#also Halloween and fall are not the same thing

[slayerkitty]

The Unofficial TaUs Timeline

(as written to the best of our knowledge by @blu-eyed-demon and myself. Disclaimer: The dates and events are to the best of our recollection and memory. If they are not 100% accurate or in exact chronological order, please forgive us as the bulk of this was written until the wee hours one night on a whim and stuff started to run together.)

When things first started happening, I hadn't been dragged into this, but @blu-eyed-demon is a big BOC fan, so they were paying some attention.

Ta, Us, and 2J start attending events as a trio throughout Summer 2024

August 31st, 2024: BOC announces that Us' contract has expired, 2J's (his KP partner) would be ending Oct 31st, 2024.

Fall 2024, exact date unknown: Copper (Ta's partner from DFF), departs for the UK for school (unofficially splitting their pairing).

Fans start assuming that when 2J's contact ended, he and Us would maybe sign somewhere else as a pair - but practically the second 2J's contract ends, he joined the cast of Lover Merman and immediately started sailing his new ship.

(this is around when I came into the picture, @blu-eyed-demon messaged me and was like, "Ta and Us are doing things, it feels weird, you know more about BL branded pair marketing than I do, is this weird? YES, IT WAS WEIRD.)

Ta and Us' social media started to feature each other a lot at this point (road trips - they went to the Heart Burger restaurant!, photoshoots, and even meals in Us' car at Us' families coffee shop).

ChalarmJames posted a clip of a workshop, where James was lying his head on Chalarm's lap and then the camera pans over and the joke was that he was mocking Us, who had his head in Ta's lap! (still no idea WHY these four were workshopping together)

In another workshop around the same time, TaUs posted IG pics/clip of them drawing on each other's hands and feet (FEET!)

The BOC Halloween party had a drunken revelation about two of the actors confirming they were a couple - two pairs were speculated: PongTong or TaUs (it ended up being PongTong and we all saw how that went, yikes).

During this period there was a noticeable uptick in their skinship, closeness, and even sniff kisses.

More surprising IG stories followed: Ta and Us did a week long training with a real class of recruits at a police academy (STILL DON'T KNOW WHAT THIS IS FOR EITHER AND IT'S DRIVING ME INSANE).

Love is Like a Bike press conference was announced in early November 2024, Ta and Us are confirmed to be attending the press conference.

The press conference to officially announce the cast was held on November 24th, 2024 and Ta was slated to play one half of a secondary pairing in the show… BUT NOT WITH US. While Us was in the show, Ta was actually paired with another actor named Nanon (I'm going to be so real, I do not remember this guy's name)

(At this point, I told @blu-eyed-demon I had no idea what the fuck TaUs were doing. If they had been paired for the Bike BL, then I would have said "oh, they were soft launching, makes sense". BUT THEY WEREN'T. So my other thought was "well, fuck me, maybe they're dating, idek?")

Heading into December 2024, Toey (Ta's sibling, who just made a movie with Fourth from GMMtv), started attending events with TaUs.

There was an awards show (I can't even begin to remember which one ooops), where the cast of the Bike BL attended. Ta took ONE pic with Nanon and spent the rest of the time with Us and Toey.

(This is the second and last time we saw Ta and Nanon interact publicly, EVER)

BOC's NYE countdown party brought more fun: Ta took one pic with Copper (who was home for the holidays) and spent the entire night with Us, WHO WASN'T EVEN SUPPOSED TO BE THERE, HE CAME AS TA'S +1). They were caught sharing drinks, holding hands, hugging, and at least one sniff kiss.

They did a joint Chinese New Year photoshoot, where Ta was sitting on a throne and Us was perched on the arm next to him (it read very, very couple-y, imo).

Also for Chinese NY, they visited 9 temples together as part of Buddhist practices (accompanied by Toey).

On Valentine's Day 2025, they released a tiktok where they danced together to "How Deep is Your Love"

Us brought Ta a cake at Ta's birthday event in February 2025 (and Ta gave him a special cupcake of his own).

One of the road trips they had taken was filmed for Tong's (former KP castmate) you tube channel and dropped in March 2025. There was a "hickey" discussion back when it was filmed because pics of Ta had some questionable marks. Ta said it was from "playing airsoft." (Sure, Jan)

March 1st, 2025: Ta's contract ended with BOC. Ta, Us, and Toey all confirmed they were under the same management, Bright Venture Artists.

Either in March or April 2025, TaUs did their first joint interview. It was poorly subbed, but we were able to glean that they considered themselves a pair (unclear in what capacity) and they had future upcoming plans. They also promised that they would have a Big Announcement ‘sometime soon’ but couldn’t even give hints.

Other things learned during this interview: since DFF, Us does Ta's make up. He doesn't have a make up artist. Also, they use Guu/Mueng pronouns for themselves/each other (both of which are considered vulgar and offensive unless you are extremely close).

After Songkran, things went quiet. Love is Like a Bike had released schedules for workshopping, costume fitting, script read throughs but according to social media, nothing seemed to be happening. Everything was suddenly very hush-hush for no apparent reason. 

TaUs attended the KP reunion (via Jeff) together

May 14th, 2025: the Bike BL IG makes a huge casting announcement. Nanon was no longer with the show and his character would now be played by Us.

And that is the timeline of how TaUs became a branded pair in the most ass backwards way possible (and the six months of insanity, frustration, and cage rattling that @blu-eyed-demon and myself suffered during that time period.)

Tagging by request: @respectthepetty @babyangelsky @italianpersonwithashippersheart @benkaben @callipigio @lukaherehelp

And if anyone wants to see the tik tok compilation that @blu-eyed-demon put together, it's here: https://youtu.be/H2HftdRaqdg?si=x4Y6ac5mWp0lUu6d

[ceiling-karasu]

I was discussing Korean shamanism with @agotia-t after they introduced Hanbam, and this encouraged me to finally draw my White-Naped Crane shaman OC, Chongsu (link to months old post here), as I said I eventually would. I have briefly included her in The Rod that Blocks the Lightning (here, about 2/3rds of the way through the chapter), as well.

She participates in the spiritual and medicine making practices of the mudang, while avoiding the performances of the kisaeng path.

Here is an example of one of her gutdang worship rooms, in which she would perform sacred ceremonies.

Generations past, a Joseon style caste system was kept in place with the help of the spiritual priest class, mudang shamans with a mixture of Confucianism and Buddhism, enjoying many luxuries and power in their caste high above most other species.

In the current day of the AU, generations after the former kings and caste systems were overthrown, the scars still remain (ex. Weasels thinking they are superior to smaller species and the squirrels needing to be reminded that they are allowed to join the soldier hedgehogs).

The White-Naped cranes spiritual practices, and preference towards the old caste system, have fallen out of favor with the general populace of Flower Hill. It is, however, very popular with the Weasels, who still hold that they are superior to the smaller animals. Many shaman leave Flower Hill to join the weasels to provide spiritual practices, something Flower Hill cannot stop due to migration permits.

Chongsu is based on a mudang shaman whose bloodline supposedly ties back the strongest to Sungmo, the mother of all shaman priestesses. Which makes her a sort of community elder despite her young age, as well as her constant mysterious illnesses.

She is a young crane, who lives in Flower Hill, too sickly to make the annual migration to Teikoku (Japan), like most of the White-Napes cranes. She and her followers assist in making medicine for the troops. Her biggest wish and command is for all species to get along with each other in harmony. What she does not realize, is that as the ‘supreme leader,’ this could possibly be misinterpreted as a command for her followers to reinstate the caste system, by any means possible, which could even mean teaming up with weasel, wolf, or tiger leaders, who also wish to return to the caste system and crush all underfoot.

In real life, white named cranes are unusual in that they primary live in the demilitarized zone of North Korea, but migrate to Japan. Shaman still exist in Korea to this day (participating in spiritual/healing leaders, fortune telling, and entertainment such as with the kisaeng), but are sometimes treated with suspicion, especially in North Korea, due to many of them, especially the kisaeng (who the Japanese troops found similar to geisha, apparently according to reports), siding with the Japanese during the invasions. As a result, the distrust and semi discrimination the Flower Hill commanders hold for Chongsu, is a hint that all is not absolutely perfect in Flower Hill.

[acid-ixx]

Sigh.. We all should've have chosen both wally and conner...i can't imagine the faces of batfam

how to be a heartbreaker! (again &. again concept)

ft. yandere! wally west, starfire, roy harper, artemis, conner kent, bart allen x gn! neglected! reader w/ platonic yandere! batfam.

— masterlist !

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

tw: age gaps but there isn't nsfw (except for conner) and the reader is described to be older than 20 in this concept and was far ignored longer than in the og story.

a/n: happy (late) halloween! 🎃 i'm praying to the gods, please don't let this post flop, i'm in my flop era fr! because i am not writing allat for it to get ignored 💔 (just kidding i love u guys, especially to all those who comment! i read all your comments even if i'm unable to reply at times). if you guys are wondering why i didn't include all the characters, it's because this is just a drabble and if anyone likes more concepts about this, please send in asks! anyways, enjoy this sweet harem au hehe.

anon, you are so right. but let me raise you this: getting together with all your siblings' teammates. i'm not just saying wally and conner, no! i'm saying the young justice, the teen titans, all their friends and old pals— the moment you come of age, hide under the radar for a few years and eventually meet them at random. you'd be giving dick, hell, even bruce, your father, mind you, a run for his money when it comes to a player reputation amongst the siblings, and the best part (or worst part for you once it's too late...) of it all is the fact that you don't even have to keep all your little relationships with them a secret when they never once bat an eye on you until recently.

the funny thing is: you didn't even have to try to attract them. it was all them approaching you at random days and getting to know you better, with you, at your lowest point, accepting any medium of attention. at first it was them feeling pity, perceptive to how your siblings chose to focus on them rather than you, but now it's them chasing after you because you're so interesting in every aspect; even if you find yourself average at best compared to your talented siblings.

maybe it's because you bring the normal out in them, or because you display such raw emotions and are an entirely separate being from vigilantism. either way, they find themselves thinking about you more often than their missions and that's harrowing.

and because you're such a pathetic, wet cat, so desperate for love; all the people you hit on develop a savior complex because of you. i don't just mean them finding you cute, or interesting, absolutely not. i mean you're constantly being thrown around like a prince or princess who needs a knight in shining armor to catch them when they fall, except you're constantly being carried in some other's arms even when you can stand on your own two feet.

you just have that special quality in you that makes everyone fall head over heels. it makes them fantasize scenarios of a home life with you; they could provide better than your current ones do, for sure. you'd be spoiled to death with kisses to your face, hands wrapped around your body, and a guarantee that you'll never feel alone or unsafe in a world full of danger that lurks around the corner.

that same quality may have also been your downfall.

wally west doesn't mind training all day to become stronger and faster to save you from every danger that lingers near your presence. hell, he doesn't complain anymore whenever dick assigns him some missions if that means he can pass by your room by the manor as an after-mission reward, loving it when you smile at him with the gentlest quip of your mouth as he hastily wraps you in his arms with the same amount of speed it took to run to your house. wally cherishes watching you in slow-time because he could worship every little part of his darling's expression, quelling the boredom he had for the entire day. he wants to be fast enough for his babe, not only just to impress them but because he wants them to see him as the only reliable individual capable enough of protecting and flirting with you. not everyone can measure up to his speed, no? nobody could keep up with this man's speed and he's known for taking you away whenever you're with someone else just to get a sliver of your time.

starfire's emotions become ablaze and so does her powers every time she notices one of your other sweethearts becoming too touchy with you, unable to comprehend why you're not even in a relationship with her yet. but you're too sweet and you bury yourself in her curly tresses to calm her down. at first that's enough! she doesn't understand the concept of physical affection and the boundaries that come with it as much as others but boy does she crave it when it comes to you. it doesn't help the fact that you're incapable of sometimes denying her affections and letting yourself be constantly kissed by the girl in every part of your face. she's very warm, though, and her curiosity about things foreign to her, paired with you teaching her more about your world, makes starfire adore her sweetheart's willingness and patience; it simply warrants another passionate kiss in the mouth from the pink-haired alien.

roy harper brings out a more rebellious side of you that you never imagine yourself sporting. his experiences in life and his rebellious relationship towards oliver queen, his adoptive father shapes him to who he is now; and he'd be damned if you drown yourself in endless misery like he did. yeah, it doesn't help that lian loves you as much as he does and he thinks you're the perfect match for him, watching you play with his little girl and care for him whenever he's injured does wonders for the fantasies that plays itself in his head, all scenarios of coming home to you after a hard day of work, just to see you and lian greet him the moment he enters your shared house with him, kissing him in the lips, telling him about the wonderfully prepared dinner you and lian whipped up for him, and watching your eyes widen at another bouquet of your favorite flowers he bought home for you. you're not in a relationship with him at all but can't a man just dream?

why dick wonders every damn time one of his friends ditch another one of their hangouts is a question never to be answered. but it's been noticeable these days that he's starting to suspect something wrong at play, especially since he's noticed tension within his comrades, and as a leader he couldn't just simply ignore the tense glares, insults to their being, and the hushed whispers; all pet names, a mantra they're used to calling you.

but dick doesn't take it seriously until it's too late.

that his baby bird long fell off the nest years ago, taken into the arms of whom he thought to be his most trusted comrades, thoroughly loved more than he could've given you. and it's not just one person smitten with you; it's an entire harem of people unwilling to share you just as much as dick who'd soon realize that he shares far more similarities with you; a heartbreaker, yet a caretaker at heart.

it's no wonder why everybody wants you for themselves. it's not only your family who loves to hear your precious laughs and gentle hands; that sets the jealousy ablaze in his heart.

jason never thought that artemis carried a softer version of her. but he's been picking up telltale signs of her donning dangling keychains, all cute doodles of her no doubt, and necklaces he's sure he's seen around the manor at times. it's not her typical style, and she never really found the appeal with cute things like crochet plushies of her; yet the designs are oddly reminiscent to someone he always called his angel. but whenever he tries to bring the topic up, he only receives a snarky reply, a protective hold on her things, and a familiar phrase telling him to mind his business. he isn't aware of how she met you one time after you've nearly been crushed to death by a car accelerating at you, if not for her taking the blunt end of the hit. ever since that day you've been seeing her regularly by alleyways watching over you as your guardian and giving her tokens of appreciation, albeit small, that she keeps as her prized properties; ones nobody has special access to touch. she's not much of a heckler for physical touch, but she occasionally gives you a head scratches and the rare peck to your lips.

jason doesn't like how jealous he is towards her, because of how the would-be stranger treats her and why he can't seem to pinpoint the primal urge to rip those little trinkets from her. sometimes he feels like a man possessed, eyeing the keychains and the random pastel bracelets longer, all warranting the same angered glare artemis reciprocates.

he swore he's seen them before, splayed across the random rooms in the manor, some even being in the library; things he loved to fiddle with whenever he was bored out of his mind. so seeing them being proudly displayed by artemis triggers visceral reactions within him.

but could jason do anything about it when he's part of the reason why your roster consists of your family's comrades? no.

if you couldn't get attention from your family, you'll just have to get it through their affiliations. yeah, some are older than you, but god are you treated like divinity with just how willing they are to kneel upon your feet just to gain a crumb of your attention. even the strongest lay weak whenever you look at them with disappointment or sadness with your wide, captivating eyes.

all the times tim drake would be with teammates, he'd notice how their eyes look at him expectantly, as if waiting for another one to accompany them. at first he ignores it, but the longer their strange behavior persists, he begins opening a case about his close friends.

he soon realizes that conner has a record of mentioning "his cute little darling," and how he'd brag to his other friends about how left his jacket and all his favorite t-shirts in your room and how you're always drowning in his scent— always quiping about just how much it smells like you and how he enjoys wearing all his clothes right after you wear them just to get a whiff of your presence in his life; you being his motivation to fight against crime just so he could see your pretty face and tell him you're proud of him. undeniably, he's the one who spends the longest time with you and he's prideful about it, being the only man with the privilege to touch every part of your skin, wishing to melt against you just so he'd be branded in your body like how your name is the only sweet thing he can taste in his mouth.

it's not only conner, but bart allen would bounce around more often demanding that it's unfair how conner gets everything and how he gets little time with you, with just how often you get thrown around by all your love interests! he'd admit just how cute he finds you whenever you coo about him and play with his messy locks of hair whenever it's his time of the week to visit you right after missions. spending time with him is arguably the most casual part of your life, because he loves to help you with your daily errands despite him complaining about the same tasks to his other teammates... he says it's because you stimulate every part of his brain to find satisfaction in every small action that you do, but it's not only that, rather, he wishes to gain all your praises that you sing for him, never finding boredom in your presence at all.

tim's the first one who pieces the jigsaw puzzle together, but he's thoroughly astounded either way at just how smitten they are with you. it makes him open an entirely different case that's just about you; where he discovers how you're connected with nearly everyone close to him and his siblings.

it makes him wonder what makes you all the more interesting. it's how exactly he spirals into a periodic cluster of events investigating your entire life and drowning himself in work, terabytes of files each analyzed carefully— all about you, your past, and present situation. tim drake never saw a person this admired that much, so much so that online stalking lead to physical stalking.

all your dm's are spammed by countless people, and you don't even take the initiative to reply because you'd be too busy being tossed around by the time the vigilante tracks your location. it's honestly amusing at first but the longer tim become a third perspective to your life, the more he craves your physical presence, just to get a taste of dissecting all the thoughts in your brain. but with just how often their friends fight over you, it'd be hard to rip you away from the clawing hands of all your admirers.

that's why he sets a plan into motion. if he couldn't have you to himself, then he could at least share you with the closest people he had in his life— not with all the strangers who think they know his younger sibling better than he does.

a simple document, many actually, so documents, were all he needed, with printed stacks of a4 paper compiling each and every known fact about you.

all in the name of love, he'd give it out to every member of the family in quick succession.

a hefty reminder to take back what once was theirs.

