There was no such thing as horned horse men, or crow men, or peacock men! None of this was possibly happening because these things just didn't exist where you were from. Maybe as a child you had believed such lies, but as an adult you couldn't comprehend these creatures possibly existing. It was just madness.

It was as you were pulling yourself too your feet that another voice spoke up, this one a touch deeper than that of the Crow man.

"Merveilleux~ to see such a mythical being up close like this... Their beauty is absolutely stunning in such a captivating and exotic way, très bien!"

You saw the man speaking and felt a little confused when he was taller than many of those standing around him. As others moved to look at him you saw just what it was that gave him such height above the rest. It looked as if someone had taken the top half of a man and attached it to the body of a spider about where the face would be. The spider body itself was compact with black markings along the abdomen and long, spindly legs that seemed more than double the length of the body. Two prominent fangs sat curled at the front of the man, slightly obscured by his robes hanging over them, but you could see the faint sheen of venom on the pointed surface of the far too-large mandibles.

Something about seeing the handsome face and shining green eyes of the blond man paired with the monstrous spider-body that he was attached to made the world seem to spin and pitch beneath you. Though you had just managed to get to your feet you certainly didn't feel steady on them, but as the crow man reached out to steady you, you did the only thing you could think of and bolted. Your sudden flight from the situation made several others startle, and in the confusion you darted for what looked like an exit or portal out.

It had not been what you hoped it to be as you found yourself standing before a dark castle that seemed all the more intimidating compared to the monster filled room you just fled. Still, you could try to find somewhere in the castle to lay low, maybe even out on one of the balconies next to the many Gargoyles that overlooked the dour building. There had to be somewhere out of place enough for you to hide- or so you hoped- from the hybrid monsters that so happily decided to keep you despite not knowing a thing about you.

The slow wandering of halls with no opposition put you on edge, wondering if you just got lucky or if you hadn't seen anyone for a reason. Even as your footsteps quietly echoed in the dark halls, you remained vigilant in your quest to find somewhere out of the way.

Eventually that quest for somewhere safe led you to one of the many rooftops of the building. Your salvation came in the form of a recessed alcove that went further back than it appeared, facing away from the front of the castle. It wasn't much, but it was enough to keep you sheltered from the rather cold wind and make you feel concealed even among the rooftop.

With Gargoyles as your company and adrenaline quickly fading, you found yourself exhausted and in need of a rest. Despite how fast you seemed to have stumbled upon your hiding place, you could see it had actually been quite a distance you must have run. The portal far away on the other side of the enormous drawbridge that let you into the castle. Your energy was sapped and you were more than confused, but you couldn't fight the insistent pull of sleep on your frazzled mind forever.

~•§•~

The old crow Fae was still reeling from the absolute shock he had just gone through, but most would likely be feeling the same were they in his shoes. It simply was next to impossible, but an actual human was roaming the halls of Night Raven College. He himself had last seen a human more than half a millennia ago and they had since been declared extinct for several centuries. Seeing such a mythical being in the Hall of Mirrors was certainly unexpected and curious.

At first he believed they were a Selkie who had lost their fur, but the absolute lack of magic from them told him all he needed to know. Humans were the only non-magic species that had reached sentience in Twisted Wonderland, but this left them at a disadvantage as all other sentient species had magic and quickly out competed them. Some of the Naga and other beastman tribes even took to eating humans as a delicacy before they were declared extinct. Now Crowley had what was very possibly the first recorded human in centuries somewhere lost in his college.

The grants he could get to care for the human alone justified finding them and keeping them at Night Raven despite the fact they were not actually a student or member of the college. Even beyond just the money to keep such a rare specimen safe, he was going to get to see their magicless qualities first hand. It was always assumed that humans had some kind of innate abilities to make up for the fact that they didn't have magic. Their affable nature made them great at keeping the peace between strong personalities and powerful magic users. Though humans were technically at the bottom of the food chain as far as sentient species were concerned, Crowley could keep this one creature safe at Night Raven College.

All he needed to do now was find the wayward human and get them to settle down. Of course, there was still the question for where the human could possibly stay that would ensure their safety.

~•§•~

The dark haired prince walked through the somber halls of Diasomnia. Emerald eyes taking note of the ever familiar surroundings that made up his temporary home. The dour prince was looking to visit his beloved Gargoyles and figured now was as good a time as any. He had not been invited to the ceremony after all and he was not so rude as to show up without invitation and no good reason. Besides, it had been a while since he last visited his beloved statues.

As he made his usual rounds based on the age of the statue, the horned royal paused when greeted with an unfamiliar sight. Beneath one of the Gargoyles was someone soft and delicate looking. They were clearly not made of the same stone as the statues, but by all appearances the Gargoyles had borne a child of flesh and not stone. Perhaps Lilia would know where this odd little creature came from.

The prince was gentle removing the soft (s/c) being from beneath the statue, taking care to not wake the warm creature. His obsidian wings flared with contentment as he managed to extract the oddly delicate humanoid. Outwardly appearing, they almost seemed to be a selkie without fur, but their scent said otherwise. They were much softer than a siren or banshee which often had very taut skin. With renewed purpose, the thorn prince carried his new discovery to his own room, tucking the little being into his blankets. He would find somewhere else for the odd creature to stay after he conversed with Lilia. For now, he could leave the fragile being in the safety of his nest until he figured out what they were.

Perhaps he would crash the ceremony after all. Even if he wasn't invited, this was a good reason.

[busket]

I understand personal preference and that some people just don't like ships with men, and that's ok! but I'm annoyed at the implication from some fans that labru has less depth as a relationship than farcille or any other wlw ship in dungeon meshi, and the idea that people are only shipping it as a joke, or because they're horny, or because they're misogynistic and don't want to look at female characters, etc etc. I've seen people call it like, "bloodlust obsession that turns to horniness" and it made me realize that the people who don't ship labru don't understand their dynamic at all. labru shippers didn't just pull this out of our asses lol

a lot of the story around kabru involves how he and laios are perfect opposites of eachother. NARRATIVE FOILS, if you will. everywhere kabru thrives (social interaction, charisma, the surface) laios completely fails. and everywhere that laios is most successful (in the dungeon against monsters) kabru keeps getting killed. not only that but their desires are mirrors of each other too: laios grew up bullied by humans and wanted to become a monster, kabru grew up dehumanized by his villagers and then the elves, so he wants to affirm his identity as a human being.

despite how kabru should be repulsed by laios due to his hatred of monsters, he's drawn to him instead. kabru spends the entire story trying to get to laios to talk to him and to get to know him. firstly he knows laios is closest to defeating the dungeon lord and needs to sus out if he's a good person, but he admits that he really wants to be friends with laios too, not just to determine his virtue but to see what value laios sees in monsters. he wants laios to share his interest in people, he wants laios to be interested in him back. kabru never had any true bloodlust or desire to kill laios, he was prepared to go that far if laios wasn't a good person, but once finding out that he has good intentions kabru spends all his energy trying to help laios instead. and when you consider that kabru spent his childhood believing he was half monster because of how he was ostracized in utaya, his curiosity about how laios could possibly love monsters feels so much more personal.

and for laios, he's not used to anyone taking an interest in him. people are constantly telling him he's weird, and the person he believed to be his best friend told him he couldn't stand him. he misses falin so dearly because she thinks he's the coolest man on earth, so meeting someone and being told "I hate monsters but I still want to know YOU" would have an impact on him, I think. in postcanon they become good friends, kabru becomes laios' right hand man to help him with more of the dicey social aspects of being a leader. laios asks him to stay by his side and help him, and kabru says "yeah, that's what I've been doing this whole time"

I wouldn't claim that a romantic relationship between them is CANON, but I wouldn't even say that about farcille either tbh (and I love farcille just as much so don't come for me lol) this isn't a comedy crackship that yaoi fans just made up. laios and kabru are really multi dimensional characters and they're made to reflect eachother in every way, even down to their physical design. so it's not out of nowhere that people ship them

[forwards-beckon-rebound]

more jason todd hcs because i said so!!! pt 2

or more like what was he doing at wayne manor when he wasn't busy being robin pt 1

back in crime alley, he’d go to the one library because it opened late and had air conditioning and heating (a luxury his own home didn’t have)

he’d read basically anything he could get his hands on

mostly he reads stories about fantastical adventures in far off lands, fighting monsters and saving the day

sometimes he read stuff like the little princess and prays that really will be him one day

so when he meets batman for the first time and he doesn’t get beaten up for stealing the tires but instead adopted? he can’t help but want to see where this goes

he tries so hard to make bruce not regret his decision

he makes sure to stay at the top of his classes, even when that means late nights studying in his room even after all of his training

he finds any newspaper articles that he can on robin and marvels at all of his feats

he reads true crime cases, even if they make his stomach churn, so he can improve his investigation skills

he trains until he retches on the floor, and then he cleans it up so as not to bother anyone and goes back to training

sure he acts all confident and happy but really? he knows that his current life was given to him by the whims of some rich guy and he could very well lose it all the next day

he stashed nonperishable food in his room, trinkets he’s been gifted that he thinks he could sell

but as the days go by and it seems like bruce has no intention of making him leave, and in fact he’s being treated almost like a son? it makes jason gain hope

the first time bruce asks him to come to a gala, jason is so excited he can’t sleep

he's stressing out over his suit (it's the first time he's ever worn one, much less had one custom made to fit him)

he checks up on it multiple times a day and will lowkey freak out if he finds a wrinkle (he won't because obviously it's alfred)

he's practicing how to tie a tie in the mirror perfectly

once he gets to the gala, he's buzzing from the nerves and excitement

will he feel out of place amongst all of these rich people who probably see him as a charity case?

sure, but the fact that he’s making a public appearance…surely this means that his stay at the manor will not be short-lived

he gets introduced as bruce’s adopted son and with each greeting he can’t help but puff his chest out just a bit more

as he wanders towards the punch bowl, he hears a group of ladies gossip about whether jason is actually bruce’s illegitimate child

it makes sense. they both have black hair, blue eyes, the same square jaw and heavy set eyebrows

he could probably correct them if he wanted to. but this is one rumour he doesn’t mind floating around

and that night, he has never been more grateful for the colour of his eyes

he thinks somewhere along the way he gets caught up in all of it

he lets himself get comfortable at the manor

he didn't have much in his room growing up. mostly because there wasn't anything to display to begin with, but also because they'd be evicted from their previous place so often, more belongings just meant more things to move

fills his room with personal trinkets. a dagger here, a mask there. he has photos framed. him meeting the justice league, with the titans, his first christmas at the manor (bruce has the same one in his office too)

i personally hc that some entrepreneurial gothamites have made bootleg batman and robin merch (actually is it bootleg if there's no official merch? who knows)

kind of like those i heart new york shirts with the local tourist spots on it

but it's batman lmfao

butttttttt i'm just imagining them coming across a dude selling chibi batman and robin merch while they're on patrol

and bruce hates it because like why is his head so big? why are his eyes so disproportionately large? does he have some sort of illness

but he notices how long jason's staring at them so he breaks the batsona for a bit to buy it for him

and jason has it on display in his room

imagine if they have one of those height markers in the house from when dick was still home

and then they add jason's and he can't help but stare enviously at dick's marking and wonders when he'll get there

alfred assures him he will be as tall as master dick one day, and they'll make sure to add it so that he "wins," as he so put it

unfortunately that day won't come. not because he doesn't grow taller than dick but by that point, it's too late

he has his own personal corner in the library

it's a cozy armchair that's just close enough to a window to get natural light while he's reading, but also close to the fireplace so that on winter days he's not freezing to death

it wasn't like that when he first got there. actually, the chair was much closer to the fireplace, where the rest of the furniture is arranged

but as time went on, he thought it'd be okay if he moved the chair just a littleeee bit more to the right. surely bruce wouldn't mind. and nobody ever said anything, so he'd move it bit by bit until eventually it was where it still is

it looks kind of out of place at this point. i mean, imagine a singular armchair way off to the side. but it's his spot and nobody moves it, even after he's gone

honestly, everybody else never really went into the library before or after, but whenever jason had free time, that's where he would be

he's just always there, even though he's been told that he's allowed to take the books around the house or to school if he wants

he's so careful with keeping the books safe, thinks it best that he leaves them in the library

he doesn't want to give them a reason to think he's a bother

he will bring a few books to his room, the ones he likes to read before he goes to sleep to wind down

i'm just thinking about the little reminders of jason todd scattered throughout the manor

the dining chair that's a little wobbly from the time jason tried to show bruce a trick

a burn mark on a wooden pan handle from the first time alfred taught him how to cook

a window pane that's not quite like the rest of them after he tried to copy dick's iconic quad flip

a bronze dog statue in a hallway because of course the waynes would own one. its head is shinier than the rest of its body from the times he would pet it

and sure, you could call it damage if you wanted to

but it's hard to think about it that way when really, those are some of the last reminders that he really was there

< prev | m.list

[getobitchs]

What You Took From Me - R. S.

✧.* content warning : angst, fluff ig?

✧.* w/c : 1.07k

✧.* n/a : nothin

✧.* tagline : @sugurus-thoughts ; (text me to be on the next tagline)

₊ ⊹🪻 ✧ ˚i

The Heian era was a time of elegance and tradition, where the beauty of the cherry blossoms mirrored the fleeting moments of happiness that mortals clung to. For you, life had once been simple, your days spent tending to the small garden by your family’s home, your nights bathed in the soft glow of moonlight. Until him.

Sukuna.

You had met him by chance — or so you had believed. A man of devastating beauty and an aura that sent chills down your spine, he was both terrifying and magnetic. Sukuna wasn’t just a man; he was a force of nature. A god among mortals, cloaked in an ever-present air of danger and power.

Yet, despite the fear he inspired, he had chosen you. Out of all the women in the land, it was you who had caught his eye. And in an act of defiance against both his nature and the world that feared him, he had married you.

At first, you had been afraid, unsure of his intentions. But Sukuna — when he wasn’t reigning over curses or instilling fear — had been a surprisingly gentle husband. He brought you rare flowers, sat beside you while you worked in the garden, and listened as you spoke of your dreams and fears. He wasn’t one to smile often, but when he did, it was like the sun breaking through a storm.

You fell in love with him, despite the warnings whispered by the wind and the shadowy aura that clung to him like a second skin. And for a time, you were happy.

But time was unkind to mortals.

Your health began to wane, your once-strong body betraying you as the years passed. You tried to hide it, to keep the growing weakness in your limbs and the ache in your chest a secret, but Sukuna knew. He always knew.

He watched helplessly as you grew weaker, his frustration manifesting in the crackle of his cursed energy. He could destroy entire villages, topple kingdoms, and command legions of curses, but he couldn’t stop the inevitable march of time. He couldn’t save you.

You died one spring morning, the scent of cherry blossoms heavy in the air. Sukuna had held you in his arms as you took your last breath, his four crimson eyes fixed on your face as though he could will you back to life.

“I’ll find you,” he had murmured, his voice breaking in a way you had never heard before. “No matter where you go, I’ll find you again.”

And then you were gone.

Centuries passed.

For years after your death, Sukuna clung to his memories of you, reliving every fleeting moment of happiness he had shared with you. He tried to forget, to bury your image beneath the blood and chaos of his reign, but no matter how much he destroyed, no matter how many lives he claimed, your face always lingered in the corners of his mind.

When he was eventually sealed, he welcomed the silence. If the world had nothing left to offer him, perhaps oblivion was the only answer.

But fate is cruel, and the threads of destiny are never truly severed.

In 2018, Sukuna awakened, dragged back into the world through forbidden sorcery. It was a strange new time, filled with loud machines, flashing lights, and a world that had forgotten his name. He should have reveled in the opportunity to spread fear and reclaim his throne, yet his mind was elsewhere.

The centuries had dulled nothing. He still thought of you. Your laughter, your touch, the way you had looked at him as though he weren’t a monster. He had lost you once, and the thought of living without you again filled him with an ache he couldn’t name.

Then, one ordinary evening, he saw you.

