#paper creature full of fear...

[ivytea]

shelter from the storm

[dyns33]

Honorable mistake

Hi @loo-looland ! After an eternity, here what I did with your ask ! I hope you will like it, I liked writing it even if it took so long. Sorry again for that !

There must have been some mistake.

Y/N had repeated it several times since waking up on what was obviously another planet, knowing full well it wouldn't do anything to improve her situation.

The other people thrown into the same place were obviously soldiers, assassins, men and women capable of fighting and defending themselves if necessary. She had none of those skills. She cried as she cut herself with paper.

Not mean, but not ready to die for a stranger, the group had allowed her to follow them, until they were attacked by shadows and separated.

Now alone, weaponless, lost in this jungle, Y/N tried not to cry as she searched for a way to survive as long as possible, looking for a way home.

She could tell that wasn't a good idea as she approached what looked like a village, filled with these creatures with humanoid bodies but monstrous faces. However, since it was stupid, they wouldn't look for her that close, she just had to be discreet.

Luck wasn't on her side at all, as she was spotted almost immediately, entering what she had thought was a simple cave, but which was actually a sort of underground temple, where several of these predators were, all turning at once to stare at her.

Reflexively, she raised her hands, holding back a sob.

"Wait ! Please, have mercy. I'm not armed, I'm not a threat."

"… Kar'dokh, karu a'in ?"

"Sorry, I don't understand. Please."

"Ooman," the only one wearing a mask said in a strange voice as he approached. "You, not a warrior. You, no business here. Why you here ?"

"I don't know… I was going home and woke up here. Please, don't hurt me."

From what she understood next, she was on Yautja Prime, homeworld of the Yautjas. The one who had spoken to her was named Kar'dokh, and he was the one charged with finding and bringing worthy opponents to the rite of passage for the young warriors.

As she had been saying all along, he had made a mistake in selecting her, and so the elders decided she was now his responsibility.

For a moment, Y/N thought he was going to kill her. He could have, very easily, with just one of his giant hands, but while it might have been a merciful death, it would not have been honorable. These beings killed for food and for honor. She was neither fair game nor a match for him.

So it was decided that she would stay with Kar'dokh until the next great hunt. He would then bring her back to Earth, exchanging her for real opponents. This would take several cycles, and Y/N had no idea what that meant. Weeks, months, years, it was impossible to tell.

What seemed more impossible was that she would start to like it here. At first, she would completely panic at the slightest noise or movement. With or without his mask, she could see that her reactions amused Kar'dokh slightly.

"Ooman jumps. Like Lek'be."

"I don't know what it is."

"Small animal. Weak. Afraid. You, not afraid. I protect."

If they found honor in hunting, the Yautjas also found it in everything they did. And since Y/N was his responsibility, Kar'hokh cared for her as if she were the most precious thing in the world.

There were many times when he forgot that she didn't understand, that she wasn't as strong, as fast as him, or too tired to want to obey his orders, but he remained calm, waiting for her to stop shaking before resuming his activities.

Knowing she couldn't go far, between her fear of dying in the jungle and the fact that the entire village was watching her, Y/N often found herself alone. He had never forbidden her to leave the hut, but after several attempts at walking, she had decided she preferred to stay inside.

The Yautjas clearly weren't used to seeing an "ooman" up close, alive, and without going to kill them. They had studied the weaknesses, strengths, and weapons, but most of the Earthlings' characteristics were uninteresting. Yet, everyone was looking at her, and the younger ones even dared to approach, to ask questions or touch her hair.

"Tz'aqal ! Maak'a' li toch'ok !" Kar'hokh had growled when he saw them do it. "We a'an !"

"They didn't hurt me."

"Not important. Ooman, my responsibility. Mine. No touching."

"Great. You can stop calling me "ooman", please ? My name is Y/N, I'm not a dog."

"No dog, no. Dogs erocious. Y/N, little one. My Y/N."

While their species was familiar with humans, the reverse was absolutely not true, and it took Y/N some time to understand that Kar'dokh's protective and more or less gentle behavior with her wasn't normal.

With another individual, he would have acted more violently, more coldly. He would have made her sleep on the ground, forced her to hunt for her food, and he would have been delighted when the time to get rid of her finally approached.

Except that the day of his departure for the opponent selection was imminent, and the Yautja seemed anything but happy.

With a determination she didn't quite understand, he brought back plenty of prey that he proudly placed before her, waiting for a compliment. Purring with pleasure when she was impressed, he then skinned the creatures to take his trophy, but also to offer her one, and prepare the meal with what was left. Once finished, he would lift her up and bring her to his bed, so she could sleep on him.

And the night before the big day, he finally decided to be clear.

"My Y/N. Mate with me. Stay."

"… What ?"

"Me a worthy male. Prove it. Strong, providing and protecting. Strong seed, strong pups. Stay."

"But… Wait a second," Y/N stammered, shaking her head to make sure she wasn't dreaming what was happening. "You want me to stay with you ? And be lovers ?"

"Mate."

"Yeah, same thing. But me ? I'm human ! You could find a great warrior, you'd have beautiful little warriors with cute mandibles ! Is it even possible for a human to have a baby with a Yautja ? Not that I'd accept, I'm just asking."

"Advanced technology. Fix. Mate."

"But why me ?"

He didn't understand her hesitation. Of course Kar'dokh didn't. For them, there weren't things as complex as feelings, love, all that bullshit. They found a suitable mate, they courted them, and if they were accepted, they mated for life. Simple and effective.

There must have been something resembling love, or at least something equally illogical, for him to want to keep Y/N among all the possibilities available to him. Kar'dokh was a great warrior, respected, almost an elder. He was spoiled for choice in the village and all over the planet.

But he had wanted this little Ooman, captured by mistake. He had found her reactions amusing, he had found her body desirable, he had loved that she accepted his gifts. He would have a unique mate. If she would have him.

"Can I never leave ? Won't I return to Earth ?"

"Learn to hunt. Prove worth. Then right to hunt on other lands."

"Uh… I don't really feel like killing other humans for sport, thanks. I'll wait in the hut."

"You wait… So you'll stay ? Mine ?"

It was madness. One word, a simple "no," and even if he had been upset, she knew the honorable warrior would have taken her home as promised. But after all this time here with him, Y/N had probably lost her mind.

She nodded shyly, and when Kar'dokh didn't move, she thought he didn't understand what that meant. Then he took out his helmet and armor, before lifting her to carry her to the bed, but not to sleep this time, so he must have understood.

[dior-luxury]

Hello! Can I ask for a platonic relationship with Papa Crowley? He's weird of course, but I think he would be a caring papa bird 😌

Crowley As A Dad

( ✧ ) ────── parent stories . fluff - gn!reader .

- [𝐜𝐡.] Dire Crowley

- [𝐩:𝐬] Absent/Unmentioned Mother . Soft Angst / Emotional Vulnerability . Overprotective Parenting (in a comedic yet intense way) . Mild Magical Chaos / Comedic Danger . Mentions of Loneliness

Note: Hopefully, I read your request right! I'm pretty sure you were asking for parenting headcanons… and so I delivered 😌. I'm also back from my mini-writing break, but I hope you guys enjoy this! ╰(▔∀▔)╯

From the moment you could remember, your life was never what one might call "ordinary." While other children grew up with lullabies and stuffed animals, you were soothed to sleep by the fluttering of raven wings and the soft hum of incantations echoing from behind the study door. Dire Crowley, your father, was not the kind to change diapers with a mundane sigh or wake up at midnight with a bottle in hand—oh no, he’d appear in your nursery in a flurry of feathers and dramatic whispers, insisting that a “creature of such potential as his own flesh and blood” deserved nothing but the most theatrical midnight feeding.

He’d wear long, dark robes even around the house—because “aesthetics are crucial for a child’s development!” he’d declare, as you toddled after him dragging his cape like a royal train. Growing up in a magically warded tower nestled on the edge of a dense forest, the two of you lived in a place where the line between reality and fantasy was forever blurred. Magic books floated lazily through the halls, the paintings spoke in hushed tones about your future, and enchanted teapots tried desperately to brew coffee instead because—frankly—your dad was terrible at waking up on time.

But beneath all the dramatics—behind the mask, the mystery, and the occasional crow perched on his shoulder—was a man who loved you more fiercely than he could ever properly express. He’d try, of course. Every birthday he’d throw over-the-top parties with dancing shadows, singing chandeliers, and illusion fireworks that spelled out your name in a thousand sparkles. He was the kind of dad who would read you bedtime stories from ancient grimoires, editing out the darker bits because "you are too precious to be haunted by banshee prophecies at the age of six!"

When you were afraid—of the dark, of the monsters under the bed, or even of a bad grade—he’d appear like a specter summoned from the netherworld, sweeping into your room with candles floating in mid-air. He’d listen, really listen, eyes solemn beneath his mask. Then, with a hand on your shoulder and a voice like thunder disguised in silk, he’d whisper, “My dear, the world is full of things to fear. But none of them are stronger than you. After all, you're my greatest spell.”

And gods help anyone who made you cry.

Dire Crowley was not just protective—he was unhingedly protective. That time a teacher made a snide remark about your project not being "refined enough," Crowley showed up the next day to “volunteer” for career day, conjuring a shadow beast that re-enacted your entire paper in dramatic performance art. The class was speechless. The teacher quit. You were mortified—but touched. He didn’t care. “Art must be defended!” he declared, holding you high like a trophy.

He was also a bit of a disaster dad, but in a lovable way. Cooking? You learned early on that your father thought toast was made with a wand and wishful thinking. You once watched him try to summon a nutritious breakfast and instead got a floating omelet that kept trying to flee the table. Baths? You got one with actual rose petals and a choir of water spirits because he thought you looked a little stressed from school.

There were quiet moments too. Times when he’d sit beside you at night, hair down, mask off—rare glimpses when you saw not the eccentric headmaster but the man beneath. His voice would drop a note, softer and steadier. He’d tell you about his past, in pieces. Hints of loss, fragments of loneliness, and why he’d sworn to protect you with every ounce of power he had.

“Sometimes I think I became a magician just to keep the darkness away,” he murmured once. “And then you came along, and there was light again.”

You never knew your mother—he never spoke much about her, always changing the subject with a wistful sigh and a promise that he’d tell you “when the stars are right.” But you never felt lacking. He poured every bit of his being into raising you—your clumsy spells, your heartbreaks, your victories. Every tear, every laugh—you never walked through anything alone.

And when you grew older—when you entered Night Raven College as a student (an arrangement he swore was completely coincidental and definitely not nepotism)—he still doted on you. Not too openly, of course. That would be unprofessional. But your dorm always had the best bedsheets, your class schedule was somehow perfectly aligned with your favorite subjects, and occasionally, your enemies found themselves inexplicably turned into frogs for a day.

He never stopped being ridiculous, never stopped insisting on his own brilliance, or hiding behind that mask of melodrama. But you always knew better. You knew the warmth in his eyes when you passed an exam, the relief in his laugh when you came home safe from a dangerous practical assignment, the pride in his voice when he whispered, “You’ve become something truly extraordinary.”

[letoasai]

Will work for food ~ part 2

Part 1 - Master list

Tim was anxious which wasn’t an emotion he often put into use. Even on a bad day he was calculating, overly prepared, and usually ran on caffeine. He was a young genius and a hell of a detective, but nerves probably didn’t care about his resume or personality quirks. 

He rubbed his thumb against the folded piece of paper kept hidden in his pocket. He’d examined it in the batcave but it held no clues of note. It was just a normal sheet of paper, and the ink could have been a pen from any local corner store. No DNA. No fingerprints. All the same, he kept it out of sight in public. 

Tim had been antsy about summoning Phantom, mostly because he felt like he was disrespectfully late. When he’d first laid eyes on the living form of the Ghost King, he’d felt a familiar ache. Neglect. He didn’t know if the king had neglected himself, or if the blame lay at someone else's feet, but he just couldn’t stand it. 

He’d offered food and company in an instant, the words popping out of his mouth before he could think them through. Despite that, he didn’t regret the offer. He could have done without the teasing from his siblings and teammates, but he didn’t regret the offer once. 

His only remorse was with the clean up efforts. The Infinite creature, Vortex, had left quite the destruction in his wake. Even with many extended members of the League assisting with clean up, it took ages. Search and rescues were active and humanitarian groups had arrived to offer aid but some things couldn’t be done in a weekend. 

The bats returning to Gotham didn’t offer much in the way of a break either. A Scarecrow outbreak with his fear toxin. Three different gangs in the middle of a turf war. A weapons smuggling ring being uncovered… It was one thing after another for a minute. 

When all was said and done it had been nearly two months before Tim had the opportunity to keep his promise. He was in his civvies, standing at the mouth of an alleyway across from a little italian place that looked cheap but was actually the best tasting, most authentic italian place in all of Gotham. Little hole in the wall places often were the best. 

The problem now was his ability to overthink things. Would he summon the king in a glow of green that would light up the street like a beacon? Would he arrive in his ghostly form, crown hovering above his hooded head? 

Phantom looked human enough but was he? Did he come from Earth originally? There were plenty of aliens that looked human. It would be rude to assume… 

What name did he use? Did he need to go full title? Why didn’t he ask more questions when he had the chance?

“King Phantom.” Tim muttered, deciding to just go for it. He still clutched the paper sigil out of sight. “Uh, Ghost King Phantom. King of the Infinite Realm. Um… Or was it High King…” 

“Just Phantom is fine.” 

Tim tensed, all of his hair standing on end at the voice directly behind him in the alley. He hadn’t made a sound but he needed to actively work to exhale and turn around to face his guest. There had been zero indication of his arrival, and he was thankfully, in his living form. 

He was in jeans and an over sized hoodie. Tim could just barely make out a faded NASA written in the front. That was a point in the direction of him possibly being a human from Earth. He wore shoes this time, beat up looking kicks that had seen better days. His hood was also drawn over his head, likely to hide his bony appearance. Tim did spy the tail of his braid over his shoulder though, his hair black to further prove he was in his living form. 

“You…scared the hell out of me.” Tim said, smiling after another hard exhale. “I am sorry it took so long, your Highness.” 

“Phantom.” He corrected, looking around the street and taking it all in. Tim could clock him making note of the turns down the street and the buildings with fire escapes even with his hood up. People just had certain body language when casing an area. “I figured it would be a while, if you summoned me at all. I was not going to hold you to a whim, Red Robin.” 

“I said i would…” Tim muttered. “Uh, it’s Tim, out of uniform. If you don’t mind.” 

“Tim.” He repeated. That softness to his voice remained, and honestly, Tim liked the cadence of it. He liked it as much as he was sure he never wanted to hear Phantom raise his voice. “I understand.” He hesitated only a beat. “You can call me Danny. Phantom is probably a silly thing to call someone in a city like this.” 

“Not if it’s your name.” 

“Danny is okay.” He said, and for whatever reason, Tim noticed now how he kept his hands in his pockets, likely to hide them too. Frail, skeletal looking hands would just frighten some people. “Food? For a favor?” 

“No favor involved. I invited you out.” Tim said. “I mean, maybe we can chat about stuff but you aren’t obligated to answer or anything.” 

Phantom…Danny nodded, shuffling for a moment and looking around again. The height of the buildings seemed to be a mild interest of his. “Where are we eating?” 

“Well, if you like Italian, we’re walking across the street.” He thought pasta and breads would be both filling and flavorful. It would also be something easily packed up for Danny to take with him. 