[thehauntedetheral]

YANDERE ASSASIN

Requests are open !

• You and your husband has been married for 2 years now. And you were happy with each other.

• You are an accountant for a company while your husband is an engineer.

• You were like any other normal couple working, eating dinner together, going out on weekends, doing the usual day to day stuff.

• But one thing you didn't knew was that well your husband is an fake engineer who pretends to be one.

• In reality he is a most sought after assasin who is hired to kill top level people.

• The "I have to go out for two days for a project darling" is nothing but a excuse he gives you to go and kill his target in another state.

• Have guns hidden in various places in your shared home for " safety purpose ".

• One time you found one of his gun and asked him why is it here? "Hehe well darling the crime rate is increasing day by day I bought it for us for our safety I even have a legal licence for the gun." (Yes a licence for being an assasin)

• This is the same man who melts into your arms, follows you around the house like a puppy, looks at you like you hung the moon and stars and also the same man who doesn't miss his target even from miles and shoots them mercilessly.

• Hits all the target in a shooting game giving you a huge stuffed teddy bear while saying "Beginner's luck, baby."

• Yan vowed in the beginning phase of his job that he would never get married due to his job risk but you entered his life, made him break his vow as he asked you to marry him after falling so desperately in love with you. How couldn't he? You are just so damn perfect.

• You mentioned in a conversation to him casually how a co worker creeped you out by his staring. Boom from next day the co-worker now always avoids you like plague. (Because some unknown assasin threatened his life if he ever came near you)

• He has never been guilty in his life for killing people or having it as job but becomes guilty in a millisecond when he sees you sad thinking how bad of a husband I am? And to make all the clarifications clear you were not sad due to him you were just having your usual period mood swings. Because no way in hell this man would ever make you sad. Before making you cry he would shoot himself with his own gun.

• You both were watching an assasin movie on a weekend and you said how good looking and skilled that assasin the movie character is.

Meanwhile Yan's Mind : Control your self yan no need to be jealous you are better than that freaking stupid looking loser assasin. y/n just doesn't know. Control.

• Yan at a Halloween night comes home after shooting his target with a little blood on his clothes wearing his assasin black clothes and a gun in hand knowing full well that you are at your friend's house. Only to be surprised that you are at home throwing him a suprise Halloween party with others. You looking at him with a confused look as he stands on doorstep shocked.

Yan : Suprise baby!!! I came up dressed up as an assain that you liked in that movie. I hope you like it. (Saying with an akward smile while telling himself to not be so reckless next time)

Meanwhile the people at party who know the true Yan : 🧍‍♂️

• Is so damn protective of you due to his work line that whenever he leaves for days makes sure your friend stays with you and making sure you are safe through all the hidden cameras spread all over the house.

• He loves you a lot. He might be a deadly assasin to the whole world but he is just a normal engineer madly in love with you who just wants to devour you whole so no one else can have you.

• Reader to their friends : My husband won't ever hurt a fly.

Meanwhile Yan listening to this conversation: 🧍‍♂️

• When he is off duty he just spoils you with his cooking and spending all his time with you cuddling watching shows and just talking.

• Prays to god that you never found out about his true job afraid that you would get scared and leave him.

For more yandere reading :

[ordinary-barbie]

heyy, i hope you're doing well! may i request billy hargrove x fem!reader, where she's this sweet & kind girly who loves bows, pink, mini skirts etc. then one day steve tries to flirt with her, unaware that she's dating billy, and he gets all jealous and protective of his girl. ends in smut with talk like "who do you belong to", maybe? only if you're comfy with that ofc, feel free to ignore! <3

aw, you're so sweet! thanks for the request <3

shock the monkey.

word count: 1.9k

tags: modern au, college au, established relationship, language, poor billy is insecure, jealous!billy, possessive!billy, cunnilingus, fingering, unprotected p in v sex (mention of reader on birth control), cowgirl, creampie, cockwarming, reader is briefly referred to as a slut but not in a negative way, a bit of nancy x steve at the end

summary: Billy reminds you who you belong to.

note: this was meant to be short but I got carried away lmao. also: title from a song by Peter Gabriel!

minors DNI - 18+ only!

Some things about life are just obvious. The sun rises in the day and sets at night. Every day of the week ends in "y." And the most obvious of all—you only had eyes for Billy Hargrove, and he only had eyes for you.

You and Billy had gotten together during your freshman year of college, though you'd known him since he moved to your town in high school, smelling like too much cologne and carrying a massive chip on his shoulder. It didn't take long for the girls at school to fall at Billy's feet, yet only one of them caught his eye—you, the sweet girl who sat next to him in English class and was entirely too nice to an asshole like him.

Billy didn't think a girl like you—all bows and miniskirts, soft smiles and sympathetic looks—would be into him at all, so he spent senior year bedding any girl who showed the slightest bit of interest. It was easier than actually being vulnerable with his feelings. And that was that, until you and Billy ended up at the same college, running into each other at a post-football game kickback at some frat house. The rest, as they say, was history.

Now you and Billy were joined at the hip, to the point where the whole school was chattering about you two. You were puzzled at the fascination with you and Billy's relationship—you thought that whole "It couple" thing was so high school. But Billy had fast become a well-liked guy on campus, in one of the top frats, so maybe this just came with the territory. It was like being a civilian dating a celebrity, though you knew Billy would scoff at that comparison.

Billy's frat was holding a costume party, despite Halloween being a month away, and you and he had progressed to the ultimate sign of coupledom—matching costumes. You and Billy were Barbie and Ken, your idea, of course. Billy was running late (he'd headed to the store for a new bottle of styling gel, and you knew how detailed his hair routine was), so you were passing the time by gabbing with some friends about the latest Greek life gossip.

You were about to refill your solo cup when the scent of Old Spice hit your nose. You looked up, finding yourself face-to-face with a guy sporting a mullet of dark brown hair and twinkling brown eyes. He was wearing a Top Gun jumpsuit and a pair of black shades perched on top of his head.

"Oh, hey there, Maverick," you teased. "Nice costume!"

The guy grinned at you. "Thanks! You make a pretty nice Barbie yourself. Big fan of the movie."

"Wasn't it so good?" you agreed, smiling. "Hey, what's your name? Don't think I've seen you around these parts before." You gave your name, offering up a small, friendly wave.

"I'm Steve," the guy said, running a hand through his hair. "Just transferred here this semester. I play club soccer, but my roommate dragged me to this party so I could, and I quote, 'mingle with people and shit.'"

You chuckled. "And are you enjoying the mingling so far?"

Steve looked at you fondly. "I certainly am now."

Meanwhile, Billy had returned, quickly throwing his costume on before teasing his hair with the styling gel. He bounded down the steps, ready to make out with his Barbie. Then he spotted you talking to some douche in a Top Gun costume who was clearly trying to make a move. Oh fuck no. He clenched his jaw, making his way over to you.

"Getting the party started without me, huh?" Billy asked casually, wrapping a protective arm around your waist as he stared daggers into Steve.

"Howdy there, cowboy. Glad you finally showed up," you said, smiling up at your boyfriend.

Steve cleared his throat, glancing nervously at Billy. "Uh, hey. I'm Steve. And is she your...girlfriend?"

Billy flashed Steve a tight-lipped smile. "Yeah, she is. So back away, Steven."

"Actually, it's just Steve—"

Billy waved a hand dismissively. "Don't care. Find someone else to flirt with, all right?"

"I'm so sorry about him," you apologized to Steve. "I hope you can still enjoy the party!"

Steve shrugged, seeming unbothered. "Nah, it's cool. Honest mistake. Nice meeting you!" He smiled shyly at you before disappearing into the crowd.

"Upstairs. Now," Billy muttered into your ear. He looked up at your friends, finally acknowledging there were other people in the room. "Hope you don't mind if I steal her for a few, ladies."

Nancy, your roommate, smirked knowingly at you and Billy. "Don't have too much fun up there, all right?"

Billy grinned lazily. "Can't make any promises, Wheeler."

You said your goodbyes to your friends and let Billy lead you into his bedroom, feeling nervous yet excited. You knew he couldn't have been pleased that you were talking to another guy, and you had a feeling a "punishment" was coming your way.

"Babe. Who the fuck was that guy down there, huh?" Billy murmured. "I thought everyone at this school knows that you're mine."

"Steve just transferred here this semester," you explained. "He seemed really nice! I was just trying to be friendly."

"Yeah? Well he was just trying to fuck you," Billy bluntly responded. "I saw the way he was looking at you. And I love how friendly you are, baby, I really do. I just wish other guys would learn to fuck off."

"Billy, I'm allowed to talk to other guys, you know," you said, raising an eyebrow at him. "And if Steve had tried to put any moves on me, I would've shut it down so fast. You know that."

Billy sighed. He knew he was acting insanely jealous. But he couldn't help it. You were perfect, and Billy was afraid that he would lose you. Especially to someone like Steve, who seemed exactly like the type of guy a sweet girl like you should be with.

You looped your arms around Billy's neck, looking at him like he hung the moon in the sky. "Billy Hargrove, I only want you, okay? Don't you ever forget that," you insisted.

Billy's cheeks turned red. Even after a year, he was still getting used to the utter affection you showed. You picked him. You wanted him.

His heart swelled with affection, but a more primal part of him needed to stake his claim. "I love you, baby, but I gotta remind you who you belong to," Billy drawled, undressing you with his eyes.

You didn't have to be told twice. You quickly wriggled out of your costume, and Billy did the same, pinning you to the mattress as he kissed you deeply.

Billy put your legs on top of his shoulders as he ate you out, slurping you up greedily while you writhed with pleasure. "This pussy is mine," he mumbled, sucking at your clit. "You think Steven could eat you out like this?"

"N-No," you hiccuped, feeling a low heat swirling in your stomach.

"Nobody will ever know your body like I do, baby," Billy said, plunging two fingers into you and stroking your clit. His possessiveness was incredibly arousing, and you felt your orgasm rip out of you as fast as lightning.

Usually, Billy loved to tease you, loved to drag out the foreplay until you were begging for him. But he was too impatient tonight. Billy plunged into you, and you let out the prettiest moan as you dug your nails into his back. He secretly hoped Steve heard that.

Billy grunted as he pumped in and out of you, his hands roaming your body. No part went untouched—not your hips, your thighs, or those beautiful tits.

"You're mine," Billy stated, rubbing quick circles against your clit and eliciting another orgasm from you. "All right? 'm not gonna let anyone else think they even have a chance. They can't fuck you like I can."

"'m yours," you muttered breathlessly. "I love you. Only want your dick, Billy."

Billy smirked, shifted your positions so you could ride his dick. He picked up the cowboy hat you'd discarded on the floor and placed it on your head.

"Really?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Just indulge me, princess," Billy replied, his voice slow and smooth like honey.

Billy grabbed your hips as you began to ride him, groaning at the feeling of your warm pussy clenching around his length. He stared into your eyes, your pupils blown out with lust. You were sweet as pie, but when the two of you started sleeping together, you and Billy discovered how much of a horny slut you could be. Billy loved that there was this completely different side to you that only he got to see.

"Squeezing me so good, baby. I dunno how much longer I can last," Billy warned, relishing the feeling of your cunt pulsing around him. He couldn't be more grateful that you'd decided to go on the pill recently—he didn't think he could stop himself from coming inside your tight, wet pussy.

"Just come for me one more time first," Billy pleaded, brushing against your spongy walls with his tip. "Need to feel that warm cunt around me again."

You cried out Billy's name, creaming all over his cock. Billy followed close behind, filling you up with hot, sticky cum.

The two of you stayed like that for a while, Billy's cock nestled inside of you as it softened. "Sorry for getting so jealous," Billy mumbled into your shoulder.

You smiled. "You didn't punch anybody, so it's all good," you joked. "It was honestly kinda hot. Love seeing how much you care for me."

Billy chuckled, kissing your neck. "Just don't get too friendly with him, all right?"

"Billy, I have your cum inside of me and I'm letting you cockwarm. I don't think you have anything to worry about," you quipped.

He knew that, but a little validation never hurt. "I'm obsessed with you," Billy murmured, gripping you like a koala. "You're stuck with me."

You smiled, relaxing into your boyfriend's embrace. "There's nowhere else I'd rather be."

bonus:

You and Billy were giddy as you made it back to your apartment. He'd aced a midterm he was stressed about, and you had taken him out to eat to celebrate. Nancy had told you she was going out, and you were looking forward to having the apartment to yourself, wanting to do nothing but make out and cuddle with Billy.

You hung up your coat and headed to your room to change, stopping in your tracks when you saw something out of the corner of your eye.

Nancy's door was open, and she was currently straddling a guy. But not just any guy—Steve.

"Oh my God," Nancy muttered, she and Steve looking mortified at being caught.

You let out a giggle. "Sorry, lovebirds. Didn't mean to disturb you!"

"Hey there," Steve greeted you weakly.

"Don't get her pregnant, all right?" you teasingly warned Steve. You cackled as his face turned bright red.

Nancy looked like she wanted to disappear. You decided to stop teasing your friend and closed her door, instantly running to Billy to gossip.

"Billy. I just saw Nancy and Steve hooking up," you whispered conspiratorially. "It's about time, honestly."

Billy snorted. "Good for Harrington. I was getting sick of hearing about his little crush."

You grinned. "I still can't believe you and Steve are actually friends now. It's so cute."

Billy rolled his eyes. "Yeah, whatever. I guess he's all right," he murmured, though you saw the corners of his mouth tick up.

You hummed knowingly, leaning your head on Billy's shoulder. You didn't have any more words at the moment—you were just filled with adoration for everyone in this little apartment of yours.