You were standing outside a café, bathed in the soft glow of a neon sign, your laughter carrying over the hum of the city. Time seemed to freeze. Sukuna’s crimson eyes locked onto you, his heart — something he had long believed dead — thudding painfully in his chest.

It was you.

You looked different, your modern clothes and styled hair unfamiliar, but there was no mistaking you. The shape of your smile, the way you tilted your head as you laughed — it was the same as it had been centuries ago.

For a moment, he could only stand there, staring. He had spent so long believing he would never see you again that the sight of you now felt like a dream.

You didn’t notice him at first, engrossed in your conversation with a friend. But then your eyes flickered toward him, and the world shifted.

You froze, your laughter dying in your throat as your gaze met his. There was no recognition in your eyes, but something passed between you — a spark, a faint pull that made your heart stutter.

Sukuna crossed the street without hesitation, his movements as smooth and predatory as they had been in the Heian era. He stopped in front of you, towering over you, his presence commanding your full attention.

“Can I help you?” you asked, your voice polite but wary.

His gaze softened as he took you in, his crimson eyes scanning your face for any hint of familiarity. “Do you believe in fate?” he asked, his voice low and resonant.

You blinked, startled by the question. “I… I guess?”

His lips curled into a smirk, though it lacked the malice it usually carried. “You should.”

Your friend nudged you, murmuring something about him being strange, but you didn’t move. There was something about him that felt… familiar.

“Have we met before?” you asked, your voice hesitant.

His smirk faltered for just a moment, replaced by something more vulnerable. “In another life, perhaps.”

You didn’t understand what he meant, but there was something in his gaze that made your chest ache, a strange and inexplicable feeling of loss and longing.

Sukuna didn’t press further. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to frighten you or risk losing you again. But as he turned to leave, he glanced over his shoulder. “We’ll meet again,” he said, echoing the promise you had made to him centuries ago.

You stood there, watching him disappear into the crowd, your heart heavy with an emotion you couldn’t name.

And for the first time in centuries, Sukuna felt hope.

[persevereforahappyending]

A Beacon in the Dark |2|

Pairing: Joey x Reader

Summary: Joey likes helping people, it's what she's best at. Hunting down the monsters of myth and legend might be the best way to save people.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 3.7k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12

Ana made Caleb breakfast as usual, she helped him make sure all his stuff was in his backpack like usual, and she walked him to school like usual. She tried to keep everything as normal as possible, when she got back home the other night her note was still on the counter and Caleb hadn’t mentioned anything yet, so she assumed he didn’t wake up in the middle of the night. The only thing Ana did differently was she couldn’t help her eyes darting around constantly, looking for you or any more surprises, she also had her gun tucked in her pants, covered up by her shirt. She was supposed to be done with the type of life they would involve her carrying around a gun, especially when she was with her son, she couldn’t believe she was considering your job offer.

Ana couldn’t deny that she was curious. She was struggling to find a job, ideally, she wanted something in the medical field she knew that wasn’t going to happen though. The only way she’d be able to continue helping people that way would be to keep being an underground doctor, but that very thing was what led her to getting captured and almost killed by a vampire. She wouldn’t be able to continue to make enough to live off of if she only helped specific people or didn’t do big injuries where she could potentially kill the patient. She was clean and she had no intention of slipping, but she didn’t want to give herself the opportunity to fuck things up again.

“I have a job interview today,” Ana said as the school got within eyesight.

“Cool,” Caleb mumbled.

“I’m not sure how long it’ll take but I should be done in time to get you from school.”

Caleb just nodded. Ana held in a sigh; she didn’t need Caleb to be excited for her, but he was acting like he didn’t expect much from it. She couldn’t really blame him; he’d seen her spend every day applying and getting rejected by jobs. When Ana did get an interview, she always came home already knowing she wouldn’t be called back.

“See you later,” he mumbled before running off and catching up with his friends.

Ana opened her mouth ‘I love you’ on the tip of her tongue but she didn’t bother finishing this time, she knew Caleb wouldn’t hear it anyway. She stood at the entrance until the bell rang, signaling all the kids that it was time to get to class. She waited there until all the students had filed inside and she finally lost sight of the top of Caleb’s head. Just as she turned around to walk away you pulled up in a Jeep.

Ana rolled her eyes, when you said you’d pick her up after she dropped her son off, she didn’t realize how literal you meant it. You had clearly been watching her, you knew where her son went to school and what time it started, your timing for pulling up was perfect, too perfect. She glared at you when you rolled down the window, smirking at her, your eyes were once again hidden behind sunglasses, but she knew your eyes were on her.

Ana flung open the door and jumped in the passenger seat. “If you try anything, or if this is a trick in anyway,” Ana turned in her seat, glaring into your eyes despite the sunglasses. “I will shoot you.”

“And a good morning to you,” you said, not losing your smirk as you turned to face the road again. You checked your mirrors before pulling out and began driving to wherever you were taking Ana.

“I’m serious,” Ana continued to glare at the side of your head.

“I brought you a coffee,” you looked down at the coffee in the cup holder. “I got it black; you didn’t seem like the type to want a bunch of sugar and crap in it.”

“Do you think I’m joking?”

You let out a small chuckle, but quickly covered it by turning it into a smile. Ana wasn’t sure if you were just that arrogant or what, she was tempted to shoot you just to prove to you she would. “I assure you; I am well aware you’re not joking.”

“So, do you just have a death wish then?”

You let out a humorless chuckle. Ana made a note of that, she had been joking, half joking, but it almost seemed like you did have a death wish. “You’re not going to kill me,” you said confidently. “You’re incredibly capable of that.” Ana raised an eyebrow. “But you won’t kill me, not if you don’t actually have too.”

“Where are we going?” Ana asked, rolling her eyes.

“Out of the city,” you said simply. Ana’s eyes widened; she told Caleb she would be back in time to pick him up. “Don’t worry, you’ll be back before your kid gets out of school.”

Ana snapped her gaze to you, narrowing her eyes. “How’d you know I was worried about that?” There was something about you, something Ana couldn’t quite pin, she knew you weren’t a vampire, there was nothing to indicate you were something more than human, but Ana had a feeling. You knew so much about her, what happened during her last job, about vampires, about her son, and just now, you knew what she was worried about. It wouldn’t be a completely crazy leap to think you could read minds.

“I’m not a mind reader.” That certainly did nothing to disprove Ana’s theory. “You love your son,” you shrugged. “It’s clear you’re trying to makeup to him, you don’t want to let him down.”

Ana continued to stare at you, you nailed it, she didn’t like it when others could read her just as well as she could read them. You continued on driving though, never once glancing at her. She wondered what made you tick, if you were always this calm or if it was only for her. You read her so well the night before, despite having a gun pointed at you, you knew she wouldn’t shoot you. It was the same as today, you knew Ana had a gun on her, you had to have, yet you were relaxed and driving as if the two of you were on a road trip out of the city.

The trip continued until the two of you were well out of the city, driving down a two-lane road lined with trees on both sides. It was a gorgeous drive; however, it was also out in the middle of nowhere. Ana didn’t know who you were, where you were taking her, or who you were taking her to, the only thing she knew was that you wanted her for a job, but even with that you had been vague on. The woods were thick enough that if you took Ana out there, she could be lost forever, no one would know what happened to her.

You turned on your blinker, turning down another paved road. Ana furrowed her brow until, finally, you passed a mansion, it had a long driveway, completely fenced in, and the large house sat all the way back, well away from the road. After a few more minutes, you passed by another mansion, with a similar layout. The mansions in the middle of nowhere reminded Ana of the one Abigail lived in, the place her last job took place, where everything happened, but these mansions didn’t look run down and abandoned.

You kept driving down the road, passing mansion after mansion on each side every few minutes. Ana couldn’t imagine living in a place like this, giant houses, with who knew how many rooms, several minutes apart from the next house. There was complete and total privacy, one could hardly consider them as neighbors with how far apart they were.

You finally turned down the driveway of one of the mansions. After slowly coming to a stop in front of the large metal gate, the gate was all stone and metal, the tips of the fence pointed so that if anyone were to climb it, they’d most definitely injure themselves. You rolled down your window, staring at the little box without saying a word. A second later there was a loud grinding sound and the gate slowly slid open. You rolled your widow back up and continued driving forward, the gate closing almost instantly after you crossed the threshold.

Ana shoved her hands in her pocket, fiddling around with the candy she had shoved in there. She debated for half a second before grabbing a piece of candy, quickly unwrapping it, and shoved it in her mouth. She caught you glancing at her out of the side of your eye, but you didn’t say anything. Ana straightened her back and continued to stare out the windshield as you continued to drive up the long driveway. Her mouth fell open, nearly losing her candy in the process, as the mansion fully came into view. The house was newer than the one Abigail had, but much bigger. Ana couldn’t imagine living in a house so big, she could imagine having to decorate that many rooms.

You pulled the car around, coming to a gentle stop right in front of the front steps. Ana glanced at her watch; it had taken nearly an hour to get wherever you had taken her. “We’re here,” you said, smiling at Ana before jumping out of the car.

You ran around the car, pulling the door open the rest of the way after Ana opened it. You held out your hand to help her out. She rolled her eyes, stepping out of the car and walking right past your outstretched hand. Ana ignored the small sigh you let out, choosing to continue walking up the steps and waiting for you at the front door. You quickly closed the car door and ran after her, smiling at her as you stood in front of her again. She raised an unamused eyebrow at you.

“Has anyone ever told you you’re just delightful when being interviewed?” you asked, smirking.

“I’m here for your boss,” Ana said, giving you a tight-lipped smile. “I don’t have to be anything to you.”

You let out a small hum and then put your hand on the door handle, giving Ana a mischievous smile before allowing the door to swing open. You made a dramatic gesture with your arm, allowing Ana to enter first. Ana walked through the door, turning in a circle as she took in the high ceilings and the various art and weapons hanging on the walls. Ana jumped, whipping around when she heard the large wood door slam shut. She eyed you as you walked away from the door, she hadn’t forgotten that the last time she was in a mansion, she got locked in and nearly died.

“This way,” you said, nodding your head for Ana to follow.

Ana followed you through a room, then down a long hallway. The mansion was massive, it had items in every room and on every wall, it almost didn’t look lived in though. Everything was clean and perfect but as they passed a sitting room Ana couldn’t imagine someone had ever sat on the couch or any of the chairs in the room, though there were shelves lined with old books, their spines worn from age or years of being read.

You came to a stop outside another rather large wood door. You gave a small knock, but you didn’t wait for whoever was on the other side to acknowledge it before opening the door. You held the door open, allowing Ana to step in first once again. Her eyes widened as she took in the room, unlike the rest of the house, at least from what she had seen, this room had a blonde woman sitting at a desk with five computer monitors in front of her, the wall behind her was plastered with various images, sketches, and newspaper clippings of monsters or reports of strange happenings, from all over the world. Off to the right was a peg board on wheels, with the same thing, news paper clippings, online articles and social medias posts printed out and pegged on, though unlike the wall, the board seemed to be all about the same event, in the same place.

The blonde woman stood up, stepping out from around the desk. Ana looked her up and down, she was wearing some jeans and a simple jacket. If Ana had seen the woman walking down the street, she would never have imagined she lived in a mansion and had the type of money she must have.

“Ana Lucia Cruz,” the woman said. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she held out her hand. “My name is Grace.”

“Nice to meet you,” Ana said, giving Ana’s hand a shake. So far, she liked Grace better than you, so she was considering the meeting a success for the moment. “And I would prefer Joey, if you don’t mind.” Grace tilted her head at the request. “For privacy reasons.”

“Of course, Joey,” Grace nodded, giving her a kind smile. “Please, join me,” she gestured to the other side of the room, leading Joey to a set of chairs next to a small table.

“Thank you,” Joey took one of the seats while Grace took the other. You moved to stand behind Grace on her left, as if you were her own person bodyguard. “I have to say,” Joey said, shaking her head as Grace offered her a cup of tea. “You have much better manners than your,” she flicked her gaze up at you, “associate.” Your only response was a smirk.

“What did you do?” Grace turned to you, exasperated.

Joey silently chuckled at the way your face fell. “You asked me to recruit her,” you said, pointing at Joey as you tried to defend yourself.

“Outside my son’s school,” Joey added. “Right after I dropped him off.”

Grace shook her head in disappointment. “How else was I supposed to do it!” you gestured widely with your hands. “This is the first person I’ve ever tried to bring in.”

“No, one else does this?” Joey asked. She figured there weren’t many people in this line of work, but she didn’t expect you and your boss to be the only ones. “Well, don’t I feel special,” she mumbled.

“You are special,” Grace said, leaning forward. “You survived something horrific, something unnatural.” Joey looked up, meeting Grace’s eyes, she saw determination, but she also saw compassion staring back at her. “Not many have the capabilities to survive something like that, it takes a particular kind of person to see a darkness like that and not runaway.” Grace leaned back in her chair. “That’s exactly the kind of person we’re looking for to join our cause.”

“Your cause?” Joey raised an eyebrow. “Y/N told me you experienced something similar to me.”

Grace tensed up, glancing at you out of the side of her eye, making you cast your eyes down to the floor like a scolded child. “I have, it’s why I do what I do. I don’t want anyone to suffer what I-what we have.”

“And you, what, just have so much money you don’t know what to do with,” Joey shrugged. “So, you might as well pay people to go fight the supernatural?”

“I mean it is the one thing that Le Domas fortune is good for,” you mumbled.

Joey’s eyes snapped to you the same time as Grace’s but for vastly different reasons. Your eyes widened as if you just realized you said that out loud. “Le Domas?” Joey whispered. “I recognize that name.” She rifled through her memory; she didn’t know the Le Domas family, but she knew she had heard of them. Her eyes widened when she realized why.

Joey shot out of her seat so fast, reaching behind her to grab the gun in her pants as soon as she was on her feet. “Don’t,” you said. Joey froze, slowly lifting her eyes to see you standing in front of Grace, in the line of fire.

Joey slowly took her hand off her gun and raised it, showing you her hands were empty. Joey wasn’t one to scare easily but the way your voice changed, the look in your eyes, Joey had missed judged you. You had been friendly with every interaction, to the point it was irritating. However, seeing you stand in front of her now, she saw it, the look in your eye, you would not hesitate to kill her if it meant protecting Grace.

“Guess you really are her guard dog,” Joey mumbled. She didn’t take her eyes off of you, she noticed the way yours darkened at her comment.

“It’s okay,” Grace said. She stood up, resting a hand on your shoulder to ease you back. It took a second, but you slowly relaxed and moved to stand behind Grace again.

“Whatever you think you know,” Grace said softly. “I promise you, it’s not even close to the truth.”

“Everyone knows the story of the Le Domas family,” Joey said, trying to relax again. She didn’t want you to see how on edge she was. She thought her guard was up before getting in the car with you, that was nowhere near to how on alert she was now. “A very rich, very prominent family, all dead, their bodies in pieces, and it all happened on their youngest son’s wedding night. They couldn’t prove she had done it, though everyone suspected, considering she came from nothing, and they were rich beyond imagination.”

Grace rested her chin on her hand as she nodded at Joey’s words. “They made a deal with a demon,” Grace finally whispered. “I thought I was marrying the love of my life and getting the family I always dreamed of,” she gave a sad smile, letting out a humorless chuckle. “Then they tried to kill me.” She looked back up at Joey again.

Joey slowly sat back down; she saw you take a step back, looking back down at the floor again. “It was a thing of theirs,” Grace continued. “If you married into the family you had to play a game, if you picked Hide and Seek then you hid, while they hunted you down,” she was staring off into the distance, seeming to be talking to herself more than anything. “If they didn’t kill you before sunrise then the whole family was going to die, that was the deal they made with Mr. Le Bail, he was the reason they had their fortune to begin with and in returned he required a sacrifice.”

“And you were…” Joey started but she wasn’t sure how to finish her sentence.

