#surface and the future of humans and monsters

[suku-enthusiasts]

chapter four || heir - r. sukuna

❛ ❜ Ryomen Sukuna x f!reader (on going)

❝A thousand years after tragedy tore them apart, the immortal wife of Ryomen Sukuna lives in hiding with their cursed-born son. When Sukuna is resurrected in modern-day Tokyo, long-buried love reignites—along with ancient power, vengeance, and divine destiny. As their family reunites under the shadow of Jujutsu High, they must navigate past sins, present tensions, and the fragile future growing inside her. A dark romance of eternal love, reincarnation, and the monster who would burn the world to keep his queen.❞

word count; 3.4k

cw ; mdni • 18+ only. contains explicit sexual themes and content. use of alcohol. hurt/trauma. smut . anxiety. death. graphic scenes

main masterlist | series masterlist | previous

The house was still dark when you woke. Rain tapped gently at the windows, the soft patter blending into the hush of early morning. You hadn’t meant to rise so early — your body had been exhausted from the tears, the news, the unbearable memory of Satoru’s voice saying your husband’s name. But something tugged at you. A sound.

A low groan. At first, you thought it might have been the wind. But then you heard it again — faint, rough, unmistakably human. Your heart kicked against your ribs. You threw off the blanket and padded barefoot across the wood floor, the hem of your nightdress whispering around your ankles as you moved down the hallway. The light filtering beneath Renjiro’s door was dim and unsteady — flickering, like it pulsed with something unnatural. You knocked once, “Renjiro?” No answer. Only another soft groan, followed by a ragged breath, you pushed the door open. The room was warm — warmer than it should’ve been, like something had been burning through the air itself. Renjiro lay sprawled on his futon, drenched in sweat, one hand gripping the blankets at his chest while the other curled tight into his hair. His shirt was rucked up to his ribs, exposing the hard line of his abdomen — and your eyes caught something there.

Something wrong.

You froze in the doorway.

Your stomach turned to ice.

Black markings — faint but growing — twisted over his skin like vines of ink. They crept along his ribs, up toward his collarbone, curling into familiar, jagged lines you had once traced with your mouth a thousand years ago. Your breath caught, your chest going cold with dread.

No. Not this.

“Renjiro—!” you rushed to his side, kneeling hard on the floor, your hands already reaching for his face. “Renjiro, what happened?” He blinked groggily, as if surfacing from a dream, eyes hazy with fatigue. “Mother…?” You cupped his cheek, your hands trembling. “What did you do?” you asked, your voice barely steady. “What did you see?” At the word “see,” something flickered in his gaze. He sat up slightly, wincing as if every joint in his body ached. “I found him,” he rasped. “I found him—” You grabbed his arm — not roughly, but with urgency. “Found who?” He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he looked down — at the cursed markings on his chest, now glowing faintly beneath the skin — and exhaled like someone who had stepped too close to a storm. “I saw him,” Renjiro whispered. “I saw… Father.” Your breath stopped, the room spun. “No,” you said. “That’s not—no, that’s not possible—”

“I touched the thread,” he went on, voice hollow. “I called his name. I reached for him—” he swallowed hard, “and he looked back.” You stared at him in horror. “You linked with him?”

“I didn’t mean to—” his voice cracked. “I just wanted to know. I had to know if he was real. If you were crying last night for nothing.” Tears stung your eyes, but you ignored them. Your hands gripped his arms now, eyes scanning the markings — which had spread to the edge of his jawline, faint and curling like smoke. “This isn’t just knowing,” you whispered. “You’ve awakened something. This—this bond—he can see you now.” Renjiro flinched. “He already did.” The silence that followed felt endless. Outside, the wind shifted. Somewhere in the distance, a train wailed through the city like an omen. “He looked at me like he knew me,” Renjiro whispered. “Like he saw something in me that no one else could. And when our eyes met… I felt it. I felt what you must have felt.” Your eyes filled. “I was afraid,” you said, voice breaking. “I loved him, Renjiro. But I was afraid of what loving him would one day cost.” Renjiro met your gaze — still sweat-drenched, still trembling — but his voice was steady now. “And yet you gave me his name.” That silenced you, because he was right. You had never told him the full truth — about how Sukuna touched your soul, about how he had given you eternity, about what it meant to love a god of ruin, but he had known anyway. You sat back slowly, hands falling into your lap.

“We have to find Uraume,” you whispered. “Before these markings become permanent. Before Sukuna finds you.” Renjiro nodded, chest heaving. “I’ll help you.”

“No,” you said, eyes burning. “You’ll rest. You’re already cursed enough by blood.” He looked at you then — tired, marked, glowing faintly with the same darkness that once belonged to your husband, and in the silence, you realized something else: Sukuna wasn’t just coming back, he was calling, and through your son, he had finally begun to answer.

The King Stirs The first thing he felt was heat. Not the soft warmth of skin, or the gentle press of blankets in the night — but raw, molten, ancient heat. It roared through his veins like a wildfire long starved, tearing through slumbering limbs, burning through the silence of death with the fury of an undone god. He gasped. Not for air — air was meaningless now — but for you. His back arched violently as his eyes snapped open, four arms trembling as they pressed to the stone slab beneath him. The ritual chamber was dim, lit only by flickering candles and blood. His heart — if he still had one — pounded like war drums in his skull. He sat up, panting, bare-chested and alive, reborn in a body that felt familiar, but missing.

Something wasn’t right.

Someone—was missing.

His vision blurred with the rush of returning power, red eyes glowing like embers through smoke. Cursed energy cracked around him in wild, unstable bursts — thrumming, ancient, violent. The earth beneath the shrine groaned under the pressure, and walls creaked with the strain of housing something so furious, so broken. “Sukuna-sama.” The voice slithered in from the darkness, reverent and cool. 

Uraume.

He turned, slowly — his spine cracking back into place as he rose, nude but uncaring, blood drying in the runes that encircled his form. Uraume knelt before him, head bowed, robes soaked in ritual dye and sweat. Sukuna’s voice came out like thunder strangled into words, “Where is she?”

Uraume lifted their head slightly. “You… remember?” His eyes narrowed. “You brought me back. You think I wouldn’t remember the only person who ever looked at me like I wasn’t a monster?” The candlelight danced across his face, his jaw clenched, voice ragged with a desperation he couldn’t disguise. “Where is my wife?” Uraume swallowed. “We haven’t located her. Not precisely. The world has changed—”

“Find her.” The words cracked like a whip, raw and guttural. “I’ll tear this entire era apart if I have to, Uraume. I’ll rip through cities and burn the bones of every sorcerer alive—”

“She’s not alone.” Sukuna went still. Uraume stood now, gaze low but steady. “She lives quietly. Hidden. She has not aged.” His breath hitched. “You gave her my cursed immortality.”

“You told me to,” Uraume replied. “I did only as you asked. Her and… the boy.” The world dropped out from under him. He staggered slightly, blinking. “The boy?” Uraume nodded. “Your son.” Silence filled the chamber. A sound escaped Sukuna’s throat — not rage, not joy — just something in between. Something wounded, “How long…” he murmured, “Over a thousand years.” His hands curled into fists. “And she thought I was dead. All this time.”

“Yes,” Uraume said softly. “Until recently.”

“What changed?” he growled, Uraume hesitated. “Your son… found you.” Sukuna’s eyes burned. In the darkness behind his gaze, he saw it — the moment. A thread. A blood-bound echo calling to him. That gaze. That feeling. A connection forged not in words but in blood and memory. He had felt the boy, and in turn… the boy had seen him. He reached for the ceremonial robe nearby, barely managing to tie it as he turned toward the exit, muscles tight with rising energy. “Where are you going?” Uraume asked carefully, Sukuna didn’t look back. “To find her.”

“To bring her back?” He stopped at the edge of the stairs. His voice was low. Controlled. Dangerous. “To remind her that she’s always been mine.”

It was like something ancient had broken loose inside him. Since the night he’d claimed you — and let you claim him — Sukuna could barely go a moment without touching you. Sometimes it was gentle: a hand at the small of your back as you poured tea, a thumb tracing the base of your throat where his mouth had once lingered. Other times it was hungrier — a low growl behind you as you bent to tend to the garden, four arms slipping around your waist until he could bury his face in your neck and kiss you until your knees gave.

You didn’t fight it.

You couldn’t.

Because something inside you had shifted too. There was no fear now, no hesitation. Just a terrible, beautiful gravity pulling the two of you together, again and again, until it felt like the world had always been meant to bend at the seam where his body met yours. He stayed the night almost every time he visited now — which meant nearly every night — his futon forgotten more often than not as he pulled you into his arms, his chest pressed to your back, his breath warm against your hair. “You’ve ruined me,” he murmured one night, half-asleep, half-aroused, his hands tangled in the fabric of your sleeping robe. “I can’t think straight without you near me.” You giggled, turning in his arms to press a kiss to the tip of one of his lower fingers. “You’re the King of Curses. You’re not supposed to think straight.” He grinned against your lips. “Then I’ll make you my queen. That way, I’ll never need to.” You blinked, your breath catching. “What?” He looked at you like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Marry me.” You stared at him — heart thundering, lips parted — but before you could speak, he reached beneath the pillow beside your head and pulled something from beneath it.

It was a ring, not a towering gem, not something made for show, but rare. A curved band of dark, aged gold, set with a stone unlike any you’d ever seen — pale violet, almost grey in the moonlight, with flecks of red so deep they looked like blood suspended in ice. It was beautiful. Unpolished. Untamed. Like him. “I tore it from a merchant’s vault,” Sukuna said, voice low and warm. “Said it belonged to a mountain priestess who saw the future. Said it was cursed.” You met his eyes. “And you thought it suited me?”

“No,” he murmured, sliding the ring onto your trembling finger. “I thought it matched you.” You looked down at the ring on your hand — the weight of it, the shape of it, how it settled so naturally against your skin it felt like it had been waiting to return to you, and then you looked back at him — this man of war and fire and ruin — and saw in his eyes something fragile.

Hope.

“I love you,” you whispered, Sukuna stilled. Then he exhaled — like he had been holding that breath since the day he first saw you. “I know,” he said. “I’ve always known.” His hands — all four — slid up your sides, your back, your thighs, until you were in his lap again, lips pressed to his as he kissed you with the hunger of a man who had just been told the world wouldn’t end after all. You didn’t marry him in ceremony, you didn’t need it.

You married him in sweat and skin, in firelight and silence, your bodies tangled and breathless, the ring catching moonlight between thrusts, and when you came apart beneath him that night, his name on your lips and his hands holding you like a prayer—

—you knew, you belonged to him, and he had always belonged to you.

It began with a whisper. Not one made in passing, or thoughtless in the throes of lust — but something low, guttural, made in the dark while you lay half-asleep, skin slick with sweat, your thighs trembling, and Sukuna still buried deep inside you. “I want to put a child in you.” The words scraped against your ear like a vow. You blinked through the haze, breath shallow, your body sore from the way he had worshipped it that day — and the night before, and the night before that. Your back ached from the constant press of his chest, your legs tender from how often they wrapped around his waist. It was as if once you’d said yes, once you had become his wife, he had been unable — or unwilling — to stop.

He didn’t return to his estate.

Not even once.

Messengers had come. Some even brave enough to shout at the edge of your garden. They didn’t make it far. You’d seen the streaks of red the next morning, the smears of blood in the grass where Sukuna had cut them down without bothering to untangle himself from your body. “My duty,” he growled once, his mouth between your breasts, “is here. Between your legs.” And he proved it — again and again — morning, dusk, long past midnight, until you were dazed and drowsy and utterly full of him.

But now… this.

A child.

You shifted in his arms, your hand sliding up his chest. His skin was hot. Alive. Your ring caught the lantern glow as your palm pressed to his heart.

“A child?” you murmured. “You…”

“You’d be beautiful,” he said, still inside you, still hard, one hand cradling your thigh as if it had never left its place there. “Swollen. Warm. Mine.”

You flushed — not from embarrassment, but from the hunger in his voice. It wasn’t like his usual lust. It was deeper. Almost reverent. “I’d give you a son first,” he went on, kissing your shoulder, your collarbone, the spot behind your ear. “A strong one. Born with power in his blood. And then daughters — all fierce. All mine.” You let out a soft laugh, though your heart was thudding. “You speak as if you’ve already seen them.”

“I have,” he murmured, hips rocking forward slowly, drawing a gasp from your lips. “Every time I come inside you, I see their faces. I feel them waiting.” You trembled beneath him, and something shifted in the air — something sacred, ancient, like the cursed energy in his blood was curling toward yours with purpose now. Not just hunger. Creation. “Do you want that?” he whispered. You stared up at him — this god of death and wrath and ruin — and saw nothing but him. The man who built you a home. Who kissed your stomach like it held stars. Who held your hand with four palms when he was exhausted but still came to see you, you nodded. “Yes,” you whispered. “If it’s with you… yes.” A sound escaped him then — not quite a growl, not quite a prayer — and he kissed you like he’d die if he didn’t. His hips thrust forward, deeper, slower, and his hands spread you open with trembling reverence. “I’m going to fill you,” he breathed. “Over and over. Until I can feel our child growing inside you.” You moaned into his mouth, arms wrapping tight around his neck, letting him roll you beneath him again, letting his body say the things he couldn’t yet name.

He didn’t stop that night.

He didn’t stop the next.

Day and night, Sukuna stayed sunk inside you, as if your body was the temple where he’d finally found peace, and with every breathless climax, every whispered vow, every seed he spilled into your womb, you knew: You were no longer just his wife, you were going to be the mother of the only thing the King of Curses had ever wanted to protect.

It had been a quiet morning. Dew clung to the garden’s edges like pearls, and the sun had barely crested the horizon when you stirred beneath the blankets, Sukuna’s arm heavy across your waist. His chest rose and fell behind you, the soft rhythm of a rare, unguarded sleep. You’d woken before him — something that almost never happened — and lay there in silence, simply breathing, and that’s when it hit you, the strange wave of nausea. Not sharp, not violent — just off. Your stomach curled gently, as though something inside was shifting, realigning. The scent of tea on the tray you’d forgotten to bring in from the night before hit your nose too strongly, and you swallowed hard, forcing the dizziness down. You didn’t make a sound, but Sukuna’s eyes opened anyway. He was on you in seconds, four hands already moving — one to your forehead, another to your waist, another tracing your pulse like he didn’t trust your silence. “What is it?” he asked, voice low, dangerous. “Are you sick?”

“No,” you whispered, catching his wrist. “I… I think I’m fine.” His eyes narrowed. “You’re pale.” You tried to sit up, but he stopped you, already adjusting the robe around your shoulders. “Lie back.”