[apoptoses]

Forget blenders and the cuck chair, here's a bunch of other things Armand did with Daniel in QotD that we don't think about enough:

Mounted giant telescopes on the roof of the apartment building they lived in and then moved out a few days later only to do it all again in a new place

Did the same thing but filling the apartment with computers and video game machines

Went to boxing matches

Collected specimens and microscopes and went to biology classes

Hung out on the stoop like normal new yorkers except at like three o clock in the morning

Went out with video cameras and interviewed randos on the streets

Watched videos of Armand reciting latin poetry into a camera for hours

Watched videos of Armand's hair growing in his coffin until Daniel got the heebie jeebies

Took planes to random places all night just for the sake of flying for hours on end

Shaved Daniel 'as lovingly as an old fashioned barber'

Bathed Daniel and then re-dressed him in dirty clothes, because who needs clean laundry when Baryshnikov is gonna be on stage in twenty minutes

Went treasure hunting in the Caribbean and found entire shipwrecks

Bought a random piece of property in South America and found an emerald mine

Bought yachts, speedboats, and not just one but four private jets

'Supervised' the measurements for Daniel's custom clothes and his shoes

Bought Daniel sports coats, robes, silk scarves, mink lined raincoats, jeweled cuff links, and a black suede cloak (which probably didn't help with Daniel's demands to be an actual vampire and not just cosplay as one)

Picked not only the fabric for Daniel's clothes at a the tailor but also picked what he'd wear every night once the clothes were ready, and then had fits if Daniel wore different socks that didn't go with the outfit

(said socks being silk socks, which fall apart after minimal wear, and which Armand could afford a hundred pairs of anyways)

Went out on a speedboat and stole the boats, guns, and money off drug dealers

Stole multiple Maseratis, apparently

'Recovered' lost works of the old masters aka went into some guy's house like it's Ocean's 11, drained his blood, and then took his art collection so Daniel could flip it at Sotheby's

Bought cruise ships

Bought entire restaurant chains

Bought entire hotel chains

Hacked through the jungle and visited Mayan ruins

Somehow took Daniel up to the peak of Annapurna, which is more dangerous to climb than Mt. Everest

Visited not just places in Europe and the US but also Tokyo, Bangkok, Cairo, Damascus, Lima, Rio, and Kathmandu just to name a few

Changed out of the white suit he picked Daniel up in in Chicago and into a black one on the plane just for the drama of it

Turned Daniel on the bed of one of those four private jets, where he almost certainly evacuated all of his mortal fluids and probably left a cleaning crew very confused and concerned

Brought Daniel a whacked out orphan half asleep in an armchair to feed on for his first kill because Daniel was tripping too hard on his new vampire vision to function

Made Daniel wear matching couple's costumes to the Halloween concert all his exes would be at, and where Daniel followed him around hanging onto his belt loops

Sheltered Daniel and Louis with his body when Akasha tried to blow shit up

Swapped out the paintings in Night Island every night while Daniel grilled Khayman about the ancient world

...probably a million other things which didn't make it into the book because Lestat's publishers didn't give him enough pages to montage all this shit (but that you can explore in fic anyways because the world is your oyster and nothing is too outrageous for the two of them ♥)

[star-suh]

Spider-Mark

Mark Lee x Male Reader

cw: superhero top mark, sex under pheromones effects, sort of enemies to secret lovers maybe?, ripped clothes, tongue sucking, mark cums a lot, fingering, 69, belly bulge, choking, bareback, implied marathon sex, auralism, bit of feminization (just one phrase), an impregnation joke, creaming idk i made that up, cum as lube.

an: this could get nasty at the end for some idk, also there would be parts in where i would refer to mark with his name but remember that yn never found out his true identity.

HAPPY HALLOWEEN EVERYONE 🎃

in a world full of humans with superpowers it’s natural that some villains arise and in consequence some heroes are needed. out of everyone one of them was the most beloved, the cute and friendly spider-man. a young masked superhero with a red and blue suit adorned with spider and web motifs, he was so damn good at his job that some people couldn’t help but fall in love with him. this is the case of yn, a smart college student who got kinda obsessed with the hero. “isn’t he so good?” he tells his friends while looking at a picture he took of the aforementioned hero with his phone, he was infatuated by him. “yeah he’s so cool” a voice suddenly speaks with a small laugh at the end of the sentence. “shut up mark, you’re annoying” yn blurted out. the relationship between yn and mark was complicated, they didn’t start on good terms like they were always pit against each other because they were the clever ones in the classroom, something that gradually became a pain in the ass for both guys. “what? isn’t that what you wanna hear about your beloved spidey?” mark mocks causing yn to storm out of them to avoid more conflicts.

unbeknownst to yn he just talked with the man of his dreams, the man behind the web-decorated mask. since he was bit by a mysterious spider, mark gained abilities based on this arachnid, one of the things he liked the most was justice, so why not use his newly found powers to help other people?.

one night, yn was walking home alone, the roads were almost empty. then suddenly some masked guy showed up pointing a gun at yn, “give me everything you have” he yells. yn shakes in fear “HELP!!” he shouts “SOMEBODY HELP!!”, he cocked his gun and aimed at yn’s head when it suddenly flew through the air, landing in an known hand, “got you” he speaks through the mask and shoots some spider-webs towards the robber who got trapped against a wall, being taken by the police minutes later. spider-man took the young man into his arms and carried him towards his house, balancing in between skyscrapers with the help of his webs. it was like a dream that came true for yn, god he was so happy being carried by those strong arms, he could almost cry…

a friendship grows in between the two, obviously with his identity still hidden from yn, he doesn’t want to ruin his new friend’s dream, like what would yn think if he found out his favorite superhero is his rival. days and nights passed with them sitting on a rooftop eating while contemplating the full moon, “isn’t it pretty?” spider-man mutters, his hand resting mere centimeters away from yn’s, “it is” yn says happily, his eyes almost sparkling as if he was in an anime. something in the air shifted suddenly, an intoxicating smell invaded the area, yn started to sweat and his cheeks got flushed. the same happened to mark but of course the mask hides it, his suit starts to stick to his body thanks to the immense sweat. then realization hit him, he started to feel so comfortable that he started to secrete pheromones, one of the side effects of the bite, and they were affecting them both. mark tried to go away but an already hypnotized yn grabs him by the wrist “don’t go please”, mark looked at his pretty sweaty face, ‘he’s begging to be fucked’, mark thought but then shook his head try to erase that thought. “i-i have to go.. sorry” he tried to break away from yn’s grab but to no avail, where did that strength come from?. mark slipped and fell to the floor sitting while yn crawled his way onto him, “spider-man is itching” yn says while shaking his ass, he was completely gone, devoured by the pheromones effect. “y-yn i.. i don’t know” his bulge started to grow, the part of the suit on his crotch swelling due to he getting excited, “damn i should've learned how to control this shit” and with just a swing he grabs yn and carries him on his shoulder while looking for a place to satiate that lust. “take me to my bedroom” yn mentions, indicating to the hero where it was ubicated.

the two arrived and mark opened the window, entering the bedroom quietly, yn tried to discard mark’s mask but he didn’t allow it, he just pulled it up to his nose level, his mouth now free to litter kisses and hickeys in yn. they shared a kiss, mark’s tongue exploring inside yn’s mouth, their tongues intertwined, there would be times in which mark sticks out his tongue for yn to suck on it and vice versa, threads of saliva sticking to their chins, looking like a spider-web. “this is the messiest kiss i’ve ever had” mark confesses, “mine too, i don’t know what’s happening to me” yn replies, “but i need you right now” he adds.

the desperation for each other was so unbearable that mark wanting to not waste more time, ripped the crotch area of his suit, his dick springing free already leaking with precum, “fuck it’s so big” yn panted after seeing it, “is this all for me?” he asks, pouting. “only if you can take it all” the needy hero announced. mark also ripped yn’s pants, the fabric tore right above his hole, “jockstraps hmm?.. sexy” he murmurs.

mark grinds his wet tip on yn’s hole, soaking with precum, “look at how wet i am for you”. then he put his fingers right above his dick to put some pressure on it and started to thrust, going up and down in between yn’s bum. yn throws back his head, the friction creating heat right above his hole that started pulsating, wanting to feel that heat inside of it, he looks at mark with pouty eyes, he wants more, no, he needs more. mark caressed his cheek, his face getting closer towards yn’s, “want me to fuck you pretty boy?” he sexily whispers, his voice resonating throughout yn’s whole body making him tremble, how can such a cute hero be so smoking hot and sexy. yn nods desperately, “please fuck me, use me, just put it inside now”.

mark prepared yn’s hole to take his dick, first he grabbed yn by hugging his hips and pulled him up so his ass could be at the same level of his face and yn’s face would be in front of his hanging dick basically doing a 69 but instead of doing it the normal way they’re doing it standing up, or in this case, on their knees. yn swallowed mark’s dick while the latter starts to finger him, his fingers soaked in his saliva, mark would sometimes eat yn’s ass, burying his face on his hole and then continuing the stretching with his digits, even putting all 4 of them at once loving how when he pulls them out yn’s hole clenches onto nothing but air. meanwhile down there yn keeps on sucking the other’s shaft, occasionally the hero would do some slow paced thrust causing his balls to slap against yn’s face, they were heavy and it seems that they were full of cum also, yn cannot wait anymore to have all that spooge inside him.

mark folded yn and introduced his throbbing shaft first slowly but then accelerating the pace right away, “fuck! milk this hero cock” mark grunts, the muscles and the veins on his arms bulging because of how hard he was gripping the mattress as a way to stabilize himself. at this point mark’s whole suit was damaged, the initial rip slowly grew until what was his pants were now just pieces of clothes hanging on his forelegs, leaving his bottom half naked. his big ass recoils everytime he plows yn and thanks to the excessive precum he produces wet, gushy sounds that originated from the other’s hungry hole, “noisy pussy” mark laughs proceeding to kiss yn. they both got carried away by the pleasure, yn now in doggy style was being choked by mark’s hands, they were placed in his neck so he can go even deeper, “sooo deep…” yn’s tongue was out and drool dripping out of his face. mark’s heavy balls slammed against the other, the night being a witness of their wild sex.

“i’m gonna cum” mark groans, his voice hoarse due to how much he already said that phrase to yn. it was already morning and god knows how many times mark has already came inside yn, he attributes this new ‘ability’ to cum buckets to the bite, “that bite brought good things with it after all” the lustful man exclaimed. one can notice that he indeed cums a lot because there was a tiny bump forming on yn’s tummy, “i can’t anymore spider-man” he uttered, his fucked up face and body drenched in sweat, marks and his own cum. “look at this i knocked you up” the hero jokes pressing against it, then an idea popped up on his mind, he made yn seat on top of him with his still rock hard shaft right above yn’s used entrance, “do this for me and push it all out” mark bits gently yn’s ear who complies and started to do what he was told, slowly he starts to squirt all the cum inside him that landed on mark’s pink tip and slid all the way down his shaft then to his balls and finally dripped onto the floor. “damn i really came a lot” his perfect smile and sexy low laugh sending shivers to yn all the way down his pulsating hole. when he finally squirted all the cum, mark slicked his dick with it using his hand and put it inside yn, “sorry, i’m horny again”, let’s say yn spend the whole day and night moaning and babbling nonsense.

the next day, all the people were asking what happened to spider-man that he didn’t appear yesterday the whole day at all, luckily there weren't any villains near the city. yn went to his classes when one of his friends asked why he didn’t came yesterday to study, “i was very sick but i’m okay now” what’s the only thing they heard from him. he was walking towards his next class when accidentally bumped into mark, who embarrassed of what he did yesterday just muttered a little sorry and resumed with his walking, everyone was surprised because usually this would end up with them both throwing tantrums at each other, “woah that was weird” one of the friends uttered, “yeah” yn narrowed his eyes while looking at mark, he saw something on mark’s neck, is it a hickey? why does it look like one of the hickeys he gave to the lustful hero yesterday? “nevermind” he shook his head and entered the classroom.

a flashback popped into mark's mind, last night he was ready to leave but his suit was completely ripped into pieces so yn lent him some clothes, “can i see who’s behind the mask?” he asked while caressing the other’s cheeks and lips, “not now” he said after waving a goodbye and leaving.

yn comes home just to see the clothes he lent to spider-man clean and folded on his bed with a note that says “see you soon”, butterflies flew on yn’s stomach who cheered and danced in happiness.

[hotheadedhero]

Daft Pretty Boys

AN: I was going to try and get something Halloween-like out but it's been busy lately. Have some fluffy angst with Raph, instead :D

Raphael x Reader

Warning: kinda angsty, soft-hearted Raph ahead :)

When you blessed the turtles with your bright presence and inevitably befriended them, Raphael didn’t realise just how much of an emotional rollercoaster it would be. As a person, you are amazing. You always make a point to engage with him and his brothers, even for the small things. Other than April, they’ve never felt more welcomed by human company before. The thing is, if he were to put one fault on you, it’s your taste in men. 

You fall fast and hard, and it’s not because of their looks. It’s the ones who have this idea that they know they look good: the confidence they exude, sharp-witted flattery on the end of a hook that you can’t help biting into. You get caught, pulled in, they have their fun, and then you’re chucked back into sea awaiting the next juicy-looking cast of bait. One would think you’d be smart enough to not fall for the same routine tricks over and over again but here we are.

Each time you say, “He’s really sweet,” followed by a “This one is different,” but he never is. You’re always taking that chance, betting on the next guy being Mr Right, only for it to end in heartbreak, and every time Raph’s at your aid when you come crying to him. That isn’t said with any malice for you. He will always be there to pick up the pieces. Maybe broken pieces of these stupid shmucks if he just had five minutes alone with them.

You grasp so desperately to hope. Raph would commend you for your optimistic persistence if it didn’t break him to see you in tears. There’s only so much one heart can take. He doesn’t want you to become some calloused husk of your sweet self, too afraid to take another chance. He doesn’t want you to end up like him. Raphael knows he’s unloveable. Regardless of his appearance, he has a temper - one that he keeps as far away from you as he possibly can. His feelings for you never seem to pass despite how much he tries but he isn’t meant for love. That isn’t how this world works. You, on the other hand, should be cherished and he’ll beat the next sorry sucker who does any less than that.

How? How can someone be so foolish to drop you like these men have? He doesn’t get it. Were it him, he’d spend every waking moment appreciating you, letting it be known just how precious you are and how lucky he is to be the one to call you his. But he isn’t. The same daydream can play as many times as it likes, it’s never going to go in that direction. He needs to keep reminding himself of that.

You just deserve so much more than the cards you keep getting dealt. You’ve probably got to be the sweetest person he’s ever had the luxury of meeting. A little bubble-brained at times but that’s in part what makes you so cute. It’s also why you end up in and out of these short-lived relationships, he reckons. Much like now, for instance. It’s almost routine, weirdly systematic in a way, how you waddle into the lair glassy-eyed and red-faced wearing that grey sweater - the one he calls your breakup sweater - that’s two sizes too big for you. So much for the macho man with the green eyes. Making it to one month is a record, so there’s that at least.

Raphael doesn’t say anything, just holds a hand out whilst the other cradles the back of his neck. By now, he’s learnt that there’s nothing he can say. It’s better to wait on you until you manage to find your words. You slowly trudge towards him and smack your forehead into his chest. All he can do is stand there and stare at the top of your head whilst he battles the urge to pick you up and take you away from all this frivolous bullshit. His arm falls to his side as he watches you, and you just about say what he would expect you to.

“I really thought this one would be different,” you whimper quietly and the hiccup in your throat makes his chest burn. “He seemed so genuine.”

Raphael’s heart clenches. He wants to scream that he’s the one who’s genuine, that he’s the one who’s been here through every heartbreak, every tear. But instead, he swallows his words, feeling the weight of his own unspoken feelings pressing down on his chest.

He pats the top of your head, almost awkwardly, and sighs, “I know.”

A pained laugh muffles against his chest. “I’m the problem, aren’t I?” you ask rhetorically, playing it off as some joke at your own expense but it only angers him further.

“It’s not you,” Raph replies, a hint of a growl edging into his tone. “They’re the ones who don’t know what they’re missin’.”

“But there’s a common denominator here. It feels like it’s me.” You pull back slightly, just enough to meet his gaze. “Like, maybe if I was just different-”

“Stop right there,” he interjects, his brow furrowing. “You are not the problem. They are. Trust me on that.”

You always say the wrong things about yourself: the things he thinks about himself on a daily; if he was different. You are such an honest person and yet you lie so frequently when you talk about yourself. A nasty bi-product of those worthless scumbags treating you the way they do. You want to believe him on his word but you also can’t ignore the facts. It’s always the same song and dance. You stupidly cling to hope, searching for the silver lining that never seems to come, and end up in this sad mess of a person.

Raphael watches as you pull away, the warmth of his body replaced by the chill of reality. It’s painful to see you so vulnerable, so exposed. He wishes he could shake you out of this cycle, snap his fingers and make you see what’s right in front of you. But he can’t. All he can do is stand there, the silent sentinel, while you cry into the fabric of your sweater. The moment lingers, heavy and full of unsaid words. He wants to tell you that you deserve better, that you should never settle for the likes of those clowns who don’t recognize your worth. Yet, the words stick in his throat, tangled with his own fear of inadequacy.

He clears his throat, trying to break the tension. “Tell you what, let’s grab a couple sodas and a slice. Sit up top for a bit, yeah?”