Grace nodded. “I married Alex, then that night he and his entire family tried to kill me,” she gave Joey a sad smile again. “Clearly, I survived,” she looked down at herself. “Mr. Le Bail allowed me to live and though their investigation was thorough, there was no evidence I had killed the entire family, so, since I was technically the last living relative after my marriage, I got everything,” she shrugged.

Joey nodded; she thought her night trying to survive a ballerina vampire had been bad. She couldn’t imagine thinking you were marrying the love of your life only for him to try sacrificing you to a demon his family made a deal with. “And now you use their fortune to help others.”

Grace nodded. “I try, figured the money should go to doing some good.” She cleared her throat, blinking away the tears that had seemed to begun to fill her eyes. “I also use it for payment, it’s how I pay Y/N for jobs, it’s how I could pay you. I assure you, the job may be dangerous, it may be shady at times, but the money is legit.”

Joey nodded, taking all the information in. That was one of the things she was worried about. It didn’t matter how much she could be making from a job, she still had to go through a process to make sure it wasn’t traceable and that it looked legit. Grace’s money was legit, she could pay Joey no problem and Joey could just have it go into the bank, no questions asked.

“And what about you?” Joey asked, looking at you. “What’s your story?” she tilted her head, waiting to see what kind of answer you gave this time.

Even from a distance Joey could see the way your body tensed up at her question, but you looked up, meeting her gaze. “Werewolves,” you said simply.

That piqued Joey’s interest, but it was clear you weren’t going to elaborate anymore. “Look,” she sighed, slumping back in her chair. “I admire what you want to do but I-”

“One job,” Grace said, leaning forward in her own chair. “We can call it a trial run,” she smiled. “On both sides, we can see how you do, and you can see exactly what we do, you can see if this,” she gestured around the room. “Is something you want to be a part of.”

Joey opened her mouth ready to reject the offer, even though she was tempted. “You’ll still get paid of course,” Grace said quickly. “Just one job, just see what we’re all about.”

Joey stared at Grace for a second, she could see the woman hardened by the trauma she experienced but she also saw compassion, someone who wanted to help others despite everything she had been through. Joey flicked her gaze to you, she didn’t know how you came to be with Grace but your loyalty to your boss was clear, she also saw underneath all the jokes and banter was someone incredibly guarded and trying to atone for something in their past, though Joey couldn’t image what for.

“Okay,” Joey said, looking back at Grace. “One job.” Grace smiled at that, which Joey couldn’t help but return. Joey had been curious ever since you approached her, she wasn’t sure she fully knew what she was getting into just yet though.

Taglist: @thinking1bee

[ma1dita]

when the curtains close

a 'partners in crime' installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

words: 5.3k

summary: (post-tlt) The one where you lose two people in the Labyrinth that day. All strings are cut. (Pollux, Annabeth, Percy, and Mr. D find out the biggest difference between you and Luke.) (Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader)

a/n: yeah to me this fic sounds and feels like that tiktok of the girl humming to her microwave. split povs: pollux, annabeth, your depictions of the titular battle of the labyrinth at CHB, some blood/gore, death & grief. the usual. you forced me to by lizzy mcalpine. references to cat on a hot tin roof by tennessee williams if you squint

(posted 5/14/24)

—

The first time Pollux has a panic attack, time seems to stop and the world keeps moving on without him.

He’s reminded of a time when you rambled on about how anxiety takes possession of the senses like a moment frozen in a snapshot meant for you to identify. In the memory, you had your feet kicked up on the dash flipping through a DSM-5 while he and Castor took turns speeding up and down Farm Road (totally normal older sister behavior from you, and when a cop pulled you over, the three of you narrowly escaped a ticket by talking in riddles and godly smoke that smelled like grapes). Pollux still remembers the sound of laughter in the car blending like three different chords to an archaic melody (or squawking crows in the strawberry fields)— the bond between you three laid out before time knew limits and was always meant to be.

It’s still his favorite song. You’re their favorite (and only) sister, they love to joke. These are facts that will never change.

“You two have each other, and well, I’ve got this,” you had said, the Zippo flicking open and closed against your thumb in the blossoming darkness of the car. Pink and purple rays of waning light blanketed the old hatchback as it steadily made its way back towards Half-Blood Hill, comfortable silence shared in the way only siblings can stand to be quiet—when there are no words needed to get a point across. But you’ve always set yourself apart from the pack, not needing anyone like how they need each other.

Not since Luke left, at least. The growing distance between you three since your untimely resignation from camp was proof enough. Pollux’s eyes met Castor’s in the rearview mirror as they both noticed your sad smile. His brother’s voice broke through the silence then, having always been the one blunt enough to say what was on his mind, “You’ve got us too if you let us see you more often.” Your fidgeting stops.

“It’s not you two, it’s just hard to be back here sometimes. I see things for what they used to be instead of how they really are now. Now it’s just… it has to be all business.”

Pollux cracked a smile, “S’what you get for growing up. Soon we’ll just be annoying voices in your head like you are to us.” Shutting your textbook, you turned to look at them from the passenger seat, eyes that match theirs darting between their blond heads, “All of us have to grow up eventually. Except maybe you two— I prefer you in my nightmares like the kids from The Shining. Whenever you get sick of Dad, come see me. Gods know that camp deserves a break from the two of you too.” Your knuckles knocked against both of their heads affectionately as he put the car in park, “My built-in bodyguards, huh? Always looking out for me.”

All words and meaning escape Pollux now as he stands in the greenery of the North Woods with battle gear ill-fitted to his large frame. It’s the first siege he’s ever taken part in, the first time he’s had to use battle strategies outside of Capture the Flag and the first time he’s slashed his way through monsters and demigods with the intent to try and kill or be killed. Sword and Shield could have never prepared any of them for this—as his eyes meet Castor’s and then yours with all of you thinking the same thing, the three of you join the sea of iridescent orange through mind-numbing black moving like a sharp three-pronged sword.

This type of stuff isn’t typical for him, he thinks. He and Castor are used to being comedic relief— being the source of laughs and juice boxes for pesky little campers instead of facing the real world outside the boundaries of the Mist. Perhaps your father babied them to make up for the time he lost with you, but there’s a moment where he wonders how being kept soft will keep him alive in a world as harsh as this one.

Childlike innocence is ripped away from them in the bubble they’ve inhabited until this moment. Home is now a warzone and like lambs set up for slaughter, the twins both turn to look at you as a shuddering gasp leaves your mouth at the carnage in your surroundings, monster blood and fallen friends and enemies at your feet. Breaking away from formation to take a deep breath, he looks at the sky and wonders where your father is, but smoke and soot fill his lungs and he coughs desperately for a breath of fresh air.

Pollux thinks he must have stopped breathing before Castor took his last breath. It wasn’t supposed to be a competition, but sometimes life was just funny like that.

5, 4, 3, 2, 1.

Just like you told him.

Castor was always the more manic one while Pollux knew how to endure. Children of Dionysus are forced to befriend insanity before it makes an enemy out of them—twisting the ugly into what’s real and creating something beautiful out of the deranged. You’ve shown the boys how you detach from emotion by recognizing the details—separating fact and fiction, a methodical process only describable by the blood that runs through your veins. Pollux doesn’t know where to start—everything happens so fast but it plays out in front of him like someone put the pieces together to a stop-motion animation.

He sees Castor’s sword fall to the ground when he gets slashed on the forearm and sees him get clubbed over the head with a metal weapon he’s only seen bad renditions forged for theater practices and hanging on the walls of the armory. Castor falls first to his knees, and then into the dirt with a thud. He never knew there could be that much blood coming out of a person, much less a mirror image of himself. Pollux sees your face come into his line of vision, deep maroon splatters on your face glittering with hints of ichor and then you’re moving because he can’t. The enemy is coming back for him now, and for a moment he wonders if Castor will be mad if he lets him. He sees you turn in an instant, swinging your sword down on the neck of the aggressor, a teenager not much older than he and his brother are—were. It’s funny how his brain immediately makes the switch to past tense, and how he can’t stop thinking about how he’ll now and forever be older than his twin. Pollux then sees you catch the body of the boy you just killed as life seeps out of him slower than it did for Castor.

It doesn’t make him feel any better, though.

His knees hit the ground next to his twin, touching the sludge of dirt soft like quicksand and moist with what he hopes is not blood, but Pollux is not quite sure of what else there is to hope for. His fist is wrapped around Castor’s shirtsleeve, touching faded orange and sweat as he holds on for dear life. Maybe if he tries hard enough his soul will still be intertwined with his. Your hand touches his shoulder, five fingers reaching out to brush the back of his neck and the feeling of your skin helps him refocus a bit, even if you’re saying something he can’t make out. Then the metal of your Zippo lighter feels cool to the touch within his palm and he knows what he needs to do.

The battle isn’t over, but for the three of you, everything stops here. There is no going forward without your brother. You were never meant to be children of war.

Pollux hears the sound of his heartbeat thundering through his ears, blood rushing through his veins and can’t help but notice the silence amid the chaos. There are no words fit for this—and even if there were, Castor and you were always the more talkative ones. He hears the spark of the purple flame between his fingers, blowing the smoke over him and his brother’s body, and their father’s powers blanket them like how you used to tuck them into bed, warm and safe. This is what your family is—unconventional and unending even in different realms of existence. And then Grover’s scream of panic echoes through the air and everyone hears that. Hysteria ensues as monsters and demigods alike run amok, and Pollux realizes he’s stopped shaking.

In his father’s domain, he will always find comfort.

You stand above him now directing campers calmly with a free hand—a brewing storm crackling underneath your skin that he now understands. Hidden by the illusion of smoke, Pollux’s tired bones rest alongside his brother’s dead ones— together as they always were meant to be.

The three of you together, his little family—that is a fact he hoped would never change.

The smell of grapes envelops him as he leans his forehead against your muddy leg… when did the battle end? It almost masks the scent of death that rips through the air as your hand brushes through his sandy hair. Pollux stinks of sweat and you stifle a laugh as you see him smell his armpit. You three were always the same type of fucked up. He doesn’t look down at Castor laid across his lap but knows he would’ve found it funny too. Ignorance of reality even for a moment serves as a comfort. Purple meets purple as he looks up at you with a smile that doesn’t fit his face anymore and he croaks, “Wonder what dad would say about our first battle…”

Glory was never meant to be this bittersweet—it tastes like blood in his mouth until he wipes it away from his cheek and realizes it’s Castor’s. In a way, it’s his too, everything about him and within him is exactly the same down to the star stuff the fates wove them from.

“I’ll be the one to tell him. You take care of Castor,” you answer, as if there’s anything else he would want to do and then he realizes you’re crying— and he’s seeing all of the pieces put together in front of him in this photograph in his mind.

Pollux blinks slowly.

Suddenly the image he has of you is more defined— there is new meaning to the sadness you could never shake off all these years, and he is too young to lose his greatest love, which makes him realize then that so were you.

How long does this have to go on? he wonders, grabbing onto your hand with an eagerness only comparable to the feeling he got when you and Luke whisked him and Castor away from Florida all those years ago. This punishment of living while half of his soul does not—what is he supposed to do next? This was supposed to be the safe place. There is nowhere left to run. His thumb rubs circles into the back of your shaking blood-soaked hand, a secret within the smoke.

Pollux thinks there will always be a part of him frozen in time now, a memory of this day hung up in his mind like a portrait as he holds Castor’s cold hand in his warm one.

—

Annabeth finds you in the middle of the strawberry fields before the sun sets. She knows you won’t be sleeping tonight, not if you can fight it— not when there’s so much to do. You’ve long grown out of your ripped-up and tie-dyed camp shirts, and the one slung on your frame is newly pressed and starchy from the storage room of the Big House, still stiff against your freshly washed skin. When she’s close enough to touch you, you’ve been scrubbed clean of today.

She doesn’t have to be a daughter of Athena to know that you know that she’s there even if you can’t see her, but for once she feels like she has to hide. For once, Annabeth Chase doesn’t know what to say. How can she explain the feeling of guilt that coils around her brain like barbed wire—how can she even begin to apologize for the thing wearing her brother’s skin, knowing that it killed yours? For once, her hubris is crushed by the sinking feeling of humiliation.

“Was your first quest all you thought it would be, Annie?”

As she takes her navy cap off, silver braided strands around her face wave in the wind as a reminder of what Luke put her through. Though as she looks at you now with your berry-stained fingers plucking at stems one by one instead of using your powers, she thinks that your mind is elsewhere—anywhere but here, where everything is a painful reminder of your five years as a camper.

Five years with Luke.

Mourning him isn’t a new feeling for either of you, even though he comes in and out of your lives like a poltergeist you want to bash across the head, just always out of reach. But he’s a constant, even when he’s not here and he’s what binds you two together as you huddle hidden away from the rest of camp.

“He did this for you.”

It’s not a question, more so a fact out of Annie’s mouth when you finally meet her eyes and sigh, “Luke’s always had a way going about things. The most stubborn man to ever live.” You toss another strawberry into the crate at your feet. No one’s working right now, trying to tend to the injured and the dead. Everyone’s doing their best to chase away the nightmares that are bound to come, and she knows you’ll be making rounds with her on the night shift to ease everyone’s anxieties. But there’s a thought so strong it makes her head hurt, bursting at the seams until she can’t stop with her last-ditch effort to fix her found family.

“Maybe if we find him, we can save—”

“He’s been out of time for a while now, Annabeth. We both knew that,” you say, voice firm and unwavering. You’ve never sounded so monotone before, and it hits her as her mouth falls agape, “You’re giving up on him? Why… why would you give up on him?” Anger courses through her veins like fire and she’s mad that she’s at the center of this prophecy, of Hermes’s anger for his doomed son who will love you until the ends of the earth.

And what of her?

What of the hope she has in happy endings, how is it that you’re so damn calm? Annabeth kicks at the crate, strawberries rolling out in different directions and your jaw tightens as you let her be petulant, let her scream and yell until her inner child can catch up with the reality of the world around you.

“How could you?”

Your name echoes as she repeats it, grabbing at your shoulders and she’s as desperate as the truth that shakes her when you cup her face in your hands and wipe her tears.

“You’ve carried the weight of the world Annabeth– you know what it feels like to let it go. It’s time to let him go. There’s nothing I can do or say to fix this.”

Then it hits her that you knew of his fate and yet this was still the outcome. There was nothing else to do but watch him be puppeteered by a Titan and have to fight evil while it wears his face.

“He came to you after he saw me, didn’t he? Why didn’t you tell me? Why don’t you love him anymore?”

Because it wouldn’t have changed a thing, your eyes say. Instead, you grimace as you say, “Wouldn’t that be funny if it were true?” You lean down and pick up the fallen berries, some bruised and covered in dirt, and then you look at her again with teary eyes.

“Some prophecy huh? To lose a love to worse than death. What could we have done besides love him until the end?”

“He’s still in there. I know you know that too. Don’t talk about him like he’s not,” Annabeth insists, and a sad smile settles upon your face. It’s as gentle as the kiss of the breeze on your cheeks.

“I lost a brother today, Annie.”

“Me too.”

—

The funny thing about planning funerals is that with all the fuss it takes to organize one, you still find extra time on your hands. Barely getting any sleep and dragging yourself out of your dad’s bed, Pollux snores loudly next to you after hours of working on Castor’s shroud. Sleep wasn’t expected for either of you, but being unconscious was the only way of giving your brains a reprieve. The both of you have been busy doubling down on the preparations, even if it means Mr. D won’t be back in time while he’s out rallying gods for war.

The faster Castor’s earthly body is reconnected with his soul, the easier his trip will be into the Underworld, Nico says, and it’s funny how comforting the little emo pipsqueak can be when it comes to matters of death.

Perhaps this is the solace you bring to others with things you’re able to control—keeping camp afloat is something you were always good at, and helping every traumatized child that comes up to you for a juice box or a lullaby eases the guilt that follows you. Walking around Camp Half-Blood for more than a weekend made you feel like a judge, jury, and executioner. Though most of the campers from almost five years ago have either aged out, defected, or died—the ones that remain still look at you like you’re trouble.