“Sukuna—”

“I said lie back.”

You exhaled, but obeyed. He was breathing harder now, nostrils flaring, and his hand hovered above your belly — not touching, just feeling, and then he froze. You watched his expression shift — from confusion, to realization, to something awed and feral all at once.

He didn’t say a word.

He dropped his hand.

Then stood.

“Get dressed,” he said. “Now.” You blinked. “What?” He was already half-dressed, fastening the black sash around his hips with shaking hands. “We’re going back to the estate.” You sat up fully. “Sukuna, why—?” He turned to you, eyes burning. “I can feel it,” he said. “There’s cursed energy in your womb.” Your breath caught. “It’s faint,” he continued, jaw tight. “But it’s there. I need the royal physician to confirm. I need to know.” You nodded wordlessly, heart thudding, and quickly dressed in the silk he handed you — a formal robe, deep red, usually reserved for court visits. You didn’t question the urgency. You felt it too. Like a whisper in your blood, like something ancient waking up beneath your ribs. The trip to the estate was swift — a whirlwind of movement. Sukuna didn’t walk beside you; he carried you. One set of arms around your shoulders, the other beneath your knees, moving fast enough that the trees blurred past like ghosts. When you arrived, the gates opened without a word. The servants bowed deeply, murmuring greetings. None dared speak to you — but all stared. Word had already spread of the girl he married, the one he stayed with night after night, the one whose laugh he followed like a curse of its own.

The royal physician, an older woman with sharp eyes and steady hands, was summoned to the inner chamber. You sat on the cushioned platform, robes arranged neatly around you, heart pounding beneath your ribs. Sukuna paced in the corner, arms crossed, four hands fidgeting in unison. He looked like a man about to go to war — or beg the heavens. After a long, silent ritual, the physician finally pressed her palm gently to your abdomen.

Her eyes widened.

She turned.

And bowed.

“Congratulations,” she said softly. “Your Majesty. She carries your heir.” You didn’t even have time to react. Sukuna was already kneeling in front of you, all four arms sliding around your body, face buried in your stomach as he held you like something sacred, he didn’t speak, but you felt it — the tremble in his breath, the way he exhaled like his soul had just anchored itself for the first time in a thousand lives. You placed your hands in his hair and whispered, “You knew.”

“I felt it,” he rasped, voice raw. “The moment it sparked to life.” And then softer, so low only you could hear it: “You’re not just mine anymore.” He pulled back just far enough to look up at you, red eyes glassy, burning. “You belong to them too.”

NEXT

taglist; @stargirl-mayaa deathicus-sling @someonenamedray @paradisestarfishh @poopooindamouf @jinxiewritings @vampsclassiffied @dawg569 @puttyly @chuiisi @t4naiis @surgikull @casssiesthings

[random-autie-fangirl]

Chara: I'm wanting everything to end instantly

Asriel: And I'm wanting to go on unchanging forever

🔥🔥🔥THE BEEF WITH LINEAR TIME SIBLINGS🔥🔥🔥

[obsessivevoidkitten]

The Monster Under Your Bed

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

Word Count: 779

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[codenamethebird]

God I have so much to say about Melinoe's characterization, and the fasinating implications about her future arc/the overarching plot of hades 2. I want to make a larger think piece with pictures but for the moment I'm just going to focus on this one specific thread.

In the wake of the Prometheus reveal, she has a slew of convos about his motivations for siding with Chronos, and the gods basically all go: this is his vengeance for us punishing him a tad cruelly. And Nemesis is like, yeah the gods 100% deserve it. But Meli's responds that he must have more motivation than just vengeance, it can't just be that. But when Prometheus explicitly goes, 'I'm doing this because the gods are horrible to humanity and I love humans,' she basically goes, no he must be lying. That motivation is both too pure, but also humans kind of suck why would you care about them?

Mel's humanity hot takes deserve it's own essay (Ms I think Humans should have never gotten fire and are better when they are dead), and I just want to focus on the former for now. She can not comprehend that Prometheus is fighting the gods for noble reasons. It just does not make sense to her. Mel's world is so black and white. She doesn't understand the nuance of the situation, and the thought that the gods might be actually in the wrong doesn't even get close to crossing her mind.

It's a fascinating (and horrifying) result of her upbringing. Of the constant state of war and the very convenient big bad that is Chronos, the evil monster who stole her family. If she accepts that his side isn't completely evil, that they might even be right in some (even many) respects, she would have to grapple with her whole life. Everything she believes would be thrown into question, the literal thing she was training her whole life for.

She can't have Prometheus fighting for a noble cause, because he fights for Chronos whose the Bad Guy tm. But he also can't be fighting for something as simple as vengeance, because that would also mean she would need to really think about what he's angry about. If the punishment was truly so unnecessary cruel.

When talking to Odysseus about Prometheus, when Ody's saying how much he respected him for stealing the fire despite knowing the consequences, Mel says that it was the price to be paid for breaking Olympus's decree. To her, Olympus's rules are sacred and ultimately good. Unquestionably. Prometheus broke the rules with intent, so to her, why would he be so angry at the consequences? Especially if he knew because of his power they were going to happen.

So he must have another reason, some secret machiavellian plan that drives him. Except as I already said, it brings her right back to him doing it for humanity, which she also can't accept. Because that would be admiting that the gods did something wrong to humans. She twists herself into knots to justify her worldview, and it's fascinating! She's so messy I adore her.

Please Supergiant please the final surface boss has to be a human pleeeaaasse (preferably a living one). Or at least have one (or more) show up in some other capacity. Mel needs to come face to face with the other side and have it utterly destroy her worldview.

And/or have (Pan)Dora betray her for Prometheus, that would also be very fun haha.

[inazumass]

Animal Attraction - Laios x Beastman!Reader

No beta read this time, but I might add other chapters of this for f/m/ftm reader in the future on AO3 if there's enough interest for it. I try to make my smut as inclusive as possible but sometimes it takes away from the descriptors, y'know? Let me know what you think! https://archiveofourown.org/works/56591389

TAGS/Warnings: NSFW, Smut with Plot, Gender Neutral Reader, No Use of Y/N, Mild Themes of Forced Proximity/One Bed Trope (Kinda), Huddle For Warmth, Penetration, Gender Neutral Anatomy, Second Person Perspective/Freeform, Beastman/Beastkin Reader/Doglike Reader, Comfort, No Pet Names, Enthusiastic Consent, No use of protection don't be like Chilchuck, y'all

Word Count: 11.9k

As always, Minors DNI

Shadows stretched long across the wooden floor of the old bedroom where Laios sat in his bed for the night. This floor was quiet now but if anyone paused to listen they would be able to hear all the creatures off in the distance as they stalked their way through the dungeon. Their various calls and cries echoed off the far away walls of the vast cavern surrounding the ruins. 

It was cool here now, the crisp night air swirling through the alleyways and rustling the curtains. If it weren’t for the view out the window of the ruined structures littering the cave the old town was situated in, it might have been easy for anyone to convince themselves that they were in any regular old inn on the surface. 

There were few usable rooms left in the building now though, and the party had to make do with the last three decent rooms on the third floor. Not that anyone seemed to mind much… hell, most were grateful for a proper bed to sleep on for the first time in days. 

Down the hall Laios could hear the sounds of his party mates getting settled in for the night, their muffled speech unintelligible through the thick stone walls. He had settled into his bed, unfurling his bedroll over the old linen sheets as he stole glances at the newest member of their ragtag group.

He tried hard not to stare, but his gaze kept flickering up to the soft ears perched atop your head.

By now he’d known well enough not to question Izutsumi on her state after much scolding from the others and the sharp sting of her claws whenever she would get fed up with his pestering. Yet you were so vastly different in comparison to the sharper features of the party’s youngest member; your sharper more wolf-like features juxtaposed with the softer body of a human, the perfect fusion of man and beast. He couldn't help but wonder what it would be like… he’d always fantasised, albeit not so secretly about what it might be like to have more animalistic features, were you more monster or more human? His thoughts were cut off quickly when your eyes flicked over to him, feeling his eyes on your back. Your ears flicked in mild annoyance, not exactly fond of the intrusive gaze.

“What are you staring at?” You sighed, all too used to the way people would size you up. The questions, the fear, the judgement.

“Your ears look so soft.” The blond smiled sheepishly as the words slipped out of his mouth without much thought. 

The sincerity of his gaze caught you by surprise, unsure how to respond as you stared back at him. You blinked slowly, momentarily thrown off by his unexpected offhand comment. He seemed genuine, his eyes holding a warmth that contrasted sharply with the usual wariness you encountered from other tallmen. After a beat of silence, you couldn't help but let out a soft chuckle, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

"They're just ears," You replied, your tone light but tinged with a hint of amusement as your ears perked back up, "But thanks, I guess?"

He chuckled softly in return, a sheepish grin still playing on his lips. "Sorry, that was probably a weird thing to say, huh?" Laios asked, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly as he looked down at his lap.

"It's... different," you admitted, offering him a nonchalant shrug. "But different can be nice.” You said finally, earning another smile from the tallman.

His sheepish grin widened into a relieved smile at your response, his shoulders visibly relaxing as he let out a quiet sigh. "I'm glad you think so," Laios replied, amber eyes still avoiding your gaze. He knew if he looked back up he wouldn’t be able to resist staring a little longer. "I didn't mean to make things awkward."

You shook your head, offering him a reassuring smile of your own. "No need to worry about it. It's refreshing, honestly." You replied, sitting back against the old wooden headboard. Perhaps you had been wary of him for no reason, though you hadn’t fully dropped your defences around the group despite your curiosity about the knight. They had all been gracious enough to take you in when you were too injured to carry on alone.

You were certain if they hadn’t wandered by when they did you would have been doomed on your own. Now, you thought, you would be forever indebted to them for their kindness. That being said, you couldn’t help but feel out of place regardless of their continued kindness.

 “I’m sorry... I guess I was just expecting you to say something else.” You admitted. A sigh pushed past your lips as you hugged your knees, uneasy at even the smallest bit of vulnerability you’d shown him with your vague explanation.

Though he wasn’t the best at reading the emotions of others, he could see the way you curled in on yourself as if protecting something, your ears drooping against your head. It reminded him of the strays he would see back home, wounded, exposed…

His voice was gentle as he spoke, his gaze lifting to look you in the eyes as he searched for the right words. “I’ve heard stories of beastmen before… but you and Izutsumi are way cooler than any of them.” Laios affirmed, earning a little snort of laughter from you. “Seriously! Half tallman and half wolf, that’s… incredible!” He exclaimed.

You wanted to disagree, but something about the way his eyes lit up when he spoke had you believing it too. After all, no ordinary tallman could do what you could. Even so, you found yourself shifting in discomfort under his gaze. You had always been acutely aware of the implications of your existence, created from black magic… an abomination, a monster. 

Even now that you’d finally met someone like you, someone who couldn’t shift the way others in similar circumstances could, she was nothing like you. Though you suspected Izutsumi more than tolerated you from the way she would curl up between you and Marcille when she slept... half the time she complained that you reeked of dog smell, that you were noisy, and so on. You were nowhere near as agile as she was. Your form held little to be proud of; sharp teeth and claws, patches of fur scattered across your body. Both on the surface and deep within the dungeons black magic and all of its creations were things to be feared, reviled.

"Most people see me as a monster," you admitted bitterly, looking away from him as you hugged your knees a little tighter.

Laios’ brow furrowed slightly as he watched you retreat back into your shell. A monster? He wasn’t entirely certain what had compelled him to say what he said next, but the words came out regardless. “So what?” He frowned, his tone capturing your attention once more even if it was mostly due to the shock of hearing him speak like that. “Who cares what anyone else thinks?"  

The question was rhetorical and you knew that, yet you opened your mouth to speak anyways. The protests died on your lips before they could form entirely as he cut you off. “Their misconceptions about you aren’t going to change who you are.” The knight said firmly as he looked deep into your eyes, the intimacy of his earnest gaze causing you to look away again. 

Laios’ words echoed in your mind, resonating with a quiet strength that you couldn't ignore. You were silent for a long moment. Something about the way he spoke so confidently on the matter had you suspicious that he’d had to tell himself the same thing once or twice. "You're right," you replied, a newfound resolve coursing through your veins as you felt that unfamiliar spark of understanding for the first time in years. "Who cares what anyone else thinks?" You repeated.

For too long, you’d allowed the judgement and scorn of others to dictate your actions, to shape your perception of yourself. While it would take time to internalise it properly and truly digest the sentiment behind his words of encouragement, you felt a bit more steady for the time being. For now you would forge your own path alongside his party.

"Thank you," you said softly, meeting the knight's gaze with a grateful smile. 

“Of course.” He replied, laying back against his bed roll and looking up at the ceiling. He was torn now, frustration and mild jealousy gnashing their ugly teeth and gnawing at the back of his mind. Jealousy because he’d always dreamt of what it might be like to be a werewolf or something of the sort, frustration because others couldn’t see how amazing you and the other beastmen truly were beyond your respective abilities in the arenas. Questions swirled in his mind and died in his throat, even Laios knew that now wasn’t the time to ask. Beastman status aside, it irked him that you’d been made to feel that way about yourself.

You had laid down on your own bed before stealing another glance at him. Even in the faint glow that illuminated the room you could see the way his brow furrowed as he stared up at the vaulted ceiling, the mild tension in his jaw. 

“You look like you have something else to say.” 

He hesitated, his words caught in his throat… You couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for him and whatever he seemed to be wrestling with in that moment. Despite the barriers that separated you… you shared a common struggle, not just on this mission but in life as a whole. You understood that now.

Laios hesitated, uncertain of how his thoughts would be received. "I do," he admitted. "But it's... complicated."

“Try me,” you replied, rolling over so you could face him properly.

Laios hesitated again, his gaze drifting back to the ceiling as he weighed the words in his mind. Even in the short few days you’d been with the group he knew you well enough to know that you deserved to hear what he said next.  "It's just... sometimes I can't help but feel a little... envious," he admitted, self-consciousness flooding into his senses as he spoke the words aloud. A part of him expected you to snap at him for saying something like that after he heard the way his words hung in the open air.

You didn't though, instead you just cocked your head slightly, curiosity piqued by his confession. "Envious? Of what?" He couldn't have meant what you thought he did. You were cursed. Even with the enhanced senses, your strength, your speed… the weight of the isolation had always felt heavier.

A faint blush coloured Laios' cheeks as he met your gaze, a sheepish smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Of you, actually," he confessed, his tone laced with a mix of admiration and embarrassment. "I mean, you're so... unique. You’ve got the best of both traits, you’re strong, you’re fast… you’re a skilled strategist, your sense of smell is unparalleled and… I can always tell when you’re happy because your tail wags even when you’re trying to be serious.” He looked back up and away from you once again as he realised he couldn’t stop the words from spilling past his lips, scratching the itch in his brain. 