You pull back slightly, wiping your eyes. “I don’t know if I can eat right now, Raph.”

“Doesn’t matter. You need to get outta this gloom. Plus, I’m starving,” he responds with a half-hearted attempt at humor, but the grin doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

Finally, you yield. Begrudgingly, he might add, but food and the fresh night air is what you need right now, especially seeing as you’ve been cooped up in your apartment all day crying. He takes whatever pizza he had leftover - it’s only lasted because Mikey has luckily been out - along with a couple cans and leads you through the sewers. Whilst he’s essentially forcing you outside, he goes at your pace, never pushing you beyond that. Sure, it takes longer than it should but you get to a nice rooftop eventually, and before you know it, he’s already got you venting with a slice in your hand.

“And then he pulls out the classic ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ shtick,” you say and Raph follows with a quiet “Of course, he does,” before you continue, “and I swear, I could’ve just slapped him.”

“You should have.”

You hum shortly against a bite of pizza and shrug. “Ah, the moment’s long gone, anyway.”

The two of you glance at each other with a small laugh before returning to the view ahead. This feels better. Much better. Once again, your knight in shell-y armour has helped you bounce back from your foreboding. If you had it your way earlier, you would have loved nothing more than to curl up on the couch and watch some bad reality TV to cheer you up. Not where Raph is concerned. He’s soft-natured when you need that shoulder to cry on but knows when to crack out a bit of that tough love, too. You’re always thankful for that - him - and you hope he knows just how much of a difference he makes.

"Hey.” He nudges you with his elbow and you look up, noting the light smirk on his face, though the seriousness behind his eyes isn’t something to be ignored. “Next asshole that breaks your heart, you just point me in the right direction.”

"And be an active participant in murder? Not a chance," you laugh and playfully swat him, earning a low chortle. You think you know what he’s getting at and it’s sweet in weird kind of way. With a perma-smile now glued to your face, you rest your head on his arm and speak more gently, "Thanks, though."

He glances down at you and tempts the idea of stroking a hand over your head. His fingers clasp into a fist and he looks ahead again, taking a gentle breath before responding quietly, "Yeah... don't mention it."

[artstennisracket]

Gamer!Patrick

who… you started dating in college. you guys met in your second year finance class after working on a project together. you thought he was cute but a little egotistical, always answering teacher questions without raising his hand. always contributing to class discussions aka saying his opinion louder than everyone else

who… always wears sweatpants or board shorts to class. no in between. always paired with his nike killshot’s, a watch his father bought him, and soft sprays of his expensive tom ford cologne. he clearly doesn’t care what people think of him. he’s also stupidly charismatic. all the business professors love him.

who… always insists on hanging out at your dorm instead of his off campus apartment. you never knew why until one day he finally gave in. his place was nice. expensive. he said his parents paid for the rent. it was a two bedroom apartment that he shared with his best friend Art but he was rarely home. but Patrick’s room was a disaster. dirty clothes everywhere, half eaten cups of ramen, half drunk water bottles, and suspicious socks strewn all over that made your stomach turn at the thought of what they were probably used for.

who… essentially ignores you everytime he’s on the game. his pc would be the only source of light in his room most nights. even if you spent the night, hoping he’d join you to sleep, most times he wouldn’t until an ungodly hour. staying up until 4/5am screaming at his teammates through his headphones, you’re surprised you can even sleep.

who… jerks off to porn videos of his favorite video game characters. he would never tell you, but one day when you’re over at his place, making cereal in the kitchen (because there’s no real food there), Art outs him. he busts out laughing saying “oh you didn’t know? yeah you should ask him about that.” you’re not even sure how Art knows this information.

who… denies the accusation stating that “why the fuck would I do that? that’s fucking gross.” only for you to catch him jerking off at 4am to overwatch porn. t-shirt pulled up, hand shoved down his boxers, abs flexing, eyes locked onto his phone screen. he doesn’t even notice that you woke up until you inch closer to him and spot the visuals on his phone. he drops his t-shirt from where it was between his teeth, “it’s not—whatever. fuck you,” he groans, hand picking up its pace. so you pull his hair (for being a brat), kiss his neck, and whisper dirty things into his ear while keeps watching his phone, making him finish in record time.

who… loves when you sit under his desk to blow him while he’s playing. trying really hard to concentrate and play well but it’s hard. the obscene squelching noises everytime he hits the back of your throat, the drool falling from the sides of your mouth, your other hand toying with his balls at the same time. he has to mute his mic when his friends keep asking him why he’s breathing so hard. he calls you a slut for trying to get his attention this way, “such a fucking slut. only way you know how to get my attention huh? want all my friends to hear me? so they know how much of a whore you are for my cock?”

who… hates loves playing video games with you. he has to teach you a lot, and you keep forgetting which buttons do what. it’s cute at first when you guys are playing co-op games like It Takes Two, but eventually after you try to make an ‘easy’ jump 5 times (dying everytime) he grabs the controller from you and does it for you, “Jesus fuck, it’s not that hard.” playing fortnite is a hit or miss because sometimes it’s fun but eventually it becomes stressful since Patrick is carrying you, making all the kills but also trying to watch your back while you’re doing the Taste dance emote in your Sabrina Carpenter skin.

who… can’t function when he sees your halloween costume. you dressed up as Kitana from mortal kombat (with the help of Art since you wanted to surprise Patrick). back to back frat parties on frat row. you keep getting wolf whistled at as you guys walk from house to house. Patrick keeps at least one point of contact the entire night, he can’t keep his hands to himself. a hand on your waist, around your shoulder, on your thigh, on your ass. and his favorite obviously being when you dance on him. he makes sure neither of you drink too much that night so he can fuck you stupid when you guys get back to his apartment. he already texted Art earlier to fuck off unless he wanted to hear you getting wrecked. it’s sloppy and rough and of course you keep your costume on. he pulls out his phone to record while you guys are in doggy.

who… actually is really sweet. he builds you guys a house in minecraft (with cherry blossom wood as you requested). will always put himself in harm’s way when you guys go mining. so he takes the lead and if there’s a creeper or a zombie he takes care of it. goes on crazy stupid long adventures with you just so you can find an ocelot, “this is fucking stupid, jungles are rare biomes it’s gonna take us forever to find one.”

who… thinks you may actually be the first girl he’s ever fallen in love with. the first girl to see all of him and still accept him for who he is. the first girl who never tried to change him. the first girl to enjoy just sitting in his presence, even if he’s on the game. but he’d never tell you any of that. not unless you said it first anyway.

taglist: @tacobacoyeet @newrochellechallenger2019 @antxnxlla @hanneh69 @urmomsucksfrogs @ctrl-mari @cha11engers @jesuistrestriste

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[remlionheart]

Anonymous asked:

PLZZZZ i beg you smoking sesh w megumi

♡‧₊˚ ask and you shall receive ✩࿐࿔ it's been a while since i've done a meg drabble and out of all of the different drugs we've explored on this page, this just made me realize that i've never written about weed lol so thank u for the suggestion this was really fun to write <333 home from college au. heavy we-shouldn't-be-doing-this trope. aged up characters. fem!reader x ((the peoples’ husband)), *⟡toxic!megumi*⟡ 3.2k words. porn with a plot. angst. degradation and praise. stoned sex. lemme know whatcha think, luv u ‎‎♡‧₊˚

❀ MDNI ❀

keep me h i g h ₊⊹

now playing: wet dreams ☾₊˚

⊹₊ ⋆✿

It'd been four months since the last time you'd seen Megumi.

Between college and the city lines that separated you, the two of you had cut almost every tie that once kept you connected. It was strange to think about sometimes - how quickly you'd gone from being the person he spent almost every weekend with to being nothing more than a fly on the wall of his social media, occasionally liking his posts but never getting anything back in return.

You tried to remind yourself that it shouldn't have been a surprise. Your relationship with him had never been easy. All throughout high-school you'd fallen into the same pattern of push and pull with him, his feelings everchanging and impossible to keep up with.

He'd kiss you in private and ignore you in public. Tell you that you were just friends and sneak through your window on the nights he didn't want to be alone. Run his hand along your back until you had fallen asleep and leave without so much as a "goodbye".

As painful as it was, a part of you had almost been relieved when things finally ended. No more pushing, no more pulling - just you and the new town you'd moved to. You and the new friends you'd made. You and your new fresh start. You still wanted the best for him despite everything, but you also wanted the best for yourself too. And deep down, you knew that didn't involve drunken hook-ups and empty words.

You hummed as you stepped out of the shower, the smell of coconut shampoo and lavender body wash dancing around you. It was unexpectedly comforting to be back home, even if it was only for a few days. Your roommates had tried to talk you out of coming back to Tokyo for fall break, but you knew you couldn't do that to your parents. You were certain there would be another time for going out and Halloween house parties.

Your room was still exactly the same as you'd left it - a mess of purple blankets on your bed and off white string-lights decorating the walls. Clothes that you'd left behind still hanging in your closet along with a stack of old journals. Tarot cards and candles and framed pictures of you and your friends sitting atop your dresser. It was nice to know that it still felt like your safe haven despite months of not seeing it.

You continued humming the same song that you'd started in the shower as you slipped on a baby-blue tank top, pairing it with your favorite silk pajama shorts. You lit a couple of candles and cracked the window open, letting crisp October air swirl through your room before turning off the overhead light and crawling into bed.

A cozy sense of nostalgia crept over you as you nestled into your bed and pulled out your phone.

Just like when you lived here, you were the only one still up after a movie had put both of your parents to sleep. You were mid-scroll, debating on what Youtube rabbit hole you wanted to go down for the night when a text popped up that immediately put you in an upright position again.

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You called him as soon as his last text came through, but he sent you straight to voicemail. "fushiguro," you texted frantically, "seriously", "you can't do this".

You were out of bed and on your feet before you even knew what you were doing, rushing to lock your door as you quickly realized that there was no such thing as reasoning with him.

Your life had changed in an assortment of ways since you'd left and judging by the way he texted you, he had to know that too. The last picture you posted before coming back was of you and a boy that you'd been seeing for the last month. It was mostly casual, neither one of you quite ready to put a label on what you were doing, but it still made your stomach flutter thinking about seeing Megumi when you were actively sleeping with someone else.

You dialed his number again, only to immediately hang up. Your heart suddenly lodged in your throat when you noticed that you could hear the call ringing from both inside and outside of your room.

You watched his slender fingers loop under the base of your already cracked window, stealthily pushing it up like he'd done so many times before. A sea of memories flooded over you as he pulled himself up, swiftly swooping both of his legs into your room before projecting the rest of his body forward and landing perfectly in place, hardly make a sound.

The low glow of your string-lights grazed his face, the prettiest shade of blue meeting your stare while the two of you took a moment to study the person in front of you.

"Your parents really need to invest in a better security system."

You hated the laugh that escaped you. The slight smirk that pulled at the corner of his mouth. The way your blood still danced in your veins at just the sight of him.

So much had changed in the last four months and yet, here you both were.

"Surely you didn't come all the way over here just to critique our home safety." You whispered.

"Seems like someone should." He countered, following behind you as you took a seat on the side of the bed.

He fished a joint and a lighter out of the front pocket of his jacket before tossing it onto the floor, leaving him in a black v-neck that accentuated his arms. He'd always been toned, but it was obvious that he'd been training a lot harder since you left - his shoulders and chest noticeably more defined than the last time you'd seen him. You'd never say it aloud given their relationship, but the older he got the more and more he seemed to resemble his dad.

"Bring your fan over here." He said, breaking your train of thought.

You nodded, staying light on your feet as you brought it over and aimed it at the window before reaching into the back of your dresser to grab an ashtray that you'd had stashed away since sophomore year. It was like no time had passed at all as you took a seat next to him again, setting the ashtray on your nightstand while he twirled the joint between his fingers.

You weren't sure why, but there was something about the way he brought it to his lips and flicked his lighter that created a dull ache at your center. Everything about him was so pretty and so nonchalant, effortlessly detached and infuriatingly nice to look at.

"Does your new boyfriend smoke?"

Your eyes instantly snapped to his, watching a plume of smoke trail felicitously from his mouth as he looked back at you. "Doesn't really look like the type who would." He added with a slight raise of his brow.

You didn't like anything about the question - from that fact that he had the audacity to ask it to his lethargic tone to the emphasis on the word "new", as if he was trying to imply that you'd been dating someone before you left.

You clicked your tongue to your cheek, letting out a huff as you snatched the joint from his lips. "You're insufferable." You repeated, drawing in a deep inhale.

The truth was, the boy you'd been seeing didn't smoke pot and you hadn't either since you'd started college, but there was no way you were admitting that to him. You took another hit, keeping your attention fixated on the window as your fan circulated the smoke out and pushed it into the night sky.

"I'll take that as a no." He whispered, his leg lightly nudging yours as he leaned over and plucked the joint from your fingers this time.

"Why are you here?" You finally asked, a sharp edge growing in your voice. "You were the one that quit talking to me, you know that right? You didn't even bother saying goodbye and then you just show up unannounced like nothing happened and ask me about my life and who I'm seeing and..." The weed was starting to hit you, your body suddenly heavy and your mind dizzy with a confusing mix of intoxication and irritation. "I just... Why? I mean, what's the point of any of this?"

A rare somber expression took over, softening his usual concrete features as he ran a hand over the back of his neck.

“Honestly, I don't know..." His gaze was glossy, his mind equally as hazy as yours. "I didn't know what to say when you left so I didn't say anything. It seemed easier that way, for both of us."

"But it wasn't –"

"I know." His demeanor was unexpectedly gentle despite how firm his tone was. "I'm sorry."

The room felt like it was spinning, his apology making something inside you ache. It was the first time in the three years you'd known him that he'd ever said it. That he'd ever actually admitted or acknowledged to hurting your feelings and even if the bar was in literal hell, it still felt good to hear those words finally leave his mouth.

"What else?" You pressed.

He took a moment to look you over, his eyes tentatively roaming along your face. “I missed you." He said honestly.

You'd never met anyone besides him who was capable of sounding so sincere and so indifferent at the same time.

"Missed your stupid laugh. Missed the way you'd always call me when you were drunk." He leaned in closer, his hand carefully taking the joint from yours as he set it on the ashtray and rested his palm on the back of your neck.

"Missed being in your room like this..." His voice dropped down to a low whisper, fanning lecherously across your skin. “Missed the feeling of you wrapped around me…”

“Megumi… we can’t…”

But you still let him close the already small gap between you anyway, his lips ghosting yours as you breathed him in. The familiar scent of false promises and expensive cologne flooding your senses.

"I know you.” He said, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “You wouldn’t have texted me back if you didn’t want to.”

"I –" His words were going straight to your center, the dull ache from earlier blossoming into an unignorable throb as his hand gradually trailed up your thigh. "I didn't –"

"Wouldn’t have posted that you were back in town if you didn’t want me to know…" His fingers were toying with the fabric of your shorts, methodically pushing them to the side. "Wouldn’t have left your window open if you wanted to be alone…”

Your ability to hold yourself together was threatening to buckle at any moment between the feeling of his grip tangling into your hair and his lips continuing to tortuously graze yours.

“And you definitely wouldn’t be this fucking wet if you really didn’t want me here…”

Your heart was slamming into your chest so hard you were almost afraid he'd hear it.

He kept his eyes locked with yours, watching the last bit of composure you had vanish entirely as he slipped past the thin barrier of your underwear and gained access to your weakest point.

Your movements betrayed your sentiment, a helpless whimper escaping you while your hips gravitated up towards his hand, practically begging for more.

"Look at you," he breathed, his middle finger drawing soft, heavenly circles between your thighs. "All that time without seeing each other and you still fall apart for me so easily. Why is that?"

Another heady little noise entered into the small space between you as you fought to keep your moans from getting any louder. You hadn't been this high in months. Your insides felt like they were on fire as he dipped down, just barely prodding at your entrance. But the more you tried to get from him, the more he pulled away. Unwilling to comply with your body's demands until you answered his question.

"Tell me." It was venom mixed with honey. Torment mixed with pleasure. He had you right where he wanted you - desperate and pining. Forced to give him what he wanted in exchange for what you needed. "Let me hear you fucking say it."