“I’ll eat anything.” Danny informed him. “I have no preferences after all this time.” He hesitated. “Or maybe i need to rediscover them, but anything will be fine.” 

“Let’s… let’s go then.” Tim said, walking with Danny at his side. He’d made a reservation which wasn’t strictly necessary at such a small place but it gave him the option of reserving a corner table to offer them a little more privacy. 

They walked in, the hostess greeting them with a smile before leading them to their table and leaving them with bread, water, and menus. There were a few other full tables but it wasn’t packed the way it would be in the evening. 

Danny kept his hood up, but it was Gotham and no one questioned the decision. They just left him in peace to not start a conflict with someone who wasn’t causing any trouble. He also kept his hands out of sight until the hostess had left. He sipped the water once and broke off only a little piece of the bread. He buttered it and ate on it while flipping open the menu. 

Tim didn’t know if he was reading the English or Italian parts of the menu but it didn’t matter. Being fluent in reading an Earth language was another check mark for this being his place of origin. 

“Can i…” Tim hummed, keeping in mind that he was speaking with royalty and act a little less like Bruce interrogating a suspect. “Can i ask a couple questions?” 

Danny looked up at him, Tim only barely able to make out some of his features passed the unnatural shadows his hood provided. “Sure.” 

Tim smiled, not even bothering with the menu since he knew what he was getting. “You’re the King of a realm, but was Earth your place of origin?” 

“Yes, but not this Earth.” 

Dimensions! Tim filed that away for later. “You can travel to any of them?” 

“Within reason. Yes. I’m old, but not that old yet. Only eight or nine decades.” He tore another small piece of bread to eat. Tim assumed he was pacing himself. “They call me a baby Ancient still.” 

“That’s cool…” Tim muttered. “Are there many other Earths?” 

“The answer to that would never satisfy you.” Danny said softly. “Trust me. I am the Ancient of Space and i’m hardly satisfied with it.” 

There was a new fact for Tim to latch on. “What’s the-” He stopped when the waitress appeared. Both of them ordered, and Tim was certain he’d end up ordering more halfway through the meal so Danny could take more home with him.  

When the menus were taken and the waitress left again, Tim continued. “What’s the difference between being an Ancient of Space and being the Ghost King.” 

“When i died, or half died, it was my fate to one day become the Ancient of Space. I am that regardless. I won the title of Ghost King.” 

Tim dragged a hand down his face. “That’s…. Endlessly fascinating. I have so many questions.” He didn’t even know how to touch ‘half died’ yet. 

Danny hummed once and fiddled with the end of his braid. “Do i get to ask questions too?” 

“Of course.” 

Danny leaned forward, sipping at his water again. “This Earth has super heroes. That’s interesting. Mine didn’t. How long have you been a hero?” 

Tim nodded, figuring that would be the direction the questions would have wandered towards. They were far enough away from everyone in the restaurant that he didn’t worry about being heard. The music playing in the background also helped a great deal. 

“Hero might be a debate depending on who you ask. In Gotham we’re considered vigilanties. I first suited up at thirteen but it was really more like fourteen after a great deal of training.” 

Danny was quiet for a moment. “And how old are you now? I have trouble telling ages these days…” 

“Eighteen.” Tim said. 

“Young.” Danny muttered. “I was young too. Fourteen when i became the bridge. Sixteen before i really understood what it meant.” 

“The bridge?” 

“Balance. The living and the dead.” 

Tim huffed softly. “You wear a lot of hats, don’t you?”  

Danny made a quiet noise, and it took Tim a beat longer than normal to realize he was laughing. “I do, i wish i didn’t most of the time. It’s fine though.” 

“Just fine?” Tim asked after a beat. He knew a little about expectations and high standards that could weigh you down–both his own standards and other peoples. 

Danny nodded, one of his hands resting on the other. “I’ve seen things. Good things. Bad things. Things that will never happen. Things that have. It’s better i have certain powers because i have no desire to use them.” 

Aah. Tim understood that. “People who want too much power are dangerous.” 

“Exactly.” 

“The power of ruling an entire realm…” 

“Exactly.” 

Tim heaved a sigh. “Damn.” Maybe he should ask something less intense. “Did you enjoy the food we gave you last time? It was just some fast food but there was some worry it wasn’t good enough.” 

“It was great.” Danny said and he sounded sincere. “Nostalgic. It took me a few days to eat all of it. I know the Infinite Realm’s reputation, and it is a warranted reputation, but i’m… hard to offend. Little things are just little things.” 

“I’ll put them at ease then.” 

Danny was quiet for a moment, the silence not an oppressive one. “What is the difference between a hero and a vigilante?” 

“How people perceive us, i guess. Superman will always be seen as a hero. Wholesome and valiant and all that. Things in Gotham are altogether… shadier. Being a vigilante isn’t exactly legal and while we have our boundaries, we break the law all the time.” Tim said. They covered their own tracks well but it was fortunate that no one looked too closely at their activities. 

It didn’t bother Tim when he knew his reasons were still good. 

Danny made a thoughtful kind of noise. “I’m willing to bet Superman’s business isn’t purely legal either. This seems like a nice Earth though, despite whatever troubles you have.” 

“Some hero work is sanctioned by the government so it’s a fine line. Any of it could be argued.” Tim explained, and that was something Danny seemed to find fascinating. 

They paused their conversation again when the waitress appeared with their food, and Tim put in a second order for them to take when they left. The eyes Tim could feel on him told him that Danny already knew what they were for. 

He could hear Danny softly inhale and exhale as he looked at the plate in front of him that came accompanied with salad. He likely wouldn’t be able to eat even a fraction of it but the way he looked at it…. made Tim realize that he could see Danny’s face more clearly. The shadows that obscured his face from his hood had receded. He was still gaunt, but he eyed the food with so much joy. 

The first bite of –non fast food– food nearly seemed to overwhelm him in a good way. 

“You know,” Tim swung hard to change subjects. “We can do a bit of a food tour every time i summon you for lunch. Pizza. Chinese. Barbeque. There’s a great taco truck. We could get something homemade.” 

“You cook?” 

“Haa. No.” Tim said seriously. “But Al… my grandpa is an amazing cook and he seemed to think trading food for world saving services was very sensible but he was appalled that we offered you cheap fries and burgers. He’d honestly love to cook for you.” 

Danny smiled, this shy little look that shouldn’t have fit someone with the title of Ghost King but it sure fit Danny. “That could be nice. Decent home cooked meals are kind of mythological to me.” 

Tim nodded once, and knew better than to ask directly. “I didn’t have a very cuddly upbringing either. There was a lot of take-out involved.” 

“Your food ever come back to life and try to eat you instead?” Danny asked and Tim just stared. 

“I can’t…tell if that’s a real question or if you’re messing with me.” 

Danny smiled and was that a hint of fangs? “Dead serious.” 

Time groaned. “No, no you are a king. You are not making puns.” 

“Thinking i’m too mature for puns is a grave mistake.” Danny said without hesitation. 

“Noo.” Tim groaned, lips upturned into a smile. His brothers could never know about this. Dick would start a pun off and Jason’s morbid sense of humor about his own death…. Ugh, it would be bad. 

It did bring up the interesting question of Danny’s age. He said he’d been alive for decades but how did he mature. Was he still a teenager? Did he age slowly? Asking not only sounded like a bad idea, but Raven and Zatanna had both made sure he knew it was a question to not ask. 

They chatted, they ate, or well, Tim ate. Danny ate a bite every few minutes and looked thrilled about it but he was slowing down. Tim was looking forward to Danny being able to eat more with every visit. 

He flagged down the waitress, gesturing for a box and got a thumbs up in return. 

“You can take it with you.” Tim said when Danny was giving him a look. “It might be a couple days before i can call you again and this way you’ll have enough to eat every day.” 

“I can’t deny that.” Danny said. “You don’t have to keep summoning me.”

“I promised you lunches.” Tim said firmly. “And you said it yourself, you should eat more and spend more time in a living realm. You may as well take advantage of being summoned for food.” 

“Hm…” Danny played with the end of his braid again. “You do make a compelling argument. It’s nice to talk to someone without it being preceded by a brawl.” 

Tim stared, “What?” 

Danny just looked amused. “I’ll explain to you etiquette in the Infinite Realm sometime.” 

“Yeah?” 

The waitress returned with boxes for Danny to pack up his meal and the empty dishes were whisked away to make more room on the table while they waited for their to-go orders. 

They were almost startled when a second waitress reappeared with a few little dishes before they could begin speaking again. Everything was set in the middle of the table, presumably for them to share. There was a piece of white peach tart, a bowl of strawberry gelato, and a slice of frozen chocolate chip meringata. 

“Um…” Tim blinked. “We didn’t-”

The waitress chuckled. “It was ordered for you by another patron. Please enjoy.” She set down another set of utensils for them and walked away. 

Danny made a small sound in his throat. “Well i was full but how could i say no to a couple more bites…” 

“Wait.” Tim said, gaze subtly shifting around the room. Maybe he was trained to be paranoid, but it usually served him well. What he found almost instantly had his eye twitching. 

Not even halfway across the room sat a poorly disgusted Dick wearing large sunglasses, a fedora, and the world's least convincing mustache. When he saw Tim looking and grinned and raised his own wine glass. 

“I gotta kill my brother…” 

Danny sputtered out a laugh, so genuinely amused that Tim could definitely see his fangs as he laughed.

“That would make him my problem.” Danny pointed out, reaching for a spoon to try the gelato first. 

“I’m not seeing your point.” Tim said, delighted by Danny’s teasing. It was a rookie mistake to think one of his siblings wouldn’t find out about this. An absolute blunder that he hadn’t noticed Dick walking in after them at all. He’d never live it down. 

“Guess i’ll have to be more careful next time.” He added. 

Danny hummed again and seemed to have a fondness for the cold dessert. “I could always invite you to my realm sometime.” 

“Cool.” Tim said instantly. Ha, let them try to follow him then…

[snoopyhq]

˚ ♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ we should just kiss like real people do

NOT using cherry wine because the song has been through too many bastardizations already, and i'm a hozier fan before i'm anything else. to use cherry wine would be a disgrace, even if it has the 'perfect' line for a fic like this)

type: viktor x vampire reader

summary: headcanons and then a drabble of an instance where you feed

warning(s): blood, vampirism

word count: 921

a/n: been thinking about vampirism a whole lot lately as well as feeling down, so now i cope through tumblr fics. i love viktor, i wish i felt as strongly about real life people like i do for him

For a creature that's considered parasitic, the relationship you have with your eccentric scientist proved quite mutualistic

When you first stalked him on his walk home that late, late night, he had seemed like ordinary prey, easy to sink your teeth into and forget about

Something stopped you

Maybe it was that look in his eyes, flickering like a flame in the dark of that alleyway, refusing to die

They were so determined, so full of life

How could you ever drain them of that spark? It wasn't right

You could sense his fear, so palpable in the air, but he stood firm. His grip on his cane steady, his posture straight as he stared right at you with those lovely eyes, a million stories flitting through them

The eyes of someone who fought to survive since the moment he was born

You felt yourself slowing down, and then dropping to your knees completely

What were you doing? Were those tears in your eyes? You've become so jaded

Immortality had made you nothing

This mortal, so brief in the fabric of time, and his life already so weak and waning, had more... what was it? vigor to him

Lust was something you knew very well. Bloodlust. You embodied it. That urge that could never be satisified, the driving force that keeps your miserable legs moving, your body agile and agitated

His lust was one for life. For pursuit too, as you came to find out

A deal was struck that night; knowledge in exchanged for food

You allowed him to observe you and ask his questions, to witness your hunts (on animals now. less thrilling, but you digress)

In return, he became a sustainable food source. You didn't have to go out and about in the night now and get paid in stupid drunks or those rotten enforcers for your efforts

How lovely, to have something consistent for once

You could get used to this

Get used to him

divider below from @/dollywons !!!

The quiet comfort of the bedroom reminded you of your old crypt, in a way. It was dark. The sheets were soft and meticulously kept. It smelled of leather and old books and dried ink on fresh paper. The new addition was Viktor.

You'd started lounging about in his home, and his room became your favorite corner of the house. It became ritual for him to joke about having a coffin fixed there so you won't have to hog the blankets. Not his blankets. They were to be shared now, and he was fine with that. The coffin idea was still appealing though.

Tonight interrupted the quiet. You lingered before him, eyeing the pale curve of his neck. It was taking all your self control to not pounce on him immediately.

"Are you comfortable?" you asked.

He shifted around a bit, and then nodded.

"I'll try to keep accurate time. See if you're more greedy than last time," he joked.

Tsk. It wasn't that funny. (It is). You weren't as hungry as before.

Now you hovered above him, having laid him down. There was less hesitation this time, and you wonder if he'd note that down in his journal. You both did this song and dance enough by now to be comfortable with one another.

Still, the act of feeding was one of savagery. That can't change. When mixed with romance? It clashed, horribly. Your inherent nature versus what had been nurtured.

The taste of his blood filled your mouth, and you could sing to the heavens. If such a creature like yourself were allowed to. You weren't sure on the terms and conditions of that. Regardless, he was so sweet. A heady vermillion ambrosia on your tongue.

You were taking such care to be gentle with him.

You didn’t want to hurt him, but your love was violence, the draining of life, and the dark urges that lurk beneath every man, and he was already going limp.

Shit.

You pulled back immediately, the red still dripping from your teeth and down your throat. It mirrored the punctures on his. Viktor, the stubborn bastard, gripped the edge of your sleeve. He tugged insistently.

"I'm fine. I'm not as fragile as you think," he said, miffed.

“Too bad. I’m full,” you slowly pry yourself from his grip.

While he lazed back, you grabbed the first-aid kit. So used to it by now. He didn’t even flinch when you applied the antiseptic. After securing the gauze, you leaned down to brush another kiss against his lips, and he sighed at the slight feel of your fangs against the skin there.

“Was your vampire research quota met?” you asked, propping yourself up on your elbow to observe him.

“Very much,” he replied. “I look forward to comparing it with next week’s results.”

As he drifted off in your arms, you felt affection swell in your heart, and a fierce protectiveness over him.

He was strong.

You knew that more than anyone. He walked such a thin line between life and death. You could hear the beat of his heart, the flowing in his veins, and fragility of his tissues and arteries and bones. He pushed on, despite it. Taking his body to limits that had you balking, and you were near invincible.

In your hold, he was so delicate. His body was already thin and frail. So easily breakable. The very thought made you uncomfortable, and you tightened your hold on his sleeping form.

He was strong. You’ll protect him anyways.

[mariam123mariam]

I am Khaled, a father of Mariam and her two children, living with my small family in northern Gaza. We once dreamed of a peaceful and secure life, but the war destroyed our home, forcing us to live in tents that offer no protection from the winter cold ❄️ or the heavy rain 🌧️.

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[ghostedgwen]

like sinking ships | r.lupin [part one]

note : hello, welcome to a new mini series! I am so excited to be writing this as I have been drafting the story and its layout in my head for over weeks, it took a while to properly map it out on paper so I'm only writing it now. I hope you guys enjoy and tysm!

warnings/tags : hints of angst from remus' self-deprecation, mildly depressing themes, self hate(?), remus hates being a werewolf, vulgar language from hormonal teenagers, mild suggestive themes (no smut ofc), remus pov

Remus Lupin was always quietly observing people through the covers of his books. So when he noticed your monthly disappearances matched his, he only had one conclusion— that was you were a werewolf like him.