“I know it’s only reasonable for people to be wary of the unfamiliar, it’s in our nature to want to keep ourselves safe from something that could be perceived as a threat. It’s the one thing we living creatures all have in common. But it’s just frustrating, because…”  Because you’re like me. Laios wanted to stop himself from saying what came out next, but he couldn’t help it. "...because sometimes it feels like no matter what we do, no matter how hard we try, we'll always be seen as outsiders," There was a resigned look on his face now, despite the bitterness of the frustration replacing his usual upbeat tone. "Like we're destined to be misunderstood, judged solely by the circumstances of our existence."

You swallowed hard, looking back up at the ceiling with him as his rant struck something within you. His words stung with that all too familiar ache of rejection. There was another beat of silence that passed between the two of you as the weight of his sentiment settled in.

“I know what you mean,” You replied, voice barely above a whisper. This time it was your turn to snap him out of it. “But you know what? Despite it all, we're still here. And that counts for something, doesn't it?"

He didn’t seem convinced, but you could see the way the tension started to leave his body when he finally rolled over to face you from across the room. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Laios replied, the ghost of a halfhearted smile on his pink lips. 

The two of you looked at each other in silence for a long moment, a silent understanding passing between the two of you in the night. It had been a long time since you’d had the liberty to have a conversation like this. Open, honest, vulnerable under the cover of the night, tucked away somewhere quiet...

“Thank you,” you couldn’t help but say it again, something about the heavy conversation seemed to lighten the invisible load on your shoulders. “I don’t know how long it’s been since I’ve had a conversation like this.”

A soft chuckle escaped him, and he gave a slight bob of his head in agreement. "Yeah, I know what you mean. It's nice to just... talk."

As the conversation continued to flow between you, the initial tension that had hung in the air slowly dissipated, replaced by a growing sense of ease and comfort. Though you both knew that you should have been sleeping, found yourself drawn to his company, his honesty and blunt nature was refreshing. As the evening wore on, bathed in the gentle glow of the flickering candles and soft hum of conversation, you couldn't help but feel grateful for having met the tallman.

You could feel the gentle caress of the breeze as it snuck through the open window, teasing the flames of the candles and sending shadows dancing across the stone walls of the old room. The soft light illuminated the room, creating an intimate atmosphere that seemed to envelop you both in its soothing embrace.

Neither of you were certain when you’d drifted off to sleep, the orange glow of the candles having been extinguished long before you’d woken up again. 

As your eyes fluttered open they struggled momentarily to adjust to the darkness surrounding your bed. With the old shutters closed and the candles extinguished it was near impossible to see at first but as your eyes adjusted your enhanced night vision came in handy. All was silent inside now, the rest of your party mates likely fast asleep… the only sounds were the frenzied rushing of the wind against the building and Laios’ light snores in the bed across from you. Even beneath the cover of your sleeping bag, you could feel the cold seeping into your bones. The tufts of fur that littered your body seemed to stand on end in the darkness, prominent goosebumps prickling across your skin 

Something was off, it was colder now. Too cold. You reached out across the gap between your beds, gently shaking Laios's shoulder. His skin was cool to the touch and you couldn’t help but notice the way he was shivering in his sleep. 

“Laios,” you whispered urgently, “wake up.” 

He stirred, breathing slow and heavy. He let out a soft groan as he blinked his eyes open, mirroring your earlier struggle to adjust to the darkness in the room now as his amber eyes searched for you in the blackness. '”What’s going on?” he murmured.

“It’s freezing… something’s wrong.” You explained, tugging your sleeping bag closer around you as if to further prove your point.

“It’s probably just the dungeon’s terrain shifting again,” he replied calmly, rubbing his eyes while his body settled back into consciousness.

A shiver rippled through his body as the chill settled in. This isn’t good, he thought to himself, trying to calculate the situation at hand through the fog of his lingering sleep. Each of the rooms had shuttered windows, so it was likely that the others were fine as well. Considering the rushing sound of the air currents outside it would be safe to assume that there was a significant risk for frostbite out there if left exposed. Staying inside the abandoned structure was certainly the better alternative… but without some sort of external heat source your muscles would easily become stiff and painful at this temperature before long. 

Laios huffed, his breath just barely visible in the dark. So that was it then. He glanced back over to you then, watching as you struggled to properly cocoon yourself in your sleeping bag to stave off the cold for just a little longer.

“We’ll be alright,” He said tenderly with a reassuring smile.

“I’m freezing, and you’re still shivering.” You groaned, clenching your jaw as you tried to keep your teeth from chattering.

He swallowed hard, weighing his options in his mind once more as he considered what he was about to say before he took a deep breath. “We should probably huddle together for warmth then.” Laios said solemnly. In an attempt to calm his racing heart he continued quickly: “Shivering all night in our sleep won’t help with the fatigue, right now our muscles are expanding and contracting really fast to try and generate warmth to compensate for the-”

“Okay,” you interrupted, too tired to keep up with his fast paced facts. 

As you swung your legs off the side of your bed he hesitated before sliding over to make room for you, watching in mild amusement as you shuffled your way across the gap in your sleeping bag before flopping down next to him in the bed. For once he was at a loss for words, not expecting you to take the opportunity so quickly, though he supposed it made sense. Even though you looked more human than beast, he supposed wolves were pack animals, used to close proximity with other members of their pack. Although- he interrupted himself in his mind, that would be dependent upon the particular species of wolf you’d been - his thoughts were quickly interrupted by the groaning of the old wood frame supporting your bodies as it creaked in protest against the added weight before settling again.

This was better, his warmth next to you helping to warm you ever so slightly, but you could still feel the sting of the cold as you laid next to him in your sleeping bag, struggling to get comfortable. Laios found himself hesitating again, although he couldn’t place exactly why. It wasn’t as if he’d never slept in close proximity to someone else. Hell, on this journey alone he’d spent countless nights sandwiched between other members of his party as they slept. 

You didn’t seem to have a problem with it as you squeezed in next to him, but he could still see the way you shivered as you tried to get settled.

“It would, uh… probably be more effective if we combined our body heat.” He muttered, swallowing the lump in his throat once more as he looked away from you. 

Silence stretched out between you for what felt like forever as he felt the familiar claws of self doubt scraping at the back of his mind. He was thankful when you finally put him out of his misery, shooting him an awkward little smile as you spoke: “Yeah, that makes sense… I’m alright with it if you are.”

He nodded firmly, still avoiding your gaze as he helped you get tucked in beneath his sleeping bag. If you noticed the shift in his energy, you didn’t show it as you cuddled up next to him, pressing your back into his side beneath the covers. Laios tried to remain calm as he laid your now empty sleeping bag overtop of his, adding extra insulation for the both of you. The wind whistled outside, the shutters stirring as cold seeped its way in through the cracks in the wood. You were grateful now for the additional heat, it sounded like the storm outside was picking up. 

The tallman let out a sigh, his breath a cloud of fog as he listened to the intensity of the wind outside. He sat up to tuck the edges of the sleeping bag beneath the two of you, ensuring that the cold couldn’t slither in between the two of you. He glanced over at you then in the dark, your soft features just barely visible in the dim light leaking in from the slits in the shutters. A little smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he watched your ears twitch against the pillow. You looked so comfortable, cute even. 

He pushed the thought aside as he laid back down beside you, his arm resting on the pillow above your head as he attempted to give you a little bit of space.

“I’m glad we found this place,” He commented, his voice a soft murmur above the sound of the rushing wind outside. Despite the chill, the room was calm in comparison to the storm outside. “We’re lucky we didn’t get caught out in that.”

“Mhm…” You hummed in response, already close to falling asleep as you nuzzled against his arm with a sigh.

Laios’ cheeks turned a deeper shade of red beneath the cover of darkness. He could already feel his heart rate picking up again and something about the way he couldn't take his eyes off you suggested it was due to much more than the cold. Here he could feel the way the soft fur of your ears tickled his arm, your bushy tail laid comfortably across his hips. It took every ounce of willpower in his body not to reach out and stroke the soft fur there, wanting to know exactly how the sleek fluff would feel against the roughened skin of his palms. He watched for a moment as your breathing slowed and evened out, realising it would probably be weird of him to watch you sleep. 

So instead he shut his eyes and tried to will his body to follow suit, to relax his stiffened muscles and calm the steady hammering in his chest. You grumbled softly as he tried to pull his arm away to readjust, gripping his forearm lightly as you pulled it back beneath your head. He winced internally. He was trapped now, he didn’t want to fall asleep on his back but would it be weird if he slept facing you? 

It would probably do a better job of keeping you both warm, sure, but why was it so difficult to just go ahead and roll over? His limbs felt heavy, would it be weird if he put his arm around you? If someone walked in would it cause some kind of misunderstanding? He wasn’t sure he wanted to deal with a lecture from Chilchuck on the importance of professionalism in the workplace. 

He lost himself in his thoughts again until he felt another shiver run down across your body. Poor thing, he thought, how were you still cold? He felt like he was burning up but if the cheek pressed against his arm was any indication of your overall body temperature you were still freezing. 

With a sigh he gave in and wrapped his other arm around your waist, maintaining a respectful distance from any of the more intimate areas of your body. 

You relaxed instantly into the touch, pressing back against him and pulling his arms a little closer as you seeked out the warmth. He tried hard not to look at you then, honey coloured eyes searching the ceiling in the darkness once again before he ultimately gave up and tried to close them once again.

It took some time for him to finally settle down enough to start falling asleep again, only to be interrupted by the way your tail started to wag in your sleep. At first he thought it was cute, wondering about what kind of dream you must have been having at that moment. It had to be something good. He’d always wondered what it was his childhood dogs had dreamed about when he caught their tails thumping against the ground where they slept. Briefly, he wondered if it would be rude to ask you in the morning. That was, until you shifted slightly in your sleep and it started to brush against him instead of the bed.

Laios sucked in a harsh breath through his teeth as your appendage brushed against the front of his trousers. He tried to shift his hips away from you only to earn a little groan of protest as he tried to move.

“H-hey, careful where you’re moving that.” He whispered, shakily. 

It was almost shameful how quickly that little motion had him worked up. Having spent so long traversing the dungeon with multiple people in close proximity to monsters… it wasn’t like he had a lot of time to himself. His cheeks burned with embarrassment as he tried to squirm away, only for you to grumble and push back against him in your sleep, tail still swishing lightly against his hips. If you didn’t stop soon he might blow a gasket trying to explain the growing bulge pressing into the soft fat of your ass if you woke up, or die of embarrassment, whichever came first.

“C-cut it out.” He hissed, the arm around your waist shifting so he could grip the base of your tail and stop it from rubbing against him further.

The pressure earned a low moan from you in your sleep and he immediately tensed up and froze.

“Ngh… Laios?” You muttered, voice husky with exhaustion as you came to once again.

Shit. His heart leaped in his chest as you began to stir. By now he could hear the rush of his heartbeat hammering away in his chest like the steady beat of a drum. He released his grip on the tail, too embarrassed now to fawn over how soft the fur was there. 

“Y-Yeah, I’m still here” He whispered, his throat dry as he let out another quivering breath. He stayed still then, trying to will you to go back to sleep with his mind so he could turn away and continue to ignore his growing problem in peace.

“What’s wrong?” You mumbled groggily. Even in your half-asleep state, you caught the tremor in his voice. Though you sensed no immediate danger, the wobble in his tone set you on edge. Turning to face him, you inadvertently brushed against him once more.

The moment the soft fur brushed against him again, he couldn't help but twitch as another wave of heat surged through his body. It was all too much, the close proximity and now your warm breaths fanning across his chest, it was too intense. His eyes searched the room in the darkness, avoiding your gaze as he searched for any sort of distraction to calm himself down before you noticed. Sure, it was a natural biological reaction to external stimuli but no amount of logic could spare him the shame that washed over him as he wondered what you might think of him. Your voice ripped him from his spiral once more as you repeated his name. 

Those two syllables had no right to get him as worked up as they did. Your tired voice sending another shiver down his spine as he swallowed nervously. Had his name always sounded that good on your lips?

“Laios?” You repeated, completely oblivious to his predicament until you shifted again and felt the bulge pressing into your thigh.

He winced, bracing himself for whatever it was that might come out of your mouth next. The blond prayed silently to whatever benevolent deity above might listen that you hadn’t noticed anything and he might be able to talk his way out of this somehow and turn away. But it was too late now, the evidence was there for anyone to see- or feel in your case. A soft oh was all you offered to calm his racing mind. Heat rushed into his cheeks as he fumbled for words.

“It’s-” his words broke off as you gently pulled your leg away from him, a soft gasp spilling from his lips as he fought the urge deep within himself to chase the heat in order to satiate the growing need in his abdomen. “I… I’m sorry,” he breathed, pulling away from you and attempting to give you as much space as he could within the confines of your shared sleeping bag after you’d finally let go of him. “I…” He wanted to take the blame but he didn’t know how else to get the explanation out, “you were rubbing against me in your sleep and I tried to get you to stop. I’m so sorry.”

The blush in your cheeks mirrored the knight's as you fought to recall the dream you’d been having prior to getting woken up. You hoped you hadn’t said anything while you dreamt. 

“S-sorry, I must have been dreaming, I didn’t mean to… uh,” you stammered out, looking back at him uneasily.

“It’s okay.” He practically whispered back as he looked away from you. His nerves were set ablaze even further by the intensity of your wide eyed stare. This was pathetic, really, the way those fleeting touches sent his head spinning. The way you’d brushed up against him earlier only served to further ignite the fire inside of him. He closed his eyes then and forced himself to focus on his breathing- anything that would take his mind off of the way you looked at him or the light trail of heat that lingered along his skin from the way you’d touched his body.

“We can pretend this didn’t happen,” you offered, voice trailing off as shame crept into your voice as well. Your ears drooped down against your head in embarrassment, the fur blending in with your hair under what dim lighting the room had to offer.

Even as you tried to push the thought from your mind you couldn’t help but glance down and away from his face at that moment. You didn’t want to make him any more uncomfortable than he already seemed to be with the situation… but you couldn’t fight the curiosity, so tempted to steal a glance at the space between his thighs hidden beneath the covers.

He opened his eyes just in time to catch the way you glanced downward, unable to help the way he was drawn back to you despite the awkwardness of the situation. For a moment he wondered if he’d only imagined it and that subtle unconscious flick of your tongue against your lips. Laios practically bit his tongue to stop himself from asking something he might regret later. He wasn’t going to let one little slip-up ruin the trust that the two of you seemed to be building up so far. 