You grabbed onto the collar of his shirt, doing everything you could not to whine when the tip of his finger gently slid into you and then stopped without warning - gracing you with just enough to finally bring you to your breaking point.

"I wanted to see you." you said breathlessly, your pupils widening as you felt him push slightly deeper.

"What else?" He taunted, using your words against you.

"I wanted you – here." You yelped, your voice splitting as he sank in further.

You were delirious, ready to actually plead if that's what it took to get him to cave. "I want – fuck, Megumi, please just –"

He was half-way in, teetering on the verge of letting you have it as long as you could get the next sentence out.

"Say it."

"I want you inside me." It poured out so fast, it was barely even coherent. "I want you inside of m...e – so fu–cking bad, please."

Your chest pressed against his in an urgent daze, pulling him closer while his lips met yours - neither one of you able to withstand the tension for a second longer. His movements matched your fervency as he added another finger, finally letting your walls swallow him.

He deepened the kiss, trying his best to keep you quiet while your hips rocked rhythmically against him.

"So pretty and pitiful" he whispered, lightly nipping at your collarbone. "You're already almost there. You sure you can handle me being inside you?"

You nodded hopelessly back at him.

"I can... take – it." You struggled, feeling him smirk into your neck as his thumb brushed against your clit, drawing out even poutier noises from you. "Promise."

"Prove it."

His tongue swirled lavishly into the softness of your clavicle, leaving little bruises in the shape of his mouth while his fingers continued to plunge innnn and out of you at the same heavenly pace.

"There you go." He breathed, promptly returning his lips back to yours as he felt your thighs begin to shake. "Just like that, don't fucking stop."

You hated how well he knew you. Hated how easily he was able make you clench and spasm around him. You were soaking his hand, burying your face into his shoulder to stop yourself from waking up the entire house.

"Oh, my fucking... god, Megumi –" Your nails dug into his back, your body nearly vibrating with pleasure as you grinded against him.

“It's okay, I've got you." He whispered, letting you cling onto him as you rode out the waves of your orgasm. You'd always been submissive, but he wasn't sure that he'd ever seen you quite this needy before.

He slowly pulled out of you, guiding you down to the bed before standing up to grab the joint out of the ashtray, lighting it one last time.

He leaned down, locking eyes with you while gently cupping your face. His lips just barely touching yours so that you were forced to share the same breath, allowing you to inhale the smoke he exhaled as he helped you out of your shorts.

"Such a good girl."

Your back arched, immediately wanting him back where he was as he got to his feet and set the spliff on your nightstand. You watched him intently, your core throbbing while he began to unbutton his pants. You were blissfully high, your mind swirling with sleepy infatuation and pent-up lust.

He almost seeming amused, noticing how entranced you were as his stripped out of his boxers. Tauntingly stroking himself while he used his free hand to push your both of your thighs onto the mattress so that you were on your back facing him with your legs folded to the side. You couldn’t help but smile as he rubbed his tip between your folds, letting out a low groan as he wetted himself with your slick.

“Fuck, I forgot how good you feel.”

Your hand tangled into the sheets, your body reeling from the way his tip was already stretching you.

"You gotta stay quiet for me." He reminded you, trying to heed his own advice as he slid in slightly further. “Pretty sure your dad will actually kill me if he catches me here again."

"So you want me to scream?" You smirked, but your sarcasm was quickly stolen from you.

He cocked an eyebrow at you before leaning back down, his voice becoming salacious static against your ear. "Don't make threats you can't keep."

Your breath hitched in your throat, your cunt pulsating as he put a hand over your mouth and thrusted into you.

He returned your smirk. Watching your pupils double in size as he nipped at your neck, muffling your moans with his palm.

"It's not easy for me either." He whispered - one hand still on your mouth, the other reaching for your center. "Being this deep in you and not being able to hear you say my name."

Your knuckles were almost white from how hard you were gripping the bed, your mind and body both completely overwhelmed by fucked-out euphoria.

"To have you wrapped this nice and tight around my cock without getting to hear all the cute little noises you make for me." He slammed into you, his rhythm blissfully unforgiving.

"You think that's what I want?"

You shook your head, his hand catching more carnal whimpers that were trying so hard to spill out of you as your hips bucked up against his.

The feeling of him playing with your clit while having you folded like this was almost too much to handle. You were lost - floating somewhere above cloud 9 with his thrusts only ascending you higher.

"What do you think I want to hear, baby? Hm?" His tone was condescendingly sweet. Mocking in a way that made your heart stutter and your walls contract. "Tell me."

He loosened his grasp on you, nearly bottoming out as his name echoed uncontrollably across the room. "Megumi ~” You whined again, completely forgetting your surroundings. "Megumi, fuck, you're gonna make me –"

Your climax laced through his fingers as his hand swiftly flew back over your mouth. His arms keeping you locked in place while your body writhed beneath his.

“There it is”, He praised, his tip kissing your cervix at just the right angle. “There’s my fucking – girl.” His head lolled back, his release following right behind yours.

He buried his head into your shoulder this time, letting out the most gorgeous, guttural sounds you'd ever heard as he filled you - not stopping until he could see his cum dripping out of you.

He pulled out carefully, taking a moment to admire his work while a mixture of fluids leaked onto your comforter.

“Hey," he said, running a hand through his hair before looking back at you. "Do me a favor when you get back."

You were still catching your breath, dizzy from overstimulation as you met his gaze. "What do you need?” You panted.

"Tell your new boyfriend I said 'thanks'."

You narrowed your eyes at him, watching a stupid smirk cut across his face while he slid his pants back on. “If he would've known how to fuck you right, I might not have gotten the chance to see you."

"You're insufferable."

"So I’ve been told."

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[polarisbibliotheque]

Vergil and his s/o training together

Or Vergil and his s/o spar for foreplay fun!

Pairing: Vergil x Reader

Summary: With your sword recently broken, Vergil gave you a new devil arm to get used to. He is also your mentor when it comes to fighting - but being his lover doesn't mean he's going to go easy on you. Quite the contrary.

Restrictions: None, BUT I should tell you: lots of sexual tension in this one. What can I say, Vergil is a weird guy, sparring with his lover does things to him. Nothing explicit though, you know how I roll. Also, reader gets bruises from training/sparring. He's rough and doesn't hold back, I mentioned it before I think Vergil has this "only the strong survive" mentality, and I do think he gets ruthless as a sign of respect for his lover's abilities rather than anything else.

Author's Notes: I blame @yanderebishforlevi for this one after they dropped an ask I just answered :) I'm focusing on the Halloween specials, but that made me go through my unfinished, discarded, short stuff on limbo and rehash/put it together to post something new here.

Simple stuff, not really much of a story, just some training with sexy, bared arms, ruthless, emotionally constipated man. That's why I never thought about posting, it felt like it was missing something a plot so I was going to put it in Nemesis but, oh well. Hope you guys like it xD

“We’re done for today.”

Vergil’s words sounded final, as he lowered the Yamato after a devastating blow that had you tumbling back and struggling to fall on your knees – scraping them in a way you would have some bruises to display for a couple of days at least.

“Given it’s my training session, love…” You growled while pulling yourself back on your feet, using your sword as a crutch for help. Vergil observed you with those cutting silvery eyes, almost as if questioning your resolve to pull yourself up. Again. “I say when we are done. And I am not done.”

“You are being terribly stubborn, that is.” Vergil had Yamato back in its sheath, arms crossed while curiously watching you take your coat off, having only your training clothes underneath.

“Well, at least we got that in common, Dark Slayer.” You carefully watched as Vergil mirrored you and took off his own long coat, leaving his arms bare for the first time that night. He only did that when he was about to get rough during training – and you had to huff a laugh. “I’m only standing down when I master this damned sword, and apparently I’m not even close to that.”

“You are closer than you were when we started.” He took a deep breath, already choosing a fighting stance since you were doing the same – walking slowly in a circle, observing him with a pair of predatorial eyes. Vergil was used to be under that scrutiny around demons, but when it came to your eyes, they were threatening… And bewitching.

“And I would be even closer, if you hadn’t been cheating this whole time.” You narrowed your eyes, allowing a smirk color the corner of your lips as Vergil froze in place – you could even bet he stopped breathing for a fraction of a second.

“Cheating…?” His voice was dangerously low, words alarmingly taking their time, savoring every syllable of that little word. You knew you had struck a nerve – but, in your defense, Vergil had been striking your nerves ever since you started training a few hours prior.

It had been a couple of weeks you had a new sword in your inventory: big, heavy, resembling a claymore. Dante and Vergil had killed one particularly powerful demon that ended up becoming the sword now in your hands: brimming with demonic power, ready to be wielded to bring doom to its enemies. You had your previous sword broken into shards while protecting Nero during one of your jobs – a story for another time – and Vergil thought the claymore of sorts would be a nice replacement.

A new weapon, though, meant a lot of new things: new grip, new balance, new weight, new powers… So much to master, but you had to learn soon in order to keep up with your devil hunter job. Halloween was approaching and, given how chaotic the last few years were, you had to at least master the basics soon enough.

Vergil, being the thoughtful partner and lover of knowledge that he was, offered to help you train and master your new sword – all his arcane teachings would surely come in handy when dealing with a devil arm.

You had a problem, though. Learning and mastering things on your own was almost a given, and you always expected to do it at your pace – meaning, you didn’t have much patience to not be at least good and easily fighting after a few hours of practice. With a mentor like Vergil, though, that process was taking double the time.

He was relentless. You being his lover just meant he would go twice as hard on you – in his dictionary, it probably meant how much he adored you; but in your dictionary, you were absolutely and infinitely vexed that, by now, you hadn’t been able to at least get to a tie with him.

And that was something you always proudly said you could do.

“Yes. Cheating.” You held your sword with only one hand, throwing it behind your body and having your eyes fixed on your lover. That way, when you or him decided to attack, you could use all your strength to lunge forward. “You got exponentially worse every time I lost and got back on my feet again; you haven’t made it easier nor remained with the same level of fighting from the beginning. You are making it more difficult for me. If you hadn’t, I would’ve already had my sword on your throat by now.”

“Tsk.” You smiled as Vergil finally had that nonchalant attitude, but his eyes burned like the coldest circles of Hell. With a swift move, he unsheathed the Yamato and attacked you – as you had already prepared before, you threw your sword forward, immediately able to parry. He quickly tried another attack, but you managed to grip your sword with both of your hands and hold him back. You found Vergil’s silvery eyes staring at you sharply between the blades of your swords. “Don’t expect demons to have mercy just because the sight of you eclipses even the moon herself.”

“If we weren’t sparring, I’d take that as a compliment.” You had a small laugh hidden amidst your words, clearly seeing the shadow of a smile Vergil tried to conceal before he pushed you back with only half of his might – still having you stumble back and use whatever energy you had left to keep your body balanced.

“Your human body won’t be able to take it for too long.” And even if Vergil was trying to convince you to stand down, he still circled you, keeping his own predatorial gaze on your form and tense shoulders to quickly get into a fighting stance. You weren’t one easy to convince when you had your mind set on something, that he had to admit. “We should call it a day and tend your wounds. Your body doesn’t have the same resilience a devil’s body has.”

“I would have a lot more if you hadn’t been ruthless with me, love.” You pointed at some slight marks on your body – nothing too jarring, but still making an appearance here and there. “These bruises are on you.”

With those words, it was your turn to lunge forward and attack first. Vergil easily defended with a swift move from Yamato, trying an attack right after. You managed to defend as well, holding him still for a few seconds.

“They will make you stronger.” Were the only words he managed to answer before you attacked again. Vergil seemed to fight effortlessly, while you had to muster all your strength to wield your new sword – Vergil was right to say your body wouldn’t last for too long: you were already tired, thanks to his training, but your pride wouldn’t allow you to back down. And he knew that.

Even if Vergil worried about your stamina, he couldn’t deny how much he admired – and had a pang of pride in his own heart – every time you displayed that much willpower.

With a calculated attack to disarm you, Vergil was certain your playing would come to an end and he would have the final word on that argument – he did not expect, though, a graceful move from your side, spinning such a heavy sword in one of your hands and making it face down, coming between you and him and completely breaking his stance, foiling Vergil’s attempt to end your resolve.

You quickly threw your sword a little on the air in front of you in order to let go from the grip and hold the blade itself – strong enough to be able to wield it, but careful not to hurt yourself in the process – which gave you the perfect opportunity to spin around him and smack the hilt of your sword on his back.

Vergil slowly turned his head around, still impressed by your swift move after being so tired, only to find you with a smug smile on your lips.

“It will make you stronger.” You pointed at him with the hilt of your sword, throwing it slightly in the air again so you could grab the hilt with one hand and then another.

Vergil kept his back at you, calmly walking to the other side of the room so you could take your initial stances again – but this time you saw him shaking his head and heard a low chuckle coming from him.

Vergil was a survivor, one that lived the law of the jungle for so long that sparring and teasing his partner was one of the best ways to entertain him. To say you were both having fun was an understatement.

“Apparently, I haven’t been ruthless enough with you.” He turned around, holding Yamato’s hilt with both of his hands. You had to hold back a smile – that was one of his stances that usually meant Vergil was starting to lose his patience and considering going all out.

And that usually happened when he recognized you were starting to get the upper hand – which meant he saw your playful sword smack as a sign you were starting to get the hang of things.

After all, you only did that sort of thing with your old sword. Comparing to the way you both used to spar, he was going considerably easier on you tonight.

“Let’s remedy that.” His voice was almost a growl as his feet moved like lightning on the floor.

You had to put all your concentration in that fight – your eyes never leaving the Yamato, quickly finding the blade in the air from its shimmer and parrying with your heavy claymore. Using your weight, you pushed Vergil back – which only worked because he saw it as an opportunity to power another heavy attack to try to get you off-balance. You stumbled a little, but quickly gained your balance once more, holding back another quick attack from your lover – something quite frustrating for him, as you observed in his furrowed brows.

Even if he wasn’t going easy on you, it was the first time Vergil was tapping into some of his demonic abilities – strength, speed and power, for starters – and you took that as a compliment. If he wasn’t going to cut you some slack, he could at least fight you the same way he always did – and Vergil never really held back when fighting you.

As he said before, it would only make you stronger. And that was why you could easily fight some of the most frightening demons of Hell without even breaking a sweat.

Vergil didn’t take long to attack you again. He had that look in his eyes he only used when he was hunting, leaving no room for mercy. You held your sword in a vertical position right in front of you, having the Yamato hit the flat blade of your claymore with enough power to have you and Vergil recoil a little from the impact.

Thankfully, your sword was sturdy enough to take a powerful blow from a legendary blade and its less than formidable wielder and not shatter. That was something you would remember later, for now Vergil attacked again and you defended, holding back a series of lightning quick attacks that required all your attention, strength and speed – as well as both of your hands holding your new sword in order to be able to avoid all of the attacks.

As expected, though, you hadn’t mastered your claymore yet. Your grip faltered in one of your hands, and Vergil’s predator eyes were quick enough to notice that and see a window of opportunity. Spinning the Yamato on his hand, Vergil gripped its hilt and used the butt-end to hit your hands and make you lose your grip on your sword.

As you tried to recover without losing too much of your stance, Vergil took the chance to spin around you – as you did before with him – and use the sheath of the Yamato to smack your back. A bit lower, and he would’ve smacked your ass – at least, he allowed you to keep a little of your pride, as you allowed him when you chose not to do that as well.

You immediately leaned the tip of your sword on the floor, side-eyeing your lover – only to find him with his head held high, that convinced expression he would always wear whenever he had the upper hand, along with a ghost of a smile you knew very well.

“Shall we continue…?” His words were crowned with his usual slight tinge of arrogance, as you turned around and adjusted your grip around the hilt of your sword. “Or will you finally yield and allow me to take care of those wounds?”

“As my lover, you should know, Vergil…” You sighed and snapped your neck from side to side, getting back into position to fight. He had to raise one of his eyebrows, ever so impressed with your resilience. “I do not yield.”

His only answer was a smile before your powerful attack, holding you back with the Yamato still sheathed, using one of his feet behind his body as an anchor so he wouldn’t fall over. Even in his wildest dreams, Vergil could never had imagined he would find someone who would give such flawless answers. Yes, he wanted to care for you. But how could he deny the fire he saw in you when you said such things? It was the same fire that kept him alive for so many years; the same fire that made him get back on his feet even when defeat was certain, when all hope was lost, and only death and blood were expected. The same fire that made Vergil defy all odds and save himself, over and over again.