A story in which the marauders beg you to help them tame the wolf with your charming powers; two children of the moon that couldn’t be more different from each other in a tangled mess of transformations, betrayal and heartbreak.

. . . What must it be like to grow up that beautiful?

Remus was surprised to find he was made Prefect – he knew he would be the obvious choice among his friends but it still surprised him.

He has spent a good chunk of his time in Hogwarts hiding away every month at the Shrieking Shack, forced to endure pain like no other all alone. He was safe, but most importantly, they were safe from him.

He was four when he was bitten. He had been safe on a tiny bed, tucked in after story time when he felt searing pain ripple through him in the form of teeth. Teeth deep in him, rattling him awake and he was never the same since.

Could you imagine being barely 5, transforming under the moon? Just a babe, with milk-stained teeth being ripped apart and put back together into something else. He was so small then, a tiny wolf cub that whimpered and cowered in the dark. A wolf did not recognize human parents, it was scared more than it had scared them.

He was but a tiny thing without a pack, a small wolf that did not know how to put words into the pain and loneliness he felt. Remus Lupin, just a baby, barely a boy, was a monster long before he overcame his fear of them.

Ever since then, he has only known pain. It was a friend that visited every full moon night, stayed with him until dawn, and it sat with him through it. Pain is an old friend that has grown up alongside him, as he got older, so did the pain.

So if he was asked if he expected it, he would say ‘yes’. He had expected he would be considered, the only one that seemed ‘responsible’ among Marauders, but that’s only because he never claimed credits from the prank ideas that were majorly his.

It’s been known that he sticks out like a sore thumb among them and it’s not just the tall stature. He was quiet, he did his work in due time, and he excelled in every class he took.

So yes, while he expected it, he did not really think Dumbledore would allow it. Or even McGonagall, who he thought knew better than to put a monster in a position of authority. Because that’s what he is, right? What else can you call a creature who only knew how to hurt itself and the people around it?

It felt like an assurance to see himself be branded as a Prefect. They saw him as more than just a monster, he was an honour student - one the Professors acknowledged and knowing that, in some way made him feel validated.

“Congratulations on the Prefect thing, Moonbeam!” Sirius greeted him as soon as he slid the compartment door open. The train was loud with students piling in and parents shuffling out. 

“Yeah, congrats Mr.Responsible Prefect,” James was holding back his laughter. “Bet he’s too good for pranks.”

���Oh, they grow up too fast!” Peter chided, all dramatic with the back of his hand to his forehead.

Sirius stopped laughing to contribute, “How our greatest ally has become the enemy!”

Remus rolled his eyes. He hasn’t even put away his luggage and they’re already accosting him with their antics. He puts his bag on the overhead compartment and sat down next to Peter with a huff.

“You tossers barely let me have time to sit down first,” he rolled his eyes again.

“Oh please don’t take away house points this early, I beg of you!” Peter exclaimed dramatically, shaking his arm with a look of panic. James and Sirius are losing it, laughing with their heads thrown back.

Remus can only crack a smile while his friends’ laughters echoed through the train walls. They were enjoying this too much, but he’s glad to have them so he can enjoy the news with other people.

“Arseholes,” Remus muttered with a smile tugging at his lips. “This is exactly why I was made Prefect and not you bloody wankers.”

“D’ya hear that, mate?” Sirius asked James with a tilt of his head towards Remus who sat across them, still being manhandled by Peter. “Remmy here got himself a Prefect badge and is acting all high and mighty on us.”

James turned to look at Remus and glared, a smile was fighting its way to his lips. “My, Mister Lupin how you have changed drastically. You have let all the power get to your head.”

Another set of laughter, this time he joined in so all four of them was losing it like they just heard the funniest joke ever said - perhaps they have. Remus forgot all doubts he had about the position.

He was worried about being worthy of it, his thoughts drifting to dark places that entertained the possibility that had there been someone else aside the three idiots, he wouldn’t be chosen - all of that melted away in the presence of the Marauders.

His friends who were all too talented at getting rid of all the negative things that swirled in his head. He can never stay upset long when they are all together like this, he really believes that this is where he was meant to be. 

Hogwarts felt impossible when he was 11 and a scarred little boy. Now, it feels like home that he could never imagine being without.

“So, how long do we have before you have to go have your super important Prefect meeting?” Sirius asked with a raised brow once the laughter slowly died down.

Remus shrugged. “I figured Evans will come pick me up,” and right on cue, the door slid open and there was Lily Evans in all her brilliant glory looking around. “There she is.”

“Remus, congratulations!” Lily greeted, smiling warmly at him.

“Thanks, congrats as well,” Remus returned it. “Saw that one coming.”

“Congrats on getting Prefect, Lupin!” Marlene greeted him, wiping the trail of pumpkin juice down her chin. “You were obviously the only choice.”

James scoffed at her words. “I can also be very responsible, nevermind these two, I would have made a great Prefect.”

Both Peter and Sirius lets out an offended ‘hey’ at the same time which he pointedly ignored, he turned his head to Lily who was watching the exchange. “The universe just knew Lily-Flower would fall for me all too easily if we got paired together as Prefects.”

Lily makes a face at him. “You wish.”

“Oh I do,” James winked.

Remus shakes his head in feigned disappointment and turned back to Marlene who sat across him. “Thanks,” then he raised an amused brow. “Don’t expect me to turn a blind eye when I see you sneaking out to visit the dungeons past curfew.”

Marlene only smirked in response and continued enjoying her dinner.

“She and Meadowes are still acting like a bunch of horny fourth-years,” Mary gagged while she was cutting up her steak. “Can’t you just wait until the next day to get a shag?”

Marlene sent an offended look to Mary who sat next to her. “Just because you have no one to shag with doesn’t mean you should tell me what to do.”

“Please, we just got back, can we not talk about shagging of all things?” Lily asked them, looking almost defeated through mouthfuls of roasted chicken. “We are at dinner, for Merlin’s sake.”

Remus almost laughed. It was funny hearing Lily swear like a wizard because she grew up in the muggle world, but the wizarding world has surely been rubbing off on her.

“Speaking of shagging, yall think this year is my year?” Sirius asked, smirking as he sent a look towards the Hufflepuff table. They all turned, already knowing who he meant.

Remus trailed his eyes across the Great Hall to find you. You who sat so perfectly in your robes, not a single wrinkle and even as you moved in the bustling table - you looked so graceful.

“You have been at it since last year, she is not shagging you - let alone snog you,” Marlene rolled her eyes and threw a look of disgust at Sirius.

Sirius ignored the negativity. “Come on, I’m Sirius Black, I even grew a bit over the summer so surely she’ll give me a chance this year,” Sirius then stretched his lips into a knowing smirk. “Wanna guess what else grew over the summer?”

There was a collective groan among their circle which he laughed at so shamelessly. Peter was the only one mildly amused. Remus fought the urge to throw up on him as he was chewing his steak.

“You are disgusting,” Mary groaned.

“Thank you,” Sirius quipped.

They all returned to their meals but Remus allowed his gaze to linger on you. Not much was known about you. You were in their year, got sorted into Hufflepuff and you have practically been the it girl of Hogwarts ever since you set foot in it.

It’s like you had magic that surrounded you all the time that pulled people in without even meaning to - had it not been for your features, people would have guessed you were a Veela - some still suspect you might be one, partly.

Remus doubts it, if he were asked of his own personal opinions about you. He admits there was a certain air around you, he would be lying if he said you didn’t catch his eye - he was not blind.

You were always a treat to the eyes. You are beautiful, in ways that scared him. He knew he wasn’t allowed to feel anything of the sort for anyone, not with his condition and not with someone like you.

So perfect, so free from the scars he has and you were too far.

Sirius has been trying to make moves on you since fourth-year, the year when the rake of Gryffindor house was awakened, and he’s made it some ultimate goal to achieve you. Remus thought it was very sexist, you weren’t some trophy to be won but Sirius insists that you’d be in on the game if you returned his advances.

You never did.

All your years at Hogwarts with boys and girls falling over themselves at your feet and not once did you entertain any of them, you couldn’t have cared less as you focused more on your studies and your friends.

And that was all he knew about you.

Remus looked away before the staring got too creepy. He continues eating while he listened in on the chatter, he kept himself from looking back up in fear that he’d get lost in thoughts again and would be caught by his friends.

By doing so, he failed to see how you turned and looked over your shoulder to watch him.

Remus has finished putting all his things away, he’s still dressed in uniform while his friends have all changed into more comfortable clothes. There’s Sirius with his loose trousers - shirtless in all his pale glory, James in matching Quidditch-themed pyjamas and Peter in an oversized Jumper (Remus’s of course) and pyjama trousers.

They were all prepared for bed while he was dressed for patrols.

“Sucks to be you,” Sirius teased and Remus did not rise to the bait.

“Yeah, I’m taking the map so don’t even bother sneaking out," Remus smirked and Sirius scoffed in feigned offence at him.

James yawned, he was all ready to tuck in for the night after the tiring trip back to Hogwarts and the ruckus in the Great Hall. “Goodnight, lads.”

All three boys returned it in unison.

Remus then was out of the dormitory and into the common room where a few students lingered. He raised a brow at the loitering first-years and cleared his throat, “Best go to your dormitories, it’s almost curfew.”

They all exchanged looks then nodded amongst themselves, scurrying off to the stairs and Remus tried not to look too relieved that the younger students adhered to his authority, and made his way out of the Fat Lady’s portrait.

Once he was out, he began making his way to his designated place of patrol, taking in how empty the castle looked at night. He guessed it was different when you’re not under a cloak sneaking about.

He allowed the comfortable silence to waft all over him. Home was been nice, Hope and Lyall were the best parents possible. In their own way, they managed to be amazing parents to a creature.

They had been given a boy, they loved him and looked forward to his bright future but all it took was a single night - a single bite to forever change that and their entire lives were spun on its head.

He was no longer a boy and still, they remained parents. Remus thinks back to his parents back at home, they worry so over him every full moon but he makes sure to keep the worse of it away from them.

He lies through his teeth that being around friends was helping him get better. ‘The transformations are less painful’, yeah right. If anything, the more he grows closer to the boys, the worse it gets.

While Remus Lupin grew deeper connections and formed stronger bonds - the wolf grew more lonely and more needy of its own pack, he was struggling to keep it all at bay. The older he gets, so does the wolf.

How does one even contain a wolf going through its own puberty?

It was getting harder and harder to keep it all in but he knew he had to be alone in this. He can’t risk anyone else, so he figured with Prefect duties. . .it might be the perfect excuse to drift apart from the boys.

He’ll claim he’s busy, occupied with patrols, anything to keep them at an appropriate distance. He’s enjoyed them too much, it was time to pay his dues to the moon.

The full moon is tonight, as expected - Remus Lupin is on the edge. He feels irritated at everyone and everything, his skin is itchy and he feels like burning from a fever from the inside. It was always like this, only it gets worse every year.

The effects get more intense as he grows older and the wolf inside him grows with him. During this time, it gets hard to eat. He can’t stop thinking that if he eats, he feeds the wolf as well and he still has not come to terms with it.

The wolf isn’t him. He refuses to accept it. He sees it as a whole ‘nother being, like some parasite that has invaded his body, an unwelcomed entity that entangled itself to his soul.

He was scared, in all honesty. Scared that as the years go by and the wolf gets bigger and older - it will overtake him. He’ll lose Remus Lupin, and it would just be the wolf. 

“You don’t have to go patrol,” James offered with a careful tone, smiling slightly to show the kindness in his words. “McGonagall would understand, you know, with the full moon and all.”

Remus lets out an irritated sigh, the boys watched in anticipation. “It’s just fucking patrol, all I have to do is walk around the castle and make sure no one’s shagging in the corners past curfew. I’ll be back in time for yet another amazing time at the Shrieking Shack.”

They were used to him snapping by now, they knew not to take it to heart - that he had no control of his temper and his mouth once the wolf was stirring in him under the full moon’s control.

“Alright,” Sirius spoke, voice soft. “Just be careful, yeah?”

Remus released the tension on his shoulders then, just enough to lessen the unreasonable anger he felt. “Yeah, I will.”

Once he left and was out of earshot, Sirius managed a chuckle at the two other boys. “A swearwolf that one,” James rolled his eyes and Peter made a face, “yeah? No? Okay. Tough crowd.”

Remus was just about to finish his patrol when he spotted something odd in the map. He knew it would be cheating to bring the map with him during patrols but it’s not like the school rules stated anything against it.

He justified it by claiming it made him perform his duties more effectively. He was lucky enough to convince both Head Girl and Head Boy to let him do his patrols alone without a partner, he didn't need a partner anyway.

He was about to tuck away the map on his walk back to the Gryffindor common room when he saw your name rushing out of the castle. He didn’t have time to question it, you were heading for the courtyard and into the black lake when he realized he had to rush back in time to meet Madam Pomfrey.

You were forgotten as he ran on his way back, racing with time before the full moon took hold of its reigns that was right over him.

taglist : @eeviee4 @wen-oo @booklover2503 @izzyluvsmms (send an ask or reply to be added to the taglist!)

part two | masterlist

[nemesis-writer]

Crybaby

Masterlist TW- neglect, almost-suicide, suicidal thoughts

She stood on the bridge In silence and fear, For the demons of darkness Had driven her here.

So close to falling yet so far from succeeding, I latched on to the bar hoping to make my self let go from the shivering rain. But no, I just held on wishing that a brother or father of mine could save me.

They cut her heart Right out of her chest, Making her believe That the demons knew best.

They depth of my hatred for them goes farther than the deepest oceans and the farthest galaxies. I guess from this you can tell that my life has always been described as a poem from the darkest poets such as Edgar Poe, or darker than the ebony that coats the outside of the unknown galaxy.

I've always loved myself for it, yet I've always been hated for it. The Waynes could also be mentioned as the Addams' family with a loyal butler, multiple suicidal kids, and 'loving parents'. Yet unlike the Waynes, at least the Addams family aren't full of rage and loathesome creatures.

The demons of my life have come from the very same family that held me, hurt me, neglected me, and despised me for the rest of my days.

They were always there, Sometimes just out of sight, Waiting in the background Till the time was right.

Damian was always the one I expected to push myself through the buildings that were made for despair my whole life. Jason, would be considered the first one to have memories with since he's trying to avoid showing the wretched hatred my father has for me.

Tim, Cassandra, Stephanie, and Barbara considered me useless, unintelligent, and fatally naive to the outside world. Then there's Dick, the eldest, the role model, the possibly apple of dear old dad's eye, he on the other hand found me as a means to an end, who wouldn't?

Bruce, I was stupid to assume that we could connect as a father-daughter would. Every day he wished to send me back to the adoption center and nullify all the papers that was supposed to make me a Wayne.

These demons were destructive, Knocking down the life she knew, Hating everything about her; She hated herself, too.

The family that I was inured to, has stabbed, beaten, and thrown me away like an animal. I was considered more as a stray animal begging for love and attention. The human beings that I consider myself to be connected to is Alfred and Jesse. Alfred is the Lurch of this family while Jesse is another being that has kept me from losing sanity in this jail they call home.

I got lucky to graduate just in time before I let myself drown from neglect. But sadly we can't simply run away from the demons we bear.

These demons can't be seen, But they're far from fairy tales. They live inside your mind; Their evilness prevails.