“Yeah… yeah, that’s probably for the best.” He replied with a halfhearted chuckle.

With the space between your bodies now it was becoming increasingly more difficult to ignore the pent up frustration in his body. The cold was now long forgotten as he focussed on the heat radiating off of you in bed next to him as the storm raged on outside.

“We should probably get back to sleep.” You commented, voice barely audible over the thrum of your heartbeat in your ears. You relaxed slightly, trying to get comfortable in the new position you found yourself in.

The sleeping bags shifted slightly and you pulled them up, your hand brushing against him through the layers of fabric. This third accidental touch was almost enough for his resolve to shatter, a strangled whine releasing from his throat before he could stop it. He tried to compose himself, it was better to just ignore it. In the morning it would be like nothing happened and the two of you could just forget about it as it became nothing more than an awkward memory at the edge of awareness. Something you think about as you’re trying to drift off to sleep and your brain starts tormenting you with humiliating memories. 

You swallowed thickly, now trying to calm yourself down in tandem with Laios as goosebumps prickled along your skin for another reason now. Something in you was begging to hear that noise again.

It was better to remain professional about this though, and you both knew that. Even as he wrestled with the urge to grab hold of you and pull you in for a kiss, even though he wanted so badly to know just how you’d taste- fuck. He didn’t want to embarrass himself any more than he already had. So instead of giving in, he bit the inside of his cheek and turned away from you then, squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to ignore the ache as his erection pressed into the coarse fabric of his pants with every ragged breath that he took.

Unbeknownst to him you were fighting the exact same demons mere inches away. The air had grown thick between you, almost heavy with the weight of the tension in it. There was a long moment of hesitation before you pressed lightly into his back. Huddling together for warmth now seemed to be a blessing and a curse. 

Your shallow breaths against the nape of his neck were driving him crazy, the warm air ghosting across his skin a stark contrast to the chill in the room around you. It had a cascading effect on his senses. Goosebumps rose against the skin of his broad shoulders beneath his shirt and down his arms. He shifted slightly, biting back another hiss when his clothes rubbed against him. You could feel the tension of the muscles in his back rippling beneath his shirt, his breath coming out in shallow huffs. Your sensitive hearing easily picked up on the way his breathing shook. 

Fuck it, you thought quickly. This was all too much. If it all went south, in the worst case scenario you were almost certain that you could find your way back to the surface yourself somehow or die trying. If the sting of rejection came after what you said next you would find it within yourself to push it down and accept it. Neither of you could stew in this awkward limbo state any longer. 

“I… if you need help getting back to sleep,” you started, your voice tickling against the hair at the nape of his neck when you spoke, “I could uh… help you out…” you offered, voice trailing off at the end as you started to rethink your words. But it was too late now, and the proposition was out in the open.

Laios stilled completely at your words, his body tensing up even further when the offer dangled between you. He wasn’t sure it would be wise to accept, if he even could accept it at first. Part of him wasn’t even sure he’d heard you correctly, were you really offering what his mind wanted to believe that you were?

After a moment of stunned silence, he rolled back around to face you. Even in the dark you could see the pupils of his honeyed eyes were blown wide with lust. 

“Are you sure?” He asked quietly, searching your eyes for any hint of hesitation or reservation.

Your body acted before you were aware of it, lightly pressing closer against him beneath the covers of the sleeping bags but still resisting the urge to touch him intimately before you heard his answer. 

“If you’re comfortable with it,” you replied, tone still hushed beneath the cries of the storm outside, “and if you want me to.”

He hesitated as he weighed his options in his mind. His will was stronger than most, but his resolve in that moment had worn paper thin. As your sweet voice beckoned him he took in the softness of your features, those cute little ears twitching above your head as you waited for his response… How could he resist? 

“...I would like that.” The blond murmured sheepishly, his voice almost catching in his throat as he melted into you where your skin pressed against his.

You let out a breath of relief, your shoulders relaxing then as you slid your hand down between you. He inhaled sharply when your palm pressed itself against the heat in the front of his trousers and you could feel the way he pulsed beneath you in response to the touch. Skilled fingers slid gently along the length of his cock through the fabric as he bit the inside of his cheek. 

Your eyes widened slightly, a light gasp breaking the silence from you as you felt the less than humble girth between his hips. 

His body reacted involuntarily to the touch, leaning into it slightly as he squeezed his eyes shut in embarrassment once more. Everything else had already begun to fade away as he focussed on the warmth of your palm against him, the length straining desperately against the cloth. Fingers rubbed slowly against the outside of the rough fabric before your hand gently squeezed around the tallman’s cock and earned another shuddering breath from him.

Hazy lust filled eyes focussed on the fluffy ears atop your head, too shy to look down at your face as he trembled beneath your touch. His hands balled into fists as you began to massage his shaft, brows knitting together as he fought to hold in a moan. He wanted to touch you so badly, your skin beckoning to him like a siren's song as he leaned into your touch.

The way he pulsed against every little flick and drag of your fingers had your mouth watering in anticipation. Still, you wanted to see him relax, your hand sliding up and down slowly against his length. 

The simple friction of your palm against him shouldn’t have sent him into the tailspin that it did, his hips beginning to shift instinctively against your touch. The slow massage of your grip against him only served to make his body ache even more. Laios finally started to let go, a low moan reverberating out against the night air.

“There we go…” you sighed, lightly squeezing him through his pants once more in appreciation.

As he began to give in fully to the pleasure you were giving him the sounds he made were nothing short of heavenly. Whimpers and whines began to slip out more frequently as you touched him now. His hips rocked against you as the slow strokes of your hands stoked the flames of need within him.

You were acutely aware now more than ever of the close proximity, your lips mere inches apart as you started to fully stroke him through his pants. As much as you wanted to tease him more, it was plain as day on his face that he needed this, and you certainly couldn't say no. Silently, you cursed the fabric that hid his body from view.

He couldn’t help but thrust his hips up against your grasp, letting out another soft whine as a similar thought crossed his mind. He needed more contact, the saccharine sound of your coos coupled with the sensation of your hand rubbing his cock through his pants was only making him more desperate as another whine escaped him.

Slowly, your fingers trailed up the front of his pants, earning a disappointed little huff from your comrade at the loss of your touch. Your breaths trembled as your hand came to rest at the closure on the front of his pants.

Your eyes searched for him in the darkness, looking into his with sincerity as you breathed out a soft “May I?”

“God, yes. ” He whined out.

Even if he wanted to he couldn’t have kept the desperation out of his voice if he tried. It was more than enough to have your hands undoing the fastening on his pants with ease. His hips lifted up off the bed so you could help him shimmy out of the garments just enough. 

His cock sprung free from the restrictive fabric and he let out a contented sigh of relief. It twitched in your hands, earning a soft hum from you as you wrapped your fingers around the base of his shaft.

The sudden release felt like heaven, he couldn’t stop the shudder that ran through his body as you began to stroke him again. That delicious drag of your hand against him, skin finally on skin. Your touch was gentle though, it made him want to press forward even more, his hips bucking up against your grip as a low moan ripped from his throat again. The touch was akin to a jolt of electricity through his system and as he stole another glance down at your pretty face he couldn’t help but admit to himself that perhaps it was more than the friction that had gotten him worked up. 

You lifted your hand and spat gently into it before reaching back down and spreading the warm slick against his length. His breath hitched at the new sensation, his chest heaving slightly with every breath he took. 

You sighed happily as you felt another grateful pulse beneath your grip. Your thumb swiped lightly over the bead of pre-cum that drooled out of the needy pink tip of his cock while you began to pump him slowly. Hot breath fanned against his neck, your gaze flickering back up to his handsome face. If Laios noticed the way your eyes glanced down to his parted lips, he didn't show it. He was too engrossed in the almost torturous pace you’d set for him. 

Every instinct within him screamed for you to pick up the pace, to hurry up and relieve the tension building up in his body as your grip tightened around his shaft. He let out a groan, knowing that in actuality he wouldn’t dare try and rush you, wanting to hang on to the intoxicating feeling of this intimate moment for as long as he possibly could.

“Can I kiss you?” He whimpered out, looking down at you with a pitiful expression on his flushed face.

He’d hardly had to finish his sentence before your lips were on his, eagerly swallowing his moans while you jerked him off under the covers. The noise you made was somewhere between a moan and a growl, your sharp canines grazing against his lips while your free hand moved up to grip the mess of short blonde hair at the nape of his neck.

Your kiss was returned eagerly, his eyes fluttering shut as he basked in the perfect taste of your lips. The low hum of Laios’ moans vibrated up from deep within his chest while his hips bucked lazily with every pump of your fist against him. When you finally broke apart he was panting and whining as he thrusted up into your hand.

“You’re so handsome like this,” you purred, pressing kisses against his jaw before he needily pulled you back into him for another hungry kiss.

One of his strong hands tangled its fingers in the locks of your messy hair, the tips of his digits gently putting pressure on your scalp as he kissed you with newfound passion. His cheeks burned at your compliment, unable to keep from giving in. He would proudly drink up every ounce of pleasure you were offering him. You returned the kiss full force, every flick of your wrist dragging more of those beautiful sounds from his lips.

Laios had always found himself weak in the knees whenever you’d compliment him, but he’d done his best to ignore it for the sake of the mission. Your kind words had such an effect on him but right now your praise felt like so much more. Something about the way you pressed into him, your fingers grasping at his hair, soft lips on his, it made him want nothing more than to hear what sort of sounds you might make beneath him instead.

As if on cue, his fingers grazed lightly against the base of your ears, earning a whimper against his lips as you kissed. The soft fur was just as incredible beneath his fingertips as he imagined. He'd wanted to feel those cute little wolf ears from the moment he'd laid eyes on them and now was the perfect opportunity. It was his turn to make you weak in the knees, the comfortable intimacy of the touch had every thought melting out of your mind.

At your moans he couldn’t help but thrust a little harder into your fist. But you slowed down, the slick strokes of your palm all but stopping as your fist tightened around the base of his shaft.

Selfishly, you wanted to drag this out for as long as you could, to milk this moment for everything that it was worth while moans tangled together between you two. His tongue dipped past your soft lips, sinking into your mouth and running along yours as he continued to play with your ears.

You found yourself pressing your thighs together, hips shifting as arousal pooled within you, a futile attempt to get some sort of friction against where you needed it most. The taste of his lips against yours was almost enough on its own to have your eyes rolling back into your head. But the way his fingers teased and tugged at your sensitive ears had your mind swirling with lust as your thumb swept across the crown of his cock once more, smearing precum and saliva against the heated skin.

He groaned again at your teasing, breaking the kiss with a pant as he rutted up into your fist. His head was spinning from the way you touched him, all five of his senses on fire. The way your hand squeezed around his cock, your soft lips on his, those cute expressions when he played with your ears, after having gone so long without a moment to relieve himself it was almost too much and not enough all at the same time. He could feel the soft triangles of nerves and fur twitching and tensing beneath his hand, your whimpers against his mouth were already getting desperate.He needed more of you, more of those sweet sounds you were giving him.

“Please,” you begged, the word leaving your lips like a prayer before you’d realised what you were even saying. The storm didn’t matter anymore, the only pressing issue was the burning desire that threatened to consume you both in an instant. Your grip stiffened around him then as he fucked your hand lazily.

He couldn’t help the lusty moan that drawled out of him when you tightened up. Laios could only hope that the cover of darkness hid how shameless he looked then, adorned by your touch. He couldn’t think, couldn’t focus with what you were doing to him. He could hardly keep his composure as your name left his mouth in another desperate whine. The pleasure zipped its way up his spine as his head fell back against the pillows again, eyes fluttering shut.

A strong hand wrapped around your waist, practically pulling you on top of him. His mouth hung open, lips parted to let out the needy sighs and whines that spilled out as his brows knit together.

He looked like the most delectably sinful work of art you’d ever laid eyes on, every marble statue and delicate oil painting paling in comparison. It was difficult not to feel giddy at the fact that you were the only one who got to see such a beautiful sight.

You couldn’t help yourself but to lean down and press kisses along the exposed skin of his neck, canines lightly brushing against the sensitive spots on his neck while you lightly nipped and sucked at his pale flesh.

He could hardly keep his composure, more desperate whimpers leaving his mouth as he was consumed by desire. His heart pounded in his chest like the beat of a drum when you finally straddled him, soft thighs splayed open across his as you worked his cock.

His hand gripped your hips with a newfound possessiveness. The warmth of your body pressed against him had him completely drunk on lust and the throbbing between his legs that you’d been skillfully building up with every little flick of your wrist was becoming unbearable.

Laios couldn’t stop himself from rutting up against you, his cock rubbing up against your crotch as he held you down against his body. A shudder wracked through him when he felt the tip rub against your heat through the layers of fabric that separated you two. 

He let out a soft curse at the feeling, your warmth only teasing him more as you let out a little cry of pleasure. Your hips jolted forwards against him involuntarily, searching for a little more pressure when he bumped against you. 

“Ah…” You sighed, your grip on his length slipping when he shuddered beneath you.

The little mewls you were already starting to let out as you ground against him were more compelling than any siren’s call. His hips jutted forward again as he started to thrust against you in time with the tantalising roll of your hips. The way your body moved on top of him was hypnotising. If there was a heaven, this is what it must have felt like. He needed to get his hands on your skin, to make you feel even half the pleasure you were giving him. His breathing was growing haggard as he fought the urge to rip your shorts in half just so he could have you right then and there. 

“Hah, please, ” he panted, “please, can I touch you?” The way his golden eyes stared up at you, wide and pleading, would have been enough on its own to have your heart racing.

Your eyes were half lidded as you looked down at him, your tail swishing lightly across his thighs in anticipation. Pride swelled in your chest at the mess you’d reduced him to in just a few short minutes, though you were no better.

“Please.” You echoed, proving your desire with another needy roll of your hips against his length.

Your gorgeous form settled prettily in his lap, eagerly awaiting his next move. Gods above, he would do anything for you. 

The tallman’s breath hitched in his throat at your plea, his mouth drying up when he looked up into your eyes. His hands trembled lightly against your thighs as he moved to hook his fingers in the waistband of your shorts. 

“Are you sure?” He stammered out.

Once this line was crossed it could never be uncrossed, there would be no going back. Hell, he didn’t think he wanted to. If he could lay with you every night for the rest of his life he’d die satisfied. Thankfully for him, your reassurance was all he needed to let loose.

“I need you.” You breathed.

The intoxicating drag of his length against your clothed warmth had you both tensing up with the desire for more. You craved him like you’d never craved another’s touch before, the burning ache within you would be satisfied with nothing more than being filled by his girth. 