He didn’t know how he had found you neither how he could deserve you, but he did hope you remained for as long as he could have you.

With another attack, he took the opportunity to unsheathe his sword, using both the blade and the sheath to defend himself from a string of attacks as ruthless as those he had attacked you before. You didn’t see an opportunity, but you knew Vergil relied on a few tricks up his metaphorical sleeves, so you acted quickly to do the same he did before – and with the hilt of your claymore, you weakened his grip on the sheath, quickly spinning your sword and hitting it with all your might, making the blue sheath fly across the training ground. Vergil immediately held Yamato’s grip with both of his hands, trying not to let his surprise show on his face.

You could see it in his silvery eyes, though. You already knew how to expertly access them, to find Vergil’s emotions underneath the icy façade he used to wear. You had an advantage that made your heart swell and bolstered your resolve – and that Vergil was also able to read in your eyes. He fought back, putting a little more of his strength and power into a few riposte attacks, stopping your advances and making you fall a few steps back.

It wouldn’t be fair if he started using his demonic might when your body was almost giving out – but Vergil had to recognize you were lasting a lot longer than he expected. He thought, by now, your physical body wouldn’t be able to keep going, completely unrelated to your willpower. But there you were, proving him wrong – and making him fall even more in love with you, if that was even possible.

Your hands trembled a bit, though. You kept your eyes locked in his, reading his every move, his every emotion – and Vergil did the same, as if your fight didn’t rely on your swords anymore. As he got ready for another devastating attack, your sword found his in the air and, spinning your blades together, you brought them down with a flick of your wrist, having them rest together a few inches inside the ground.

You turned your back for a few seconds to catch your breath, pain starting to ebb through your arms. Vergil took some steps back in amazement, since that move was a first: you had never taken a break from a fight by disarming him as well as yourself, even if for a few seconds; you only asked with words and it usually took a few minutes. He observed you carefully – part of him reading if your body was going to give out and part of him reading if you would jump on him unexpectedly. Vergil didn’t know what to expect, but he could feel his blood tingling at his fingertips, ready to take action with whatever it is that you had for him.

After a few seconds, you immediately turned around, locking your hands around the grip of your sword once more and lifting it from the ground. Vergil couldn’t believe you still wanted to fight – and even win – but mirrored your speed and had Yamato back in his grip once more.

A few more attacks. He could see your hands trembling. A few more steps. He could hear your shaking breaths. A few more swift moves. He could see the relentless fire inside your eyes.

Vergil didn’t make it easier because of your crumbling endurance – if you broke, it would serve as a lesson on assessing your own energy and how far you could go. As you knew right from the start, Vergil wasn’t a forgiving mentor and would push you to your limit – he didn’t exactly expect you would do the same thing with yourself as he did to himself in order to improve his fighting to perfection.

A flick of his wrist. A powerful move from your hands. You found yourselves drenched in sweat, in the middle of your training space, the Yamato touching your neck, and your claymore touching the skin on Vergil’s throat.

You had your eyes locked into his silvery gaze, the gleaming blades of your swords ignored as the only thing that dictated that fight was your willpower – yours and Vergil’s. As you looked into each other’s reflections, you stated something you didn’t have to say out loud to be understood: neither of you would ever yield.

As that knowing reached Vergil’s heart, that was only one thing he could really do – something his logical mind and demonic pride could never fathom as the proper response to that situation, but his human heart burned to have him do it. His free hand cupped your face, pulling you into an immediate kiss.

When your lips found his, you used your free hand to anchor yourself in place by holding the back of his neck, pulling Vergil towards you. It was a kiss that burned with the very same fire he saw in your eyes, the one he mirrored in his soul and rarely let out as something other than willpower to keep on surviving. That fire was a will to live, a will to keep going, a will for life… A lust to experience, to burn bright and intensely, to take everything existence had to offer. A lust you could only safely explore with each other, not having to channel that only into surviving, but also into living life as it should be lived.

One of the things Vergil would always tell you, was to never let your guard down. You could be calm and collected, apparently unprepared, but always aware of your surroundings – and ready to kill at every waking moment.

Anything could be a distraction, anything could be a weakness. Being that close to you, in the middle of a fight, with that whirlwind of emotions stirring like a lightning storm that had to have its energy released somehow… Even if you had your sword still in one of your hands as he had Yamato in his, your blades were lowered - you had your grip almost letting go, ready to forget it on the floor.

You had your guard down.

“A demon would have killed you by now.” Vergil’s voice was but a rough whisper as he broke the kiss, his lips barely away from yours, hot breath still ghosting on your skin.

“A demon wouldn’t have kissed me.”

Both of your swords found the floor in unison, as your hands found each other with your lips locking in another breathless kiss.

Fortunately, you were both imperfectly human.

[ladykailitha]

Shut Up and Drive Part 1

Hello and welcome to the little fic that been stewing in my mind off and on since I joined this fandom and have finally starting writing it.

This story was born out of the rogue thought of 'how did Eddie know Steve could drive the RV fast enough to get them the hell out of Dodge?' and the idea that bored rich kids in a small rural town absolutely would go out street racing on the weekends and you have this.

It's technically canon adjacent as you'll see as we lead up to the RV scene, still drifts (I'm punny ;) ) into AU territory later on.

Summary: Eddie does what he needs to to keep the lights on and that means dealing to stupid rich kids with more money than sense. He prefers parties because it's indoors and he's able to slip out the back. But from March until October is when he makes his best money. Because that's when bored, little rich kids race each other for money. And at the end of the season, pink slips. Eddie hates all the leaders of each of the three fractions, Cruise and her Pink Ladies, Titan and his Drift Dynasty, but the one that really grinds his gears is stupid pretty boy King and his even stupider named Asphalt Assassins.

Or in which Carol, Tommy, and Steve all head a street racer crew without the others knowing and no one knowing Steve=King. They're stupid kids, all right?

~

When you live in the middle Bumfuck Nowhere you have very limited options on what to do for fun on the weekends. There’s a movie at the Hawk, the arcade, or if you’re lucky some rich kid will throw a party and invite you.

Or if you’re among the sacred few, you go out street racing. A couple Saturdays a month during the warm months of the year, a group of kids with more money than sense will pick one of the many backroads and race.

Usually they play for money, make bets, that sort of thing. But the weekend before Halloween, they race for pink slips. For the car themselves.

Eddie is always kept in the know because he provides a service these rich kids need. Drugs. Weed is common as is Speed for obvious reasons. Someone else provides the booze, thank god, but Eddie does really well on these nights. He always comes home with enough to keep the lights on and get real food for a week.

He was at the first drag meet of year and after three years of this, he still didn’t know the real name of the “The King”. The best racer and MC. He was a vision in cropped tops and cut off jeans barely long enough to cover his ass. He wore a baseball cap and dark sunglasses, even at night.

The dude never raced the same car twice; having won so many his first year, they were forced to only have the finale race for pink slips.

He was also the biggest pain in the ass, according to Eddie. He never smoked weed, did any of the harder drugs, nor let anything other than water pass his lips. He had the biggest and deepest pockets but he never bought anything from Eddie. And that stinginess rubbed him the wrong way.

This was going to be the year he made the King fall from his Ivory tower to partake of his goods.

He pulled up to the spot behind the Hess Farm. There was talk that the old man was thinking of selling, so the Dragsters with their three factions, The Asphalt Assassins, The Pink Ladies, and The Drift Dynasty had decided to use it one last time before it was sold to someone with actual fucking hearing.

The King was already there with the rest of the Asphalt Assassins. They had all taken on their King’s disguise of cut off shorts, crop tops, sunglasses and baseball caps. Though their shorts weren’t nearly as short as their leader’s. The King was the only one who wore white, the rest wore black.

Suddenly there was a roar behind him and turned to see the second best team, The Pink Ladies, complete with their pink jackets, high heels, and bandannas over their faces. Their leader Cruise wore a pink tribly with a black band. She looked like Sandy at the end of “Grease” only all in pink.

Then the final faction roared up to the field. The Drift Dynasty. All the members were kids of racers who had raced back in the 50s. Even the two girls. These racers wore red hoodies and black sunglasses. For fuck’s sake they even had their handles printed on the back of the hoodies like sports jerseys. Their leader, Titan was a hard-nosed asshole and Eddie just might hate him more then the King.

Eddie took a brief moment to scan the horizon for cops and then he hopped out of the van. He walked past the other two racing teams as if they didn’t exist. Because as far as he was concerned they would hit him up at any time during the night and he would make bank off of them. No his attention was solely on King.

“Your majesty,” he said with an exaggerated bow. “I’ve come to peddle my wares.”

King snorted. He was currently leaning against metallic purple Dodge Charger, cooler than the frigid night air. Not that he looked like he felt it. He was in his signature Daisy Duke’s and crop top. Sure he had leather jacket on, but it was draped so that it was falling off his shoulders. It looked artful and God did it make Eddie’s blood boil.

“Just announcing my arrival,” he said, wagging his eyebrows. He opened the lunch box and presented it to King. “Anything that tantalizes your majesty?”

King shook his head. “Nothing you have will ever pass these lips, so you best take your ‘wares’ elsewhere, man.”

“I’ll find something that will,” Eddie murmured with a knowing smirk. “Just wait.”

“Keep dreamin’, you dork,” King said, shaking his head fondly. “Go on, your real customers are waiting.”

Eddie straightened up and turned to the crowd. “I’ll be at my van and you know the prices. Anything you want. Until I run out.” He lopped back to his van to watch the races.

The first race was always the most exciting. It was a three-way race between the leaders. The King didn’t always win, but Titan always lost. Rumor had that Titan was the son of the best racer in the game twenty years ago and was always throwing money at the best upgrades money could buy.

Not that it did Titan any good.

He had no instinct on when to use the tools available to him. He boost too early and burn out before the finish line or he would drift when he should slide. Shit like that. Unlike the King. Whose instinct was called a second sense. But Cruise was the one who could keep up with him. She had style and something to prove.

She had gone up to Titan asking for a chance to drive but he laughed in her face. He sure as hell wasn’t laughing every time she passed him.

Cruise leaned against her bright pink Camero, waiting for the men to decide to join her. Titan stepped out of his suped up black and grey Mustang and Eddie shook his head. The oversized hoodie looked ridiculous on the dude’s short frame.

The King strolled over to join them and the hunger in Titan and Cruise’s glances could not be covered by their sunglasses.

“You bet get in your ride, King,” Titan sneered. “Don’t want you freezing off those assets, now do we?”

“Like you could get my engine running, Titan,” King bitched back. “Pick a lane and stick to it, asshole.” He shook Cruise’s hand. “I look forward to racing you this year.”

“It’s always a pleasure, King,” Cruise purred. “Maybe this is the year I get you to step into my ride.”

King looked up and down and Eddie wanted to gag. Hetros are the worst.

“Maybe it will be,” King said with a smirk and then pulled her close to her ear and whispered something, Eddie couldn’t hear.

But when Cruise stepped back, her whole posture was awkward and embarrassed. Which really made him wonder what King told her.

King smirked and stepped back, too. He looked over at Titan. “You actually going to put your money where you mouth is this season or are you going to go crying back to Daddy, like you and the rest of the Dynasty do every year.”

Titan bristled and would have launched himself at King if a couple of his cronies hadn’t held him back.

King crossed his arms in front of his chest, popping one hip. “You want to bring it, Titan? Show me in your car, not your fists.”

Titan brushed his cronies off and straightened his clothes. “One day, King, you’ll lose your crown just like that loser Steve Harrington.”

Apparently that was the wrong thing to say as King grabbed Titan’s shirt and hauled him until their faces were close together. Eddie wasn’t even sure he saw King grab the other guy it was that fast.

“You can’t even insult me without bringing someone else into your shit,” King snarled. “Put up or shut up.” Then he pushed Titan away from him and turned on his heel, striding away from the crowd and to the car he would be racing.

Eddie licked his lips. He wasn’t a car guy, sure he knew his way around an engine but he couldn’t tell you the difference between a Mustang and a Camero. But the car King got into was a sleek black thing that light seemed to bend around. Fuck, Eddie wouldn’t mind taking that baby out for a little spin. It certainly got his engine running.

King rolled up to the starting line, Titan and Cruise pulling along side him. One of the Pink Ladies held a white handkerchief in the air as the rest of the Dragsters made bets on who would win the opening race.

The engines revved as the crowd cheered. The flag went down and they were off the line, muscling for rank.

There was a clear winner, as King edged out ahead and stayed there as Cruise and Titan fought hard for second place.

And in a move that had Eddie cackling so hard he fell out of his van, was Titan coming in second. Cruise got out of her car and cursing threw her hat on the ground, fists clenched in rage.

Whatever King had said to her before the race had gotten into her head and caused her to lose the race. It was glorious to watch. King liked to pull that shit. He’d whisper something in his opponent’s ear and he would get into their head. King always won those races.

The night continued as normal, Eddie doling out the drugs and charging two to three times his normal rates to really rake it in. When someone would complain, Eddie would call it the party tax. It wasn’t his fault they were too stupid to buy during the week, they got what they got and if they kept complaining he would stop selling at these little races and woo-boy wouldn’t that upset the masses.

They would pay the cost and then make sure to pre-buy during the week. Only if they were assholes and skinflints. There weren’t many, but there were a few. Titan was one of these. Eddie had figured out the names of the pre-buyers and their little personas so he could make sure and change them even more when they came crawling to him to get another hit when they blew through the stash they had.

But for Titan, or Tommy Hagan? He would quadruple his prices to at least put a dent in the money Daddy gave him for suping up his car. Because even though Titan never won against King, against almost anyone else, that decked out Mustang of his was not street legal in any sense of the phrase.

Finally he sold his last baggie of weed and forced to close up shop. He checked the crowd and counted numbers, satisfied that everyone was boozing and drugging it up, he stowed the cash in his hiding spot in his steering column and then grabbed a beer.

Eddie raised it to signal that he had closed shop and after this beer he was going home. It was a safety measure to make sure he didn’t get jumped for the cash. If everyone saw him leave then there would be no one to jump him.

He felt a prickling on the back of his neck like someone was watching him. He turned around, but the only person behind him was King sprawled out on the hood of his car and it was hard to tell where his eyes were with those ridiculous shades.

King must have caught him staring because he suddenly smirked and jumped to his feet. Eddie gulped as King made his way over.

“You enjoying the show, Munson?” King asked, licking the top row of his teeth slowly.

“Not much of sports fan of any stripe, Your Majesty,” Eddie said with a dramatic bow, “racing included. I’m here to make money and nothing else. I prefer parties because at least I don’t freeze my ass off, even if the music is better.”

King raised his eyebrow. “It’s too late for your ass, dude. It’s a lost cause.”

“Well not all of us are born your assets,” Eddie said with dimpled smile. “I would rather not lose the rest of mine.”

King burst out laughing. “You’re something else.” He shook his head and walked over to one of the Pink Ladies to flirt with her.

Eddie shook his head and drank his beer, suddenly in a hurry to leave. Because there was no way King was flirting with him, right?

Because there was no world in which any of these rich toffs where interested in him for anything that what he sold them.

Okay, so King never bought from him and as far as he knew, whoever the guy was during the week, didn’t either. So it was possible that whoever he was might be interested in a handjob or a blowjob in the back of his van.

King’s laugh, pulled him out of his thoughts and Eddie looked over. King was leading the girl back to his car. He shook his head. There was no way King was interested in that with him either.

Eddie got into his van and drove off, grateful that the races weren’t every weekend so he wouldn’t have to deal with King more than he had to.

But the fact that King had caught him looking and instead of beating the shit out of him for it, it really felt like he had been flirted with.

Which even if he was interested, there was no way that a have would mix with a have-not. It just didn’t happen outside of movies and books.

But that smirk followed Eddie all the way home.

~

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Tag List: TEN SLOTS OPEN

1- @itsall-taken @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @sadisticaltarts @dolphincliffs

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @irregular-child @cryptid-system @kultiras

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @dreamercec @blondie1006

5- @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @genderless-spoon @fearieshadow @thesecondfate

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Hello! Would you happen to know if there are any widespread festivities in Twisted Wonderland other than Halloween?