People thought I'm crazy for being ungrateful of this life, my words are deemed fraudulent. But my appearance is out of order, my clothing is ragged, my hair remains dry and bristling, my body now shows malnourishment and scars from my demons. Yet, my eyes remained the same, broken, in front of the face I was gifted to be beautiful became a mask for the truth, my face was meant to be scarred.

I've never felt the scars go deeper yet I never minded of it. But as I was about to let go of the bars that held my fear in it I heard a voice.

"Hello lady what are you doing?"

It was a voice of a little five year old girl.

"Just enjoying the rain little one. Where are your parents at?"

"I don't have any, I just like being alone."

I jumped over the bar back to the bridge, looking at her with sadness.

"Want me to take you back to the center?"

"Suree, Thank youuu!", She giggled.

And we went on our way back.

So on the bridge she stood, About to end the fight. Then she stopped and thought I'll fight them one more night.

Taglist

@lunayaps, @not-aya, @iluvcatzz, @vanessa-boo, @ivyrose9194,@thesehandsarerated-e

[m0nsterqzzz]

Happy Wife Happy Life

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pairing: Clarisse La Rue x fem!reader

summary: being Clarisse's "wife" will always have it's perks

a/n: honestly don't know how to feel about this but I'm tired. anyway, kinda hate the ending. and my writing lol.

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Love is the greatest thing.

At least, in your eyes it is.

It can bring the strongest people to their knees, risking their lives or others lives just so that they can keep their person happy. It's always been amazing to you.

Not so much in your best friend Clarisse's. She'd much rather have the glory of being the strongest kid in school, or be feared by your classmates. "Love is stupid." She always tells you while she watches you study under the willow tree she likes climbing.

"No, it's not. It's powerful. You like powerful things don't you?" You'd say back with an airy laugh, then forcing her to come back down from the branches so you can help her with her math homework.

She's heard lots about the emotion called jealousy, but she'd never truly felt it until she saw Holly Bracken kiss your cheek during recess one day. The tightening of the chest, the way her throat went dry and she clenched her fist by her side from the other end of the black top and tried to stop herself from throwing the basketball in her hands towards the blonde girl's head. It wasn't a feeling Clarisse liked, and the feeling only went away when you were laying in her arms under the tree after school that day.

That warm afternoon, she'd asked you to marry her with a paper ring, one that you cherished for a whole week until it got caught in something and broke. You'd obviously said yes, the fact that you had a huge crush on her not exactly helping as you forced yourself to remember she was obviously kidding. Sealing the marriage with I do and then placing a chaste kiss on the back of your hand like she'd seen done in the romantic movies her mother likes watching, you were officially hers. As long as you were her wife, Holly Bracken could no longer kiss your cheek with that ugly smug smile.

She went on to make sure of that, introducing you as her wife to anyone and everyone that was willingly to listen. You two were young, and nobody took it quite seriously until she saved up almost a full year's allowance money to buy you a nice looking- but still cheap- promise ring from the jewelry store downtown. It was a silent promise, one that she eventually voiced as you were sleeping over at her house.

"I'll be with you forever." She'd whispered in your ear, and you foolishly believed her.

She was gone three weeks later.

You didn't get a phone call, an email, or even a letter. She just....disappeared.

Her family stopped answering the door for you, seemingly purposefully avoiding you in town. It was months before you finally gave up, and it was obvious to anyone that looked hard enough you were slowly becoming a shell of yourself without her. Without your girl.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

The only thing in your life that is weirder than Clarisse's mysterious disappearance, was the fact that a boy just told you you're a child of one of the Greek gods. You couldn't believe him. You'd learned about the gods in school, but there was no fudging way they were real. You'd only finally agreed to go to some place called Camp Half Blood when he rolled up one of his pant legs to reveal furry goat legs. Nothing will ever be weirder than that.

Just in time too, because right after you left the school building and started sprinting towards the forest across from the place, some giant winged creature that no one else seemed to see crashed through a window and started flying towards you.

Your protector, someone you learned is a satyr named Joey, lead you to camp with minimal death, which you learned is very rare when it comes to leading a demi-god to camp. It didn't help with the newly installed fear inside you, but you just simply nodded along with what he was saying as your eyes scanned the crowds of campers that are doing their own thing below the hill you stand on.

The moment you step past what Joey calls Thalia's tree, all eyes are on you. A new camper means special events so they feel welcome which means more fun for the campers and the drama of figuring out who their godly parent is. 

You don’t have any belongings other than the clothes on your skin and the school pencil that’s brought you a strange sense of comfort on your long trip. A female camper with blonde hair and gray eyes comes up and introduces herself as Annabeth, helping you to the “Hermes” cabin to give you a camp t-shirt and new pants. She explains all the new campers go there, at least until they get claimed, which means the kids in there are either children of Hermes, unclaimed, or new just like you. 

Since everyone is gone doing daily activities, you decide to just change in the cabin. It’s peaceful, the sound of campers laughter, birds in the trees.

Your blissful silence is broken when someone tightly wraps their arms around you from behind you and lifts you up in the air with a squeal, your hands flying to cover your bra-covered chest. “What the hell?!” You scream, but the profanities you were going to yell out die down in your throat when the person sets you down and you turn around to see Clarisse.

She doesn’t look much different, her hair a little bit grown out and her band t-shirts and jeans have been replaced by camouflage pants and an orange camp half blood shirt similar to the one you’re trying to put on. You’re so starstruck that you just stare, her arms still loosely wrapped around your waist as you stand there in only a bra and jeans. “Clar?” She nods, grinning brightly as she pulls you into yet another hug.

You’re much more aware this time, pushing her away harshly as you hurry to put on the shirt and then leave the cabin with a quick roll of your eyes. The curly haired girl is hot on your tail, attempting to grab your wrist to stop you before you pull it away as if she’s burned you. Her face is full of hurt, but your voice shows the same amount as you ask, “Why didn’t….why didn’t you call? Or email? Or-or send me a fucking letter? Just to let me know you were okay? That you came here.”

She sighs, eyes full of regret as they fall to look at her doc martens so she doesn’t have to see your sadness. “I couldn’t call you because a phone call is like sending a message out to any monsters that could be listening and find out where we are. Email, I don’t have any electronics cuz of the whole call thing.”

“And letter? I bet monsters don’t know how to read Clar.” The girl is silent for a minute, and as the silence continues is when you realize she doesn’t have an answer for you. You scoff, beginning to walk to who knows where again before she runs to catch up with you.

“I’m sorry, okay? I was scared. Gods, I was scared.” The worlds tumble out of her mouth before she can stop them, and the campers around you fall silent as they stare with mouths agape in shock.

“Scared? What’s there to be scared of? It’s just me.” She nods, wordlessly reaching out to hold your hand. You let her this time and she feels relief flood through her. “Scared. I was scared….scared that you would hate me for leaving. I mean, what kind of woman leaves her wife?” She attempts a small laugh, and she takes it as a win that the corners of your mouth twitch upwards in the start of a smile. “I promised you forever and then left without another word. You had been looking at me through rose colored glasses our entire lives, I was scared those glasses were shattered. It’s not an excuse though. I should’ve sent you a letter, told you I was okay and told you how much I missed you.”

A small smile works its way onto your face, but she can still see the sadness in your eyes and she hates it. She hates it when you're sad. “Come here angel.” The girl hesitantly pulls you into her arms, almost crying when you relax into her hold and hug her back before she remembers where you guys are and how many campers are staring in shock at how sweet she’s acting.

“You have to understand that I’m still mad Clar. Even if you were scared, I spent years living in fear you were dead.” You mumble against her shoulder as you grip onto her like she’s going to disappear again if you let go.

The girl nods in agreement, cradling your head to her chest as she glares at the campers in an attempt to get them to leave you two alone. They do it.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

Clarisse brings you to her cabin, cuddling with you in her bed as she tells you anything and everything that has happened over the past. She’s a child of Ares, and you spend several minutes that it makes sense after the amount of times she threatened other kids by saying she should hang them from the top of the flagpole. 

By dinner time, it’s like no time has passed, and everyone’s eyes are on you as you two walk in with her arm casually placed on your around the back of your waist as she leads you to her table where her siblings are trying not to make fun of her. After a lot of begging and threats, Chiron agreed to let you sit at the Ares table for your first week at camp. “Hey guys.” Her happy tone is a rare one around her by the look on their faces, the smile even rarer as she sits you down next to her spot on the bench. “This is my wife.”

The whole room goes silent, all eyes trained on you as your eyes dart up to stare at her. “What are you-” She cuts you off with amusement dancing in her brown eyes.

“What do you want to eat, honey?” Clarisse asks you, and a son of Ares you know as Mark scoffs before he says, “The last time I asked you to get me food, you poured your drink in my lap and told me it wasn’t your job.”

The smile falls from your friend's face as she glares at him. “That’s because it isn’t my job.”

“Then why are you getting her food?” 

“Because a happy wife equals a happy life alright? Now shut the fuck up.”

The smile is back as she turns to face you again, taking your order before she leaves to get that and her own food. 

The rest of the campers go back to their meals, though they’re clearly gossiping about Clarisse’s supposed wife as they eat. It doesn’t make you feel very happy, but all the doubt is gone as your girl comes back and sits down next to you, setting the food down before her hand falls to hold your hand under the table the way she used to during lunch at school.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

A little bit later, you finish eating and join in the group of campers leaving the dining hall towards the campfire with Clarisse walking beside you. “My legs hurt.” You mumble while leaning closer to her. She doesn’t miss a beat as she picks you up bridal style, casually carrying you to the bonfire like you weigh absolutely nothing. Smiling at the sound of your laughter, she sets you down on one of the logs surrounding the fire. “What was that for? I could’ve walked.” You say as she sits down next to you before pulling you into her lap.

“What kind of wife would I be if I let you walk around while in pain?” She grins before leaning her head on your shoulder. She seems happy, and you recently learned she hasn’t felt that way in a very long time so you simply smile before leaving a kiss on her forehead. Her fingers lace with yours, her thumb caressing the back of your hand as she talks to her brother. It’s like no time has passed. Although you’re still upset, it’s nice to have her again.

Clarisse makes you guys some smores, a few people coming up every once and a while to introduce themselves and your friend introduces you the same way every time; “This is my wife.” By the time you’re making your way to the Hermes cabin with her walking by your side like a bodyguard, everyone in camp is aware of the “marriage”.

“I wish you could come stay in the Ares cabin.” She mumbles into the crook of your neck on the porch of Hermes cabin, and you chuckle while rubbing circles on her back. “I think you annoyed Chiron enough for one day.”

The daughter of Ares sighs, reluctantly nodding as she gives you a gentle squeeze before walking away. You watch her walk to her cabin for a few seconds, a permanent smile on your face before you walk inside your crowded cabin.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

The next morning, it’s time for you to join in the routine of chores and training. It seems tiring, but Clarisse is by your side to help you with anything and everything so it’s okay.

“You’re getting better, hon.” She repeats for the 100th time in an hour, and your trust in her words is slowly fading as you sling the sword in your hands awkwardly towards the dummy covered in greek armor in front of you. The girl seems to notice your mood dropping, so she sighs and then stands up and walks towards you. You think she’s going to tell you to take the armor off just stop trying, but you shouldn't have. Clarisse was never one to tell you to give up on something. Instead, she places her hands on your hips, brown eyes straying from your face as she gently moves your body until you're standing in the correct way. You feel like clay under her grip, simply allowing her to position you as your face scans her features. 

It’s like something pulling you to lean in, and it’s only when you're inches away from her face do you realize she is leaning in too. As if realizing where you are and what you guys are doing, she clears her throat and backs away, her hands following to rest at her sides. “There. Try again.” She begins to awkwardly walk away, her confidence gone as she almost trips over some armor left on the floor by another camper.

You nervously laugh, taking a deep breath before you slash the sword forward again. The sword feels much more natural in your hand, and it’s almost like an instinct as you angle it so it hits the unprotected parts so it cuts open the material. 

Your friend cheers, rushing over to you and easily lifting you off the ground like you just won the olympics. Clarisse has always been that way, proud of every thing  you could ever do. With a small laugh, you thank her and finally get her to set you down. “Well done wifey.” The words flow out of Clarisse’s mouth like they’re the most natural thing, and you fake an annoyed sigh.

“You know I’m not your wife right?” You say with a laugh, but she clearly doesn’t find it very funny.

“Then what's this?” Her hand moves to grab your hand, holding it up in front of your face and you try to ignore the way butterflies explode in your stomach from the touch as her eyes lock on yours. With rose colored cheeks- you decide to blame it on the heat and not the feeling of her hand in yours- you finally take notice of what she’s talking about; the ring she bought you when you were kids, snuggly placed on your left hand ring finger. It was a bit too big when you guys were younger, but it fits basically perfectly now.

“It’s a promise ring.” You mumble, walking away to take off the armor and put away the sword. “It’s the closest thing to a wedding ring I could get. And besides, red is my favorite color, the jem is red. It’s basically me, in a ring.” “I didn’t understand a single thing you just said.”

Clarisse sighs, wrapping her arms around your waist from behind the same way she did your first day at camp- though this time she doesn’t lift you up. “Sorry. Let me summarize. You’re my wife, and that is your ring.” You chuckle, turning around in her arms and trying not to think about the way you’re so close you can feel her warm breath on your face. “Fine. I’m your wife.” She takes the win, leaving a chaste kiss on your cheek before she makes her way out of the training grounds to go wash up for lunch.

This girl is gonna be the death of you.

 -*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

That night, Clarisse sneaks into the Hermes cabin. She’s used to sneaking out, but she’s never had a reason to sneak into this specific cabin and she almost bursts out laughing when she gets through the window and almost steps on a kid laying on a sleeping bag on the floor. 

She easily manages her way through the sleeping kids to get to your bunk in the corner, cringing every once and a while when floor boards creek. You’re awake, staring at the wall and you reach under your pillow to grab a dagger Annabeth gave you when someone puts a hand on your shoulder and tries to shake you away so you can hold it up against their neck.

“Why the hell do you have a knife to my throat?” Clarisse quietly squeaks out, and you sigh in relief before putting the weapon back under your pillow for safe keeping. “I just…I’m sorry.” You think about telling her about the nightmare you were having not even ten minutes ago, but it looks like she’s already aware of it as she sends you knowing eyes.

“You can make it up to me by following me.” One look into her pleading eyes is all you need to reluctantly agree, and she helps you out of the window and then onto her back so she can carry you to the surprise she set up in the forest.

The sight makes you want to grin and cry at the same time; it’s a picnic set on the cliff overlooking the waterfall you told her was your favorite part of camp, all your favorite foods from the outside world placed accordingly on the blanket. There are little lanterns placed all over, lighting up this specific part of the woods. You can clearly see the stars, one of your favorite things, and the cozy feeling of the date-like setting goes against the summer breeze of the night.

“So? What do you think?” Clarisse nervously asks as you look around in awe. “I….I love it Clar.” You reply, pulling her into a tight hug. “How’d you get all these foods?” You quest with a grin. She innocently shrugs, but she’s got a mischievous look in her eyes that only appears when she does something bad. She won’t tell you that she snuck out of camp the same way she snuck out of her cabin to go to the mortal world, sneaking back in a throwing herself into a bush when Mr. D almost caught her.

She sits down on the blanket, patting the spot next to her and then pulling you into her lap when you sit down. “This is so nice….but why?” “Why?” “Why’d you do it?”