Perhaps you always will be.

You even found yourself with the time to pray to Hermes last night for your brother’s safe passage into the afterlife, though if he’s angry at Annabeth, he must hate you for letting Luke go. Dinner didn’t seem appetizing enough anyway, so your whole plate was tossed into the hearth. You hope he likes chicken and rice.

But if a god can’t fight fate, what did he expect you to do?

The Iris Message to your dad last night was difficult, to say the least. Pollux’s hands shook as he continued to paint grape vines onto the silk cloth and the both of you didn’t say anything when your father started to cry. He out of all of the gods knows what it’s like to be tested to the limits—to endure pain and it’s a gift you and your brother are grateful for in times like these. Watching the god display the human emotion that either of you couldn’t as freely made it more real though.

There was also the interesting predicament of Chris Rodriguez being locked up in the basement of the Big House. Replacing screaming fits with serenity was almost second nature, and your gentle hands were what got Clarisse to truly respect you again for the first time in years. You could hear her sneak downstairs and talk to him while he slept (and the look in her eyes when you’d greet her with a cup of coffee made it known to you that she finally understands what it means to love someone who’s lost—two demigod daughters filled with a lot of rage and hurt were more alike than they think).

So the morning of your little brother’s funeral, you found yourself on the shoreline of Canoe Lake, setting your Redbull against the post of the dock and looking out onto the water.

You needed to do something with your hands. In the past few days, if your fingers were not occupied by pen and paper, a guitar, supply crates, or anything else that was helpful to others and all the more distracting for you, it’s been so easy to pick at any little thing. Perhaps it was your subconscious trying to reflect the damage on the inside, but today, your nail polish was chipped beyond belief. A small price to pay to not lose it without a signature boyish smile to ease your worries and amber eyes that could help you escape from the routine.

Running camp was always easier back then with your runaway boy and his scarred cheek.

How pathetic.

Crouched over in the sand, you plucked stones and filled your pockets with them. They knocked against each other — weighing your pockets down as you walked closer to the dock. Swinging your feet off the side and chucking them into the water, you could barely achieve a ripple.

It’s so quiet that you end up wondering if the rocks in your pockets would weigh you down to the bottom of the lake. It must be nice down there, to exist away from everything.

Bubbles surface slowly in front of you, then Percy’s head bobs in the water as he squints at you through sunlight.

“You chucked a rock at my head!”

A smile tugs at your lips, almost indiscernible but definitely there, “I was trying to skip them. Didn’t know you were doing water tricks in there, kid.” His grin gleams like freshwater pearls, pulling himself up onto the dock as his hand clasps yours. Shaking his sopping hair, Percy’s gangly frame sits next to yours like a wet bag of sand—all wrinkly and misshapen and sprinkling you with lakewater.

“Maybe next time don’t pick rocks the size of your fist. How many have you got in there? Your aim is scarily accurate,” he laughs and you huff and shake your head when his hand sticks into your pocket and takes out a few smooth ones to roll around in his hand. You mirror him, watching him skip a few stones into the water that reach a good distance before sinking into the depths of the lake.

There’s something sad about feeling comfortable to trauma dump on the teenage son of Poseidon, but with the way he grabs your arm at your third unsuccessful toss of a rock, you can’t do anything else but sigh.

“Why didn’t any of you call me, Percy?”

He was waiting for this question—it’s been banging around in his head since the beginning of Annabeth’s quest, and perhaps her talk with you yesterday didn’t go as expected so once again he’s left with the difficult part.

Things happen to turn out pretty difficult for him a lot, he's noticed.

Many things could have been made easier in the past few weeks: Ariadne being your stepmother and her blessing to you would’ve made the Labyrinth easier to navigate, and having another demigod to fight alongside him instead of a mortal girl would’ve been a plus too. But he looks at you with ocean eyes and a smaller smile that reminds you of how he looked at you when you dropped him off in Montauk the summer you met him and quit your head counselor job.

“You’ve already made a lot of difficult decisions. We weren’t sure if…”

The rotten wood beneath you creaks under your shifting weight as you turn to him, tucking your legs underneath your bottom.

“Didn’t think I could handle it?”

He shakes his head, “The opposite, actually. Annabeth has this notion that you’re the only one that can save him. You know, back on my first quest I met Luke’s dad and he told me something…”

You swallow instead of answering. There’s no way Percy is giving you Hermes’s advice right now. Somehow this feels like karmic retribution after years of spiting that asshole, and what he tells you next is more of a sign that it must be true.

“He said, ‘Do you know what that feels like? To be so close to someone you love knowing neither of you has any choice but to keep hurting each other?’ I didn’t get it then, but I do now.”

“With Luke and his mom?” you ask, picking at the remaining slivers of varnish on your thumbnail.

“With you and Luke. I didn’t call you, because… why would I want to see you hurt after everything?” Percy says this like it’s something he would do for everyone.

Perhaps it is, but the knot that forms in your throat feels as heavy as the boulder you almost sunk into his skull. He’s tall enough to lean your head against now, and you don’t mind the water spots that will form along the side of your funeral outfit. The shape of him it leaves will remind you of the little brother you gained through so much loss.

“Plus he has a new girlfriend. Absolute horse of a girl,” he jokes. It slips over your head but you still giggle, “I could’ve taken her.”

“I know, that was Grover’s worry. You’re prettier anyway…” Percy pauses, and then clears his throat, “You’ve always taken care of this place, y’know? Even after….I just think someone ought to take care of you.”

Your shoulder bumps against his as you finally skip a rock. It only bounces across the water twice and you think Percy might have had something to do with it, but you’re not bothered by the help this time around.

—

You wake up in the dark of night to see your dad looming in the doorway to his office. With drool and a post-it stuck to your cheek, he comes over to ruffle your hair in amicable silence.

“Hard at work or hardly working?” he chuckles, leaning over your shoulder to scan over the paperwork sorted into piles for him to sign from his absence.

“Hm. You wish,” you scoff, leaning against your arm as you look at him. He’s not in his usual eyesore of attire, wearing a clean-pressed suit with his hair slightly slicked back.

“You look good. The meeting went okay?”

“Grover will be fine. The Council of Cloven Elders? Not so much. Neither are the gods ready to take sides. Putting out little fires everywhere as we speak.”

The wheels of the office chair roll as you swing your feet, and if you both listen closely enough you can hear Pollux snoring upstairs. Chiron loved the earplugs you gave him.

Your father’s face smooths out a bit at the sight of you and the sound of his son’s breathing upstairs and he asks, “Are you? Good?”

A shrug slides off your shoulders, “How does one be good in a world like this one?”

A startling scream echoes off the walls of the Big House, rattling the floorboards from below as your father grimaces.

The work is never done for you two.

“Don’t look at me like that. It was worse when he first came here.”

“Don’t doubt it,” he mumbles, brushing lint off your shirt before he notices you’re donning neon orange. “Didn’t do laundry, princess?”

“Pollux and I haven’t gone back to our cabin since... I can wake him up if you—”

Mr. D shakes his head and goes to toss his body onto the couch against the window, shutting his eyes and taking a deep breath.

“Dad? Do you think Chris is a bad person?”

A beat passes and you think he may have fallen asleep, but then his voice sounds like gravel scraping up his throat.

“I don’t think anyone can be bad, kid. I think it is more often that people get lost. What Rodriguez needs is someone to take hold of him gently, and hand his life back to him—you…Clarisse… that’s what we’re giving him.”

Now you’re silent, staring at the dust on his name placard at the edge of the desk.

“Do you think otherwise?”

He calls your name again, and you look up like you’re about to lie to him but don’t have the energy to.

“Princess, do you think you’re a bad person?”

He stands up and walks around to your side of the desk, sitting on the edge so you have to look at him.

“I killed someone. During the battle. Didn’t even think twice about it, slashed his neck as soon as Castor went down and…” you sniff. “I kill monsters, Dad, not children. How does that make me any different?”

The last time blood was on your hands like this it was Luke’s in the Garden of Hesperides. All these years later you ended up being right— the only person you vowed to get bloody for is Luke Castellan, and now in a twisted turn of fate, you’ve bloodied your hands because of him.

“Because you did it for your brother. There are no other explanations needed.”

He sees the exhaustion in your eyes, the drop in your shoulders, but your dad also sees the strength in your bones that spans generations and he knows you and Pollux are strong because you are both his.

“Humans believe in life everlasting—glory, as some call it, but they’re too focused on achieving it on earth instead of enjoying what life has to offer,” he scoffs, “Everyone has the guts to die, but no one has the guts to truly live. How sad.”

“His name was Rowan. Son of Hecate. I taught him how to whistle the summer I left. This is all my fault, Dad,” you say shakily as he comes near and pulls you into his side. He shushes you but you relent.

“Luke’s killing all these people to fulfill a promise he made for me. I’m just fucking disgusted with myself for being the cause of it all. What good life can I deserve when wherever I go I leave a trail of blood?”

Love and addiction must be so alike; to know that to be sober you can’t indulge in the vice ever again—not only does it hurt you, but others around you. But through the years you’ve always kept the taste of his name in your mouth, the feeling of his skin under your fingertips, and the knowledge of why he’s destroying the world so he can make you a better one. Insanity stems from fighting for so long that you embrace the pain; feeling something so intensely that when it consumes you you’re able to walk out the other side and wear it as armor.

Not everyone is hardwired to persevere.

There are moments like a night like these where it would be easy to give up. Instead, you pour two glasses of whiskey you’ve conjured and hand one to your dad. You both sip on your drinks slowly, embracing the crawling feeling of the burn.

“Liquor is one way out and death is another,” your dad sighs blissfully. He almost looks rejuvenated by the alcohol he knows he’ll hear about from Zeus later, but perhaps the death of his son is a good enough pardon.

“For some of us, we don’t have to think about the answer.”

Mr. D grabs a pen off the desk and starts signing papers to do something with his hands, and then you speak again, “I think I’d rather die for people I love,” and your dad’s attention whips to your blank face staring at the moon outside the window. “Instead of killing for them. I’ve never been a good soldier, Dad.”

Mr. D looks at you thoughtfully and wonders where all the time has gone that you sit there in front of him with more knowledge than him at your mortal age before saying, “You’re my daughter. You’re a fighter. Death is for chumps anyway.”

He lifts you by the arm to try to usher you up the stairs but you stay in his office chair swatting his hands away.

“Got work to do, you and I. Not getting rid of me until it’s done.”

“When are you going home?” he asks, pulling up a chair next to yours.

“I am home.”

You don’t look up from the papers you were filing, stubbornness leaking through your voice.

“If there is a war coming, I want to be home as much as I can. I’m finishing my last semester and I’ll be here before and after classes. You can’t stop me, dad.”

And he knows that too.

There is no such thing as leaving Camp Half-Blood for you.

Never for too long. Your love for it is scattered everywhere campers can see.

—

In all these years, you never believed I loved you. And I did. I did so much. I did love you. I even loved your hate and your hardness. - Tennessee Williams

[livefastwritetrash]

I see a lot of speculation that the “Infamous Puppy Debacle of ‘94” was a matter of Edwin getting jealous over Charles’s attention.

Consider instead.

Edwin follows that line up with “the living are MESSY.” So I put it to you.

An alternate perspective on the Infamous Puppy Debacle of ‘94:

-

Be Charles Rowland, circa 1994. It’s been 5 years since you’ve had to think about eating or drinking or sleeping or using the restroom or any sort of bodily function really. Your latest client moved on but he left his sweet little golden retriever behind with no one to care for her.

You could care for her.

You always wanted a dog. Dad never had to say no because you had never asked. You never wanted to bring one around knowing they might get hurt. There’s no one to hurt them now.

She comes back to the office. You drag an old sofa in there to give her a bed fit for a queen. You gather up any ball-shaped objects around you aren’t particularly attached to. She’s partial to the tiny black and white football that’s enchanted to always roll back to you. A proper Manchester United fan.

Edwin isn’t happy of course. But then again he rarely is. The dog will be as good for him as she is for you, surely. He could do with someone to care for him with even half of the kindness he shows others. Even if it’s usually through that layer of ice you’ve slowly been chipping away at for want of the friend inside.

Edwin’s budged up nice and cozy with the dog on the couch by that very evening, and you’re feeling quite proud of yourself for your excellent judgement.

An urgent case arises before the sun is up, bothering no one because it’s not like either of you were asleep. If anything it saved you from another devastating loss at the hands of Colonel Mustard in the study with the lead pipe. You tell your new football fan to be a good girl while you’re gone and dip out through the mirror.

It takes longer than expected. Evening is falling again when you and Edwin finally catch your breath in a local park, safe for the moment and free to return to home base. In the whirlwind of the day, you can’t help but feel you've forgotten something…

A jogger runs by with a dog on a leash. Oh.

Another person with a dog pulls up short. They produce a plastic baggy and stoop to collect their pet's leavings. Oh no.

On a bench across the way, a dog owner consoles their bullpup that dinner will be forthcoming as soon as they get home. The stout little monster ignores them, intent on rendering the log in its mouth into a million strips of fiber.

You share a look with Edwin and book it to the nearest mirror.

Being a ghost has its perks. For one, you’ve never been happier to be free of any olfactory senses as you enter the office. There are puddles and plops and any number of messes you try not to look too close at. Edwin’s meticulous case files are in shreds, boxes toppled, tops riddled with tooth marks and slobber.

Your modest but valuable collection of artifacts and other magical ephemera has become a jumbled mass of chew toys on every surface in the room, some being very nearly ingested before rejected.

Perhaps the only edible item in there had been a bag of magic jelly babies, and there were a few piles looking suspiciously sparkly and wet that spoke to where that ended up.

And then there’s your girl, actively tearing into a couch cushion in search of more food as you take in the carnage. She raises her head to greet you, tongue lolling, tail wagging, and she makes an excited dash across the room. Straight for Edwin.

Before you can so much as reach for him, he’s on his back with a wet squelch. She’s ruining his perfect hair and perfect clothes and perfect face with clumsy paws and a drooling a tongue, until he finally remembers he doesn’t have to endure this. He sinks into the floor and out of sight, catching your eye as he does so in a look that could freeze a lesser man’s heart but mostly just makes you feel a little guilty.

In the minutes that follow, you calm her down and dig out a magic can of steak and kidney pudding that had always refilled itself since the days of the Blitz. Not that food was much use to ghosts, but Edwin had been in the midst of a world war fixation ever since he learned there was a second one.

The dog looks so happy as you pour it out on the floor, and you fluff her ears hoping to make her as cute as possible as Edwin’s footsteps echo in the hall.

He enters through the front door this time, still dripping in drool with a rip in the shoulder of his fine jacket and one knee sock scrunched low on his ankle with a few deep runs in the yarn. You think the tousled hair suits him at least, though he doesn’t look in the mood to receive a compliment, so you wisely refrain from making that particular quip.

Instead you kneel down and turn on the charm, tugging those puppy jowls up in a grin to match your own, going for the sympathy plea. But it seems 50-year-old magical steak and kidney pudding didn’t exactly sit well, and she immediately makes the most horrid wrenching noises you’ve ever heard before spewing all over the hardwood. She takes a couple interested sniffs and then goes in for seconds, and honestly yeah, maybe you were a little hasty in thinking you could be a dog guy.

It doesn’t take long to find the client’s adult daughter and anonymously drop off the dog she’s been seeking since it disappeared from her father’s flat overnight. Maybe you’d got a bit ahead of yourself on that count too.

It takes ages to get the office back in shape, and Edwin makes you do most of the scrubbing because it’s “good practice” for interacting with physical objects, but mostly it just makes your hands itch. The case files get severely simplified and moved to a vertical filing system, and you feel a bit bad for it but at least that’s less paperwork for you.

Overall you don’t regret your brief foray into pet ownership, but it’s a relief to know there’s no one relying on you for their every need at all hours of the day. Edwin is attempting to retrieve something from under the couch and holds out a hand, so you cross the room to move a billiards stick about a foot nearer to his reach.