Simultaneously, at your needy whines he found himself on the verge of losing control, his hips grinding up against you with a little more force before he finally pulled the garments off of you. His knuckles white as he clenched the fabrics in his hand and discarded them beside himself on the bed. The pressure, the lust, all of it was too much.

His strong hands grasped your hips again for a moment as he stared at you in awe, the soft tufts of fur on your body perfectly framing your heat. If it had been any other time and place he’d have had you on your back beneath him in seconds, diving his face between your thighs just to get a taste of what you had to offer. The slick glint of your own arousal shone slightly in the dim lighting, he’d have to wait for another time if he got the chance. Right now he needed this.

One hand slid between your thighs to stroke you gently, his gaze laser focussed on the way you twitched and trembled beneath his touch. The sweet sound of your moans filled his ears and he couldn’t take it anymore. He lifted you up again, aligning his cock with your entrance before slipping inside. Laios didn’t want to waste a second longer without your skin against his.

The head of his cock split you open with ease and had you whimpering at the sting of the stretch while you sunk down on him. Thighs tensed as you sucked his tip inside of you, sending his eyes rolling back into his head.

You groaned, “sh-shit… ah.. S’too big..” You whined.

Despite your protest, he watched as you circled your hips above him, wanting more of that painful pleasure as you bounced slightly in his lap. Silently, you begged your body to get used to the feeling, but on the other hand you didn’t think you ever could… hell, maybe you didn’t want to. The burn of his size was delicious in its own way.

“Mmm-ngh!” He grunted, the tips of his fingers digging into the meat of your thighs. His nails threatened to bite into the skin there as he tried hard not to buck his hips up into you. As much as his body craved the feeling of bottoming out inside you he refused to cause you any further discomfort. 

“Fu-huhhck.. It’ll… it’ll get easier, I promise.” Laios cooed, reaching a hand down to stroke you again to ease the pain.

Your head lolled back against your shoulder as you tried to take him deeper, the ridge of his cockhead sinking in past the first ring of muscle when you began to relax for him. The whimpers and groans already leaving your mouth had goosebumps rising against his pale flesh again as his own whines trembled past his lips. His dick pulsed inside of you, sending more fluid leaking out against where you were connected.

“Oh my god,” You groaned, feeling his precum mixing with yours and dripping down the inside of your thighs. 

His breaths were ragged as he tried to maintain his composure for your sake, but all was lost as soon as you commented on the way he twitched inside of you. With a grunt, he let his hips surge forward the slightest bit, sinking deeper inside. The knowledge that his cock was leaking inside of you, that you could feel every twitch and every pulse of his veins in your heat, it stirred something primal within him. His fingers tensed against you while he fought the urge to rut up into you like an animal.

Suddenly, your hand joined his in stroking yourself, fingers teasing the engorged area of your arousal. His eyes were glued to you then, watching the way you struggled to take him. Your hips rolled up and down against the first few inches, trying to take just a little bit more.

“That’s right..” he panted, watching with half lidded eyes as you touched yourself above him. His voice was a low purr against your eardrums, his thumb rubbing little comforting circles into your hip as he drank in the beautiful sight before him. “You can take it… you’re already doing so well, just a little more, yeah?”

You nodded, cheeks burning at the praise as another inch sunk inside.

Laios' eyes darkened with a fierce hunger as he watched you work your fingers against your slick heat. The wet, rhythmic sounds of your shallow thrusting blended with the heavy symphony of breathless moans and urgent whimpers filling the room. The old wooden bedframe groaned beneath your intertwined bodies, each creak adding a raw, primal beat to the music of your desire.

It was all music to his ears. His pupils were blown wide, gaze locked on where you straddled him, lost in the sight of you. The scorching, tight sensation of your walls squeezing around him erased all coherent thought, leaving only a primal urge to fill you completely. 

Barely three inches deep inside you, he was on the edge of sanity, teetering on the brink of losing control with every subtle shift and grind of your hips. Each tiny movement had him mesmerised, but when you whimpered his name with a desperate cry, he gasped, watching you sink further down on his cock. Every little movement you made had his gaze transfixed on you.

Your hands clenched into tight fists against the coarse fabric at the hem of his shirt, the material now messily bunched up around his waist. The friction of the cloth against your skin only heightened the intensity, adding another layer of sensation to the overwhelming pleasure that coursed through both of you.

His abdomen tensed and flexed beneath your hands as he held himself back. He gasped and shuddered, your body taking him so well as you practically sucked him in. Jaw clenched tight, he let out a soft groan of your name. For a brief moment his eyes squeezed shut, his needy whines only serving to further your attempts to take him all the way. The cold air of the room stung his skin where it touched him, heightening the sensation of your warm body pressed against his.

You were a whining mess already, the mixture of pain and pleasure going straight to your groin when you finally took him all the way down to the hilt. The slight curve of his dick had the head pressing firmly against the spot inside you that made your knees weak. He was finally sheathed inside you, pulsing and twitching like a live wire. Ironically, he was the one who wanted to start pounding into you like a dog in heat. His eyes rolled back again as he let out a guttural moan, the sound rippling up from somewhere deep in his chest. Laios wanted to stay composed, to keep himself in check… but the excitement coursing through his body had rendered him helpless against his own desires as he began to bounce you up and down in his lap. 

The way he said your name echoed inside your head, somewhere between a plea for more and a low groan that rolled off the tip of his tongue. Your hands shook against the fabric of his shirt, your back arching overtop of him as you tried to catch your breath, a blessing he wouldn’t allow you as he bucked into you.

“Oh my god,” his voice was breathless. “Fff… ah- ‘m sorry,” He whined, the friction sending a ripple of ecstasy down his spine. 

His grip tightened on your hips, holding you tightly against his pelvis. That brief moment of weakness had earned a wanton cry of pleasure from your lips. He let another shaking breath out, trying to compose himself, he was reminded of the way your face contorted when he pushed inside. His eyes shut again as he took a deep breath.

Once the initial shock wore off for you it was heavenly. The sound of his ragged pants and whines egging you on as you started to move against him, fighting the urge to melt into his body at the pleasure. Your legs were quivering now as he thrusted up against you again, trying with all your might to keep enough of a level head to move back down against him.

One of his hands reached down to massage your thigh as he cooed soft praises up at you. When you’d started to move all bets were off, his hips thrusting up eagerly to meet your movements while his other hand held your hips possessively. The slow rhythm you’d set was perfect, but he needed more . 

“‘S’okay, right?” he huffed out, looking up at you with what could only be described as adoration. He wanted you to enjoy this just as much as he did.

All you could manage was a hurried nod and a whimper.

“That’s it… yeah,” He groaned, watching as you held onto him for dear life. 

Your features contorted in ecstasy as he began to roll up against you, his shallow thrusts helping to establish that slow rhythm between you for the time being.

That smooth voice had you clenching around him, body shivering. The wind rushed by outside and fell on deaf ears, the only thing that mattered to either of you right then was this perfect moment. Your body spread open on his dick while he fucked you gently. 

“So good,” he babbled, mostly to himself as his head fell back against the pillows. “Oh my god,” Laios groaned, his words punctuated by the slow, steady roll of his hips up against you as he ground his cock against that sensitive spot inside you. 

Another cry of pleasure left your throat, the sound hanging in the open air between you as you began to slide yourself up and down along his length. His words had you dizzy, already drunk on his touch as your legs shook on either side of him. Your eyes fluttered shut, trying to maintain a steady rhythm, but the continuous drag against your sweet spot had your eyes glazing over and he wasn’t about to stop any time soon. When another cry of his name left your lips he groaned again. The sound was smooth and hoarse all at the same time, his hands tensing on your hips.

Your body was practically milking him already while you rode him. In a perfect world he could go on like this all night, just laying back and letting you take control… but he could see the fatigue in your movements. Your eyebrows knit together, hands shaking against his abs. Any semblance of modesty or bashfulness had left him as the hands that had rested on your hips slipped below you to grip the fat of your ass with a grunt. 

In an instant your back was flush against the bed, hips pinned down by his capable hands. 

Laios aligned himself with your entrance once more, pushing himself in all the way to the hilt in one fluid motion as he kissed your cheeks to soothe the ache of the stretch. A hand pressed against his cheek, golden eyes looking lovingly into your own as he smiled down at you.

“I can take it from here, okay?” His voice was soft right before he pressed another kiss against your forehead. He had you pinned beneath him as he littered kisses across your heated skin. He knew he wouldn’t be able to hold himself back like this, not for long anyway.

“Ngh… o-off,” you whimpered, your fingers tugging at the hem of his shirt. If he was going to fuck you like this you wanted to see it all, every tense and flex of his thick muscles above you until the image was locked in your brain. “I wanna see you.” 

There was a moment of hesitation at your plea, Laios taking in the gentle tone and the way your ears laid flat against the top of your head as you begged so cutely underneath him. He’d never felt so wanted in his life, and the way you clung to him had him half convinced this might have been some sort of dream. Nonetheless he’d shed his shirt in an instant immediately afterwards, his sturdy frame on full display for you now as he sat back up between your thighs.

Your heart nearly stopped in your chest as you watched him pull his shirt off over his head. Your eyes greedily drank in the sight before you, the way his bare chest heaved with every shaking breath, his abdominal muscles tensing beneath his skin as he rocked back into you. He couldn’t help the smile on his lips when he caught you staring.

His lips were on yours then, capturing them in another hungry kiss as he began to thrust into you with long, slow strokes. Your legs squeezed against his hips, tongues tangling together in an intricate dance to the beat of a song only the two of you could hear. 

Soft fingers pressed into the firm flesh spanning his broad shoulders as you whined into the kiss.

Laios practically growled then, something snapping inside of him when he felt the way your tail flicked against the side of his leg in approval. His head buried itself in the crook of your neck as he began to pick up the pace, grinding himself down against your tight heat.

Creaks and moans filled the room now, the wet sound of skin slapping against skin coming in to join the chorus. Your arousal and pre-cum dripped between the two of you, the viscous translucent fluids stretching between your bodies and connecting the two of you in strings every time he began to pull back. The room was heavy with the scent of sex, all initial reservations forgotten as he slammed into you.

“Ah!” You gasped, claws biting into the skin of his back accidentally when he rammed into the spot that had your vision blurring again.

“Fuck!” He growled again, his teeth scraping against your shoulder in retaliation. “You’re so fucking hot… taking me so well.” 

You practically squealed beneath him, body clenching around his cock with a grip that threatened to make him cum on the spot. The headboard banged against the wall with the force of his thrusts, his grip on you tightening possessively. All you could do was gasp and whimper beneath him as you tried to keep yourself coherent.

The way he fucked you was animalistic, his hips grinding down against you just enough to rub at your arousal trapped between your bodies. Sweat began to bead on his brow as he lost control, those primal urges within him flooding to the surface as he rutted into you.

Your body tensed and shook under him as he used his grip on your hips to deepen his thrusts. His usual soft amber eyes looked more golden, more wolf like than your own as he looked down at you.

Laios grunted as he rolled forwards against you again and sent your claws dragging against his back. You clung to him desperately, this carnal need worse than any heat you’d ever gone through. He had you panting and gasping with the force of his relentless thrusts, the bed creaking and slamming against the wall as you both lost control.

“Fuck, fuck, please! D-don’t stop” you sobbed out.

He didn’t think it was possible for your body to grip him any tighter but every time he pulled out it felt like you were sucking him back in.

He growled in response, his hand reaching down to stroke you in time with his relentless thrusts as he felt the tension starting to build in his abdomen. Your cute little squeaks and whines went straight to his cock. He couldn’t form a proper sentence if he tried.

You were babbling now, begging for more as you started to come undone around him. The perfect arch of your back off the bed pressed you even tighter against his body and he took it upon himself to hold you there as he fucked you through your orgasm.

It had you seeing white, a sob of pleasure wracked your body. Thighs clenched around his hips, your moans shaking. The blond watched as you came, your head lolling back against your shoulders in post orgasmic bliss. He savoured the way your body tightened around him.

His fingernails dug into your hips as he pistoned into you. “C-close…” He grunted into your neck.

In your bliss, you begged him to finish inside. The debauched whimpers setting his nerves on edge and his pulse skyrocketing. Your pleas filling his head as he ground against your already overstimulated heat. Your cum dribbled down against his skin as he pinned you back down, growling into your neck as he reached his peak with a loud curse. The sound was muffled by your soft flesh against his lips and teeth as he shuddered above you. His hips jutted forward and slammed you against the bed as you milked him for everything he was worth, his cock twitching and sputtering inside you.

“Ngh! Fuck…” He whined. His hands rubbed lightly against your sides, lightly squeezing your ass one more time as he stayed inside.

“Hah,” you chuckled tiredly, lightly stroking along the marks you’d left on his back. “I knew you were pent up but I didn’t realise you were that pent up,” you teased, turning your head to the side so you could kiss his jaw.

“‘S not my fault,” He whined, nuzzling further into your neck. After all, how could it be his fault alone when you had him so wound up he could barely think straight? 

This earned a little giggle from you as he rolled off of you, coming to rest at your side in the bed. The wind had calmed outside, the musty scent of the old room long replaced with the stench of arousal and sweat. A part of him couldn’t believe what you’d just done, and in a dungeon no less…

The sight of you blissed out next to him was enough to make him forget his lamentations entirely. Your soft ears tickled his jaw as you nuzzled closer, arms clinging to him as fatigue took over again. He reached down and pulled the sleeping bags back up over you, not wanting to risk the cold creeping back in again.

“You’re so cute like this,” He smiled, the fingers of his free hand gently running up through your hair to stroke your ears lightly.

“Ngh… n-no, shut up,” You whined.

It was a weak line and it was obvious you didn’t mean it. Even Laios could have told you that from your tone alone, but the way your tail wagged against your side of the bed had him beaming. 

“Hey, I mean it,” He murmured, his hands tracing lightly against your skin and the soft patches of fur on it.

You kept hiding your face regardless, embarrassed by the compliment. Your lips pressed gently against his shoulders, peppering kisses there in a silent apology for the claw marks as exhaustion crept into your bones. 

“You’re gorgeous.” He whispered, leaning down and to plant a soft kiss against the dewy skin of your forehead. He took it one step further and reached over to lightly stroke your tail. His golden eyes were half lidded now and filled with all the adoration in the world as he looked down at you. 

“We should get back to sleep,” you sighed, melting into the way he stroked your hair. 

Even just mere hours ago he couldn’t imagine having you this at ease and relaxed in his arms. He gently adjusted himself so he was curled around you too, your limbs tangled together as you drifted off to sleep.