Clarisse chuckles; “Because my wife deserves best.” There it is again, the phrase that brings a blush to your face no matter how many times you hear it. “Well, thank you.” She nods, grabbing a chocolate covered strawberry and taking a hesitant bite before humming in satisfaction. “That’s really good.”

You two spend the rest of the night talking and giggling as you cuddle up to her and eat the delicious foods, and by the end of the night you’re lying with your head in her lap as she runs her fingers through your hair. “One day,” She starts, leaning down to kiss your forehead before she continues speaking; “I’m gonna marry you for real.”

With a small laugh, you nod, staring into her brown eyes as you sigh. “I’m okay with that.” You whisper, and for a second it seems like she’s leaning down again. It’s proven she is when her lips connect with yours. Her lips are slightly chapped since she always forgets to put on chapstick before she leaves the cabin, but that doesn’t matter as she’s kissing you like she’s been starved for years. Technically, she has been.

She pulls away, watching with a nervous smile as you attempt to catch your breath and stare up at her in awe. “Was that-was that okay?” You slowly nod, sitting up and then turning to face her before you grab her face in your hands and kiss her once again. She seems surprised, but she quickly adapts as her hands move to your hips and firmly grip them.

“I’ve been wanting to do that since the day you agreed to be my wife.” She whispers as she pulls away and leans her forehead on your own. You giggle, giving her a quick kiss in between love sick giggles. “Me too.”

She begins to talk again, but the sound of hooves galloping near and a loud voice calling out, “Who's there?!” makes her panic. Chiron. You panic as well, and you both messily pick up the empty plates and blanket, shoving it all in the basket and taking your hand in the one that isn't holding the basket.

The galloping is getting closer, and you both begin to run back into the forest- on the way back to camp but still in the opposite direction of Chiron.

You both begin to laugh as you almost trip over a branch, and you have to bite your lip and hold a hand over Clarrise's mouth so Chiron won't hear. 

You eventually make it back to the cabins, and you both slow down to a light jog as you near the Hermes cabin. She brings you back to the still open window, and helps lift you up into the slightly cold room. You take off your shoes, and are about to wish her a goodnight and go to bed when you turn around to see her lips playfully puckered. 

You chuckle, walking back to the window and giving her a small peck on the lips. “Goodnight Clar. and thank you for a wonderful night.” She smiles. “It was only wonderful because you were there. Goodnight angel.” With that, she leaves towards her own cabin, and you're left staring at her leave with a love sick smile and look in your eyes.

At the edge of the forest, Chiron watches the sweet goodnight with a small smile. “Well I'll be damned….Clarisse La Rue is a softy.” He begins walking to his own cabin with a content sigh. “But they better not sneak out again.”

□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□

[nottivagos]

syn: "Poor, scared little bunny. You'll never stop running."

wc: 2.3k

tw: dark themes, +18 mdni pls and ty, stalkers, kidnapping, drugging food, manipulation, physical harm, stockholm syndrome, unhealthy relationships, obsession, overall really bad & immoral.

an: i don't really know what to put here. i really enjoyed writing this fic despite the dark aspects to it, and i'm v. thankful for the love for stalker!carlos <3

taglist: @orangeblossomsintheair

Run, Rabbit, Run. || CS55

Stillness. The only noise came from the droning ticking of the antique clock that sat on the mantelpiece, collecting dust like a chronic hoarder. Wide eyes glued to the window, hawking over the freshness of the green lawn, flurries of colour the flowers in the bed showed because of the spring bloom. It had been a while since you’d seen a flower out in the wild, you thought.

Bunnies are beautiful creatures. They go silent when they want something, or when they get hurt. Maybe that’s why forced hickeys of red and blue blotched your skin, why your hair was dishevelled and unkempt, why your pupils were dilated whilst eyes wide and lifeless as boney hands subconsciously fidgeted with the empty paper cup, ripping it into smaller pieces, as it kept trembling in your grasp.

You couldn’t remember the feeling of glass on your hands, the coolness of the material in your palms, the sensation of a distant memory. Replaced by the roughness of paper rubbing against your fingertips. Carlos said that you could be only trusted with paper. It was safer, he said. You couldn’t be trusted with glass, he said.

His rules became the norm, the changing subtleties in your routines, embedded into the back of your mind. It was as if you'd been re-wired, happily for his own dark pleasure. You didn’t mind. You’d stopped minding a while ago. He loved you, that’s all that mattered. This life was happy. Not like your one before him.

Hell, you didn’t even know anything anymore.

Brain turned to mush, conditioned to not make decisions on its own, your own life like modelling clay in his hands, this domesticated haven you were living all created by his own desire to keep you. Cherish you. Have you. 

Muddled thoughts swam constantly in your mind, causing yourself to be unable to think properly. Shaky intakes of breath following, the shallow rattling of your lungs could be heard in the lifelessness of your lounge area. Eyes continuously glued to the window, watching the people walk in the warm sun, skin slightly reddened from the rays shining down.

Arms hugged your legs as you sat on the couch, like you usually did every day. Sometimes you’d hear the subtle clang or movement from Carlos in another room, but typically it was silent. Solitary in your own home. The typical homely four walls acting like a cold prison cell, reflecting the psychological confusion simmering in your mind.

‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎— ⟡ — ‎‎‎‎‎‎

It was hard to pinpoint when it had started. The past fear blurred by this fantasy you were living in now, as if Carlos hadn't done all those fucked up things to you. You were the right girl, the one that came into his life at the right time too. Naive, pretty, let down by past partners— the full package of a victim prone to manipulation. 

Carlos was infatuated. Mesmerised by your presence, your beautiful smile, the giggly laughs you produced when he got you a little too drunk (on purpose of course), the way your body complimented the outfits you wore a little too well. He was a creep, a love-drunk freak. 

It was innocent, you thought. A guy actually had an interest in you! He was such a breath of fresh air to the jerks that you’d been with before. He'd even mentioned that, holding you against your words in a heated argument you’d both shared. Using your drunken, emotional words to his advantage when you'd told him all teary-eyed that someone hadn’t cared about you in this way for a long time all those months beforehand. Yes, he was a little older than you, but why did that matter? He obviously acknowledged you for yourself, and you couldn’t help but cling onto that feeling.

It definitely wasn’t odd that Carlos knew when you needed him most. Or, just affection in general. Your mind just took it as him being a caring neighbour, the gifts or little treats just out of generosity and affection. Definitely not an obsession and the messed up yearning that followed. 

He knew your schedule more than you knew it yourself; work, eat, sleep, repeat. Sometimes on the weekends you’d go for a run, probably a New Year’s Resolution, he’d inferred. You’d meet friends occasionally and host at your house, too. He knew when your face lit up at certain foods you loved as you ate them with such raw joy, the way you played some specific songs louder than others when you heard them on the radio— you gave him an inch of your happiness, and he took the whole mile.

You weren’t sure when it fully changed though, when the kind acts became more intense, more horrifying to your friends when they raised their concerns about your new ‘lover’. If you could even call him a lover, to say the least.

Carlos was charismatic, a true gentleman waiting in the wings ready for his time to pounce. It just took time. Time he didn’t want to take, but he knew he had to console the rabbit and gain their trust before making any abrupt movements. Or they’d run away. A risk not worth taking when you were so close to being in his grasp forever. The lengthy process was like you, an innocent bunny timidly chewing on grass, whilst his wolf hid away, contemplating on when to pounce. 

And when he did, he thought it was beautiful. It was so refreshing that you’d complied with such ease. You’d spent the evening together, Carlos innocently offering to cook a meal for you both as he’d witnessed your fatigued body trudge into your home. The thought was kind — well to you, at least — but the motive behind the action was far from it.

All he had to do was slip a few sleeping pills into your food and you were gone! The sight was beautiful to see. His eyes darkening at the realisation that his plan was working ever so smoothly with no interruptions made a little smirk appear on his lips as he watched you ever so intently. The increased drowsiness added to your already underlying tiredness, and you were even a sweetheart for incoherently mumbling that you “could finish your food” when he asked if you needed to rest.

A broken phone now smashed on his dining room table as you finally fell into a deep slumber, it wasn’t as if you’d need that again, that would be living in the past, not in the present with him. And only him. He’d made sure to get you another one, of course, he’d even gone out of his way to contact your parents that you were “going away on a business trip for a few weeks”! Little did your parents know they’d never see their little girl ever again.

The rest you didn’t know. Your head lulled downwards as soft snores followed. Carlos’s large arms came to cradle you, hands clawing underneath your thighs as he rested your snoozing self to his chest. Watching you sleep in his embrace was angelic, a sight he aspired to remember forever and have burned into his dark mind, the car ride to your new life made him giddy with excitement distorted with the acknowledgement that you’d never be out of his grasp. Always his, forever.

His little bunny, so innocent and fragile, that he was going to provide a better life for. Like the wolf of him should. To guard and protect before fully going in for the kill. He’d taken your aspirations for living in “a little quaint cottage in the middle of nowhere” literally. He wanted anything for his girl, and if that would make her happy, he’d happily make it happen for you.

— ⟡ —

Stockholm Syndrome was the best way to explain your reality from then on. You'd developed a little coping mechanism to help ‘count down’ the days until someone came to save you, but in all, you'd just trauma bonded with Carlos instead. You'd come to sympathise with him, this ‘life’ he'd created for you actually painting itself as heaven. A happiness you couldn't describe as your old life faded into nothing. 

The barrages of “you know I love you, right?” and the desperate “don’t leave me please” burnt into your mind. The empowering guilt behind his pathetic pleads entrapped you more than Carlos physically did, and you couldn’t help but feel ashamed of your selfishness for wanting to run away. So you learnt to stay silent. Just like Carlos wanted.

You were so sucked into your thoughts that you didn’t even acknowledge Carlos coming into the room. Your nails hovered in front of your mouth, the nervousness in your stomach churning into acid in your stomach, your cuticles practically begging to be chewed to alleviate the stress and confusion swallowing your thoughts whole.

”Princesa, you’re thinking again,” the thick accent cooed from beside you, cupping the shredded remnants of your once-used cup from your lap, before discarding them on the wooden coffee table beside him. ”Tell me what’s wrong,” his voice was soft; caring, even, but there was definitely an undertone of a command there.

Your eyes followed the voice, daze-like as you met his doe brown gaze. Blinking, your eyes adjusted to the sight, before mumbling whilst still a little disorientated, “Nothing’s wrong. Just.. preoccupied.”

The sigh that followed was gentle, despite it having a bite of annoyance at your lie. “Come here,” he murmured in response, patting his lap with that wolfish smile, “I don’t bite.”

The first thing you learnt whilst being with Carlos. Do as you were told. If he knew what was best for you, it was the best for you. Bunnies were shy little things, they didn’t know what was right, but your wolf did. It didn’t help that you’d been craving the intimacy, which was Carlos’s initial plan, so you complied, your smaller body crawling over to his larger one, perching on his lap like it was second nature.

“Good girl,” he praised, the rumble of his low voice vibrating as you rested your back against his chest. Large hands came to rest on your thighs, the feeling of his calloused palms trapping you in his caged embrace sent bolts of electricity surging through your body.

You’d become so accustomed to the sweet nothings and gentle words that it was like a spark set off in your brain, you following the words like a moth to a flame. Hooked on his every syllable and low delivery, the fear that if you didn’t that he’d become angry. You hated when he was angry; your bunny forced into conformity, silenced and quivering in fear whilst his wolf barked, ready to eat you whole.

“You wouldn’t lie to me, right? Would you, mi vida?” he murmured again, pressing hot kisses against your jaw, the pecks causing your skin to burn with a bubbling intensity. “You know I don’t like it when you lie,” he continued, his voice holding a warning tone, you could sense that, “I care about you. There’s no need for you to lie, corazón.”

That mutter against your skin made your throat dry with fear. Wide eyes paced around your surroundings, an uncomfortable lump forming in your throat as you just let him touch you. Calloused fingertips trailed down your sides as burning lips attacked your already bruised nape, leaving even more scorching marks after subtle nips of his teeth onto your skin.

“I’m not lying,” you responded, your voice a breathy whisper as your body shivered whilst Carlos’s lips hovered over your reddened neck, hot breath fanning onto the skin. “I’m fine, honestly,” your mumble followed, trembling hands playing with the hem of your dress nervously.

He sighed again, this time more agitated as he pulled your back flush against his burly chest. “You are lying, nena,” his voice took a more harsh tone, biting back, as you watched his jaw tense subtly.

A pit of dread formed in your stomach. A sickening feeling churned and churned, your skin becoming pale at the sight of his angry state. You didn’t want him to become angry. Not again, not after last time. You’d only just healed from last time, you couldn’t go through that again. And what do pathetic little bunnies do when they’re scared and overwhelmed, unable to think for themselves, you may ask?

They cry.

The waterworks followed. Soft sobs turned into wails as your throat burned with fear, tears falling down your reddened cheeks as your hands pathetically came to wipe them away. Carlos’s eyes softened in that moment, looking down at you with a sympathetic look as you shuffled in his lap, now straddling him whilst clinging onto him.

“I’m sorry—” you hiccupped, sobs breaking your voice “—I thought, I just—” you tried to reason, your brain stopping you from comprehending your own thoughts, “I— I don’t— know—” you continued to sniffle into his chest, as a large hand came to cradle the back of your head gently.

“Oh, nena,” Carlos tutted, chin resting on the top of your head ever so slightly. “Hush, it’s okay,” he cooed, pressing a soft peck against your hair, “Shh. You don’t need to explain it right now.”

“B-but I—”

“But nothing,” his voice was stern, though it held some softness to it. “Just let me hold you, princesa. Please.”

You mustered a nod, another sniffle following as Carlos cradled him to your chest. Heart fluttering at the intimacy in that moment, you nuzzled more into him. You were such a confused little bunny, your little mental breakdown explained that even more, and he couldn’t help but chuckle. He’d got you right where he needed you.

Innocent.

Utterly helpless.

And dependent on his every word and action.

like stalker!carlos? consider sending me an ask in my inbox to be added to the notebook! - notti <3

[contract-crawdad]

Look Outside Pacifism Concepts: Part 2

Continuing right along with the Teeth Family and Edwin’s victims roommates!

Toothlings and the Teratoma

That’d be a great name for a band, right? Toothlings and the Teratoma. No? Just me?

If you eat any sugary food in the same room as them, the shrink back in fear, running away instead of chasing after you from that point onwards.

Food items that trigger this interaction are cola, orange drink, lemon drink, hard candy, chocky bars, gummi bears, and bocky.

Managing to interact with a toothling at this stage prompts the text:

The clump of teeth and gums chatters nervously and cringes. Do they really hate sugar that much?.

After you assert your dominance over the Teratoma in this manner, it can be given toothpaste. In exchange, you get a Wisdom Tooth: a Joel-exclusive accessory that decreases the amount of damage he deals to himself from using his teething skill and increases the amount of turns that pass before he naturally loses teeth.

Madison

If you have Benjamin’s teeth pendant equipped, Madison’s addled mind will mistake you for Benjamin instead of Baby Teeth.

She’ll admonish ‘Benjamin’ for being out of bed before the doctor arrives to have a look at what’s wrong, but she is glad to see that ‘Benjamin’ seems to be doing so much better!

She will, however, insist on giving you a hug before sending you back to ‘your’ room… and I mean you CAN turn her down, but would you? That’s right. Didn’t think so.

You take five rounds of minor damage from her mouths digging into you, having a small chance to proc a bleed each time.