He scoops up whatever it is before you can see, but that probably means it’s none of your business anyway. If he seems a little colder in the days following the dog debacle, you assume it’s lingering annoyance for all the trouble she caused. Fortunately an interesting case sweeps through soon enough, and all is forgiven in the wake of a good mystery.

Edwin has always been the observant one. So it’s no surprise it takes you a few weeks to notice that a new object has taken up a place of honor on his desk. How about that. You look over to where he’s resting on the couch, nose in a book, cushion tucked to his chest with several prominent stitches marring the upholstery. He resolutely does not look back.

You smile to yourself and turn back to the new desk ornament, a familiar articulated wooden hand collected from one case or another awhile back. Only now it’s holding a tiny checkered football marred with punctures by canine teeth.

Huh. Five years in, and you think you know a chap. Maybe that layer of ice didn’t have far to go after all.

—

And THAT was the infamous puppy debacle of ‘94.

🐾

[hoernypie]

⋆｡˚ moonlight magic ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

tags: public, p+v, creamp!e

wc: 1972

Suguru and I had been planning this vacation for months, eager to escape the stressful missions and life of jujutsu sorcerers, allowing ourselves to immerse in the peacefulness of the countryside. The cottage, nestled by the tranquil lake, was a charming retreat that promised peace and relaxation after all our stress. We arrived just as the golden sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow across the calm waters. After unpacking our bags and preparing a simple dinner, we stepped out onto the porch to breathe in the crisp night air, the gentle hum of cicadas our only company. The full moon, a luminous orb in the velvet sky, reflected on the lake's surface, turning it into a shimmering mirror of silver light. The thought of a night walk to explore the area was too tempting to resist, so we laced up our shoes and set off into the quiet embrace of the surrounding woods.

"I hate when they cry", I huffed as we walked slowly. "Who's cry?" Suguru asked confused, his eyes searching the darkened woods with a hint of concern. I chuckled, squeezing his upper arm. "The cicadas." He listened intently for a moment, before snorting. We continued our stroll, the moonlight guiding our path.

As we walked deeper into the woods, the sound of the cicadas grew faint, replaced by the rhythmic rustling of leaves beneath our feet. The air grew cooler, carrying with it the scent of damp earth and pine. Suguru, kept a watchful eye on our surroundings, while I drowned in the beauty of the moonlit landscape. Our laughter echoed through the trees as we pointed out peculiar shapes in the shadows cast by the silvery beams. Suddenly, the serenity was pierced by an unmistakable splash from the lake. We froze, our hearts pounding in sync with the night's rhythm. Curiosity piqued, we cautiously approached the water's edge, our eyes scanning the now-disturbed surface for any sign of what had caused the disturbance.

"Suguru... Do you think it's a good idea to stay here?" I asked with a worry in my voice, looking at the ripples that distorted the moon's reflection. Suguru looked at me, his gaze flickering with a mix of curiosity and caution. "Let's just check it out," he whispered, taking a step closer to the lake. The water remained still, but the silence felt heavier as if the night itself was holding its breath. "No, no! Please don't check, it's how people die in horror movies!" I whined looking up to see his face.

Ignoring my pleas for caution, Suguru pulled out his phone, switching on the flashlight to scan the lake. The beam of light danced across the water, revealing the silhouettes of trees and rocks on the other side. Then, it caught something moving, something large and unmistakable. "It's just a loon," he said with a chuckle, the tension vanishing from his shoulders. The bird, having realized it was no longer hidden, let out a call before diving back into the water. "See?" He turned to me, flashing a reassuring smile. "It's just nature doing its thing." "Stupid bird", I huffed when we sat on the fallen tree trunk, "I almost saw the pearly gates."

With our hearts still racing from the unexpected encounter with the loon, we shared a nervous laugh. The adrenaline rush brought us closer together, and we found ourselves leaning into each other, our eyes locking in the soft moonlight. The air grew thicker, charged with a new kind of energy. Before I could protest, Suguru leaned in and pressed his lips to mine, his hand gently cradling the back of my neck. The kiss was slow and tender, starkly contrasting to the chaotic world we had left behind. We made out, our breaths mingling in the cool night air, the moon casting a gentle glow on our faces. For a moment, we forgot about the monsters and curses of our daily lives, lost in the tranquility of the countryside and the warmth of each other's embrace. The lake's surface stilled once more, reflecting our silhouettes as we deepened our kiss, the only sound the distant whisper of the breeze playing with the leaves above us.

Our kiss grew more passionate as we let go of our carefulness, the stress of our lives melting away with each tender brush of our lips. Suguru's hand slid down to hold my hand, his thumb tracing circles on my palm as we breathed in unison. The moon, our silent witness, cast a soft, ethereal light over us, painting our skin in a silver glow. Time stood still as we savored this moment of intimacy, the serenity of the lake a contrast to the intense passion we shared. A gentle breeze rustled the leaves while we kept whispering sweet nothings to ourselves, getting lost in the pure feeling.

As our kiss intensified, the desire to be even closer consumed us. Suguru's hands found the hem of my shirt, gently lifting it over my head, revealing the moon's glow on my bare skin. Our lips never parted, as he worked his way down, his kisses leaving a trail of heat along my neck and collarbone. His touch was tender and exploratory as if discovering me for the first time. In return, my fingers traced the firm lines of his back, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath his shirt. With a soft murmur, I helped him remove it, our bodies pressing together in the warm night air. The moon, still high in the sky, bathed us in its soft light as we slowly undressed each other, our clothes discarded like leaves on the forest floor. Our kisses grew deeper, more insistent, as our bodies melded together. Without a word, Suguru swept me up into his arms, the sudden movement sending a shiver down my spine. His eyes, gleaming with playful mischief, met mine as he stepped into the lake, the water cool against my skin. "What are you doing?" I gasped, but the laughter in his voice was contagious, and soon I found myself giggling as he walked further in. "I've always wanted to do this," he murmured, his eyes never leaving mine as the water reached our waists. The moon's reflection shimmered around us, casting a glow on our faces as we kissed once more, the cold water contrasting the heat between us. Our bodies moved in sync as he held me, the gentle current of the lake swaying us back and forth around our bodies. It felt like a moment of pure bliss, making our kisses grow more passionate with each passing second. The world outside the cottage, the missions and curses, all felt a lifetime away as we shared this moment.

Suguru's strong arms tightened around me, my legs instinctively wrapping around his waist to maintain balance. His hands explored my bare skin, sending waves of pleasure through me, and I gasped as he found my hardened nipples, teasing them with his thumbs. Suguru's hands continued to explore my body, his palms cupping my breasts with a gentle yet firm touch. He rolled my nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, the sensation sending electric jolts of pleasure through my core. I moaned into his mouth, my hips rocking against his growing arousal.

Suguru broke the kiss, his gaze dropping to my chest. He kissed a path down my neck, his hands moving now to fully embrace my breasts. His mouth found my nipple which he sucked gently at first, then with increasing pressure before flicking his tongue against the sensitive peak. I gasped when his tongue sent waves of pleasure through my body. I gripped his hair before he switched to the other one, giving it equal attention as his teeth grazed it. The water around us grew choppy as our movements grew more urgent. Suguru's mouth left my breasts to kiss back my neck, leaving hickeys while his hands guided me to straddle him more firmly. I could feel the tip of his dick pressing against my entrance, and the anticipation was killing me. He bit my neck as he pushed just the tip of his dick inside me, the cold water of the lake rippling around us. My walls clenched around him as he stopped, savoring the feeling.

Biting his bottom lip, Suguru pushed his dick in one swift move, his tip hitting my cervix and sending a wave of pleasure mixed with pain that filled my body. My moan echoed through the quiet night, mingling with the distant sounds of the forest and the occasional splash of water. His movements grew more desperate, the water around us splashing with his rhythm. Each thrust sent a jolt of glee through me, my nails digging into his shoulders as I held on tightly. Our kisses grew more desperate with our lips crashing into each other while we chased the pleasure. Suguru's hands gripped my hips as he buried himself deeper with each powerful stroke. With each passing moment, his strokes grew more powerful and desperate, his grip on my hips tightening, almost bruising my skin. My body was on fire, the pain from Suguru's fingers digging into my soft skin was sending me closer to the edge. I could hear his muffled breaths growing ragged against my neck which was now covered with hickeys and bite marks.

"You're so fucking tight," he grunted against my neck, his hips moving quicker and more forcefully beneath me. "I can feel every inch of you," he groaned, his teeth grazing my earlobe before biting down gently. "You're going to come for me, aren't you?" he whispered, his voice ragged. My breaths grew shallow, my body trembling as I approached climax, the tension coiling tighter with every stroke when he hit my sweet spot. The overwhelming pleasure filled my body, my pussy clenching tightly around his dick as I mewled out his name, looking at him with glossy eyes, before he pushed his dick inside me, making me squirt all over him. The warm liquid spurted between us, mixing with the cool lake water as my pussy clenched tightly around his cock. "Fuck, yes," he murmured, his grip on my hips bruising as he held me in place, his cock pulsing deep inside me. His thrusts grew erratic, his breaths coming in harsh pants as he chased his own release. "You're going to milk me dry," he rasped, his voice thick with need. "Look at me," he demanded, squishing my cheeks and pulling my face closer to his. "Look at me as I fill your pussy." I looked up, my eyes locking with his as his strokes grew more intense, his words of how good it felt only heightened my sensitivity. "You're so fucking beautiful when you come," he moaned before his warm cum filled me, my pussy greedily gripping his cock as he emptied himself inside me.

Suguru didn't stop moving his hips as he came, his cock pushing deeper with each spurt of cum that filled me up. "You're so fucking perfect," he murmured, his eyes hooded with pleasure. "Your pussy is so tight, it's like it's made for me." We stayed like that for a moment, his lips leaving soft kisses on bite marks and hickeys that he left on me. The only sound was the quiet lapping of the lake water against our skin. I held him tightly, our hearts racing, as our shallow breaths filled the silence. The moon's light reflected off the water around us, a silent witness to our passion. "I've wanted to do this for so long," he spoke softly, his voice thick with satisfaction. "And it was worth every second of waiting." I smiled, my cheeks flushed, knowing that this was just the beginning of a week filled with us going wild.

[stupditysholy]

I have to get this off my chest because the amount of Curly love on tik tok actually stresses me out and I’ll tell you why:

So to my understanding having experienced the game multiple times, Curly absolutely fails to advocate for/help Anya. She hides the gun to keep it away from Jim because Curly will not allow her to protect herself. He straight up calls her crazy to her face, too: “You never had to get psych evals like the rest of us. I should’ve known” or something along those lines. When Curly confronts Jim before Jim crashes the ship, he doesn’t say ANYTHING in defense of Anya, instead consoling Jim that they would figure it out, and he’d been in rough spots before.

For all intents and purposes, Curly does not see that Jim has done something inexcusable, and rather he has made a series of mistakes. He does not for one single moment consider how Anya’s life has been permanently altered, how her autonomy has been entirely stolen from her.

Until he experiences it himself.

Curly being reduced to a mostly immobile spring sausage is his way of experiencing the pain he allowed to be inflicted upon Anya, full stop. Even more ironic? Anya can’t bare to give him his pain killers, so he is left completely at Jim’s mercy, a fun-house mirror of how Curly could not bare to hold his friend accountable, and therefore left Anya at Jim’s mercy pre-crash.

Curly only becomes Jim’s victim because he allows Anya’s victimization to go on unchecked. He thought he was exempt from Jim’s abuse, and that is his biggest mistake.

Also, I have to say the idea that Curly get’s rescued and lives happily ever after does the narrative no justice. In fact, it completely undermines Jim’s entire character arc. Curly living happily ever after would, in some sense, redeem a little of Jim’s character—redemption he did not remotely earn because he did NOT take responsibility. At all.

Jim putting Curly in the pod at the end is no act of mercy. It’s actually the worst and most selfish thing he could have done. It’s the exact freaking opposite of taking responsibility. When he has his big talk with Polle before the very end, he is spouting complete and utter bullshit. Why?

The crash and Curly are NOT the things he is supposed to be taking responsibility for. The thing he is supposed to be taking responsibility for is ANYA’S TORMENT. That is the thing which started all of this, which lead to the crash, which fried Curly. That is the inciting incident.

That’s the freaking irony!

Anya get’s completely and utterly forgotten in this moment. In my opinion, this is why Polle says:

If all of that is true… why are you still so concerned with him?

Because right before that, Jim is about to say “Our worst moments don’t make us monsters.”

And Polle knows, then, in that moment, that when Jim thinks of his worst moments, he thinks of the accident, what happened to Curly, rather than the immeasurable pain he inflicted on Anya PURPOSEFULLY. Jim completely fucking ignores his worst moment, and that DOES make him a monster.

So when Jim puts Curly in that pod, not only is he righting the WRONG wrong, but he is actively choosing to believe this is what it means to take responsibility. He is making his amends to a man he accidentally hurt rather than the person who suffered the most at his hand.

It’s also pretty evil of Jim to put him in there because he knows: a good captain goes down with his ship. He makes Curly out to be a selfish and pitiful. He may even be setting him up for failure depending on how the authorities reason out what happened.

I just think at the end of the day Jim is the villian of the story, and Curly is a freaking bystander. Obviously post-crash this is inevitable, but that’s almost funny—not gonna do anything to stop him, Curly? Guess what, now you don’t even have a freaking choice.

Anyway please stop glazing the spaghetti man you can love his complexity but he is not a good guy or uwu cutie pie. He sucks. Straight up.

Feel free to start discourse in the comments I’m okay with being wrong about him I guess I just don’t think I am.

[lestappenforever]

With the Lestappen-overtaking-Maxiel situation going on: Could you maybe make a little recommendation list of your favourite Lestappen fics (can be yours and/or other people's)?

Hi anon!

I absolutely can, what a fitting celebration!

As I'm still working on a proper fic rec list as I keep reading more and more fics, below you will find a small selection of my all-time favorite fics - both to read and to write!

Full list of my all-time favorite fics that I have read and written below the cut!

My all-time favorite fics that I have read:

Monaco Malaise (part 1 of Temptation's Trajectory) by @cupidskissx Rated E | 8,037 words | Complete

Using the reflection in the mirror above the vanity, he steals occasional glances into the bedroom as he wets the cloth and cleans himself off. Charles is still on his forearms and knees, face buried in his pillow, he doesn’t look like he’s going to be moving any time soon.

Max and Charles have been hooking up for a few months, casually, no string attached — definitely no feelings involved… The disaster that was Monaco 2021 sees them in Charles’ apartment, with Max having to deal with the fact that Charles can’t get out of his head.

Azerbaijan Abnegation (part 2 of Temptation's Trajectory) by @cupidskissx Rated E | 16,972 words | Complete

Charles stares at him intently, “Last time was an anomaly.” Not for the first time, Max recalls the awkward swell of humiliation after Charles had told him to stop. The hairs on the back of his neck prickle at the memory of everything that followed, “Yeah, that better not happen again.”

After Monaco, Max thought he’d made up his mind about Charles, and their little arrangement. They’re in Azerbaijan and Charles is everywhere: in his head, in his messages, in his hotel room… Will Max be able to hold onto his resolve, or will his attempts at self-denial only prolong the inevitable?

Mona's comment: I have read these two fics more times than I can count, and I'm going to keep reading them again and again and again until the day I die. Loz is such an amazingly talented author, and her writing has honestly altered my brain chemistry numerous times.

you and me, just us (and your teammate sergio) by @oscar-fastri Rated T | 3,377 words | Complete

Checo was fully aware of what he’s walking into. Still, he seriously doubts that anyone could have been prepared for the full force of Max Verstappen and Charles Leclerc being heads over heels in love with each other and not even trying to hide it.

Or: 5 times Checo thirdwheels Max and Charles + 1 time it's everyone else's turn

Mona's comment: This is the "You, me and your friend Steve" song in perfect fic format, and let me tell you the sound I made when Avery published it was not human.