I thought to compile the holidays celebrated in Twisted Wonderland (both internationally and locally) into a single post :> Hopefully this can serve as a useful resource to you~

Internationally Celebrated Holidays:

***Note: I will elaborate on how NRC celebrates some specific holidays here, but the holidays themselves are celebrated beyond the school and Sage's Island.***

Halloween (Oct 31) - One of the biggest events held in Twsted Wonderland. It is the one day of the year when the dead are able to return and visit the living world. People prepare candy and decorations to welcome the ghosts as their honored guests. If a ghost tries to pull a prank on you, you can easily placate them by offering a treat. However, evil spirits might mix in with friendly ghosts, so the living also dress in scary costumes to trick them and ward them off. Every race and country has their own traditions, but NRC makes Halloween an event in which they open their campus to the Sage’s Island locals to thank them for their support the whole year. They also hold a big party on Halloween night.

New Year (Jan 1) - Pretty much the same thing as irl new year’s. At NRC, Sam holds an annual New Year's Sale; he puts interested students' names into a hat and draws them at random as temporary helpers for this sale. He also incorporates many design elements and games taken from the Eastern branches of the Mystery Shop.

Beanfest (mid-Feb) - A holiday inspired by the story of a giant who stole a harp from Happy Valley; a farmer found magical beans which grew into a beanstalk, allowing the robbed to ascend and take back their harp. This restored peace and prosperity to the land. In honor of that past, people dress as farmers and "slay" those in monster costumes by throwing beans at them. At NRC, they hold a Beanfest themed athletic event in which they split the students into a Monster Team and a Farmer Team, the former defending a harp and the latter tasked with stealing it back. This mirrors the irl Japanese holiday Setsubun, which also often includes bean-throwing (mamemaki) to cast out bad luck/demons and to welcome good fortune.

Starsending (unknown) - A holiday inspired by the "Wish Upon a Star" story, which tells the tale of a toymaker who wished for a puppet he made to become a real boy. Nowadays, people send their wishes to the stars on the same day that the toymarker did. This is done via Wishing Stars, which are magestones that glow once you make a wish on them. (However, Idia remarks that this is untrue and is more likely just the magestones that glow once they come in contact with someone's body heat and a trace of magic.) Once the wish is made, the glowing Wising Stars are then hung up on a tree. At NRC, Crowley uses astrology to select three students to serve as Stargazers that collect the wishes of the entire student body. Each student gets to make one wish, which has to be done in the presence of a Stargazer. On the day of Starsending, the Stargazers bang drums and dance in front of the entire school; the Wishing Stars then rise up into the sky and fall down as shooting stars, which have to be collected off the ground the day after. This holiday mirrors the irl Japanese Tanabata festival, typically held on July 7.

Unnamed winter holidays (December-ish?) - Some characters vaguely use the term "the holidays" after returning from winter break, but never explicitly name anything.

Locally Celebrated Holidays:

Night Raven College Founding Day (Mar 18 in JP, Jan 20 in EN; celebrated only at NRC) - Exactly what the name says. This is the day the students and staff celebrate the founding of Night Raven College. There is a special ceremony and, if the Anniversary events are anything to believe, they put up decorations, eat good food, and just party together.

Unbirthday Parties (any day when there is no birthday; celebrated only in Heartslabyul dorm) - The students of Heartslabyul assemble on days when no one has a birthday (it is unclear if this is only within the dorm or in the general student population) and have a tea party + play croquet in the rose garden.

Malleus's birthday (Jan 18; celebrated only in Briar Valley) - Malleus's birthday is considered a national holiday in his kingdom. This may be because he is the crown prince, but it may also be because, according to historical events, his birth is considered miraculous. Malleus has to attend several ceremonies on this day if he were back home.

White Rabbit Fest (unknown but presumed to be in spring; celebrated only in Clock Town) - A festival which pays homage to the White Rabbit that worked for the Queen of Hearts and wad always rushing around. The locals like to dress up as rabbits for the holiday. Businesses set up stalls to sell their wares and they hold a relay race known as the Rabbit Run. You must wear rabbit ears during it and pass along a bugle. The Rabbit Run takes place in a hedge maze riddled with traps.

Mount Moln Sledathon (unknown but presumed to be in winter; celebrated only in Harveston) - Contestants form teams of four and race all night long on Mt. Moln to the finish line. Instead of live animals, racers infuse magic into stuffed animals to pull their sleds. Different animals have different attributes, such as speed, endurance, etc. Though there is no prize, it's considered an honor to win, and it's said that the winners are granted good luck for a whole year. It is done in honor of the animals that rushed to help a damsel in distress.

Tamashina Mina/Cloudcalling Festival ("near the start of the rainy season"; celebrated only in Sunset Savanna) - This is a rainmaking festival held at the start of the monsoon season. During the Cloudcalling, there is a Catch the Tail/Bead Brawl competition held which attracts formidable players, both locals and foreigners. Players adorn their heads with beads, and the aim is to wrestle and remove the beads from one's opponent. This is a game played without weapons or magic and serves as a test of physical prowess. Teams are three members each and members of the royal family are not allowed to participate, as it would be unfair. It is considered a great honor to be crowned the victors of Catch the Tail/Bead Brawl competition, and the winners are granted special Sunset Warrior lessons, traditionally led by the second prince.

Fairy Gala (beginning of spring, lasts three months to the end of spring; celebrated only by Faelanders) - Small fae from Faeland come to Twisted Wonderland and seek out a venue to hold the Fairy Gala. It is a fashion show to commemorate the spring, with a different theme every year. If the Fairy Gala does not occur, it may throw Twisted Wonderland into eternal winter. Non-diurnal fae are typically not welcome in the festivities.

Al'ab Nariya/Yasamina River Fireworks Fest (unknown; celebrated only in the Scalding Sands) - The noble families of the Scalding Sands take turns hosting this festival. Al'ab Nariya attracts many international and domestic tourists every year. The local stalls sell lots of interesting things, and it's all capped off by a spectacular fireworks show at the end of the day. The fireworks are lit up to honor the story of a genie celebrating the union of a princess and a kind pauper.

Topsy-Turvy Day/Topsy-Turvy Fest (around Halloween; celebrated only in Fleur City/the City of Flowers) - This is a holiday in which participants' social standings are flipped around, so people do not need to worry about title or status. Masks are sold so participants may use them to conceal their faces while they mingle. There are performers in fluttery costumes that use scarves and magic-infused tambourines. In this way, even non-mages can have a part in the festivities. The Kindly Bell Ringer supposedly loved this holiday and was once crowned King of Topsy-Turvy Day. Historically, this celebration may draw inspiration from the irl medieval Feast of Fools, typically held on Jan 1. The Feast of Fools, like Topsy-Turvy Day, reverses social hierarchies.

Port Fest (unknown; celebrated only in Crane Port on Sage's Island) - This festival commemorates the construction of Crane Port. Local businesses run their own stalls and it's a good way to promote them. In recent years, Port Fest has been attracting fewer and fewer people. However, with some help from the NRC boys, they were able to run many popular food stalls and put on a musical performance that restores the festival to its former glory.

Other Significant Annual Events:

International Film Festival Film Convention (unknown; held in Fairest City) - This is considered the most famous cinema convention in Twisted Wonderland, with over 80 years of operation. It serves as an event to gather famous actors, creators, and celebrities. To even have a work nominated here is an honor, and it is difficult for normal people to obtain an invitation to go.

Ghost Bride hunts for a potential groom (unknown) - This is an occurrence that happens around the same time every year. The princess of a fallen kingdom died before she could marry a handsome prince. Because of that unfulfilled desire, her spirit is chained to this world. She returns to Twisted Wonderland in search of her perfect groom and uses Ramshackle as their base of operations. As of the end of the Ghost Marriage event story, the Ghost Bride has found her true love, but she promises to visit again "next year".

Interscholastic Magift/Spelldrive Tournament (May) - A sporting tournament featuring teams from notable arcane academies; Royal Sword Academy has apparently beaten NRC for 99 years in a row.

National Arcane Academy Culture Fair (mid-Feb) - A different school hosts the Culture Fair every year. The fair has students representing magic schools from across the country and lasts for two days. It includes fine art, music, magic research showcases, speech contests, displays from cultural clubs, and more. At NRC, this is a time when the fourth-year students come back from their internships and share their findings.

Diamond Movie Awards (unknown, held in Fairest City/Maquillaville) - An event held every year to further develop the Shaftlands’ film industry. It’s a prestigious movie awards event to recognize exceptional cinema and the creatives who make it. It’s held in the Queen’s Palace in Maquillaville. Films from all over the world are nominated, and it is considered a great honor to win an award here. The most attractive award is for Best Actor, which Neige won at 14 years old (as its youngest recipient).

Unnamed anime convention(s) (unknown; presumably held in various countries) - Idia sometimes mentions these.

[bogleech]

ALSO ON STORENVY HERE

ONCE UPON A DARK TIME IN THE TERROR AGES SOME MORON SCARED THE WORLD TO DEATH (GEE THANKS PAL!!!!!!!) BY WRITING A STORY CALLED "THE DAY OF ALL THE BLOOD." THE STORY WAS SO DARK AND GROSS THAT ANYONE WHO READ IT GOT SCARED IN REAL LIFE ALSO.

NOW MANY CENTURIES LATER THE SAME TWISTEFIED AUTHOR IS PUTTING THE STORY IN REAL PAPER YOU CAN TOUCH ALTHOUGH THE STORY IS STILL FAKE (………OR IS IT…………..) ALONG WITH SEVERAL OF THE ORIGINAL RELATED STORIES AND A BUNCH OF BRAND NEW ONES TOO SCARY TO PUT ON THE INTERNET!! ALSo the new stories aren't entirely in caps lock anymore because that got old if they were LOUDER you would get scared so hard you would quite possibly die to death for all time. This small thin paperback prints and ships in time to ruin thanksgiving or maybe christmas!!!!!!!

BRAND NEW STORIES INCLUDE:

THE MOST MURDERED GIRL IN THE WORLD: One day a girl did not listen to her mother, and got murdered by all the murderers in the world at once. The power of almost 100 murders at once transformed her forever…but into what!? The clue is in the title, but you'll never guess. heh heh heh.

THE TRUEST CRIME: one day there was a crime so terrible you will not be able to read what the bad guy did without throwing up your guts at how evil it was. Let's just say it sends 100 MILLION BABIES to prison…and that's only the beginning………

THE BODYLESS DOG: what happens when a dog gets its body cut off and doesn't die!? Well he isn't happy about it I can tell you that much.

VAMPIRE HANDS: this story is about YOU and the time your hands turned into the hands of a vampire. Maybe you think having to keep your hands in tiny coffins all day long doesn't sound so bad but that is only one of the more than one things you have to do when you have vampire hands!!!!!!

THE INVISIBLEST KNIFE: in this story you accidentally kill everyone and everything you care about and even ruin a hot dog completely. Don't worry! There's no such thing as the invisiblest knife! I am looking around right now and I don't see it anywhere. Do you??

WHEN ALL THE STEEL TURNED INTO WORMS (and it was not my fault!!!) this is one of the LONGEST stories (more than two pages!) in the book and is about when one day all the steel in the world became worms that were scared of humans so if you even looked at a car it would fall apart from all the worms running away into the dirt. Again these are descriptions and not the whole stories so this is just one of the things that happens!

THE DAY IT RAINED THE HEADS FROM SPACE: what happens when a really sharp human space probe meets a planet where everyone is the same exact height and always stands in a line on a perfectly flat plane?!?!?!?!?!!?!!?? Well they aren't happy about it I can tell you that much.

THE DOG THAT WAS TOO LONG: you like dogs, do you??? Well sometimes wishes come true but sometimes…sometimes wishes suck and were stupid to make actually. Fool.

THE WEIRD GUY: don't worry, there's no such thing as a weird guy, and if there was, it would not turn out to have been you all along! Pretend you didn't read this massive spoiler.

THE GHOST'S GHOSTS: everyone knows a ghost is twice as scary as a regular person, but what about a ghost's ghost? Obviously that would be twice as scary as a regular ghost. A twisted tale of how the human race is exterminated several hundred times in a row.

DARKNESS MOM: the worst most awful most disgusting scariest monster in the WORLD!! You will TERRIFIED to read about this mom who is TOO TALL and has a GROSS TOO LONG TONGUE and SHARP MONSTER HANDS and if she GETS YOU she will make you be IN TROUBLE all the time for like NO reason!!! NOOOO!!!!!!

THE THINGS THAT DID THE WRONG THINGS: you better not read this secret government list of things that do the wrong stuff!! The secret guys will catch you and you'll have to go to secret jail so you don't go telling everyone about anomanolies such as THE WORST TURTLE (three words, FOOL: spikes on it) or THE CLOCK THAT TELLS TIM (tim is alright though this is not his fault)

THE HALF MURDERER: what if a normal person and a murderer had a baby? It's more likely than you think! Or shall we say…half more likely…mwa ha ha ha

THE REVENGE OF THE DAY OF ALL THE BLOOD: THE LONG FEARED SEQUEL (WARNING: this one is in capitol letters again, it is PULLING NO PUNCHES!)

…………AND MAYBE SOME MORE IF I FEEL LIKE IT! *actually some more are already in it I just might add a couple more than that even

[devilish-cherry]

cherry × 24 × she/her × choso enthusiast™

i love being bisexual, eating hot chip, and lying 🫶

ᨳ♡₊➳꒰ rules ꒱

₊⊹. i'm only comfortable with writing sfw content and character x reader, specifically crack and fluff!

₊⊹. since i'm currently hyper fixated on jjk, that's the only thing i'm really into writing rn lmao 😭🙏

₊⊹. requests are closed atm!

ᨳ♡₊➳꒰ my works ꒱

₊⊹. Minimum Wage, Maximum Suffering

₊⊹. Jujutsu Kaisen x Reader

━ "You hate your job. The pay is bad, your manager is worse, and customers are somehow both entitled and clueless. Just as you finish contemplating whether unpaid breaks are a human rights violation, weird new people keep showing up to the café. They all seem to know each other. Sometimes they talk in cryptic phrases. What the hell is this domain and why do they want to expand it? One time, a man with stitches on his forehead walked in, made prolonged eye contact with you, and then left without ordering anything. You’re pretty sure he was a serial killer. Another time, the one with white hair and sunglasses indoors mentioned a "higher mission", and you’re 90% sure this is how cult documentaries start. One of your regulars only speaks in weird food-related phrases. You assume he has some kind of medical condition, but no one explains anything to you. But you are not about to ask questions, because ignorance is bliss and also job security. And unfortunately, they are all weird and they seem very interested in coming back."

₊⊹. Gently

₊⊹. Nanami x Reader

₊⊹. Set in the Minimum Wage, Maximum Suffering universe.

━ "Your job is soul-crushing, your baking is terrible, and now Nanami is rolling up his sleeves and standing way too close, all in the name of ‘teaching’ you. This is fine. Probably."

₊⊹. Love Track

₊⊹. Choso x Reader

₊⊹. Set in the Minimum Wage, Maximum Suffering universe.

━ "Choso takes romantic advice from Yuji. This is a mistake."

₊⊹. Natural Timing

₊⊹. Choso x Reader

━ "Choso schedules your first kiss. You tell him that’s not how romance works. He respectfully disagrees."

₊⊹. Clueless

₊⊹. Choso x Reader

━ "You fall for Choso a little more every day, but you think he doesn't feel the same. Choso has been in love with you since day one, but thinks you're taken. Now, if only you'd both figure this out."

₊⊹. Masquerade

₊⊹. Choso x Reader

━ "Halloween is a time for joy, costumes, and most importantly — free candy. But when Choso discovers that adults aren’t allowed to trick-or-treat, devastation ensues. Now, it’s up to you to gaslight, manipulate, and lie your way through an entire neighborhood. He’s getting that candy. No matter what."

₊⊹. Perfect Fit

₊⊹. Choso x Reader

━ "Choso’s closet is officially declared a war crime. It's your moral duty to save him... with questionable results."

₊⊹. Headcanons

━ how they react to you patting their head

━ how they react to you randomly throwing yourself on the floor and yelling "I CAN'T DO THIS ANYMORE!"