Baby Teeth

While you cannot actually kill Baby Teeth in the base game, it would be a cop out on my part to leave her unchanged!

A less-violent manner of pacifying her once combat is engaged is to toss her Madison’s handbag! I sure hope you picked that up.

Baby Teeth will spend the first turn ‘gurgling eagerly’ if you have it. If you don’t give her the handbag on that turn, she flies into a tantrum earlier in the fight than normal, which generally makes the already difficult encounter even harder.

If you give it to her before the second turn starts, she’ll tear into the bag excitedly.

The massive infant’s teeth shred through the bag as if it were made of paper, revealing it’s contents: it’s full to the brim with various rubber items, chew toys, and pacifiers.

Though Baby Teeth’s razor sharp chompers shred the items in short order, doing so seems to provide her with just enough relief to sink back below the floorboards with a relieved sigh.

Clint

I didn’t do those out of order, there’s a reason Clint’s last! Trust my vision.

Hey, did you know, in the base game, killing Clint isn’t required to enter the tooth family home or to recruit Joel? Just thought that was interesting : ).

Encountering Clint with Joel in your party will make Clint come to his senses after he lands an attack on his son.

In Clint’s fleeting moment of lucidity, he recognizes that it would be a tremendously bad idea for Joel to stay any longer. He gives the okay for Joel to “Sleepover with the neighbor, okay? Just for a few bites- NIGHTS, a few nights, that’s all.”

It’s very clear he’s lying, but Joel believes him wholeheartedly. From that point on, the door to the tooth family’s apartment is repaired and barricaded from the inside.

Confusion

If you manage to inflict Confusion with the confusion status, they reach a breaking point and combat ends.

The creature gasps and sputters as it reels away from you. Whatever it is that they're experiencing, it's enough to make them crash to the floor where they lie limp. After a moment, they begin gibbering madly, no longer concerned with... whatever it wanted from you. You make a mental note to avoid this particular corner of your room from now on.

If you have Xaria and Monty recruited, you will contemplate telling them about this particular encounter but decide against it.

Stretchface

If you have never entered your bathroom, Stretchface will not be hostile, even if they DO still offer to stretch your skull out so you can think wide thoughts too.

But assuming you aren't doing a 'Miasma' challenge run:

Once Stretchface finishes their in-battle dialogue, they wail that they just can't go back to watching you take shits that last hours on end from their perspective. At which point, you can offer to use your bathroom only once per day, if that helps.

“…I mean that sounds great actually. Are you sure you wouldn't rather just get reshaped like me? None of us ever need to use the bathroom. No? Suit yourself. We're out of spare rooms anyways... at least until Edwin gets back to renovating."

If you speak to Stretchface after recruiting Roaches, they will say the following:

"Huh? Roach guy? Naaah, I don't have any problems with him. He's cool. Not, uh, not that you aren't... but I mean, come on. He's a guy that's roaches! I could watch that aaaaall day. And I do!"

You can either honor your pact with Stretchface and only use your bathroom once per day, or you can go back on your word, resulting in Stretchface being hostile again if you ever return to see them. Additionally, they will begin to scrawl mean things in the steam on your mirror after a shower.

Spine

I am of the opinion that it is completely moral to kill Spine to death.

However. I could hardly exclude her due to personal bias! She wasn't in the previous version of this post due to her getting added to the game literally hours after before I finalized the draft and hit 'post'. Pain.

Anywho! Playing out the battle as normal, Spine will speak up once more when she's brought to low health.

"A-Ah, Sam, I... I see. This is too sudden. I understand. If... hhhhhahhh... if you'd like, you could head back home... w-we could... take things... wheeeeeze... a little slower. I'll be right there beside you until you're... g-ghhhah... ready to take the n-next step."

At this point, Spine can be fled from at a 100% success rate and will not reengage. You are free to leave the way you came and will continue to receive messages about invisible touches while in your apartment.

EDIT: This was actually written BEFORE 1.5 where literally the above scenario plays out! I have never felt so vindicated as a writer.

Stargazer/Edwin

Edwin’s a tricky one! Because he’s simultaneously really dangerous, while also thinking that what he’s doing to people is a good thing. There isn’t any real potential to calm him down or appease him, because he’s actually very calm, and the only thing that would appease him is grinding you into a fleshy paste. For your own good, of course.

But!

My thought was that, should you manage to evade him with the lights off all the way through his apartment, you can bait him over towards the telescope! Provided it’s pointed outside and the lights are off, Edwin will crash into it and the lens will be absorbed into his body, kicking off one last growth that expands his form even further.

The creature remains stationary, even though you have no doubt it could still chase you. Sometimes, it looks like it’s about to, but it keeps getting distracted every couple of seconds with something new to stare at.

You’re still able to Crete the Void Disk thanks to Edwin’s body still functioning as a telescope.

————————————————————————

That does it for this round!! Next time we'll cover the hypothermia crew and the taxidermy gang!

Part 1

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

[solbaby7]

Hiii, can I get a margarita with a salt rim on the rocks, please? Thank you!💕

[ “got a mouth on you. someone should teach you how to use it.” + smut + rhysand ]

-> BLURB BAR <-

Rhysand liked wild things—had this affinity for collecting strays; plucking them from their prisons and providing a life of freedom and luxury.

Maybe that’s why he’s so drawn to you. This rabid animal of a thing with a serious aversion to proper clothing and absolutely no regard for others personal boundaries. “Back for more charity work?”

“Is that how you think of my visits? I’m hurt.”

You look down at him with amusement, crouched low on a branch with a skirt so short it takes effort not to stare. “We both know you aren’t,” You make tree climbing look easy, bare toes trodding across branches that don’t look sturdy but hold strong bearing your weight. “What’d you bring me this time?”

Rhysand dangles the wicker basket before him with two fingers. He’s teasing, offering; luring you in closer as the laws of the Middle insists that its lands and the creatures in it must welcome you and not the other way around. “Come see for yourself, trouble.”

He’s grown fond of the wild way you move, confidently twisting and ducking through the forestry—the breathable linen of your strapless top flows with the breeze. Handmade necklaces kiss at your clavicle, all braided leather with bleached bones, carefully woven shells and shiny geodes. Once you get close enough he can see the neat braids peeking through loose strands, interwoven thread adding pops of color in haphazard places. “More naughty words on paper,” You chuff out when the weight of two books sits in your hands. The pages are pristine; probably first addition and perfectly cared for. “Always knew you High Lords were just pampered perverts.”

“Didn’t seem to bother you when you read the last two I brought you.”

Rhysand is sure he’ll have dreams about the pretty blush on your cheeks. He’s certain fantasies have planted their seed with intent to grow and grow like fucking ivy until nothing in sight could be see but you and that feisty furrow of your brow and the sharp roll of your eyes. Curious hands dig around the basket, sifting through cured meats and cheeses, parchment paper and oil pastels, rich fabrics and a case full of fresh sewing needles. “You trying to turn me into a fucking housewife or something? Charcuterie boards and fixing the buttons on your rich boy clothes.”

“Got a mouth on you.” Rhys chuckles in amusement, aubergine irises twinkling with silent adoration. “Someone should teach you how to use it.” You don’t seem the slightest bit ashamed when forcing him to hold onto your things, urging him to follow with a jerky nod of your head. “Could start by saying thank you.”

“Make me.”

Something in the air shifts. It alters the way he stands. Awakens a creature lurking in his shadow and its sights lock on you—the female with no fear of monsters. No, instead you hunt them, wrangle them up and tame them. Rabid beasts crooned into fucking house pets and Rhysand yearned to be the stray you took pity on. “Make you use your mouth properly? Or make you say thank you?”

“Both.” He’s hooked; shoes sinking into your footsteps until thick forestry breaks into a clearing with a house built smack dab in the middle. It’s surrounded by flowers, lavender and lemongrass guarding hand built basins labeled with fresh produce to fend off freeloading animals. Ivy creeps up one side of the greenhouse attached to the back. “Show me how to do it like they do in the books you bring me.”

Is it possible for a mouth to dry up and salivate at once? Because Rhys suddenly finds his in an odd mix of something in between. You barely notice the clumsy way he sets aside your basket of goodies but you’re fully aware of the eager way he pulls you in, stopping you from taking a step further. “You sure you know what you’re asking for?”

You scan the length of him, running over the strong set of his shoulders and the practiced ease in the way his arms rest at his sides. Every breath strains against the soft cotton of his shirt, solid muscle radiating warmth when you rest the palm of your hand against it. It’s a slow drag down and you feel no shame for your curiosity when exploring the length of his abdomen, fingers hooking in the loop of his belt. “I’ve got a pretty good idea.” The metallic click of his belt unbuckling, the sharp undoing of tied dress pants. “But, I’m a visual learner.” Rhys’ heart throbs in his chest when you sink to your knees, blood rushing lower until the true extent of his affection towards you is standing at attention in your face.

“I can help with that,” He’s already easing down the top of your shirt, groaning at the sight of bare breasts and pebbled nipples. “Though, my teaching style is a little more…hands on.”

You don’t have time to ask what that means when he’s giving you exactly what you asked for; tugging down his pants just enough to show off a throbbing erection, ruddy tip leaking pre-cum. Two fingers tap at your cheek twice and you have no control over the way your mouth drops open.

He knows he’s being a little rougher than he should—it’s probably your first time giving head and yet he can’t slow down his movements. You don’t even complain, breathing through the way his cock is fed to you, spit glistening along the length and dribbling down your chin. “Quick learner, aren’t you?” Rhys praises so prettily, such nice words spewing free as if he wasn’t rutting his prick down your throat.

Thumbs clear away the tears from under your eyes when you gag. The rasp of his voice urging you to work harder, to hollow your cheeks and run your tongue along that vein that has blunt nails digging into the nape of your neck. Swears spill in a sloppy slur, hands guiding the bob of your head until his release shoots down your throat with a choked grunt.

There’s no way you don’t look a mess when you peer up at him. Fucked out eyes. Tears tracking down your cheeks. Bruised lips. A wet patch dripping down your chest and still you utter the words, “Thank you.”

Just perfection and something inside him screams ‘mine’ the same time Rhysand replies with a breathless, “You’re welcome.”

[kometqh]

𝐂𝐨𝐰𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐈𝐧 𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐀𝐫𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐫

Captain Rex x f!reader

When Skywalker assigns you and the 501st boys on a mission, he thought nothing could go wrong. After all, you were one of the best Jedi around. In the flurry of a quick, excitable night, you couldn’t have proven him more wrong. Word Count: 3,238 Warnings: Alcohol consumption, pining Rex, sad Rex, affection (🤯) A/N: SURPRISEEE!! I'M ALIVEEEE :D This piece has been sitting in my WIPs for months now, all because I didn't think it was good enough-- Coming back to it after months I’ve realised I love it the way it is for the first chapter ;)

Golden grains of sand brushed past the group in a chorus, whistling under the amber glow of the setting sun. It'd been hours at that point, hours since the squadron had been dispatched on their mission and they were already running low on water rations and energy. Clone troopers were specifically designed to be able to withstand all sorts of environments and situations, yet even they felt exhaustion after a continuous trudge through the dusty, ruby sandstone canyons. That paired with the constant threat of starved creatures ten times the size of their group lurking about, it was surely enough to keep anyone on a fine line between mind-numbing exhaustion and crippling fear.

Looking up, Rex sighed quietly as he listened to the quiet complaints and grumbles of his men. His feet were aching from a full day of travel, and his throat had been parched for what seemed like millenniums after he'd given Jesse the last remains of his water. The constant scorching heat had also been, unsurprisingly, anything but helpful.

Jedi General nowhere to be seen, Rex urged his men to continue their miserable shuffling pace, until she'd return to them. Until she'd relay information, or let them rest, or reassure them. Until then, he had to maintain composure, never let his men down.

It was shortly after the sun had dipped beneath the horizon, when the skies turned into a canvas of magenta and rosy pink splashes that the General returned. Wearing khaki shorts, a sandy top and a beige cloak, she blended in perfectly with the sunset dunes. Her lightsaber had been safely tucked away, attached to her hip so it was easy to reach for.

"There is a small town just a few clicks South, I believe there might be an inn that we can make a rest stop at. Any objections, Captain?" She eyed Rex up and down, brows furrowing at the sight of his sand-worn helmet and sweaty complexion. In one hand, she held a paper map, in the other she held a flask.

"N- No sir." He responded quickly, posture stiffening up under her scrutinising gaze. She wasn't exactly keen on being alone on a mission with his squadron; not after the last one. He looked down to her flask, feeling the arid desert air clawing at his throat with every breath he took.

"Apologies, it took me a while to realise where the town was. I hadn't seen a paper map in years, nevermind used it." She sighed, feigning some sort of annoyance as she reached out to Rex, head turned away, offering him her water. "Now go, tell the squadron we're leaving in a moment."

"Yes, General. They'll be up and running in no time." Slowly, he carefully took the water, shooting one last look to his general before turning in the direction of his squadron, who'd been impatiently tapping their feet and awaiting further instructions.

As he made his way over, a small inkling of hope settled deep in his gut. She still cared for him, for the others, even when she did her best to avoid them. Rex knew he needed to get to the bottom of this, but for now he had more important things to do. Fives and Hardcase seemed to turn into a team of unbearable jesters each time a mission involved too much walking and not enough action.

—————————

The inn was nothing if not dusty and run-down. It survived hundreds, if not thousands of sandstorms, and its' exterior spoke of those memories as if they were ghost stories told by a campfire. The entrance consisted of a pair of faded, walnut saloon doors, which squeaked and groaned with every brief gust of wind that'd swerved past their hinges.

The exterior of the inn was a sand-tarnished, foamy green wood with a large sign that read 'The Smoker' in fancy letters, but the interior contrasted it with deep, velvet ruby walls, candle lighting and a golden-rimmed bar that extended into the parlour in a half rectangle.

Rex had never been to such an establishment, and he even felt a tinge out of place in such an old-fashioned, un-modernised place in his armour and trusty blasters.

An older gentleman was stationed behind the bar, polishing a glass. Black streaks ran through locks of grey, and his moustache was carefully trimmed into two, twinning strands which curled up at the tips. His cheeks were chubby, brimming with rose colour over a small smile. His attention was redirected to the group, as their entrance was proclaimed by the chime of a small, golden bell.

"Welcome to the galaxy's finest ranch inn, the Smoker, how may I be of service to you all?" His voice was deep and husky as an aftermath of too many smoked pipes, croaking against the smooth tune of a saxophone in the background.

"A couple of rooms, as well as whatever these lot want. Put it all on my tab please." The General spoke quietly, leaning against the countertop. The man eyed her up and down, giving a small grunt in response. She turned to the rest of the group, exhaustion tugging at her features. "Don't go too wild, we've still got a mission tomorrow." And with that, she was off, swirling a room key on her finger.

A few mutters floated between the men as they spread out across the bar, ordering drink after drink.

Rex felt his headache worsen as he rubbed at his forehead. For the life of him he could not figure out how to get his General to act normal with them again. Her behaviour had entirely shifted since their last mission together, and he couldn't blame her. His face still felt hot whenever he reminisced, however she'd become distant and cold towards not only him, but also the others. Parts of him regretted that night whenever he was met with her cold shoulder and distant gaze.

"What's on your mind, Captain?" Jesse's voice interrupted his thoughts, placing a hand on Rex's shoulder. Jesse was a smart cookie. His eyes quickly followed Rex's line of sight, humming in understanding. Jesse had also found himself on the receiving end of her new behaviour, no matter how sugary and honey-coated his words were.