The Nights Are Long (But It's Easier Together) by @f1writingbyme Rated E | 43,759 | Complete

“Oh, God, what is it?” Max groans. “It’s Mr. Corvetto, right? I knew it. I’m telling you, never move into an apartment next to elderly people. It’s just– Why does she call me? What the hell can I do? Doesn’t she need to call an ambulance or something? Or, I don’t know, her family, or–” “Max.” Charles interrupts Max’s ranting. He ends the phone call, cutting off Mrs. Corvetto’s panicked yelling with a simple press of his thumb. He stares at the blue-eyed man in front of him. “Your apartment is on fire.”

Or: The fire in his apartment is only the beginning of a long list of misfortunes that await Max. Fortunately, he has Charles by his side to help him through it. That is until Charles is the one that gets targeted.

Mona's comment: I don't even have words for this, it just needs to be read. WARNING: Prepare for heavy angst.

And That's How I Foksmashed Dad's Championship Trophy by @il-predestinato Rated T | 6,500 | Complete

All of that would have been forgivable if not for the Green-Eyed Monster’s complete disregard for the pre-contracted occupation rights of Max’s lap. Such rights had long been pre-determined and belonged to Sassy (and occasionally to Jimmy, she admitted begrudgingly). However, no amount of quiet hisses and vicious glares seemed to penetrate the creature’s thick skull, and he would greedily occupy Max’s thigh for more than 95% of any given afternoon. Sometimes with his head, sometimes with his feet, and a few times he even straddled his entire body over Max; the latter could not have been comfortable for Max, as the Green-Eyed Monster was enormously overweight compared to Sassy. (Jimmy had insisted that it was not nice to shame another living creature about their weight, but she was not wrong. With her compact size and considerably more reasonable mass, Sassy was confident that she was much more comfortable for Max to have on his lap than that horrendously oversized creature.)

Mona's comment: I have never read anything as great as this, and I don't think I'll ever read anything as great as this ever again. I want to move into Elle's brain and live there forever.

set my midnight sorrow free (part 1 of this is our place, we make the rules) by @il-predestinato Rated T | 13,439 words | Complete

He doesn’t blame Max, not really. If he could have Charles for one night, he would never let him go either. Maybe he isn’t the one who is losing; Max is also playing a losing game. You can’t open yourself to Charles and try to exist in his charmed life without becoming irrevocably enamoured. When Max let Charles walk into his motorhome, when he let Charles slip into his existence, Max didn’t know it then but the battle was already lost.

we don't know how to rhyme, but damn, we try (part 2 of this is our place, we make the rules) by @il-predestinato Rated M | 4,862 | Complete

He pulls back reluctantly and misses the warm mouth almost immediately. Stars, he was doomed. “I want this too,” he tells Charles. “I don’t believe you.” He can be so infuriating sometimes, so contrarian. Some day, he might actually make Max lose his mind.

even the sun sets in paradise (part 3 of this is our place, we make the rules) by @il-predestinato Rated T | 27,774 words | Complete

If he had to name the place where the story of Max and Charles began, if there was a moment that divided them into Before and After, there would be a few candidates. But there was only one correct answer. He would never forget the name. The place is called Val d’Argenton. Stories are still being written there. Charles likes to tell the story of the incident - turn by turn, infused with poetic drama, detailing every single emotion: frustration, anger, pure spite. Every time he tells it, his smile grows along with the laughter in his eyes, even as his words recount a tale of opposing emotions. “I never want to go back to Val d’Argenton,” Charles once confessed. “We’ll never go back there,” he promised, and Charles knew what he meant.

Mona's comment: This series is such a rollercoaster of emotion, and I don't think I'm still fully recovered from reading it the first time. Elle is a true genius in every way.

p19 by @sennaverstappen Rated E | 5,619 words | Complete

“Charles,” it comes out soft, worried, upset. Charles will light himself on fire. He hears Max take a few steps towards him, feels two warm, winning, arms wrap around his fast-breathing chest. He’s still wearing those golden shoes. Max snuggle into his neck. “I’m here for you.” And Max had won, and he’s winning the season, and he’s P19, and losing this season. And Max is winning, and he’s not even talking about it – choosing to comfort his Charles instead. Every little thought converges into a single, red-hot one. He’s going to fuck the pole sitter so hard he’ll be sore tomorrow. “Max,” he whimpers, trying to find his voice, find his grip, find his footing in this world. Max tightens his grip around his waist. “Yes, angel?” And he can feel Max frown against his nape, soft breath against his earlobe. It turns his body white-hot. “Get on the fucking bed.”

Mona's comment: This one is just *chef's kiss*. Mindblowing. Incredible. Just like its author.

My all-time favorite fics that I've written:

Devil's Roll The Dice (Angels Roll Their Eyes) (part 1 of Devils Roll The Dice (Angels Roll Their Eyes) Rated E | 55,362 words | Complete

It all started with a crash. Well, technically, it started with a blue-eyed boy with blonde hair getting screamed at in a language he couldn’t understand when he was only 12 years old. He remembered looking at the boy, who couldn’t be much older than himself - (two weeks older, to be exact, he’d learn later) - and watching the spark disappear right out of those icy blue eyes. That was the first memory Charles Leclerc had of Max Verstappen: Watching Jos Verstappen, Max’s own father, scream at this 12 year old child with an intensity that turned his face red and made every blood vessel in his neck look dangerously close to bursting. But if anyone ever were to ask Charles when he started to realize that his feelings towards that same Max Verstappen he had known since childhood had begun to change into something else, something bigger, something terrifying he couldn’t - or wouldn’t - quite put his finger on, he would say that it all started with a crash. Because of fucking course it did.

OR: The slow-burn story of Lestappen that has brought me back from the dead, which starts with Max's crash at Silverstone in 2021.

Like Snow At The Beach (Weird But Fucking Beautiful) (part 2 of Devils Roll The Dice (Angels Roll Their Eyes) Rated E | 17,064 words | Completed

The wedding of Charles Leclerc and Max Verstappen was always going to be a grand affair. Not necessarily because it had been either man’s dream to make a big deal out of getting married, but simply because they knew so many fucking people. And because Charles had mentioned once — in passing, ages ago, long before Max went down on one knee and proposed — that he had driven past a property in Italy he’d found so beautiful that he’d had to stop the car in order to have a proper look, and that upon walking through the grounds of the property, he’d found himself thinking it would have been the perfect venue for a wedding. Max had been hellbent on finding out which property that was ever since.

OR: The lavish wedding sequel to "Devils Roll The Dice (Angels Roll Their Eyes)" that you've all been (hopefully) waiting for.

Stop (You're Losing Me) (part 3 of Devils Roll The Dice (Angels Roll Their Eyes) Rated E | 6,399 words | Completed

And now, here they are, with Charles feeling like he’s the only one making any sort of effort to keep their marriage healthy and happy outside of race weekends. He never would have imagined being married to Max could end up feeling so lonely. Another two hours pass before Max comes out into the living room, where Charles is sitting on the couch with a bowl of Andrea-and-Brad approved pad thai from their favorite takeout place just down the street, rewatching Money Heist for what has to be the tenth time. Max stops at the end of the couch, frowning down at the Monégasque. “I thought we were going out for dinner?” Charles looks up at him, face expressionless. “We were.” Max points at the bowl. “But you ordered takeout?” “I did.” “Why?” “Because our reservation was two hours ago, babe, and I was hungry.”

OR: Max and Charles have been married for 3 years, and it turns out marriage isn't always beautiful. Sometimes, it's ugly and tiring and painful.

Mona's comment: This series is what got me back into writing after a 7-year long hiatus from fic writing, and I treasure this series so much because it's what got me to make a Tumblr blog again and fully embrace the F1 fandom after being into F1 for 20 years.

19 Times The Grid Saved Lestappen (And One Time They Didn't Need To) (part 1 of Lestappen + The Grid) co-written with @f1writingbyme Rated M | 16,107 words | Complete

In that exact moment, all Charles wants to do is grab a hold of the front of Max’s stupid Red Bull polo and pull him into a kiss. He’s just about to do it, too, when a pen comes flying out of fucking nowhere, hitting Max smack dab in the face. It brings them both out of their little bubble, and Charles turns to see Lando standing a good distance away from them, already in the process of yeeting another pen in their direction. Charles reaches out to catch it before it can hit Max again, putting his reflexes to good use. Next to Lando, Carlos nods his approval at the catch. “Lando, what the hell?”

OR: Keeping Charles and Max from accidentally outing themselves to the whole world is becoming a full-time job. and Lando decides to enlist the entire grid to help him out.

18 Times Lestappen Tried To Hide Their Relationship (And One Time They Failed) (part 2 of Lestappen + The Grid) co-written with @f1writingbyme

Charles is pretty sure he is going to die of a heart attack at the age of only twenty-six because of all the sneaking around and almost getting caught every time. The only positive thing they have going for them is that they haven't been caught yet. How that's possible, Charles isn't sure, but he thinks it might have something to do with the fact that their friends either aren't paying much attention or are just plain stupid. Charles secretly hopes it's the last one. But of course, luck is not on Charles’ side, as one Mr. Lando Norris, tucked away in the safety of his driver's room on the other side of the paddock, is typing away on his phone.

How (Not) To Third Wheel Lestappen co-written with @f1writingbyme Rated T | 10,344 words | Complete (for now)

Lance doesn’t know which of his emotions is more overpowering; the secondhand embarrassment he feels at how blatantly obvious they’re being, or the fact that watching Max and Charles in their own little world is actually kind of cute. He realizes it’s the secondhand embarrassment as he watches Max shamelessly grin at James and proudly explain that he was just talking to Charles. Lance has to resist the urge to roll his eyes, especially when he notices how Charles is quite literally the embodiment of the heart eyes emoji where he’s standing next to Max for his entire interview. And the beeline Charles makes for Max as soon as he hands the microphone to Lance after his P2 interview is even worse than the heart eyes. He definitely should have been paying attention to that group chat, Jesus fucking Christ.

OR: There is a WhatsApp support group chat on how to deal with being top 3 with Max and Charles. Lance hasn't been paying attention to it at all, and lives to regret it. And then others suffer at the hands of Lestappen as well.

Mona's comment: Writing fics with Ilse is one of my favorite things in the world to do, and I can't even begin to describe how much fun it is to write all our Lestappen + the grid fics.

The Wonders of Valentine's Day (Or Whatever) Rated E | 9,933 words | Complete

Max, having completely lost the ability to speak, just stares at the sight before him, eyes wide and mouth slightly open. What the actual fuck? “Hi?” Max phrases it like a question. Charles grins at him. “Hello,” he greets, and Max watches as the grin fades away as Charles’ gaze moves down Max’s body, one eyebrow lifting. It’s only then Max realizes that he never put on pants after his shower, and is standing there in his bright orange Netherlands jersey and black boxers. It takes every ounce of his willpower not to let the internal panic he’s currently experiencing show on his face.

OR: Max isn't a fan of Valentine's Day. Charles is a menace on a mission to change that. Naturally.

Mona's comment: This was just a self-indulgant fic I wrote due to my own dislike towards Valentine's Day, but let me tell you, I had a blast from start to finish while writing this.

The Seasons of Heartbreak co-written with @f1writingbyme Rated T | 14,075 words | Complete

As the ‘I can’t do this anymore’ slipped from his lips, Charles missed his exit and continued straight ahead, unable to fully see the exit sign through his tears. The tears fill his eyes as quickly now as they had done in his car that day, and Charles finds himself realizing that he hasn’t felt happiness since. Not even once.

OR: When two men are hurting from a break-up, they can only use each other to make it right again. But they have to realize that first.

OR: The seasons of heartbreak, seen through the eyes of both Max and Charles.

Mona's comment: The sheer amount of tears shed while writing this, my God.

[dreamsoflightvalley]

Two of Skates (James P Sullivan X Reader)

Summary: You’re an introvert who isn’t too keen on attending one of Roar Omega Roar’s famous ragers, if anything you’d rather attend one of Oozma Kappa’s small gatherings. You prefer good times and pizza over goo pong and crazy stunts… Oh, and of course your crush on Sullivan plays a part in the decision too.

Content: Completely SFW, romance, introverted reader, gender neutral reader, copious amounts of pizza, overall wholesomeness and good times! Also, skating.

A/N: Was thinking of Total Eclipse of the Heart while writing this (specifically the Nicki French cover). Enjoy!

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Monsters University, one of the most prestigious scaring schools out there, was not immune to the party culture that prevailed in just about every college.

Every other week like clockwork RΩR would throw a rager that was open to the entire campus, and it’d keep going well into the night. Exams had just ended, so naturally all of the top scarers in that house were partying. Every house was to attend the party, but standout group Oozma Kappa was definitely uninvited.

You watched as your dorm buddy did her makeup in front of her vanity while rubbing your arm. “You’re coming with us, right Y/N?” Your friend turned to you, tilting her head.

“I dunno… Isn’t there any other house throwing their own party?” You asked, looking out the window to see students in droves flooding into the RΩR house. You couldn’t stand half the members in that group, they were so full of themselves and didn’t hesitate to pick on you for not having a pedigree like them. So what if your parents weren’t top scarers? So what if you didn’t make all A’s? That kind of stuff shouldn’t matter, but to them it did. It also didn’t help that Johnny Worthington had a penchant for singling you out specifically.

“Well, OK or whatever their house name is, is having their own party. They’re going to a roller rink or something,” She scoffed with a smile, turning back to the mirror. “The short squishy one handed me an invitation earlier, it was kinda cute… And also kinda sad,” She chuckled, clearly having no intentions to abandon a big RΩR party to go hang out with a bunch of dweebs at a roller rink.

Oddly enough, that sounded right up your alley.

“Where’d you put it?” You asked.

“Oh, it’s in my backpack. I was gonna throw it away, but I’d feel bad doing it right in front of the little guy,” She admitted sheepishly.

You went over to her backpack and scrounged through it, finding the hand drawn pamphlet rather quickly. It had a little drawing of all the members inside alongside a date, time, and address for the party. Free rides are being offered to anyone who needs them, yadda yadda… Oh, and pizza too?

“Don’t tell me you’re gonna miss out on a Roar Omega Roar party for that!” She folded her arms, giving you a stern look.

“Oh, come on! It sounds like fun! Besides, you know I can’t stand Johnny. He picks on me even with you around,” You grabbed your thoroughly worn jacket off the back of your desk chair, shrugging it on.

“You’re just saying that because you wanna hang out with your lover James.~”

“Am not!”

“Are too!”

You grabbed the scooter by the door and stuck your tongue out playfully at your friend, and she returned the gesture.

“You know I hate going to parties without you,” She watched as you grabbed your ita bag, pulling the strap over your shoulder. “But I guess I can manage,” She sighed dramatically, leaning back and closing her eyes. It only took her a few seconds to open one to see if her attempts to stop you were working.

“I know you will,” You reassured her, twirling your keys in hand. “But at least you won’t have to stand with me by the snack table the whole time anymore, you can go and play goo pong with the girls… Maybe make a move of your own on that Crystal chick you’ve been diggin’,” You scooted out of the door before your friend could scold you for teasing, popping your headphones on so that you could drown out the nearby music.

You managed to weave through the gaps in the crowd with relative ease, the noise canceling allowed you to follow the beat of your own music and ignore the bass that rumbled through the ground as you passed the noisy fraternity. The OK house wasn’t too far from campus, not on scooter at least. Right as you arrived you could already see the members boarding into an old van, you were just barely on time.

Of course Sulley was the one to notice you scooting towards them, a heavy hand resting atop the car. He was about to duck into the back seat but he saw you and perked up immediately— so fast that he bumped his head on the roof of the car. He shook it off as he stood up straight, raising a curious brow at your arrival.

“Y/N?”

You took your headphones off and paused your music, breathing a little heavily as you fished into your back to pull out a slightly crumpled up invitation. “I heard you guys were throwing your own party…” You held it out to them shyly, still scared of rejection despite the fact that they were the definition of the rejects.