━ jjk men with a s/o who has social anxiety

━ jjk men with a social butterfly s/o

━ how they react to you giving them flowers

━ how they react to you getting a bad haircut

━ teaching choso how to use a phone hcs

━ how they react to your simping

━ how they react to your bad cooking

━ how they help during your period

━ choso relationship headcanons ━ pt. 2

━ nanami relationship headcanons

━ toji relationship headcanons

━ gojo relationship headcanons

━ jjk men with a clingy s/o

[defectivevillain]

those who fall

pairing: Hannibal Lecter/Reader (can be platonic or romantic)

reader's race and gender are ambiguous; no pronouns or physical descriptors are used.

summary: “What’s your name?” you ask your companion. “Hannibal,” he responds. The man doesn’t look the slightest bit malnourished, despite your predicament. Either he’s new here, or he’s been able to keep his hunger satiated. “Hannibal,” you repeat, taking note of his vaguely European accent. “That’s a strange name.” Hannibal just blinks. The man looks almost expressionless, but you can see a hint of irritation at the edges of his faux smile.

word count: 3k | ao3 version

warnings: canon-typical blood and violence, death, suicide, cannibalism, gore, suicidal ideation/self-harm. Emphasis on the cannibalism — both willing and non-consensual cannibalism. Mentions of throwing up/vomiting.

author's notes: Happy spooky pride! (I'm being told it's also called Halloween...? Weird.) Here’s a really fucked up fic. :3

If y’all haven’t watched The Platform, here’s the trailer, which should explain things. I’ve also attempted to write an explanation, but it’s long and bad. Here it is anyways, in case you don’t want to watch the trailer:

There is a vertical prison system that stretches more than 300 levels down. Each floor houses two people, and there’s a large hole in the middle to accommodate a table. Each day, a single table starts at Floor 0 and makes a stop at each floor. The table is loaded with a ton of dishes for a large and extravagant meal. Floor 1 gets the table for a short time before it drops to Floor 2. So on and so forth. People aren’t allowed to take things from the table to save for later, so it’s a scramble to eat enough to keep them nourished until the next day. They’re all eating from the same table, so as the floors get lower, there’s less and less food left. Inhabitants stay on their floor for one month, before they’re exposed to gas and moved to a different floor for another month. Basically, the lower the floor, the less likely you’ll be to get any food. In theory, if each person ate only their own ration, the food might last. But some people are greedy, wasteful, etc... A floor below 100 is virtually a death sentence, because that means 200 people pick at the food before you get to.

heed the warnings listed above before reading!

You wake up, blinking away the traces of a gas-induced sleep. It’s the beginning of the month, which means you’ve been transported to another floor in the facility. Groaning, you blink blearily, only to find someone staring down at you. You flinch and get up, hoping he’ll move away. But he continues looming over you, looking at you with a scrutinizing gaze. 

“You must be my new roommate,” he says emotionlessly. 

“How’d you wake up so fast?” you respond, squinting at the daylight seeping through the room. Typically, the gas is strong enough to leave you knocked out for at least twelve hours. But this man is already awake, and there’s no telling how long he’s been standing before you, watching you. The thought unnerves you. 

He just shrugs in lieu of a response to your question. You take a deep breath and turn towards the far wall, dread coiling in your chest as your eyes find the number of the floor you’re on: 139. Fuck. You’ve never been this low before. You had the 76th floor last month and the 23rd the month before that, then 87, 6, and 53. You had no idea the floors went down past 100; all you knew was that you’d be getting a new roommate this month, in light of your past roommate’s death. 

Floor 139 is practically a death sentence. You’d normally be able to fast thirty days, but you spent all of last month fasting at Floor 76. (You didn’t have much of a choice, as the food never made it down to you in the first place.) You push yourself to your feet and walk near the center of the space, glancing down only to find more floors stretching down as far as the eye can see. There are dozens—maybe hundreds—of people beneath you. You want to throw up. 

“You look frightened,” your new roommate remarks, breaking you out of your spiraling thoughts. You glance at him, unable to hide your irritation. 

“Of course I am,” you snap, beginning to pace around the edge of the hole in the floor. “The food will never make it down this far.” 

“How do you know?” he hums. There’s a knowing smile on his face, as if he wants you to concede and utter the words aloud. 

“The food didn’t even make it down to level 87,” you recall, shaking your head as you try to fight off memories of an aching stomach and a debilitating weakness anchoring you to your bed. “And we’re fifty-two levels beneath that.” 

Silence. You swallow hard and try to maintain your composure. Panicking won’t do you any good.  And you definitely don’t trust this stranger enough to show him any sort of emotional vulnerability. You bite the inside of your cheek and think for several minutes. “What’s your name?” You later ask your companion. 

“Hannibal,” he responds. He takes another step backwards and light falls on his face, revealing a chiseled facial structure, brown-grey hair, and glimmering brown eyes. The man doesn’t look the slightest bit malnourished, despite your predicament. Either he’s new here, or he’s been able to keep his hunger satiated. 

“Hannibal,” you repeat, taking note of his vaguely European accent. “That’s a strange name.” Hannibal just blinks. The man looks almost expressionless, but you can see a hint of irritation at the edges of his faux smile. 

“How’d you lose your roommate?” you continue determinedly, desperate for some information on this guy. Something about him unsettles you. It must be the unbothered way with which he analyzes your surroundings, as if you hadn’t both just been given a finite expiration date.  

Hannibal studies you for a long moment. “You don’t want the answer to that question.” He eventually answers. A shiver rolls down your spine. 

“You killed them,” you realize aloud. 

“And ate them,” he confirms casually. Your heart starts thudding quickly in your chest. You pretend not to be affected by his confession. Internally, you’re scared for your life. To think that you’d survived months of starvation, only to die at the hands of another human? “What happened to your roommate?” Hannibal continues, before you can truly collect your thoughts. 

“They jumped,” you remember to say, the taste of bile climbing up your throat. There’s no need for further explanation. 

“Ah.” A tense quiet descends on the air once more, and the two of you spend the seemingly countless hours before the table’s arrival in silence. 

When you finally hear the telltale whirring of the table above, your stomach growls. You need food rather desperately—especially after not receiving any legitimate nutrition last month. Your hands are shaky; your vision is blurry; and your legs feel as if they’ll cave in at any moment. 

The glassware rattles and the table sinks down to your floor. Hannibal and you both look at the remnants of the meal from above, only to find plates licked clean and glasses entirely empty. As you expected, there is nothing left for you to eat: not even a crumb or bone. 

There is, however, a man crouched on the table. He stares ahead with blank eyes, as if he doesn’t even see either of you. You look at him for a few moments, immediately promising yourself not to get any closer. In this place, vulnerability is weakness. You’ve seen it happen before: someone will extend a helpful hand to another person, only to be stabbed through the back in the same breath. There is no saving anyone here. You are all destined for death, regardless of when it may come. 

Hannibal regards the new arrival for several seconds, before quickly reaching out and grabbing his collar, yanking him off the table and onto the pavement. You watch in disbelief as Hannibal brandishes a knife—when in the hell did he get that?—and stabs him several times. Your roommate’s ferocity ensures the man’s death. Calmly, Hannibal drags the corpse by the ankles until it’s closer to the walls. 

Then, he sinks his knife into the body’s skin. The victim, unsurprisingly, doesn’t so much as flinch. The knife pierces the skin of his chest and Hannibal sinks his hand into the cavity, gripping the entrails and pulling them out with practiced precision. He gets to his feet, holding the liver in his hand. You watch in silent horror as his head turns and his gaze finds you, his eyes trained on you even as he raises the organ to his mouth and begins eating. 

Your stomach turns in disgust and revulsion. You’ve survived months of fasting—you never ate another human, despite the earsplitting screams from above and below indicating that several other inhabitants did. Even though you know you need to eat, the thought of tearing into that corpse is enough to make your appetite disappear. You quickly turn your head and clamp a hand over your mouth, before raising it to cover both your nose and mouth. The scent is enough to make you nearly hurl. You close your eyes and pretend you’re somewhere else—anywhere else, but trapped on this floor with a cannibal. 

Your ears are ringing at the confirmation that Hannibal is a seasoned killer. This was not his first kill, and it likely won’t be his last. There is a very good chance you’ll be his next meal. Fear pulsing through your veins, you manage to pull your knees close to your chest and close your eyes. The cool metal of your lighter grounds you to this horrible moment, this stiff and unfeeling air. 

If you had known just what horrors you would be subjected to, you would’ve chosen a different object to bring. Maybe you would’ve even chosen a weapon to protect yourself or a form of entertainment. But your naive self chose a lighter—not even for smoking, but just to watch the flickering flame. Your finger now twitches to bring the flame to your skin, but you resist the urge. There is enough pain and suffering here without your own self-inflicted torture. 

It is hard to sleep that night. Your thoughts are buzzing too loudly. It takes a while for your eyelids to slip shut, and once the table comes rocketing by, you shudder awake and have to fall asleep once more. When you finally succumb to slumber, your dreams are distorted and cryptic. 

The weird sensation of something in your mouth pulls you from slumber. You open your eyes to find Hannibal standing over you, the crimson light casting shadows across his face. You instinctively want to belch at the foreign material, but Hannibal’s hand is secured firmly over your mouth. You immediately catch on to what he’s doing: he’s feeding you some of the corpse’s meat. 

You try to fight back—attempting to shove him off—but his grip is too strong and you’re weakened by hunger and lack of sleep. You’re forced to chew, unless you want to choke and die. A shudder runs through your entire body as you chew, disgusted with the texture. The taste of iron and copper runs through your mouth; the smell alone is enough to make you gag. After what feels like far too long, you manage to swallow. 

Satisfied, Hannibal steps away—and you immediately fall off your bed and to the floor, stumbling to the sink to drink some water and flush the organ down. “Fuck you,” you spit at him, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. It comes back bloody, and you take extra effort to scrub your face clean. Hannibal doesn’t seem to be affected by the insult. Rather, he’s wearing an understanding smile on his face—and you’re growing more and more overtaken with the urge to punch that look off his face. You clench the faucet with an increasingly tight grip, until there are bolts of pain sliding through your fingers. 

“You will thank me soon,” Hannibal remarks, staring at you. You can see his heated gaze in the cracked mirror before you. It’s clear what he’s trying to say: if you don’t eat, you will die.  

“I won’t,” you say numbly, your heart roaring in your ears. “You should’ve left me alone.” Your voice breaks at the end of that sentence; if Hannibal notices, he doesn’t comment on it. Instead, he only looks at you imploringly. 

“You need proper nourishment,” Hannibal maintains. 

You hiss and walk back to your bed, turning to the side so you don’t have to look at him. You’re not foolish enough to turn your back on him—not when you know just what he can do. You don’t want to indulge his murderous sensibilities. You spend the rest of the day split between seething and suppressing the urge to throw up.

When night falls, Hannibal goes to sleep. You only pretend. When you hear the steady rise and fall of his breathing, you push yourself up quietly and sit on your bed. You will not fall asleep tonight. You don’t want a repeat of last night. 

Despite your quiet movements, it doesn’t take Hannibal long to notice that you’ve shifted. “You’re not sleeping,” he says aloud, admittedly startling you as the uneasy silence across the space is broken. When you comprehend his remark, you can’t stop the wry laugh that falls from your lips. 

“I don’t trust you,” you respond candidly. There’s no point in pretending otherwise.  

Hannibal lets out a strange noise. It takes you a few moments to realize that he’s just laughing. “If I wanted to kill you, I would’ve done it already,” he then says. “You are… the least insufferable of my companions so far.”

You blink in the near darkness. “Thanks,” you say dryly. That statement isn’t reassuring in the slightest. You don’t want to wake up to find him forcing organs down your throat again. The thought sends a renewed wave of nausea through you, and it takes you several moments of measured breathing to fight it off. 

Eventually, you fall asleep. You can only fight off the exhaustion for so long, and if you’re not eating, then you definitely need to be resting to conserve energy. 

You wake the next morning breathing hard, expecting to see Hannibal looming over you. But he’s only sitting on his bed, regarding you with a blandly amused look. It appears he won’t be forcing you to consume human entrails again. 

But little do you know, Hannibal doesn’t have to force you next time. 

It’s been sixteen days since that horrible night. Sixteen days without food. Your body has grown incredibly weak. You can barely push yourself up to get to the faucet across the room. Speaking takes too much energy. Most of the time, you just lie on your bed and stare at some point in the distance, losing yourself in memories long gone. 

You can’t find the energy to waste on getting angry. Instead, you’re just… empty. The movement of the table is the only thing that helps you discern the time. The corpse Hannibal took all those days ago has since become a rotted pile. Neither of you have seen anything resembling food on the table. The people above are merciless. They eat the rations of several people; they spit on everything in reach. 

You don’t bother to look up at the table’s arrival today. There will be nothing for you to eat. And indeed, when you finally drag your eyes over, there is only glassware and silverware… scattered around a person in the center. They sit cross-legged and stare ahead with that similar unseeing expression from the man all those days ago. 

You don’t need to watch to know what happens next: Hannibal drags them onto the pavement, brandishes his knife, and kills them. He dissects them with the mercy of a disinterested scientist, before sparing you a simple look. There’s a single drop of blood carving a path down his lips. Hannibal wipes it away. 

You extend a hand wordlessly. 

Hannibal stares at you, a complex emotion passing over his face as quick as lightning. He places a bloodied chunk in your palm. The crimson stain spreads across your skin. You look down at it and feel… nothing. There’s an echo of disgust and horror, perhaps. But beyond that, you’re an empty shell. This place has changed you. Emotions do not survive here—instinct does. And your instincts tell you that you need food. 

Minutes later, the gnawing pain in your stomach has subsided and there’s the horrifically familiar taste of iron settling on your tongue. You swallow hard and slowly push yourself to your feet, mechanically walking over to the sink and getting some water to wash it all down. Your hands are shaking but you manage to satisfy your thirst. Turning the faucet off with shaking hands, you lean against the wall and sink down into a sitting position. 

There’s dried blood on your hands. It doesn’t matter that you washed it away—you can still see it. It haunts you, even when the night arrives and the floor is drenched in crimson light. You’ve since migrated to your bed, but you can’t get yourself to move from your sitting position and lie down. You can’t give yourself comfort. You don’t deserve it—not after what you’ve done. 

You’re not sure how long you sit silently, watching the darkness settle and fade into a dusky light. There’s a persistent pain in your back and your cuticles are picked open, yet these sensations fade to obscurity when you remember the meal you just willingly consumed. You had no choice seventeen days ago. You can’t say the same for yesterday.

There’s an uncomfortable wetness clinging to your cheeks and eyelashes. You’re crying, you realize. It’s been a while since you’ve cried, even with all the horrors you’ve witnessed here. You shakily wipe at your tears, but they keep falling. Falling prey to the burning in your throat, you bury your head in your bent knees and struggle for breath. 

At some point, there’s a hand on your back. You’re so exhausted that you don’t even flinch, because you can’t seem to muster up the energy. Your body is wracked with chills and phantom shivers as you try to comprehend just who is offering you comfort. The same person who kills others with ease and feasts on their remains… is wrapping an arm around your shoulders and sitting on your bed next to you. 

You don’t have the strength to push Hannibal away. You lack the strength and fortitude to do so. Hannibal is the only human contact you will have, if you continue living. You don’t have a choice—if you want to maintain your sanity, you’re forced to cave into the loneliness screaming behind the confines of your rib cage. That’s what you tell yourself as you reluctantly begin to relax in his hold. You cling to him with increasing desperation. Hannibal’s hand rises to the nape of your neck, cradling your head in what feels like an intimate gesture. 

You can’t stop the sobs crawling out of your throat. 

You want to assign Hannibal the blame. But you know it’s not that simple. He didn’t put you in this prison system; he is nothing more than another participant: one with the courage to keep themself alive, at any cost. Perhaps you should be more like him.

…It’s a chilling thought. 

You have never been so desperate for answers, inside bleak cement walls that give you nothing except more questions. The sparkling silverware; the gleaming glassware; the callous cruelty of those above; the painful plight of those below. There is no solidarity or community amongst the people in these walls: only the concepts of superior and inferior… and the fallen. Those who have been above, have savored without suffering… only fall from grace and stumble into starvation’s relentless grip once more. 

Your tongue recognizes the taste of copper; your hands the crimson stain that becomes a murky brown as time passes. You have fallen. And of one thing, you are certain: you will never rise again.

thanks for reading! <3

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