"She'll come around, Rex. She needs some time to figure things out, she's our general after all," He paused, gently tugging at his vod's shoulder, "Let's go, you clearly need a few drinks in you Captain." And with that, the two men joined Fives, Hardcase and Echo at a faraway booth, the men nursing some cowboy whiskey and shots.

Rex was in for a long night.

———————

It didn't take long for the boys to stuff Rex with drink after drink, someone always ready with new rounds each time Rex had thought his glass was empty. Fives took a liking to the music, though he had commented on the lack of civvies in the area, or the lack of their beloved general. Him and Tup were the only ones who, in the past few weeks, had managed to carry out some form of conversation with the general. Rex tried everything to make them spill the beans, from bribes to begging, but the two had sealed their lips shut, their loyalty almost astonishing the Captain, but he knew they were good men, loyal men. So, he didn't push anymore.

Somehow, Hardcase had managed to get his hands on a few 'cowboy' hats, as the bar owner explained, and the boys seemed to love them. Rex was the only one who seemed to be listening to the bar owner's stories, his eyes glazing over and a fond smile gracing his lips as he recounted his favourite memories. The one that had caught Rex's attention was peculiar – it was to do with women, or cowgirls, to be exact.

"If a cowgirl takes your hat, or any other woman for that matter, it means she's interested in seeing more of you," The bartender paused, chuckling to himself as he watched Fives and Hardcase engage in an arm wrestle, "And if you let her, you're essentially telling her you're also interested," After that, Rex seemed to forget to listen to the rest of the story, his thoughts flying to you immediately. As he sipped on his iced whiskey, an idea came to mind. He adjusted the hat atop his head, downing the rest of his drink. He stood up abruptly just as Hardcase won the wrestle, cheering and celebrating in his drunken state. He'd definitely had too much to drink, but Rex would entrust Jesse and Kix to look after him when he'd be throwing up.

Now, Rex had a mission.

He received a few curious glances from the troopers around him, but no one questioned it as he walked towards the stairs, a small wobble in his step.

The hallway seemed to be swaying just a tad as he climbed up with a death grip on the golden rail, praying to the force not to fall and make a fool of himself. The stairs seemed to go on and on forever, taking him up higher into dimly lit hallways, and he wondered just how big this inn was. It didn't seem to be much from the outside, but the inside was certainly a maze.

Many doors lined the hallway, and he realised he didn't actually know where his General was staying. His last sober memories were of Kix joining their table, an annoyed expression tugging at his features as Jesse seemed to regret drinking a tad too fast. Shaking his head – which turned out to be a mistake – Rex stumbled down the hallway, groaning as bile rose up to his throat. Kriff, what was he thinking?

Maybe this was a bad idea after all. Maybe you wouldn't even think to entertain his drunken antics and banish him straight to bed.

But Rex had to try.

The absence of your warmth and kindness was searing a hole directly through his chest. It worsened with every mission, with more distance that you added between the two of you, building a bridge littered with thorns and shards, making it impossible for Rex to cross. You were all he thought of each night, your gentle touches, adorable laughter, your sweet smile and song-like voice. He refused to acknowledge it for a long time, but eventually he realised he was completely and utterly enamoured with you. Ever since that night, far before it even, you had stolen his heart. Hidden it away so deep within your grasps. He knew he was a fool, but he couldn't help it.

A sober voice screamed in the back of his mind to go to bed, to leave you be, and a drunken part of him seemed to accept defeat. He looked like a pathetic drunk, dressed up as a cowboy, stumbling around hallways, desperately trying to find you.

Kriff it. He should go and sleep instead of bothering you further. His drunken antics would only drive a further gap between the two of you. If you needed space, space was what Rex would give you.

Huffing, he placed an unsteady hand on the nearest doorknob he could find. Twisting it, he didn't even bother looking into the room as he rose a hand to rub at his head. The hangover would hit him like a brick in the morning, he was sure of it.

As the door opened, he frowned. It was dark.

How long had he and the boys been drinking? The General wasn't going to be impressed with them for sure.

Rex closed the door with a soft 'click', his arms automatically, but lazily, unclasping his armour. It was muscle memory by now; shoulder pads first, then the chest, arms, legs, so on and so forth.

There were small, fuzzy spots dancing in his vision, the room before him swaying side to side, his feet stumbling over one another as he reached the only bed in the room. Exhaustion suddenly weighed in on his shoulders like a stack of bricks, and he felt himself sluggishly fall into the soft, comfortable mattress. He struggled to twist his body to the side, grunting as the duvet beneath him refused to budge. He pulled at it, his bones turning into slurry and his muscles losing all their strength as alcohol continued to circle around his system.

Finally, something seemed to shift.

The blanket slid out from underneath his bare back, and Rex sighed in relief as it draped over him, the cold material comforting and easing his tired muscles.

His eyelids drooped over, sleep reaching out to him in strong waves of drowsiness as Rex sunk further into the bed.

It was probably from the drowsiness he was slowly beginning to feel, but his heart leaped up and into his chest as he realised – the bed shifted.

He wasn't alone.

His senses kicked in and Rex leaped up from the bed, cursing in the meantime as his legs got tangled in the sheets and his body tumbled to the floor like a sack of bricks, eliciting a loud 'thump' that may have been noticeable all the way downstairs.

"Kriff- I'm so sorry," He began apologising, swallowing down the momentary fear and panic that flowed through his veins, "I didn't realise there was someone in here, I-"

Foreign hands travelled to his shoulders, their warmth seeping into his skin as they sought to comfort him, "It's okay Rex, there's no need to panic," A soft, smooth and caressing voice spoke out into the darkness of the room, and Rex's brows pulled together in confusion. That voice, it was familiar. He knew-

"General?"

"Yes, it's me Rex. Let's get you up now, shall we?" You were quick to help your Captain get to his feet, noticing that a large, dark brown hat resided hung from his neck. His skin was burning hot against your palms, and your hand wandered to his forehead as he laid back down. "You're burning..." You paused, scrunching your nose, "You reek of alcohol, Captain. How much did you drink?"

"Not enough apparently." Rex grumbled out as he pulled his newly acquired hat over his face, hiding his scowl from you.

Your brows furrowed at his response, surprise and confusion flooding your veins simultaneously. Was he upset with you? If that was the case, you could understand why. You hadn't been the friendliest or kindest over the last few rotations, and guilt did eat away at you whenever you were the cause of that dejected look in Rex's eyes. But he was nothing if not patient. He gave you your space and didn't try to break your boundaries. Maybe the alcohol stumped the patience that Rex never seemed to run out of.

"Are you upset with me Captain?"

He gave you no response, no hint as to what he was thinking or feeling.

"Rex?"

A deep huff left through his nose.

"Rex, what's-"

Suddenly, he was sat upright, a hand swiping the cowboy hat back onto the crown of his head. His gaze was piercing, even in his drunken stupor, as his nose remained just inches from your face, "You really do make things difficult, don't you, mesh'la." His voice was a murmur as his hazy honey eyes stared deeply into yours.

Before any words could leave your parted lips, he cupped the side of your face, a coarse thumb tenderly caressing your skin.

"Please don't make this difficult, General." Begging words barely above a whisper, your Captain slowly, carefully, leaned in. His eyes held the utmost adoration as his lips stopped just a kiss away, his presence overwhelming and freezing up every muscle and nerve in you all at once. The smell of whiskey was strong, but that familiar scent of seawater and pine lingered, stopping your breath short as your eyes fluttered close.

His movements were slow, calculating and considerate as Rex hesitantly teased the gap between your bodies.

Blood pulsated loudly in your ears, the hairs on your body tense as goosebumps flushed your skin in waves, the intensity of his proximity to you silencing any stray thoughts you had. In that moment, it was just the two of you. It was just the sound of his shaky breaths mixing together with your own, the slight tremble in his hand as his grip tightened and then eased, as if he was uncertain of what to do, the smell of whiskey and the taste something sweet familiar, something that had you wanting to reach out for more and never let go. And there was also the sight of him. Those golden irises, those thick lashes fluttering over his eyes. The pinkish hue that dusted over his cheeks, the heat emanating from his body as he struggled against every instinct within him that screamed at him to just kiss you, to just hold you and to just love you.

He made his choice.

His fingers dwindled downwards, tracing slopes down your nape as he eased an inch to the left.

Soft lips pressed against the corner of your mouth, pouring all his thoughts and feeling into that one, simple kiss, his nose gently scraping against yours as he took in a slow, steadying breath.

"I'm sorry, mesh'la," He muttered sweetly, voice broken and barely breaking above the confines of a whisper as he stilled against you.

Taking a sharp inhale, the imaginary shackles dropped from your body.

You pulled away slowly, your hands enveloping Rex's as you pressed it against your chest.

"It's okay Captain," You shifted away from the bed, feeling as his fingers entangled with yours and tugged, quietly pleading for you to stay.

Looking up at you, Rex knew deep down that you couldn't do what he wanted. He knew he shouldn't even try, and yet his body seemed to act on its own will whilst he remined watching from behind a glass prison. His chest tightened as he noticed the way your eyes seemed to droop, your lips drawing into a fine line so as to not betray your thoughts and feelings. Time stopped as the two of you remained frozen, yet again, gazing at one another, savouring the last moments before your fingers trickled from his grasp, falling in tow with your other hand as you reached for the duvet.

"Sleep, Captain, we've got a long day ahead of us," You whispered out, pulling the covers over his chest as Rex gave a small nod, resting against the soft pillows beneath him. Your movements came to a halt as you took notice of his hat, yet again, and an idea sparked in your mind.

Your fingers reached nimbly for the material, gently pulling it away from your captain.

With heavy fingers, he reached out for it, his eyes already struggling against the weight of his drowsiness.

"What are you..?"

Lifting a finger to your lips, you let a small smile tug at the corners of your lips as you placed the hat atop your head.

"Goodnight, Rex," And with that, you were out before he could even blink.

Rex remained frozen in his seated position, his mind struggling to balance the feeling of drowsiness and shock at your actions. The alcohol flowing through his blood wasn't any help either, and he soon found his head hitting the pillows as his muscles seemingly turned into jelly.

A small smile blossomed on his face, even as the events of the night slowly blurred and faded under the whiskey and the rush of his feelings..

[camarocarfight]

Alastor's Bloody Valentine

Human Alastor x Reader late Valentine's Day special

Rated very mature with sexual content, murder, blood, and gore. Set in the 1930s with human characters. I suppose you could look at this as being a little Alastor back story.

Maybe there'll be a part deux?

It's kinda edited, but I got lazy and lost interest, and I just wanted to finish it. I hope all of you dear readers enjoy!

New Orleans, 1932

There was a chill in the air, carried in on a breeze that whistled through the old willow trees, and rustled their long, spindle-like branches. The trill of grasshoppers and crickets and the occasional screech of a night owl were customary of the bayou. Only interrupted by the nightly steam train, whose whistle echoed for miles until it faded like a whisper. There was no moon - only an ebony sky accompanied by its thousands of starry hosts. 

As serene as it all seemed, the bayou was one of the most dangerous places to be in 1932. Not just because of the alligators, snakes, and venomous spiders. The neighboring town was full of talk about the Louisiana serial killer, who lured their victims into the darkness of the bayou to slaughter them, leaving no trace or remains. People simply vanished, though it seemed to be mostly men of diverse age and status. Innocent and not so innocent. The most recent being a younger gentleman who had just gotten married. The papers did fail to mention that he'd nearly beaten his new wife within an inch of her life not long after the wedding, but news traveled fast. He was the thirteenth person to go missing.

With Valentine's Day came the fear of who the next victim would be. Mothers and wives kept tight leashes on their sons and husbands, and the police put in place a mandatory curfew. Temporary police sentinels were stationed on street corners, keeping watch over the streets day and night. Which subsequently made it more difficult to get to and from the only speakeasy in town. The police were happy - killing two birds with one stone. 

“Yes, ladies and gentlemen, don't let this curfew get you down. Take your gal out on the town for some swing and make the most out of your Valentine's Day. Ladies, keep your gents close, and stay safe-”

“Y’see,” Mimzy turned the cathedral radio off with a huff and crossed her arms over her voluptuous chest. “This curfew is ruinin’ everything!” 

You rolled your eyes and leaned your elbow on the bar and rested your cheek in the palm of your hand. Mimzy had been on a tangent for the last week for having to close the speakeasy. Being that it was in the basement of an old sugar mill, it was too risky to keep it running with the police snooping around. In one night, with the help of Husker, all of the liquor was moved under the cover of darkness to the crawl space of Alastor's hunting cabin deep in the bayou. The liquor would at least be safe if the police felt it necessary to search the sugar mill. The only thing they'd find would be an empty stage and bar. 

With no speakeasy, the regular meet and greet for you and all of your friends was the cabin. It was a comfortable space, at least. Alastor had used the extra money he made from his radio show to install new, polished wood floors, a nice bar, and even a loft with a decent sized bed when he would stay for the first week of hunting. It also had a decent kitchen, which was Alastor's favorite feature. As for you, Alastor made sure to give you your own bit of space. In the corner of the main room was a stone fireplace with book shelves flanking either side. The shelves were filled to the brim with books of every genre. Hanging above the fireplace was Alastor’s prized Stag - previously occupied by Alastor’s portrait from when he was in the service. You never did tell him just how creepy you found the stuffed creature. Alastor loved the hunting sport, but you appreciated wildlife as just that; alive. 

Mimzy sauntered over from the radio and sat herself on a rickety barstool, her brows pinched. “How am I gonna make money? Who knows how long this whole thing will go on for. And where's Alastor? His show ended an hour ago. His ass better not be dead too.”

You sighed and stood from your barstool to round the bar. There was a bottle of, ironic enough, Red Stag that was already open. It wasn't your first choice, but prohibition made everyone less picky. You poured yourself a generous glass, only for Mimzy to swipe it from you, and gulp it down in one swig. Your eye twitched in irritation as you glared at the woman through your lashes. The relationship between the two of you was decent enough, but as of late, she'd been grating your nerves and testing your patience. Mimzy's flamboyant personality didn’t jive well with your own in an enclosed space. You were more reserved, shy, and softly spoken. Not to mention that the cabin had always been an intimate space for you and Alastor. It didn't seem so intimate now - being that it was now shared space with Mimzy and Husker. 

“Would you like another drink before I pour my own,” you asked, your voicing clipped. 

Your head was pounding now, with a migraine blooming behind your eyes. The little grin that slid over Mimzy's lips told you that she knew exactly what she was doing. 

“Actually, Doll, I would,” she flashed you a grin with her nose wrinkling as she did so. “You're such a good friend,” Mimzy cooed and thrust her empty glass in your face. 

Your grip on the bottle of Red Stag was white knuckle, and you opened your mouth to give her a piece of your mind, but the words caught in your throat when the cabin door opened. Both you and Mimzy looked over to see Husker coming through the door with Alastor trailing behind him. Your shoulders visibly deflated when your gaze met Alastor's.

Mimzy put her glass down on the bar and threw her arms up in glee. “Alastor! I'm so glad to see you!”

“And I you,” Alastor grinned. “Thanks for holding down the fort and watching over my darling for me.”

“I don't need a babysitter,” you grumbled and nodded your head at Husker when he gave you a sympathetic smile. “Hey, Husk.”

“Cher,” Husk greeted in that deep, baritone voice. 