[secular-jew]

Article by Masih Alinejad, Iranian exile, journalist, writer, women's rights activist. Probably the most wanted woman by the Iranian regime.

I've spent the past four years of my life being hunted by Iran’s Revolutionary Guards. They sent agents to kidnap me from my home in New York. They hired assassins to kill me on American soil. They even followed me to Davos, Switzerland, where I had to be helicoptered out from my hotel.

If not for the FBI’s protection—and the more than 21 safe houses I have shuttled between over the past few years—I might not be alive to write these words.

So yes, this moment is personal. But it is also far bigger than me.

For more than four decades, the Islamic Republic of Iran has exported terror, crushed dissent, and pushed the Middle East to the brink of war, all while robbing its own people of dignity, opportunity, and peace. Now, the regime is feeling consequences at the highest level.

Israeli air strikes have reportedly killed some of the Islamic Republic’s most senior military leaders, Hossein Salami, commander in chief of the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps (IRGC); Amir Ali Hajizadeh, architect of the regime’s ballistic missile program; and Mohammad Bagheri, chief of staff of Iran’s armed forces.

For many people around the world, these will just be foreign names. For me and for the people of Iran, they are the monsters who have impoverished and tyrannized our families.

They are the ones who have made millions of people's lives miserable, not just in Iran, but across the entire Middle East.

While sanctions choked the economy and hospitals ran short of basic medicine, IRGC commanders lived in luxury. Today, viral images on Persian-language social media show their rooftop pools, penthouse suites, and VIP elevators, many of these destroyed in the recent strikes.

These commanders didn’t defend Iran, they defended the regime from its own people. The only people who sacrificed for the sake of the country were the poor, the women who dared to show their hair, the students shot in the streets.

This is why many Iranians are not mourning today. Despite the profound uncertainty that lies ahead, they’re celebrating.

I’ve received thousands of messages from inside Iran showing young women dancing in the streets, or families cheering in their kitchens. They remember these commanders as the ones who gave the orders to shoot protesters in the eyes, jail teenage girls, and lie to the world while building bombs in secret.

One mother in Tehran who was imprisoned for protesting the 2019 murder of her child wrote to me that “waking up to the news of Salami’s death, I started to scream out of joy that I’m seeing justice.” She told me that “soon you’ll be back to Iran and we’ll dance on the graves of these killers.”

Another woman, whose mother was shot dead by the IRGC in 2022 for protesting the brutal death of 22-year-old Mahsa Amini in police custody, wrote, “We’re all happy for the elimination of the killers of our loved ones. War comes with a price. Innocent people might get killed. But we know who we should blame: the Islamic Republic.” This particular woman shaved her head over her mother’s grave—an image that soon became a symbol of resistance in Iran.

Millions of Iranians have marched, danced, sung, and bled for a better future. In 2022, after Amini’s death, the world saw the courage of young women facing armed soldiers with nothing but their hair and their hope. That movement was not crushed. It is still burning, quietly and bravely, in homes, schools, and prisons across Iran. Today we are reminded of that. The courage of these Iranians might very well spell the end of the Islamic Republic itself.

Now, the world faces a choice. It can focus solely on missiles and maps, treating this as another geopolitical chess move. Or it can recognize the human story unfolding beneath the surface, the story of a nation rising from the shadow of its captors. The story of a rising lion.

Israel’s strike may have taken out top military figures. But the real victory is still ahead: the day the Islamic Republic falls under the weight of its own crimes and the strength of the people it has tried so hard to suffocate and silence.

The Islamic Republic built its empire of tyranny on blood: of protesters, dissidents, women, children. That empire is now cracking. The people of Iran are watching to see what will come next and hoping that the world is watching, too.

[weepinggroves]

JazzProwl — Hercules AU

A little drawing I scrapped together from last night. I could've drawn more, but I fell asleep 💔

+ a small comic plus screencap redraw! — ✨

Close ups:

Comic ★:

This comic honesty just came to mind when thinking about their relationship in general. I'd love to keep Meg's sarcasm and flirty quips and just cram it into Prowl's character, and also keep Hercules's naive start and somehow implement it into Jazz.. Like it fits right, guys!!!

Finally screenshot redraw!! :

There will be more screenshot redraws in the future, so expect the Lambo twins as pain and panic ^^

Tiny rant, from what we could put together for this au, The Primes came to Earth to protect it from monsters that covered the Earth's surface and helped protect humanity as cybertronians learn to live together with humans. And Jazz was created as a hero to help protect Mount Olympus. But poor thing was kidnapped and reprogrammed as part of a plan made by the God of the Underworld.

We’re trying to have our own thing with the same concept as the Hercules movie, so the story is still a huge WIP…

PLEASE LMK IF ANYONE HAS ANY IDEAS FOR A NAME 😭

Mk tyyy love yall

[livelaughlovesubs]

Omg omg for the prompt thing making Fyodor and/or Sukuna beg and kneel pls 🙏

KEKEKEKEKE YES YES YES one fedya and one sukuna right away! (Edit: I really like how fedya’s turned out?)

Dom!reader x sub!fyodor/ sub!sukuna (separate)

Warning: begging & kneeling (both) ~light size kink, monster fucker (sukuna’s true form hehe), marking, biting, nipple play, groping, teasing~ (sukuna)

Anniversary event

Fyodor

“What a pleasant surprise, the demon Dostoyevsky is looking for my humble self?” You sat back and got into a comfortable position, voice dripping with fake politeness as you sneakily eyed him up and down. It was well-known that he’s a dangerous individual, you had to be careful. “Oh please, no need to use such flattering words. I’m here to ask for a favour after all.” Fyodor smiled gently, if you didn’t know better you’d think he was a kind and innocent man.

“A favour? I’m not sure I have anything worthy of your standard.” How you wished he’d just leave and never come back, you didn’t like this pressure one bit. “You are too modest, y/n. I’m aware of how knowledgeable you actually are.” He commented. On the surface it looked like a compliment, yet you understood the implications behind it. “Is that so? Because I’m not sure what you are talking about.” You continued playing the naive card, it was the safest bet for now.

The male chuckled, his posture was straight as he stared right into your eyes, maintaining eye contact. “Then, I’ll get straight to the point,” he said, his tone shifting from a distinct softness to a rather serious one. “I want information about the book.” You knew about his ambitions, and his goals, which is why you knew what he wanted from you. As such, his request didn’t come off as a surprise, and it didn’t show on your face neither. But fyodor already took that into account, he knew it as well.

Someone with infinit information and someone smart enough to predict the future, what a match.

You had to think carefully, even if you weren’t as intelligent as this genius in front of you, you had an advantage. Because it’s him who’s asking for a favour. “What will I gain out of telling you?” For a split second, his dead eyes lit up, as if you peaked his curiosity. “A future rid of sinners, mankind in its most glorious form. One where order and harmony spreads across the world.” What grand endeavours he had, but it didn’t concern you in the slightest.

“How do I put it, your offer isn’t enticing enough.” You thought you had won, keeping a collected face to mask your small victory. Though it seems it wasn’t over yet, since his next words send a chill down your spine. “I expected so, that’s why that’s not everything.” He then got up from his seat, getting dangerously close to you. His eyes bore a determined and prideful look, one that pierced your soul, that made him seem all knowing.

“You aren’t the only one who did a background check.” Fyodor sneered, now standing right in front of you, staring down at you with those violet eyes. “I wonder if you’ll still refuse me if I do this?” Somehow, you had a bad feeling about this, your stomach curled as you hesitated. Each movement seemed so difficult due to the pressure, it was suffocating. You knew he was great at manipulation, at using others, especially their desires, and he understood human emotions so well it was terrifying.

Since you knew all of that, you were prepared, no?

Nothing could have prepared you for what happened next.

He dropped onto his knees, the gaze in his eyes shifted, though still prideful, it was more.. docile now. As gracefully as ever, he placed his hands on his lap, staring up at you with the same tender expression as before. Meek smile and big, carefully planned puppy eyes, though you knew it was an act, it stirred emotions you didn’t want to feel. It made your heart soft.

If you were still resolute, hanging onto your willpower, then you were gone after the next sentence from the male. Fyodor did his homework very throughly. That sickly sweet and addicting voice, laced with a hint of need, whispering in a tone that made your insides tingle, “please fulfil my little request, I’d do anything for it. I… beg of you? Moya lyubov?” A faint blush crept up his pale cheeks, adding even more flavour to the already fantasy-like show laid out before you. Now, you couldn’t help but grin all sadistic, for you have fallen into the temptation of the devil itself.

Sukuna

Oh how he treasured you, it was beyond the grasp of his other supporters.

With how things stand, you were his only weakness, and they couldn’t let that be. Yet, their lord, the king of curses, was too smitten with you to care. All they wanted was a reason, an answer to their question: why?

It goes all the way back to when he was like any other human. Not with four arms, and four eyes, not even when he was the strongest sorcerer. No, back in time where he was simply human. From that point onwards, you’ve always accompanied him, stayed by his side and cheered him on. It was only a matter of time until he’d eventually become soft with you. And now, even after his body mutated into his current state, you stayed by his side with the same conviction like decades ago.

But due to him being used to killing, and him just being so much stronger than you, a part of him was afraid of crushing your delicate body into pieces. That’s why he refused to touch you until he was sure he had full control over his strength. What if a simple hug ended with you dying in his arms? He couldn’t let that happen now could he.

Even so that didn’t hold you back, rather, you were amused by his dedication. At times it was annoying how he saw you as a frail porcelain doll, though you were mostly enjoying this peculiar circumstance. Especially when you are sitting behind his massive form, kissing his neck and leaving hickeys while your hands trail around his body, exploring every single inch. And he couldn’t stop you at all.

You pulled back to admire your own work, then made yourself bigger and leaned over his shoulder, “you don’t mind if I continue, right?” He didn’t answer you, only giving you a half-assed glare as he stayed put. You took it as a yes, since, if he didn’t want to, he could always just standup and leave. That’s why your eager hands wandered to his full breasts, cupping them with your palm as you smirked perversely. Wasn’t it just so much fun? Doing whatever you wanted to the strongest men alive?

After squeezing them to your hearts content, you used your fingertips to circle around his pink nipples. He had such a tough body, and high pain resistance, so it’s the gentle touches that make him lose his mind. “…really? You like my chest that much?” Sukuna sighed, despite how much he’d complain, he never objected to your antics. “Yep, they are awesome.” You answered almost immediately, he was almost impressed by how shameless you were.

“Huh, I don’t get the appeal.” He said, though he liked having your attention on him. “I just like feeling you up with my hands.” You admitted, and, as if to prove your point, slid one hand down to his mouth-tummy. “Mhm..” The male coughed, acting as if he was clearing his throat. Seeing as you finally drew a reaction out of him, you began to fondle his body again. One hand stayed around his pecs, rubbing his hardened bud, the other one jumping from one place to another. As of now, you were using it to grope his inner thighs.

“Hmmm- haaah, y/n, you really are something.” He panted, closing his eyes, immersing himself in the sensations you gifted him. “No need to hold back, we are by ourselves.” You whispered, before going back to sucking and biting his shoulder blades. Even though that’s what you said, he didn’t need your words, until you began tugging on his sensitive nipple. “Nghh, ah… damn it.” When he realised what noise just slipped from his lips, he cursed under his breath, an almost invisible blush covering his cheeks and shoulders. It was the most noticeable around his ears.

When you glanced over his shoulder again, you noticed the growing bulge in his pants. Now you really couldn’t hide your grinning anymore, stopping whatever you were doing with your hands and instead hugging him from behind. He didn’t object at first, but got annoyed after a while, taunting you, “..aren’t you going to continue? What, suddenly feeling embarrassed?” To which you replied, “it seems like you don’t enjoy what I’m doing, so, of course, I stopped.” Liar, that’s what you say whenever you want something from him.

“And how can I prove you otherwise?” Sukuna feigned a groan, though you saw how the corners of his mouth twitched. “Get on your knees and beg, then I’ll believe you ♡.”

You must be the luckiest human on earth, for surviving after asking him to do something like that, and that he’s into this power tipping thing as long as he gets to do it with you. So, without much delay, he popped down from the bed and smiled confidently, as he basically demanded, “touch me more,,, please?”

“…”

you had to teach him how to really beg

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Primal (Part 6)

Summary: The team finally confronts Hunter in an effort to take him down. In the aftermath, the gang heads to Boston to help with the investigation by the Marshals and Y/N and Tim have a heated discussion about what the future holds now that Y/N's mated to Beau. But things aren't so simple and danger still lurks under the surface...

Primal Masterlist

Pairing: Alpha!Beau Arlen x Omega!reader

Word Count: 5,300ish

Warnings: language, angst, violence, drugging, serial killers, death, kidnapping, mention of human trafficking

A/N: I absolutely love the end of this part for so many reasons! Enjoy!...

Reader POV

“Well Brock’s a piece of walking human garbage,” said Lucy as you walked through the parking lot around mid morning. 

“Lucky me. Two piece of shit father’s,” you said, leaning against the side of your rental car, Lucy throwing an arm over your shoulder.

“Hey. This whole thing sucks but at least you found out you and Tim are half-siblings. At least you got one family member on your side.”

You let a small smile onto your face. You honestly hadn’t cared about if you were related or not. But hopefully it was a comfort to him that at least someone in his family gave a shit about him. He’d sounded so damn…broken on the phone. His hormones were probably all out of whack after the Primal incident but you’d never heard him like that before.

When this was all over, you were having a serious discussion with him about getting some help.

“Are you worried about your mom at all?” she asked, pulling you back to the present.

“I should be but like, I’m not?” You crossed your arms, resting your head on her shoulder. “I have this awful feeling she knew about my dad this whole time. If she knew what he did to all those omegas…am I a monster for not caring if she’s alive or not?”

“What’s your gut say?”

“Y/N.” You both turned, Brock dragging an oxygen tank on wheels behind him across the wet pavement of the parking lot.

“Go back inside, Brock. I’d hate for you to catch pneumonia and die,” you said, narrowing your eyes. Brock ignored you, stopping at the trunk to catch his breath. You towered over him as he leaned against the metal, breathing hard, struggling to catch his breath. “I know what you did to Tim. What kind of monster hurts a child?”

He straightened himself up, staring as you balled up your fists.

“Unless you have something to share that will help us, get the hell away from me.”

“You really think your father could pull all those beautiful women by himself? He’s ugly as sin. Your mother had affairs all the time. Some he didn’t know about, some he did.” You held up a hand, Lucy walking around to your side.

“You’re saying Y/N’s mother helped Teddy with the murders?” she asked. “Why wouldn’t you say something?”