Squishy approached you and took the invite from your hands, a smile slowly creeping onto his face. “You… Actually showed up?” He looked up at you for confirmation, eyes bigger than usual. “Well of course they showed up, they’re right in front of you!” Mike gestured towards you, happier than he’d like to admit. He was in disbelief too, since literally no one would turn down a Roar Omega Rager the way you just did. “Niiiice, stickin’ it to the man!” Art wasn’t one to look a gift pig in the mouth, so he was quick to accept you aboard. “N-No one’s ever come to an Oozma Kappa party before, no one outside of us at least! This is gonna be awesome!” Terri jumped excitedly, forcing Terry’s half of the body to also move with him. “Not to be that guy, but we’d better hurry up before the pizza gets cold. No one wants to eat cold pizza,” Terry put a hand on his brother’s shoulder, trying to calm him down. Just then, Squishy’s mom piped up from the front seat.

“Come on now, kiddos! That rink isn’t gonna skate itself.”

You waited for everyone else to enter the van, unsure of where you were gonna squeeze in. Squishy climbed into the front seat, Art, Terri, and Terry were in the far back, leaving the middle row to you, Mike, and Sullivan.

Mike got the window seat on the left side, and since you didn’t want to get between the two Sulley sat in the middle without complaint, only because it meant he got to sit next to you.

You closed the door on your side and quickly realized how cramped of a ride this was going to be, the moment the door shut you were walled into the corner by a dense wall of warm, teal fur. In a weird way it was cozy, and you did get to get a nice whiff of him from here…

Sheri turned on the radio as she started to drive, and there was some quiet idle chatter among the others…

“So…” You began, trying to get over your shyness. “You remembered my name..?”

“Hmm?” Sulley looked over at you, though you were hard to see compared to his shoulder. “Oh, your name. Yeah, of course I do. I have a great memory.”

You found it odd since the two of you never really interacted much. You were sure that you introduced yourself, during class but you didn’t expect him to actually… Remember. The encounter was so brief after all. Since then you’d occasionally run into each other (mostly due to you looking for him), but he always seemed too busy for you.

“That’s a bunch of malarky! You have terrible memory. You know how many study sessions we’ve had and you still can’t remember the name of New Eekland’s first prime minister?”

Mike butt in the first chance he got, he had a right to after how viciously Sulley used to tease him when they were freshman.

“When am I ever gonna need that information, history is boring! I don’t choose what I get to remember, I just trust that whatever my noggin thinks is important and retain that.”

Oh, so you were important enough to remember? Interesting.

“Keep thinkin’ like that and you’ll only remember sandwich ingredients, and maybe a few scarers if you’re lucky.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at their banter, their friendship never ceasing to amuse you. It was clear that they chided each other out of compassion, if they didn’t like each other they definitely wouldn’t be here right now.

The conversation started to liven up as the drive went on, and for the most part you were simply enjoying the friendly environment and listening to the others talk. Only when the group settled down at their own booth did you get the chance to talk about yourself.

“My friend wanted to go, but honestly? This is so much better than whatever they could possibly be doing right now,” You nearly salivated at the sight of the stringy cheese still clinging onto the pizza for dear life. “I’m not really crazy about big parties like that. They’re so…”

“Loud?” Terri asked.

“Disorienting?” Art chimed in.

“Jock centric?” Mike rolled his eyes.

“Annoying?” Terry groaned.

“Chaotic?” Squishy was the last to finish the chain, since Sulley had nothing against parties. If anything he liked that kind of environment, so when everyone looked at him all he had to say was “What?”

“Uh, yeah, that!” You licked the grease off your fingers after you finished your first slice, already going in for another. “I’d rather be in a small group with nice people I kinda know than be in a den of strangers with only a friend or two, y’know… Quality over quantity.”

Just then, Sheri and Don came back with arms full of skates, each to your respective sizes and foot shapes. Don did a lot of the carrying thanks to his suckers. “We got yer skates, now let’s hit the floor!” Don’s energy was refreshing, but you wanted to stay at the table a little longer. “I think I’ll eat a little more first, after all it uh… Seems like you guys ordered quite a bit,” You glanced at the boxes upon boxes of uneaten pizza, stomach growling loudly.

“Yeah, I’ll hang back too. Y’know, to help,” Sulley shrugged, looking back and forth as he rubbed the back of his head. Sheri caught on immediately, but didn’t say anything. “Alright, we’ll leave you to it,” She guided Don and the others away before he could say anything, giving the two of you a wink and thumbs up as they walked away.

You and James locked eyes for a moment before you shyly looked away.

“Dunno what that was about,” He played dumb, a purple tint washing over the fur on his face.

“Y-Yeah, me neither,” You aired out your collar slightly, trying not to make things awkward.

A silence had settled between you as you ate for a little while. Truthfully, you didn’t want to make a fool of yourself in the rink since you had no idea how to skate whatsoever, but you acted like you were staying behind for the food. Why Sulley stayed behind is beyond you.

“Honestly… I’m no good at skating,” You admitted as you filled your plate once more.

“Oh yeah?” He smiled crookedly, filling his own plate at the same time as you.

“Yeah…”

He looked around as he scooped a slice into his mouth, making sure no one could hear but you. “Me neither.”

You smiled up at him, surprised that a mighty Sullivan would acknowledge something he couldn’t do. It was rare that James would admit to a fault of his, so even something this small was special. He had to like you at least a little bit.

The noise from the rink caught your attention, and from where you sat you could see Art spinning around in the middle while he held Terri and Terry up in the air. Sheri and Don held Squishy’s hands between them, helping him skate while Mike slipped and slid clumsily.

“You know, maybe if we skate together we’d be alright,” He folded his arms and leaned back, looking at you from the side of his eyes as he tried to gauge your reaction to his suggestion.

“What? You mean like… Two bad skaters come together to form one halfway decent skater? Our talent will balance itself out?”

“Something like that,” He shrugged.

You looked down at your loaded plate and then back at the rink, knowing full well you wouldn’t be able to finish all that pizza.

“You know what… Why the heck not,” You stood up and grabbed your skates, offering your hand to him.

“Heck?” He echoed as he took your hand, finding it funny that you didn’t say the other word.

“Yeah, heck! Hay is for horses.”

As the two of you made your way to the rink after putting your skates on, you held onto each other’s hand tightly. When one of you lost balance the other would make up for it, which was surprising given how large Sulley is.

You slowly stretched a leg into the rink, a love song playing over the speakers almost as soon as Sulley joined you. The colored lights shifted from blue and green to red and pink, the DJ sensing the spark between you two. It didn’t seem to matter to either of you though, since you were too busy trying not to fall onto your butts the whole time.

“H-Hey, this isn’t so bad!” You had to admit you didn’t think the idea would work, but as the two of you skated in circles you realized that struggling together made the process a lot easier than struggling alone. “I told you it’d work,” He smirked as he used his tail to grab Mike by the hand, steadying his balance. “How you doin’ back there little buddy?”

“Just peachy!” Mike’s knees were shaking like a leaf, but he wasn’t falling like earlier.

“Good, cause Y/N has an idea and you’re gonna help us!”

Before you put your skates on earlier, you mentioned the idea of giving out the pizza to everyone else who was there. Even if it was taken home for leftovers it would surely go bad, and if Mrs. Squishy got mad you’d be willing to pay her back… And James was nothing if not a risk taker.

Before Mike could even question it, Sulley dragged him screaming from the rink and back to the booth. You had a stack of pizza boxes on your free hand, as did Sulley… Mike, unfortunately, had them balancing on his head.

“Alright, who wants free pizza?” Sulley shouted, holding up the boxes with you as the crowd cheered.

All three of you skated around the building giving free boxes to anyone who wanted some, feeding the entire place better than the cooks did… And yes, even the cooks and cashiers got pizza breaks too.

As the mid-90s Europop song faded, you and Sullivan returned to the booth with some pizza to spare, reclining into the stiff seats as though they were the highest quality massage chairs the world had to offer. James had to pick and limp Mike up by the wrist and sit him down too.

All of you caught your breath together, but even after burning off all that energy you still kept your hands clasped together. You looked over at his palm, his grip softening ever so slightly. He was worried for a second that you’d want to let go, but when you squeezed his giant hand in yours he felt relief wash over him.

“You know… We should do this again sometime…” You smiled up at him.

“Yeah..?”

“Yeah…”

You shuffled a little closer to him, resting your head on his arm. In response he rested his head on top of yours, his bushy brows lowering over his eyes.

To Johnny’s surprise the next day, the school papers replaced the usual column going over the events of his parties with a new blurb on the “Cutest Couple on Campus,” the sight m causing him to spit his coffee out of shock.

“Wh-What the—?!”

[flxfthm]

I don't know if you ever said it before, but do you think Gabriel was a good villain?

mmm i guess the answer is yes because i think he's a good character? and the things that make him a "bad" villain are intentional flaws and weaknesses that make him more human. he's arrogant, short-sighted, and all his wins are attributed to outside help from nathalie, tomoe, or even felix !!! but he's not really meant to be seen as a schemer, as the way he exerts power over people is through his status. as he claims in pretention and as felix highlights in his play, the empire he's built and the resources he has access to make him the most intimidating, it's about "gabriel agreste" as a symbol of influence, who can control people in more ways than one.

he shines the most in S5 as he fully loses it and his dehumanization of adrien reaches ridiculously cruel extremes with the alliance rings, which are one of my personal favorite visual metaphors in the show altogether. it's sort of what i'm getting at, that you can see gabriel increasingly more corrupt with every passing season, and with that he also loses all the plausible deniability he was operating with from the start. the agreste story arc of S1-S5 is ultimately about questioning the consequences of our choices and the power we each hold as individuals, and gabriel is a physical manifestation of our worst possible selves. he's unapologetically selfish from his first to last appearance and even when he seems to come to recognize the results of his insanity, he cowardly leaves marinette to clean up his mess & deal with the aftermath.

while nathalie snapped out of it earlier than him & tried making amends for her actions by doing the bare minimum for adrien with the time she had left, and as felix ended up trading his cynicism for a positive outlook through the power of love, gabriel remained stubborn in his ways and his goal changed from the noble-sounding promise to reunite his family to, like, sticking it to those morally righteous brats as he grew mad with power. like akumas are people possessed by their negative emotions, gabriel is consumed by his regrets without even realizing it, and he's a cautionary tale for marinette to remember so that she doesn't end up like him. felix got to find out for himself pretty quickly how it felt becoming the monster that he thought his father was, that gabriel agreste was, and he immediately changed his path. but for marinette, whose life mirrors gabriel's own, the stakes are much higher and she's yet to come to terms with whether the choices she made in the S5 finale & london special were morally reprehensible after all. even with his physical disappearance, gabriel's control of the media, the people, and his son, have all been passed down to marinette and he still lives on through her. she could arbitrarily sympathize with felix's motivations as they both fought for adrien's sake and eventually their own romantic interests, but this time she's in a situation that would greatly affect and endanger her own life, and that's where the question initially posed to gabriel comes back to her - how far is she willing to go to keep things as they are, and how long will it be before she's also consumed by regrets?

the marinette/felix/gabriel spectrum really fascinates me because these characters have a ton of flaws in common as well as a similar way of thinking, and the distinction only lies in how instilled those mindsets are, and how easy or hard it would be to change them. marinette is always second-guessing, always unsure of herself; felix knows who he is, he has causes he vehemently advocates for but he's willing to make the occasional sacrifice or two if they'll benefit him in the long run, and he'll learn from past mistakes when things blow up in his face - and as for gabriel? he never makes any compromises, never reflects on himself, not once does he try and make an attempt until it's too late to change things.

and the way all of this ties with the show's message definitely makes him an incredible villain to me. thematically, he archieved his purpose in miraculous' first story arc and was an amazing nemesis to the main character. my only real complaints are only about how much more could've been done with these parallels while he was still active as the primary antagonist, or how we were only told about gabriel's past in the last minute, even if it was purposefully hidden. however i'm really excited for lila to succeed him as the theme of lies will surely be the most prominent in the second story arc, and i hope i'm correct in assuming that'll mean gabriel replacing emilie as the entity the narrative revolves around.

[dawn-moths]

“Show Me You Love Me With the Shape of Your Bite”

Noe Archiviste x Female Reader

word count: 4300+

(celebrating two years of this blog, i’m back with a lil one shot for noe because the first fic i ever posted was for him. // A human’s strength is nothing compared to a vampire’s— a fact that’s always concerned Noe when it comes to being with you in such an intimate way. But, unlike how most of your own kind would warn you of, you’ve never had a reason to doubt or fear his intentions with you. Besides, as if letting him bite you on a normal basis wasn’t proof enough, even in the worst case scenario, you’ve already made it clear to Noe that you don’t necessarily mind a little pain if he’s the one causing it.)

content warning/disclaimer: 18+ content! minors dni! smut, vampires, biting/marking, blood/readers blood is drunk, reader is a bit of a masochist while Noe is apprehensive about hurting her too much, rough sex at times, size difference, dickriding, aftercare.

*ao3 mirror*

***

Ribbons of broken, silver moonlight streamed in through the gaps of the curtains, the shadows of dusk dancing across the floors, starbursts of amber and coral shimmering on the polished hardwood from the crackling fire burning low and sultry in its stoney hearth.

In the night, Paris came alive, the city lights sparkling like a sea of stars across the horizon, the constant murmur and buzz of the after-dark crowds humming through the air in a stream of noise and energy, muffled and distant from where you now lay, yet you could still imagine the intensity of it all after growing so used to being a part of the pack yourself.

Ever since meeting Noe, you’d traded rising in the early morning and twilight wind-downs for long, late nights and views of the dawn breaking on the horizon, the first muted shades of lilac and gold signaling your time to rest rather than the plum and navy of night blanketing itself across the sky like most others of your kind followed the consistent rhythm of.

You should’ve guessed after the first few times he’d suggested you meet by moonlight rather than daylight that he was afflicted with the forbidden curse— that he was a vampire— but even back then you wouldn’t have cared.

Because Noe Archiviste was as captivating and handsome as he was charming and sweet, he was gentle and kind and compassionate and everything you’d grown up being told those of his kind were not. Because, to everyone else, vampires were monsters. They were cold and cruel, ruthless and ravenous, and among the worst of them were the wolves in sheep’s clothing, using pretty words and entrancing appearances to lure in their prey before sinking their teeth in deep.

Your Noe was the sun after a summer’s rain, warm and inviting. He was a home to return to after a long day, safe and familiar. He was the first face you looked for in a crowd, his name ready to fall from your lips as those two, lilting phantom syllables rested on your tongue.

Some days, you still found yourself reluctant to call what you two shared love, only for the fact that you’d both been keeping it a secret from everyone outside yourselves. But with all the feelings you held for him on a consistent basis in mind, how could what you felt for him be anything else?

You two were far more bonded than any human couple was. Noe knew the taste of your blood after all, had committed the flavor to memory, could distinguish it by a single drop alone. And you knew the imprint of his teeth just as well, craved the way his sharp incisors found a home in your supple flesh night after night, addicted to the ivory’s sharp and satisfying sting.

“Harder—” you breathed, gently writhing under Noe’s hold on you, though with no real means of escaping him. “Harder, Noe, please—!” You gasped as his bite sunk in a fraction deeper, drawing more rivulets of ruby red from the tender spot on your shoulder, sending a quick shudder down your spine, the sensation creeping vertebrae by vertebrae until it welled into the sticky, fluttering warmth of arousal pooling in your lower belly.

As his tongue lapped at the welling beads of red, slow and gentle to savor the taste of you, you let out a broken moan, body arching to follow the heat of his mouth. Noe was always so afraid to go too far, to lose control and end up hurting you, no matter how many times you assured him you wouldn’t ask for the pain if you didn’t want it. But he also couldn’t help but give in to your requests, even if sometimes it made his stomach twist with guilt.

The moment you started making those succulent, saccharine mewling sounds of pleasure though, it was as if all of his ice-dipped remorse melted away. He could drink down your whines and moans just as easily as he could your blood, meeting your mouth for a languid, tongue-entwined kiss, letting you taste your own blood as you parted your lips to let him in.