Alastor laughed boisterously and leaned on the bar in front of you. Upon meeting his gaze, his chocolate brown pools started to melt away all of the tension in your body. It was so easy for you to get lost in his eyes. 

“I jest, my dear. Husker here is going to drive Mimzy home, and we are going to celebrate!”

Mimzy quirked a brow and made a sound akin to a high-pitched scoff. “I ain't ready to leave yet. I want to celebrate too! We could have a round of drinks!”

Husk had noticed that you and Alastor had yet to tear apart your gazes and were seeming lost in each other. Alastor flashed you a dazzling smile and leaned over the bar to press a chaste kiss to your lips. That was enough for your cheeks to flush and become a brilliant crimson. 

“C'mon,” Husk grabbed Mimzy's fur coat off the coat rack and all but threw it into the woman's face. “Before I drag your ass to the car.”

Mimzy put her coat on in a huff, then fussed over her hair, throwing insults at Husker as she did so. 

“Thank you,” you mouthed to Alastor and waved to Mimzy as she was all but pushed out the door by Husker. You could hear her nagging as she walked all the way to the door. “Poor Husker.”

“He'll live,” Alastor hummed and gave you a wink. “Mimzy, however,” he chuckled.

“That would be too good to be true,” you mumbled and grabbed the bottle of Red Stag to pour yourself that long awaited glass. “How was work?”

Alastor set about removing his suit jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his white dress. Your gaze was drawn to the newly exposed, tan flesh of his forearms. “Same as always, my dear. I'm sure you were listening?”

“Until Mimzy turned the radio off,” You walked into the main sitting area and sat in your favorite rocking chair. 

In your left hand was your glass of bourbon that you then took a sip of. From over the brim of the glass, you continued to study your partner as he made himself comfortable. Alastor's bowtie was now untied, and the top button of his dress shirt undone, exposing a delicious expanse of his neck. Being that it was Valentine's Day, you hoped that it meant that Alastor wouldn't mind taking everything farther than usual. The man would tease you here and there, whispering dirty things in your ear, because he knew it riled you up. The act of sex, however, just didn't fit his idealism. Any affection from Alastor would include kissing and touching, maybe heavy petting, but the two of you had only had penetrative sex a handful of times. Each time it happened was mind-blowing, leaving you craving more and waiting on bated breath to feel him the same way again. You could feel yourself beginning to flush just thinking about it - the heat slowly building up in your chest and rising until your cheeks were crimson. At least you could blame it on the bourbon, which you quickly threw back and tore your gaze away from Alastor. 

“So,” Alastor sat down on the couch and crossed his legs, and draped his left arm over the back of the couch. “Quiet evening with a shared drink, my darling?”

Honestly, the man was entirely too distracting. It didn't help either that the bourbon was affecting you far sooner than you anticipated. Your mind blanked, seeing Alastor sitting there - sleeves rolled up, bowtie undone, the red vest that matched his trousers that fit him entirely too well. Alastor was your perfect definition of a sex-god that had a distaste for the very thing that you craved. His smoldering gaze and satisfied, closed-mouth grin told you that he knew exactly what  kind of effect he had on you. 

“Are you alright,” he cocked his head to the side. “You look bothered.”

“You're a tease,” you swallowed. 

Alastor’s brows rose in surprise. “Me? I'm just sitting here,” he laughed and beckoned you over with his finger. “Come here, my darling.”

A bolt of red-hot arousal shot right up your spine, and your body moved automatically, seemingly out of your control and under Alastor’s. Alastor moved to uncross his legs and seized you by the hips with his strong hands. You now stood in between his spread thighs, looking down into his brown eyes as he gazed up at you. His lips quirked in a crooked grin, making him look like the cat who got the cream. 

“Tell me how I'm a tease,” Alastor whispered huskily. 

You brought your hands up to cup his face and ran your left thumb along his bottom lip. “You know what you do to me, Alastor.”

Alastor grinned and wrapped his arms around your waist. “Oh, I'm well aware,” the man's pupils were now blown with his own need. “Would you like me to do something about that?”

Relief flooded you, and you nodded eagerly. By now, the bourbon was really beginning to have an effect on you and how much you needed the man before you. “I've been waiting so long, Alastor.”

“The wait makes it worthwhile,” he growled.

Before your tipsy mind could even comprehend what was happening, Alastor stood, effortlessly hoisting you up by the hips, and bounded towards the spiral staircase of the loft Your arms wrapped around his neck and your legs around his slim waist. Alastor’s arousal was very noticeable against your own pelvis. The heat from his girth radiated through his slacks. When his lips met yours in a fevered kiss, your mind blanked with arousal. Your senses quickly became overwhelmed by his touch, his scent, and his taste as his tongue coaxed your own in a scorching kiss. Alastor eagerly devoured your mouth and every subsequent moan he drew from you. He broke the kiss, nipping at your bottom lip as he did so. His lips then trailed down to the column of your neck where he sank his teeth into the supple flesh. You hissed from the pain and carded your fingers through his brunette hair until you had a handful and tugged, earning a groan from him. 

“Fuck it,” Alastor growled and sat you on the steps of the spiral staircase. 

Alastor’s hands snaked up your dress to pull your panties down your legs, leaving the silk garment dangling from your left ankle. You gasped when he cupped your dripping sex in his left hand and breathed against the side of your neck. 

“I’ll have you right here,” he growled and claimed your mouth once again. 

You moaned wontanly into his mouth when he penetrated you with two fingers and curled them against your g-spot. Even though sex was a rare occasion, Alastor had memorized your body from the inside out. Knowing every sensitive spot to kiss, lick, or bite. Alastor groaned and pulled your bottom lip between his teeth and tugged, ripping the most delicious moans from your throat. Each and every sound you made went straight to his cock that was now straining uncomfortably in his slacks. With a tweak of his fingers, Alastor had you coming with his name falling from your lips like the most beautiful prayer. 

“Alastor,” you were breathless, chest heaving as you fought to catch your breath. “I need you inside me.”

Alastor’s eyes darkened, and he carefully withdrew his fingers from your quivering sex. “You’ll have me,” he whispered and kissed you chastly. 

The sound of Alastor’s belt buckle was like music to your ears, as your body was finally getting the attention that it so badly craved. With your left hand, you reached between you and Alastor and took his now freed, sizeable length in your hand. You bit your lip and looked up at Alastor through your eyelashes. Alastor held your gaze as he guided himself into your tight heat, slowly splitting you open and seating himself inside you. Both of you panted, attempting to adjust to the almost foreign sensation. No, you weren’t a virgin, but Alastor had been your first, and since sex wasn’t a regular occurrence, it took both of you longer to adjust. You, more so than Alastor. 

He was thankfully patient, waiting until the pained look on your face was no longer before slowly pulling out and thrusting back into the hilt. The man clenched his teeth painfully and screwed his eyes shut, completely drunk off of the feeling of you fitting around him so perfectly. 

You held onto Alastor tightly, with your nails digging into the flesh of his back, even through his dress shirt. Alastor’s hands had your hips in a death grip, and you hoped that you would have bruises left in their place. You wanted Alastor to claim you - mark you -  so that everyone knew you belonged to him. 

“Come inside me, Alastor,” the words fell from your lips in a pathetic whimper before you even realised what you said.

The look Alastor gave you startled you, and his hips stuttered to a pause. You stared into each other’s eyes for what felt like an eternity, Alastor’s eyes searching your own as if looking for truth behind that request. You feared your moment of intimacy with Alastor was ruined until he started moving once more. This time, he moved slower, taking his time pulling all of the way out and sinking back into you. He continued to hold your gaze and leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead.

“Is that what you want,” Alastor asked, but it was barely above a  whisper. “To be mine, forever?”

Of course it’s what you wanted. Alastor had been your first, and you wanted no one else. It was difficult for you to imagine your life any different. You would be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about starting a family with Alastor. You brought your hands up to Alastor’s face and looked into those chocolate pools.

“Make me yours, forever, Alastor.”

~~~

You awoke the next morning, nestled in the king-sized bed of the loft alone. Alastor was nowhere to be found, with his side of the bed neatly made. Between your legs was an ache and a stickiness in the inside of your thighs that served as a reminder of the previous night's activities. What little bourbon you had, had also left you with a slight headache that settled over your temples. Coffee would be a good fix, and you wondered why you hadn't smelled it perking if Alastor had already been up. 

There was a fire going in the fireplace when you made your way down the staircase, confirming that Alastor was around, but nowhere to be seen. You thought nothing of it and went over to the kitchenette to get coffee perking and breakfast ready for whenever Alastor returned. 

You sat down in your rocking chair by the fireplace when the coffee was ready to enjoy your cup. The chair rocked rhythmically on the hardwood floor, nearly lulling you to sleep until you heard a god awful noise coming from the crawlspace under the cabin. Your first thought was that a stranger or the police had found the liquor stash, and you bolted out of the chair to get the pistol hidden among your books. 

The door to the crawlspace was in the kitchenette and was flung open, revealing a blood covered Alastor. The man looked up at you with blood splattered across his face and chest, staining his white dress shirt. There was enough blood that you couldn't tell if it was coming from Alastor or not. 

You dropped the pistol that was in your hands and rushed over to him, and hooked your arms around his arm. “A-alastor, what the hell? Are you-”

“It's fine!” He laughed and looked down at you with a grin. “It's not mine.”

Your eyes widened, and you took a tentative step away from him and shook your head. “Then, whose is it?”

Alastor ignored your question and casually walked over to the pot of coffee on the stove. He poured himself a mug, all the while humming a song with that same grin on his face. 

“Alastor,” you demanded. “You're scaring the hell out of me.”

“I'm sorry,” he put his coffee mug on the counter and turned back to you. “This,” he pointed to his stained shirt. “Is just the latest victim.”

“The latest…,” you paled, with the details finally coming together. “You're him.”

Alastor flashed you that dazzling grin and opened a drawer next to the stove. Without even looking, Alastor pulled a massive knife out and studied it. 

“Did you know, my darling, that in order to inflict a fatal wound, you need at least fifteen inches of penetration?”

“Please put the knife do-”

You gasped. Before you could even react, Alastor lunged forward, plunging the knife deep in your abdomen. He stood in front of you, holding the blade in place with his smile never faltering. Pain blossomed throughout your body, and you began to choke on the blood that bubbled up through your throat. You coughed and watched the blood mixed sputum splatter across Alastor’s already stained shirt. Tears fell freely from your eyes, staining your cheeks, and your trembling hands grabbed onto Alastor’s arm that still held the knife inside you.

Blinking up at Alastor through your tears, you saw no remorse on his face. Just that twisted grin that you had fallen in love with so many years ago. 

“You should know I'm too much like my father to have children,” Alastor said darkly. “That's a risk I cannot take.”

Alastor pulled the knife out of your abdomen and stepped back as you crumpled to the floor on your knees. The pain was white-hot, but it was nothing compared to that of your broken heart. Your body screamed for his closeness and wanted to hate him for everything. Even after the previous night, after telling you he would be with you forever. In an attempt to stop the bleeding, you held pressure on the wound, but you knew it was no use. You were dying. At the hands of your lover.

“It won't be long, my love,” Alastor got down on one knee and brushed your hair out of your face. “I'm sorry I had to do this.”

“F-fuck you,” you gasped and choked. 

Your vision was beginning to fade in and out, along with your hearing. The weight of your body suddenly became too much and you fell to your side. Before your head hit the floor, Alastor had caught you and laid you down gently. The last sensation you felt, other than the pain, was Alastor kissing you. It was a passionate kiss, similar to that of the kiss you shared while making love. He didn't care about the blood that pooled from your mouth, but seemed to enjoy it more than anything. When he broke the kiss, you met his gaze, struggling to keep your eyes open.

“I'll see you in hell,” you spit, using every ounce of energy you had left before going still.

Alastor smiled down at your now lifeless body and ran his fingers through your hair. A single tear ran down his cheek, and his smile grew into a grin.

“It's a date.”

Part Two

[christinesficrecs]

Happy Saturday! Enjoy these brilliant fics. 🩷

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“Then we have reached an accord.”

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“So when I was married to him,” he continues, voice rising. “He wasn’t good enough. He was taking advantage of me. ‘He’ll never be able to love you like you want, Stiles’. That’s what you said-“

Or the Sweet Home Alabama AU that nobody asked for.

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Everyone raises their hands. Every single pack member.

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“We’re not mates, Cora,” he insists. “I mean look at him-“

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Derek’s head snaps up, eyes wide and scenting the evident crackle of magic in the air.

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Oh how the mighty have fallen. Dude, cannot catch a break.

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“Well I guess accidental kidnapping is not so bad then,” Scott decided brightly after the others had finished describing their ordeals. “All’s well that ends well, right?”

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[queewp]

So what's Ford's motivation of research in your Monster Falls au? Is he fascinated by humans and wants to study them without bias? Does he want to publish a paler that would make monsters consider coming out of hiding? Are they even from the same dimension??? What would this au's version of Weirdmageddon look like?

HEHE SO- Ford's motivation:

Ford’s motive for research is similar to the original–he wants to document the weird and the unknown. Even as monsters, I can imagine there’s ALOT that has yet to be discovered–I can imagine Ford is also just rlly into that stuff in gen! He ofc still has the journals, tho they are ofc gonna differ slightly in content cuz some of the stuff in the Journals would already be ‘normal’ occurrences/creatures in his everyday life

Is he fascinated by humans and wants to study them without bias?

Yes and no. He is indeed fascinated with humans, but he’s smart enough to not barge into human settlements. The only reason Ford ended up trusting Bill is because Bill, surprisingly, nursed him back to health when Ford stepped into a trap (which may or may not have been a trap Bill had set up lol). Ford decided that humans couldn’t be THAT bad if Bill had helped him (he was incredibly wrong). Thus, he started feeling comfortable enough to ask questions, draw humans, write them down in his journals, etc. So yeah but also, it wasn't his initial plan--he is indeed incredibly fascinated in them, but part of it was also because the human he was researching was also Bill Does he want to publish a paper that would make monsters consider coming out of hiding?

Kind of!! Not exactly a paper, but he wanted monsters and humans to work together instead of being fearful of each other. He saw how Bill and himself worked and he thought; 'why were we so afraid of humans?' Ford and Bill, instead of working on the portal, were trying to figure out a way for humans to find / cross the barrier protecting Gravity Falls.

Are they even from the same dimension???

Yes!! In my version, Gravity Falls is a town of monsters w/ a barrier protecting them from humans. It's impossible for human to find the town on their own (if a human tries finding it, even with directions, they'll end up walking in circles and never finding it), and they’re also unable to cross it even if they DO find it. They found this out when Ford insisted that he come to Gravity Falls, so that they could go further into their research (Bill at this time, offered to help, and has been helping Ford with his journals and research); with Ford’s guidance, Bill ‘found’ Gravity Falls. However, it quickly became apparent that while Ford could step through this barrier, Bill could not. The next part of the research is like I had said before, trying to make Gravity Falls accessible to humans.

What would this au's version of Weirdmageddon look like?

HEHE basically a free for all hunting ground!! I’d imagine that Bill’s Henchmaniacs are also humans, and also monster hunters :3 They get free rein of a town FULL of the thing they hunt, what else do u think they're gonna do? /silly

I'm still tweaking a lot of the smaller things (and... a lot of other plot points) but that's basically around what I have :D Ty for asking this, this was so fun to answer <33 if anyone else has more questions, or ideas, defo send an ask >:D