“Hey. I don’t know that they did anything for sure but I do know your mother and father would find women to join them in the bedroom. Young omegas. They used to talk about how much fun the first time they did it was with a Tina.”

“Tina Paxton,” said Lucy, pulling out her phone to text Beau. “Y/N-”

“Thank you Brock. Please contact Officer Wilde if you remember anything else.”

“You’re my daughter-”

“I have no need for any more parental figures in my life, Brock. Now please return inside and do Tim and I a favor. Make your end of life arrangements now and make damn sure we have nothing to do with it.”

You flipped him off, Brock grumbling as he headed back for the entrance slowly. You spun around and clapped your hands together, Lucy’s eyes full of concern.

“I’m good,” you said, forcing a smile on your face. “I got Tim and Beau and an old friend back in my life. I’m good.”

“Beau wants us to stay in Seattle,” said Lucy, shoving her phone away. “Says he and Tim are making a move on Hunter and are close. Once they grab them, he’s going to contact Boston PD to arrest your parents.”

“Sounds easy when you put it like that. I’m sure those boys don’t need us at all, right?” Lucy rolled her eyes, heading for the drivers seat. “I’ll call that army guy, see how fast we can get back to Helena.”

Two Hours Later

“How do we know where they are?” asked Lucy, handing you her phone as you drove through Helena. You tapped away on it, pulling up an airtag that was no longer sitting at the station. “You think that’s Tim’s?”

“We kept four in our go bag for emergencies. One is offline and is the one Beau shoved down his pants earlier. The other two are at the station. This is the only one that’s showing elsewhere. Looks like in the business district.” She drove as you directed her, coming to a stop outside a warehouse looking building.

“I can’t let you go in there,” she said, getting out of her patrol car and popping the trunk. You watched her pull on a vest and grab a shotgun. “Will you please stay in the car?”

“I promise. Go get the boys.”

You slid back in the passenger seat, ready to call for backup once Lucy texted that they had Hutner and his guys under arrest. Five minutes turned into ten which turned into fifteen. Why was it taking so long? You jumped up when your phone buzzed.

Call for backup. Bring the medical bag from the trunk inside asap.

Dread filled your gut as you did as told, getting a message out to the station and finding the orange bag in the back of the trunk. You ran inside the side door, looking all around. “Lucy?”

“Back here!” You followed her voice, startled by the amount of blood spatter everywhere. Hunter and his cronies were in various positions of death on the far side of the room. Tim sat on the concrete nearby, a bloody nose making his face look a mess and was holding his shoulder that looked just a tad too off to be normal.

“Beau,” you breathed out when you saw him on the ground, Lucy pressing blood hands against his shoulder. 

“I’m fine. Ain’t you ever seen a movie? Totally non-lethal,” he joked, wincing as Lucy pressed more of her body weight against him. 

“That’s a lot of blood,” you said, Beau grimacing. 

“He’ll live,” said Tim, sitting forward, tilting his eyes at Lucy. “Who the hell are you?”

“The person saving your ass,” she said. Tim raised his eyebrows, Beau chuckling as you cradled his head in your lap. “Got a problem with that Alpha boy?”

“You could have cleared the room a little less sloppily but other than that, nope.” 

“God it’s good you’re pretty with a mouth like that,” she said. Tim smiled, a strange look of adoration on his face.

“You think I’m pretty? Cause I ain’t got nothing on-”

“Timothy,” you growled. “She just saved your life. Behave.”

“We had it handled, right Barlen?” grunted Tim.

“Got a little dicey for my liking,” he said, wincing up at you. You sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You didn’t listen to me about staying in Seattle.”

“It was all Lucy.” She huffed, taking a wad of bandages as Tim scooted over and handed a package to her. “No it’s true. She dragged me back here against my will, wanted to save her boss.”

“I’m sure that’s what Officer Wilde’s report will say,” he said, sirens bouncing in the distance. “Wilde. When you get done keeping the blood in my body, contact Boston PD, let them know to move in on Y/N’s parents.”

You sighed, holding a hand over his wound when Lucy went to check Tim, that same stupid look on his face.

“Good god, he’s practically drooling over her,” mumbled Beau, chuckling when you giggled. You ran a hand through his hair, Beau smiling up at you. “You’re safe now, sweetheart.”

“You got hurt,” you said softly, Beau waving you off.

“I’ll be fine. Are you okay?” 

“Yeah. We need to have a talk about…everything when you get a chance.”

“We will,” he murmured, closing his eyes. “We don’t really have to live in Boston do we?”

You smirked, leaning down and kissing his forehead. “Helena is fine with me. Later. You just rest now.”

Two Weeks Later - Boston

“Hey, kiddo.” You stared at the wall of pictures in the foyer of your parents house, a heavy hand resting on top of your head as you sighed. “We don’t have to do this today.”

“I never want to come back to this house, Tim. Let’s get this over with.” He gently ruffled your hair, smoothing it out before he was standing next to the wall with a black storage tub, the yellow lid laying somewhere around there. By the front door were two more, already filled with objects from your parents home to go into storage.

Teddy was on the run and your mother was in custody. You’d been back in Boston for over a week to answer endless questions by the Marshals office but thankfully they’d cleared Tim of any wrongdoing and told him he was eligible to rejoin the agency.

“Leave the photos of my parents,” you said as you walked down the hall towards the front den. You knew Tim would ignore you. Someday you might want them. You didn’t have to sort through them right now he’d tell you. As far as you were concerned, they could sit in a storage container in Montana for the next few decades. Any of the ones you’d actually want to look at and put up were back at your shared townhouse.

“We cleared out your old room, pictures, basement,” he said, almost to himself as you leaned against the entrance to the den. “You want to steal any of your mom’s shit?”

“We could set it on fire?” He frowned. “You’re no fun, Barclay.”

“Your mom gave us permission to take what we want from the house, not burn the place to ashes.” He sat the bin down behind you, looking over your shoulder into the den. “Heard she’s claiming Teddy threatened her into helping him. Says she hasn’t helped kill someone in over thirty years. Still a life sentence at least.”

“Did she know Teddy wanted me dead? Wanted to frame you for it?” He shifted, eyes downcast when you looked over your shoulder. “Is that a yes? Did she even give a fuck about me?”

He scoffed, exhaling slowly. “I think in her own twisted way she cares about you. Maybe not other omegas but you she does. Her affair with my dad was just her having fun. Your dad will always be her priority though. She let herself get caught to give him time to get away.”

“Well, we’ve known that since I was a kid they cared more about each other than me. They’d have you babysit me while they went on their fucking murder dates.” You leaned your head against his shoulder, Tim wrapping his arm around your back.

“Yes but I gave you oreos and would let you watch horror movies far too scary for an eleven year old so I think you made out alright.”

“I hated watching horror movies,” you said, Tim smirking. “I didn’t want you to think I was some lame girl. I wanted you to think I was the coolest kid there was.”

“Hard fail there.” You punched his good arm, Tim feigning pain. “I’ll be sure to let Arlen know how much you love horror.”

“I’ll be sure to him know how much you like him.” You grinned wide, Tim rolling his eyes. “You’ve been using his actual name more often. I know you’ve warmed up to him.”

“He’s…not as awful as some of your past boyfriends. But that doesn’t mean I like him.” 

“Sure you don’t.” You hummed, peeling yourself away and spinning back around to examine the foyer. 

“Do you mind if I take the kitchenaid mixer?” he asked, nodding towards the kitchen.

“I mean go for it but we got one at home. You want to re-sell it or something?” He raised an eyebrow, looking at you like you were the weird one. “What is that face for?”

“Aren’t you taking the mixer at our townhouse to Montana?”

“Yes? Which again, why do we need another one?” you asked. 

“For the townhouse...” he said, frowning at you. You both stared at each other and stared and stared, your heads tilting so much if anyone came inside they’d take you both to be examined by a doctor. “You’re taking the mixer to Montana.”

“Yes…”

Therefore, I need a mixer.” You shook your head. “What is so confusing about that?”

“What are you talking about, Timothy? We’ve shared that mixer for the past decade. We don’t need two of them in Montana.” He closed his mouth, a wave of relief, perhaps realization, washing down his face. Meanwhile an unsettling feeling worked its way into your gut.

“Y/N, I’m not going to Helena. I’m staying in Boston at the townhouse.” You held up a hand, quirking your lip up.

“Ha ha. Very funny. Now help me-”

“Y/N.” His voice was quiet yet sharp. No. He was full of shit. He was messing with you. You crossed your arms, Tim’s eyes darting downwards. “I’m not moving out of Boston.”

“Why? You have nothing here.” You sucked in air the second the words left your lips, Tim looking up and nodding. “Tim, I didn’t mean-”

“You’re wrong,” he said, his tone flat, no malice behind it. “I can rejoin the Marshals. I can go to trivia night with my old friends. I can rejoin that baseball league. Hell, maybe I can even find myself a girlfriend that’ll stick this time.”

“You can do all those things in Montana though,” you said softly, Tim’s shrug starting to piss you off. “You never have a problem making friends or meeting women and they have the Marshals and baseball in Helena. Why would you stay here?”

“Because I’ve been following you around my entire adult life and I need some damn space from you. I gave up a year of my life for you. I was almost killed. I’ll be on thin ice with the Marshals the rest of my career not because of Teddy but because I got involved with you.” He wiped a hand over his mouth, resting his hands on his hips while your anger deflated like a balloon. You shook your head, frowning at him. No. This was him trying to push you away because he felt shitty and you weren’t about to let him get away with it.

“Bullshit. You’re being mean because you blame yourself for attacking me. You want me to get pissed and walk out on you like everyone else does. Not going to happen so be an asshole. You don’t get to-”

He stormed over, leering down into your face with a snarl. “Teddy was my boss. Do not confuse me doing my job to impress him with me caring about you.”

“Why don’t you be a real man and just tell me the truth, coward,” you snapped back, lifting your chin. He glared at you but you saw his facade starting to crack. “You’re scared that because Beau claimed me, I don’t need you anymore so you’re trying to cut me out of your life first because everybody you trust hurts you in the end. Tell me I’m wrong.”

“You’re an insufferable know it all.” He walked away, heading for the stairs, pausing with one hand on the railing. “Go play house with Beau in Montana and we can both move on with our lives.”

“No!” You grabbed the closest object to you, a decorative wicker ball thing and chucked it at his back. He spun around, eyes flashed in alarm as you stormed over and yanked on his shirt collar on the steps, pulling down to your level. “You don’t want to move to Montana? Fine. I’ll learn to live with it. But you don’t get to walk away from me. I have always known I’m the only family you have and I always hated it. I wanted my parents to love you but I knew it wouldn’t happen.”

You took a deep breath, his face unreadable. Unfisting your hand, you found his, wrapping your smaller one around it. His eyes flickered, a vulnerability setting in.

“If you don’t want to live with me anymore, that’s okay. I know we annoy each other and I know you sacrificed a lot this past year. There were so many nights you stayed up so I could get a good night’s sleep. So many times I was a brat and argued with you about wanting to go out alone and you were right to protect me. So I’ll give you your space. But don’t ever think space means I’ve left. You’re still my family and now? You’ve got Beau and his family too.”

“You wanted me to live with you and Beau?” he asked quietly. You blinked a few times, holding up your finger. 

“That’s what you focused on in all that? I just told you-”

“Again, you want me to live with you and your boyfriend?” You rubbed your temple, trying to fight the twitch in your eye.

“No…I want you to live with me…in the townhouse I’m moving into in Helena.” He parted his lips, waiting a moment before tucking them closed.

“So…” He cleared his throat, glancing towards the ceiling. “You aren’t moving in with Beau.”

“Did you pull all this shit because you thought I was about to move in with a man I’ve known for three weeks and suddenly he would be my whole world?” 

“No?” he said, now staring at the chandelier over the foyer. You growled, Tim sighing in response. “He’s your mate, probably your true mate if we’re being honest. I didn’t want to get in the way of your new life. You know me.”

“And you know me.” His gaze traveled downwards, finding your stern face. “Someday, yeah, I will move in with him. Someday you’ll live on your own again. I was a brat last year but I trusted you’d keep me safe always. Trust. Me.”

He swallowed, taking a beat to breathe slowly. “Alright. I’ll go to Boston. I want the bigger bedroom though.”

“Fine.”

“And to keep your pots and pans when you move into Arlen’s someday.” You narrowed your eyes, Tim’s lip twitching up. “I’m joking.”

“You better be. I paid for those,” you said, stepping up two steps, wrapping your arms around him. He returned the hug, resting his chin on your shoulder. “You’ll come with me?”

“Would you help me find a good therapist out there?” You nodded, squeezing him tighter. Tim winced, a huff of air escaping him “Take it easy. I only got shot a few weeks ago.”

“Oh, that was a graze and you bruised your shoulder. You’re fine. Beau got hit worse” You leaned back and smiled. “By the way, we’re going to Houston for Thanksgiving with the whole extended Arlen family. It’s non-negotiable and I will have my boyfriend kidnap you to make you go if necessary.”

“If I say no, it’ll piss you off again, won’t it.”

“You’re so smart,” you said, pinching his cheek. He slapped your hand away as someone knocked on the front door. You jogged down the steps as it opened, a wisp of blonde hair entering view.

“Hello?” Jenny called out, looking to the left before smiling when she saw you. “Hey guys.”

“What are you doing here, Hoyt?” asked Tim, coming to your side. “I thought only Arlen was needed to do in person interviews in Boston.”

“Calm down, slugger,” she said, crossing her arms. “Lucy decided to visit her parents and do her interview in person. I followed her lead and came out to visit a college friend, do the interview here. Beau said you’re moving stuff and I got done early so I offered to help.”

“Thanks,” you said the same time Tim scoffed. You looked back at him, Tim standing there with a raised eyebrow. “What?”

“Come on, Y/N. She’s not here to help you move. She likes Arlen.” You couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped you, Tim tilting his head at Jenny. “Back at his place when Emily thought she smelled something between me and Hoyt? That wasn’t attraction. I knew something was up between her and Arlen and given the way he doesn’t seem to give you puppy dog eyes the way you do him, I’m going to say it’s one sided.”

Jenny frowned, glancing away, crossing her arms. “Fine. I like Beau. I won’t deny it. But I honestly did come here to help pack and get stuff in the pod outside because believe me or don’t, Beau is still my friend no matter who he’s with.”

She turned to you, her face softening. 

“I’m not stupid enough to believe you’d be cool with a woman you know that likes your boyfriend being friends with him. All I ask is you give me a chance to move on from him. If I don’t, I’ll transfer departments to the troopers or county or something.” 