You’d asked him before what blood tasted like to vampires, said all you could make out from the coppery flavor was the wince-inducing bitterness that had you resisting the urge to screw up your features and spit it from your mouth. So it was hard to believe him when he described it as sweet— sometimes even sickly so— with a hint of pleasant salt and the lingering undertones of something that could only be compared to addiction.

But your part of this exchange didn’t require you to enjoy the taste. For you, it was the feeling— the completely embodied sensation— of what having your blood drunk by him felt like that urged you to keep seeking out his teeth.

It was heavenly. Pure ecstasy. It made you forget why humans had spent so many centuries fearing vampires, if only for the fact that, if it weren’t for you and Noe’s special bond, he probably could’ve drained you dry and left you for dead like the legends of old warned about.

There were still plenty of vampires lurking the streets and hiding in the shadows whose hunger had gone insatiable, morphing them into greedy, voracious monsters who couldn’t see any innocent life past all that gushing red. But your Noe was different. He’d held onto his morality longer than most of his kind would ever have the will to consider, let alone succeed at, and you guessed you could consider yourself pretty lucky that you’d run into him on that first fateful night rather than someone else more sinister and selfish.

“You ok…?” Noe asked in between shallow, panting breaths, his hands splayed on either side of your head as he gazed down at you, lips stained red and shining with your shared saliva, the tip of his tongue darting out to catch the fading crimson that remained. The next thing you felt was his palm, warm, now that his energy had been replenished from your blood, cradling your cheek. You lay underneath him, back sinking into the mattress and eyes closed as his shadow blanketed over your bare form, allowing yourself to drift off into the serenity that often followed Noe’s feedings.

You felt safe. Held. Comforted by his presence and by the fact that, during this act, you were two becoming one in a way few would ever know or understand.

Letting him drink from you often came after sex. It allowed a euphoric extension on the galaxy of pleasure that Noe’s body could coax from yours. It also ensured that he didn’t have too much strength to unleash upon your fragile human form, his pace slow and sensual as he buried himself deeper and deeper into you. But sometimes, like tonight, when he indulged in a feeding beforehand, well…

You knew you were going to be in for one hell of a ride.

“Maybe I took too much this time…” Noe muttered to himself in a low, worried tone as you felt the bed shift around you, your eyes fluttering open to watch as he changed position, carefully lifting your limp figure up to drape and rest against his chest before leaning back against the barrier of pillows that lined the headboard. He was carding his long fingers through your lightly tousled hair, mumbling sporadic thoughts under his breath under the false pretense that you’d drifted off to sleep. You thought you heard him say something about stopping there for the night, not wanting to push you past your limits.

That was enough to jolt you back to consciousness, just enough to stir in his grasp and breathe out a weak and airy, “Noe…” on account of still recovering from your recent blood loss. You lifted your head slightly to meet his eyes, which had now been leeched of their glowing, crimson color and turned back to calming lavender on account of his appetite being satisfied. You gave him a feeble, tired smile and said, “It’s ok… I’m ok. I can keep going…”

The vampire considered you for a moment. He knew you had a habit of pushing yourself, but before he could think on it too long, you were taking his face in your hands and luring him back to you with one of those adorable, delicate little giggles. “Noe, come on…” you reassured him with a smile, devotion sparkling in your eyes, “You know I trust you more than anyone else. Plus, even if you do hurt me a little bit…” You paused, feeling your cheeks heat before admitting what you were about to next, despite having done it several times to him already. “Even if you do hurt me, I don’t mind. I… like the pain, remember?”

Beckoning him closer to you now, letting him lay his head against your chest and cradling your arms around him like he was the delicate one, like he was the one worth worrying about and protecting, you carded your little fingers through his snowy locks of hair and softly spoke to him, telling him again that you trusted him, how you loved him, and as the words left your mouth you knew them to be true, no hesitation in the confession you’d been so afraid to acknowledge prior.

Noe could’ve sunk so far into the comfort you gave him he would’ve drowned in it, finding he was never as soft and sentimental with anyone else as when he was with you. He never allowed himself to let his guard down to such a level, for a moment forgetting that, outside of this room, you two were widely considered to be enemies— hunter and prey, a monster and a girl.

He sometimes used to wonder if he’d ever find someone he could love who would also love him in return, before meeting you. And what was a luckier, more divine thing than to have your own angel to hold? To have someone who thought and cared about you as much as you thought and cared about them?

“Alright…” Noe mumbled, his cheek pressed to your chest, listening to your beating heart, counting out each gentle drum of the steady rhythm. As he lifted his head to meet your tired, half-lidded gaze, he said, “But I need you to promise me one thing…” Rising further to sit up, the two of you across from one another, bodies bare and on display for each other to see, to have, to hold, Noe’s words dripped with earnesty as he said, “If things start to go too far, I need you to tell me.”

“Noe, I—”

But he cut you off, cupping your cheek in his palm. “I know we’ve talked about this before, but I also know you haven’t always been completely honest with me about it.” You resisted the urge to swallow down the lump of guilt that had curled up in your throat, unable to deny his concerned accusation. Softly stroking his thumb along your jaw, so feathery light you could barely feel it, he set his lilac gaze on your neck where his bite had already begun to bruise and scab over, now a deep shade of wine. He said, “It’s been a while since I— since we’ve done this after a feeding…”

He didn’t need to explain any further. You knew exactly what he was so worried about now— the fact that, last time he drank beforehand and not after, it had resulted in you with tears streaming down your face and several more bites and bruises to paint your skin while he’d been blinded by the carnality of it all. You’d barely been able to walk the next day, feeling like something inside of you had been broken beyond repair, and even though you’d tried to assure him you would be ok, deep down there had been some fear sparked in you.

The pain he’d caused you that night had surpassed the fine line of the sugar-coated, thorny pleasure that you craved and ended up as injury instead.

Noe had said he’d never allow himself to partake in your blood before sex again, though, after months of trying to convince him not every time had to be like that first one and that, while you couldn’t necessarily erase the memory, you could help fix it by replacing it with something better, you’d gotten him to come around.

“I promise,” you told him, reaching forward to take his hand. He laced his fingers with yours, careful even in that act, as if each new touch he bestowed upon you from now until morning held the risk of breaking his own vow. “If it gets to be too much, I’ll tell you.”

You felt relief when his lips twitched into a soft, dreamy grin, the expression there and then gone in an instant, becoming entranced with the way your little hand fit together with his, palms pressed together and creating more shared warmth, Noe able to feel your pulse through your skin and noting the way it was picking up speed a little as he placed his other hand on your knee and gave a gentle squeeze.

It was you who leaned in to kiss him then, catching him off guard for a moment until he followed your cue and allowed himself to melt back into you, the hand on your knee sliding up to rest on your bare thigh, kneading the plush flesh there, slow and savoring, as you combed your fingers through his hair and sighed into his mouth, your core already coiling again in tiny, tight little pulses as his fingers grew closer to brushing up against where you were already slick and waiting.

A tender, broken moan spilled from your mouth as his first finger slipped inside, testing your tightness and comfort before adding in a second and curling at his knuckles, causing you to arch your back and slide further down to lay flat for him, spreading your legs wider as he slowly scissored his digits inside of you, biting back his own moan when he felt your hole clenching around what was inside harder the more he stretched you.

He caught his bottom lip on one of his fangs, vehemently reminding himself to stay in control, don’t go too far, don’t hurt her as his own arousal pulsed thick and eager through his veins, that familiar sharp pang of adrenaline already beginning to surge.

He was starting to remember now— how hard it had been to stop once he’d started— and the thought made his stomach churn for a whole other reason. But you were right. This time didn’t have to be like the last. It wouldn’t be. He’d make sure of it.

Once he’d prepped you enough to take him, Noe began to line himself up with your entrance, feeling his own cock twitch in his hand as he caught sight of the glistening beads that drooled from your cunt, asking you if you were ok before nudging in the tip, pausing when you momentarily winced, only continuing when you nodded at him to signal it was alright for him to keep going.

And, god, you loved how you could feel every single vein and ridge of him as he carved out a home inside of you, the velvety flesh of his cock massaging every part of your insides like it had been designed to do so, both your bodies devoted and destined to learn each other in this way long before you’d even met. The sweet sting of him splitting you in two made your tummy tighten and flutter, your pussy squeezing around the length of him just enough to give a teasing taste of what he already expected was to come.

His breathing was soon beginning to pick up speed, Noe hoping to hide just how much you were affecting him already as he forced out even, shuddering huffs, hunching over you while he tried not to let himself go completely, no matter how badly he wanted to right now.

It made him remember something else he’d almost forgotten about that last time— just how much better you felt when he was inside you after he’d been replenished by your blood, all his senses alive, every nerve alight with the heightened vitality that he gained from a recent feeding. It’s what made this all so dangerous in the first place.

“It’s ok…” you assured him, your own chest moving with the shallow, panting breaths of anticipation as you remedied your prior words with, “I’m ok. I trust you…”

Noe wanted to believe he could trust himself too. And as he felt the animalistic urgency within him simmer a little, he figured it was alright to start moving.

As much as it killed him to go so slow, he forced himself to hold out, gradually rolling his hips to meet yours, your voices moaning in tandem, creating a lilting melody of pleasure with each inch he drove deeper into you and every constricting squeeze of your cunt around his cock.

“Harder—” you were telling him again, the request cracking with a breathy whine as you felt him brush against your cervix, sharp jolts sparking through your abdomen followed by the slow, syrupy drip of pleasure that ran thick through your blood. You felt Noe hesitate for a moment, but when you twisted your fingers through his silky white hair and gave a tug, he snapped his hips forward hard enough to shove you a few inches up the bed. A small yelp emitted from you, clipped with a satisfied mewl, and you loosened your fist in his hair, tenderly stroking the back of his neck, playing with the wispy tufts at the base of his skull as you whispered out, “That’s it… Just like that…”

Noe had to pin your wrists down then, find some way to keep you anchored as he prepared to pound into you harder, though not yet with the rigorous speed you both knew he was capable of. And when you asked him to bite you again, well…

That time, Noe just couldn’t tell you no.

Sinking his teeth into your unmarked shoulder and feeling the skin break, more of your warm, sticky blood flooding into his mouth, Noe drank down gulp after gulp in rapid succession. This made him forget to mind his strength for a moment, and as you fell more slack under his hold, lulled by the euphoria of having your blood drunk by him for the second time that night, he nearly lost you.

He came back to his senses just in time, his saliva filled mouth pulling away from the new bite with a glittering strand of diluted reddish-pink bowing and snapping back onto the crook between your neck and shoulder.

He was partially horrified with himself, and for a moment wondered if he’d finally gone too far, past the point of no return, but was able to exhale a sigh of relief when you fluttered open your tired, bleary eyes and your shallow breathing registered to his sensitive hearing.

“I don’t think I can do this…” the vampire admitted under his breath, sounding disappointed in himself as he pulled out of you and used the pad of his thumb to swipe up a drop of red that was slowly dripping down towards your collar bones, shamelessly licking it away before casting you a quick, guilty glance. “I’m going to hurt you again. I know I am. I—”

Trying to prop yourself up onto your elbows in a way that was less than graceful, to say the least, you blinked the blood loss from your vision until Noe came back into focus. After a few minutes the swaying sensation of lightheadedness abated and you were able to roll yourself over, laying on your stomach as you stared at him sitting on the edge of the bed and looking stressed and conflicted.

You might’ve been able to call it a night, if not for the fact that you were still burning up inside with the need to release all this pent up arousal, so you decided to try approaching things from a different angle.

“Hey…” You lightly ran your fingertips along his spine, watching his back muscles flex as he turned partially to glance over his shoulder at you. “Lay down.”

Noe was already beginning to apologize, though for what exactly, you weren’t sure— as far as you were concerned, he’d done nothing wrong other than stop before letting you come— but you pressed a finger to his lips before he could finish his spoken atonement. 

You had him right where you wanted him— right where you needed him now. “Stop talking,” you said, climbing atop him once he was laying flat on his back, straddling him as you took his face in both your palms, his hands quickly reaching for your hips to help steady you when you began to sway slightly, still not fully recovered from the blood loss.

You were staring at him, desperately searching all that alluring lavender for any sign that he understood, and he was staring back at you as if he were being touched by god, completely enraptured by the gentle light in your eyes alone. “Let me take care of you,” you murmured, the moment of revelation drifting away. “You always do such a good job at taking care of me…” Taking his still hard cock in your hand, a small smirk curving on your lips when you felt him slightly tense beneath you, his stomach flinching, you lined it up with your entrance once more. “It’s my turn now.”

Noe let out a stuttering breath of ecstasy as you sunk down on him, both of you needing less time to catch your breath now but no less urgent in your need for each other. And as you began to grind your hips down on him, your clit rubbing hard against his pelvic bone every time you rolled forward and making your eyes tip to the back of your head, Noe kept a firm grip on your hips, helping to pull you down further onto his cock every time you lifted off again.

The glowing illumination of the midnight moon drenched your silhouette as you rode him, Noe admiring the way the light shone on your dewy skin, pretty tits bouncing as you began to pick up speed, your head thrown back, neck exposed and mouth hanging open with silent ecstasy as you approached closer and closer to the edge.

Noe was close too, beginning to buck his hips up into you to match your rhythm towards the end, still so strong even when he wasn’t trying that hard, making your toes curl as you twisted the bed sheets tight in your fists, hunching over him as your trembling legs felt like they were about to give out, thighs burning from the exertion and sweat gathering in the crooks of your folded knees, a new, high-pitched moan tumbling from your throat with each thrust.

And, god, when you both came at the same time, you swore you saw spots of heaven blinking in your vision, falling forward to drape yourself over him completely, squeezing every last drop from him as his cock spurt thick ropes of cum inside of you, enough to ooze out of your abused little hole and drip in thick, creamy dollops back onto him where you two remained connected until Noe mustered up enough strength to take your limp form in his arms and carefully sit up just enough to pull out of you, keeping you cradled against his warm chest until you actually did doze off.

Gently setting you aside, pulling a sheet across your naked body to shield you from the chill while he went to fetch a damp, warm washcloth to clean you up with, Noe was haunted by the fact that, for as many times as you two had been together before, it had never been quite as good as that.

Haunted, only for the fact that it had still been a dangerous risk to take. Yet still, a risk he had a feeling he’d be unable to talk you out of taking again.

He noted the various bruises speckled about your body as he cleaned you, dark blotches in the shape of his fingertips where they’d dug into your hips, more scattered across your thighs, your wrists, around the bites on both sides of your shoulders and along your neck where he’d branded you with hickies he hadn’t even remembered deciding to mark you with.

After leaving to fix himself up and returning again, Noe checked your pulse, two fingers pressed softly to the side of your neck, just to make sure his worst fear hadn’t come to pass. He flinched minutely when your little hand reached up to cup his, a sated smile spread across your lips, eyes still closed as you muttered out, “See… told you I’d be ok…”

Noe’s grin was a little more incredulous than anything, but as he gently stroked the side of your head, smoothing back some strands of tousled hair from your sweet face he adored gazing upon so much, he was just glad that you were alright this time around.

Curling up beside you, pressing a chaste peck to your forehead, Noe told you he loved you through a tired, dreamy sigh. Only then did you open your eyes, pupils dilated to swallow the color of your irises in the dark, and whispered back to him, like a promise, like a prayer, “I love you too…” After that, all you could remember was the darkness of encroaching unconsciousness and the familiar, comforting heat of his body entangled with yours, asleep and safe in each other’s arms at the end of another unforgettable night.

***

(Hello and thank you so much for reading! I really can’t believe it’s already been two years since I made this blog and started writing/posting fanfiction. Time really flies huh?

Anway, I’d like to take this time to give a big thank you to everyone who follows me, reads my work, and takes the time to leave likes or nice comments. It really makes my day :)

I look forward to being able to share the fics I have in the works going forward with you all. Hope you have a wonderful day and remember to be kind to yourself <3)