“Alright, you can have your chance,” you said. Tim was about to protest but you beat him to the punch. “But if you do care about him, think about what he wants, okay?”

“I know,” she said, forcing a smile on her face. “So. What can I help with?”

“There’s some Christmas ornaments in the basement I think we missed. Tim, go show her while I finish with the upstairs,” you said.

He grumbled, waving Hoyt to follow after himself. When they rounded the corner and you heard their footsteps down the wooden steps you pulled out your phone, throwing your head back. Still no texts from Beau which meant he was still in his Marshals interview.

Hey. Hope it’s going good over there. Tim and I are almost done at my parents house. Thanks for sending Jenny over to help. Why don’t we get an early dinner after you get done and we can pack up the townhouse tomorrow? Text me when you’re free.

“Y/N? Can you come here for a second?” called Jenny. 

“Coming!”

Beau POV

I let out a deep breath as I exited the small conference room I’d been sitting in for the past seven hours. I cracked my back, nodding to the two Marshals that slipped out beside me. “Sorry to keep you in there so long, Arlen. This whole case is a shit show for us as you can imagine.”

“I understand,” I said to Springs, her junior partner taking a bundle of notepads back into a bullpen of cubicles. “Any luck on finding Teddy yet?”

“The fucker disappeared sometime that morning when you folks took down Douglas Evans and his friends. Evans’ phone indicated he had a check in to a burner, Teddy presumably. Looks like Evans got nervous and told Teddy to get out of Dodge.” Spings led me down a hall, further into their office area. “Teddy and Evans did a pretty good job of making Mr. Barclay look like Hunter.”

We stopped outside a tapped over door, Tim’s name on a placard outside of it. Springs swung it open to reveal a mostly clean office. “Teddy made a mistake though by targeting Tim. Do you see it?”

I looked through the door into the small room, glancing around. It looked like most other law enforcement offices. Files. Computer. Pens. A few awards and commendations on the wall, a picture of Tim and Y/N at the beach on his filing cabinet behind the desk. 

“Huh,” I said, cocking my head. “Didn’t know Barclay was capable of not looking like he’s got a stick shoved up his ass.”

Springs didn’t bother to try and hide her laugh. “He’s actually a pretty nice guy when you get to know him.”

I huffed. Just because he’d warmed up to me didn’t mean he still didn’t like to call me a dickhead every time we talked. A week and a half ago, he and Y/N travelled back to Boston. By the time I’d been discharged from the hospital, I’d found out the FBI and Marshals were in charge of investigating what the hell had happened. All of us had been separated and questioned over and over. Tim and Y/N were “escorted” back to Boston for more questioning while I’d been stuck back in Helena. Y/N and I needed to discuss things, in person, but thankfully the investigation cleared both of them after a few days. One six hour phone call later, Y/N had a lease agreement signed on a townhouse ten minutes from my house, a lengthy email in to her old job requesting her position back and she’d reassured me more than once that Tim was an idiot. She hadn’t cared at all about the age gap, that I was divorced or had a teenager. 

Apparently she had a thing for older guys so suck it Barclay.

“Yeah, well, you’re not mated to his sister either,” I mumbled, Springs snorting.

“Well, those two have been thick as thieves since she was a kid. Teddy wasn’t very present but Tim filled that gap for her,” she said, my eyes roaming over to another picture of Tim and Y/N in obnoxious orange shirts and numbered bibs. I raised my chin, nodding at it.

“The running picture. That’s what gave it away he wasn’t Hunter,” I said, Springs smiling.

“Good job, Arlen. Teddy was also so invested in his cases, he didn’t pay too much attention ot office crap. He never knew that Barclay was our Omega’s in Law Enforcement representative. Encourages them-”

“To join traditionally Alpha related careers. It helps them know that they have no limitations in those fields. We have it out in Helena too.” 

“He volunteered when our previous rep retired. He mostly would talk to middle and high schools, kids in clubs, that sort of thing. He’d always tell a story about how his omega sister beat up an Alpha that broke into their house one night and not to let anyone tell them they can’t do something because of what they present as.”

“You took that as proof of his innocence?” I asked. She shrugged.

“Not completely on it’s own but I’ve know Tim for nearly twenty years. I started a few years before him. He was a friend. Teddy saw him as an angry brute, a powerful tool on dangerous cases. Yeah, Tim is extremely skilled and lethal. But the rest of us knew deep down he was gentle. Above all else, he’s a protector, not an attacker. So no, there’s no world in which I’d have ever believed Barclay wanted to hurt Y/N, no matter what Teddy wrote in those stupid journals. The timeline doesn’t match up anyways.”

“Journals?” She hummed.

“Man was a grade A psycho,” she said, showing me across the hall where a few marshals were each sitting with a filled out notebooks before them. “Teddy was a journaler apparently. Kept daily logs from his teen years up until the day he fled a few weeks ago. He wrote about his kills. The wife is so screwed based on what we’ve found so far. She was a very active and willing participant. Sounds like she might have even been the one calling the shots.”

“Anything about Y/N in them?” She shook her head.

“No, we haven’t gotten that far yet. Still going through when Teddy was in his twenties. There’s a lot of deaths marked natural causes or accidental that he caused. Then there’s some girls who went missing. He wasn’t shy about details. Seems like sometimes the heat triggering went wrong and women with underlying conditions died a little more obviously. Only good thing is we know where the bodies are for the families.”

“Sicko,” I said. Springs handed me a pair of blue gloves from a nearby box. We put them on, Springs guiding us to the end of the table where a few boxes sat, all filled with notebooks. “You’ve been focusing on the earlier stuff?”

“Yeah, we figure start at the beginning, develop the timeline. I’m sure we’ll find information about his plans for Y/N and how he recruited Douglas Evans in the more recent years. Feel free to take a look if you got a minute.”

She checked in with her team as I went to the most recent dated box, peeling the lid off. Most of the notebooks were plain black with the year written on a little white box in the center. I fingered through them, going back in time, pouting at an unlabeled one stuck between 2000 and 2001. 

I pulled it out, Springs noticing. “Got something?”

“Not sure. The wear on this one is much worse than the others, like it was looked at and used a lot more.” I flipped it open, narrowing my eyes. “Springs. This isn’t a journal.”

I held up the first page, her eyes flashing wide at the heading written on top. “Primal candidates?”

“He was looking for his protegé for awhile it seems.” I said, scanning through the list of qualifications they had to have. Alpha. Law enforcement. Attractive. Unmated. 

“That does track. Teddy majored in biology in undergrad. One of his journals mentioned a class where a professor taught about early presentation evolution like heats, going primal, that shit. Seems like that’s when he fixated on it.”

“Probably where he learned about this stuff…” I flipped a page, a picture of a young smiling Tim taped inside. I frowned, glancing through the notes on him.

“Barclay’s on the list?” she asked, peering over my shoulder now.

“He was a potential candidate. Looks like Teddy wanted him,” I said, trailing my finger down to where words like “favorable” and “plan recruitment procedure”. But the most recent dated entry was all different, written in red ink from around the time Y/N met him. “Reject as candidate. Y/N likes the boy. Too suspicious to involve him now. Allow to remain family friend for her benefit. Good babysitter/protector for Y/N when her mother and I go hunting.”

Jesus christ. I stared at the page, shaking my head.

“Did Y/N save him from being a Douglas Evans without knowing it?” said Springs quietly.

“Barclay, you owe that girl more than you’ll ever know,” I mumbled to myself, flipping through page after page of young men and women, all Alphas. Douglas Evans picture popped up, a large PRIMAL written next to his name.

“We really got to find Teddy guy before he attacks again or turns someone,” said Springs, as I got to the end of the book.

“At least the good news is it looks like only Evans was turned,” I said, flipping one more page and freezing. Springs groaned, my heart in my throat.

“Well shit. That one is primal too,” she said, staring at the picture of the young woman. The young, blonde woman with her hair in a side braid, a soft smile on her face. The blonde woman I’d spent the past year working with. The woman I thought was my friend. The woman currently at the Y/L/N residence with Tim and Y/N.

“Jenny Hoyt,” I breathed out, standing up fast.”

“Who’s-”

“Get your Marshals to Teddy’s residence right now! Y/N and Tim are there alone with her,” I said, rushing out of the room and down the hall, nearly crashing into Lucy as she exited her own interview room. 

“Beau? What’s-” I grabbed her hand, pulling her with me.

“Hoyt’s one of Teddy’s protegés and I sent her straight to Y/N and Tim.” 

__________

A/N: Read Part 7 here!

[carlyraejepsans]

charas good charas bad. I'm more in the boat: charas bad... however-

the idea of judging characters on a good-to-evil scale in undertale of all games is objectively stupid.

chara hurt. chara vengeful. chara impulsive and not thinking things through. chara maladjusted and suicidal and going too far. with their actions and with asriel's blind trust. chara with save powers like every other human who fell in the underground that eroded their sense of negative consequences for their actions. chara who then enforced those consequences all the more ruthlessly upon themself.

chara who gave up that power and stayed dead for a chance to save monsterkind. chara who could've rebelled to asriel and gone through with the plan, but didn't. chara whose hope for a better future for the monsters shone bright enough that asgore recognized it in frisk's eyes centuries later. chara who brought back that hope to an entire kingdom, and had that burden on their shoulders for the rest of their short life. asriel who, in the game's development, was supposed to be obsessed with the surface and the stars, and a chara who might have wanted their brother to see them for real.

but also, chara as the player's interface. chara as the quantification of our actions within the game, good and bad. chara the feeling of our stats going up. chara the ghost without a soul (just like flowey) who can't stop playing the game until you do. chara the mirror. chara and YOU.

not even our actions in the more violent routes are treated as mere "evil", cruelty or sadism within the game. they're explicitly treated as us going "too far". and because we can, we have to. not being able to quit. digging the ghost out of their tomb until it's too late.

...but sure. chara's "evil".

[sammyquarius]

The Ghost at the Window

The years hadn’t been kind to you. Not kind in the way people often talked about, like time slowly wearing at the edges of who you were. No. For you, the years had been more like a wound that festered and healed over, only to be reopened when Stack Moorecame back into town.

Seven years. Seven years since you saw him last. Seven years since you found out the truth about Mary—and how he had betrayed you.

And yet, the ache never went away.

You never told Stack about the baby. Maybe it was pride. Maybe fear. Or maybe it was the crushing knowledge that the man you once loved—truly loved—had already proven who he was: faithless, dangerous, and loyal only to his own vices.

So you made a choice. You left the past where it belonged and built something better. You married a man who was nothing like Stack—a man who was steady, kind, and good to his bones. He knew your past. He knew about the child growing inside you who wasn’t his. And still, he chose you. Chose her. Together you raised your daughter—the one with Stack’s dark eyes but your stubborn fire—and for a time, you knew peace. You knew love without bloodshed, without broken promises.

You had a life.

And you sure as hell didn’t need Stack Moore coming back to stir up the ghosts of your past.

Stack came back to Mississippi like a shadow at the edges of your life, all sharp angles and dangerous eyes. He’d changed. *He’d changed, but you could still feel it—the raw hunger that he never managed to tame.

When you first saw him again, you almost didn’t recognize him. His eyes, though—they still burned with the same damn obsession. The same hunger for control, for dominance. But there was something different about him now. His smile was sharp, like he knew something you didn’t, and the way he moved—it wasn’t human anymore.

He came to you, trying to act like nothing had happened, like the years of silence and betrayal meant nothing. But they meant everything.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, voice rough. “You could’ve let me—”

“You were never here,” you cut him off. “You were too busy with Mary and your little empire. I didn’t need you. And I sure as hell don’t need you now."

His face fell, the cocky grin replaced by a deep, frustrated frown. It hurt him. That was clear.

You wanted to feel something for him. Even if it was just anger, something that would make this moment less painful. But it didn’t come. You were over it. Over him.

Stack’s eyes shifted, narrowing as he studied you. The anger simmered beneath the surface, but it didn’t scare you anymore. Not when you had someone else—someone who wasn’t a ghost, who didn’t haunt you with broken promises and lies.

“I’ve moved on,” you told him. “And I’m not the same girl who waited for you to show up. I’m done with all this, Stack.”

The sting of his silence lingered long after he left. You could feel the weight of the past hanging in the air, thick and suffocating. But you had your life. You had him, the one who loved you, who built a future with you.

Still… Stack’s presence kept creeping back into your thoughts, especially when night fell.

The first night it happened, you thought it was just the wind. But then it happened again. A shadow passed the window. You told yourself it was nothing—just your nerves playing tricks on you. But the longer it went on, the more you knew. Stack was there. Watching. Like he always had, even when you wished he would leave.

You hadn’t seen him in person since that conversation, but you knew. He was no longer the man you once loved. He was something darker now. Something you could feel crawling at the edges of your life.

And then one night, you couldn’t deny it anymore. You saw him. His silhouette, standing in the darkness just beyond the reach of the streetlamp, staring at your house with the same intensity that used to make your heart race in fear and desire.

He was a monster now. A vampire.

And that hunger, that obsession, had only deepened over the years.

You didn’t know how long it had been since Stack had died inside, his humanity replaced by something else—something colder, darker. But you knew one thing: he was still your ghost. No matter how far you ran, Stack Moore would always be a part of you.

As the days passed, his presence grew more and more impossible to ignore. You tried to pretend you couldn’t feel him watching you, but there were nights when you woke up with the sheets cold around you, as though someone had been there, just out of reach. You didn’t sleep. You couldn’t. Not while he was out there.

And he was out there. Every night. Waiting.

The truth hit you like a ton of bricks when you found yourself standing by the window one evening, staring into the darkness. Stack was there. But this time, his eyes weren’t filled with desire or regret. They were empty. Dead.

He was watching you, just like before. And you realized, No matter how far you ran, no matter how much you built, no matter how much you loved— Stack Moore would never let you go.

For more content follow me on https://www.tumblr.com/sammyquarius

[queereads-bracket]

Queer Adult SFF Books Bracket: Round 2

Book summaries and submitted endorsements below:

The Murderbot Diaries series (All Systems Red, Artificial Condition, Rogue Protocol, Exit Strategy, Network Effect, Fugitive Telemetry, System Collapse, and other stories) by Martha Wells

Endorsement from submitter: "Asexual and agender main character. In later books side characters are revealed to be in poly relationship."

"As a heartless killing machine, I was a complete failure."

In a corporate-dominated space-faring future, planetary missions must be approved and supplied by the Company. For their own safety, exploratory teams are accompanied by Company-supplied security androids. But in a society where contracts are awarded to the lowest bidder, safety isn’t a primary concern.

On a distant planet, a team of scientists is conducting surface tests, shadowed by their Company-supplied ‘droid--a self-aware SecUnit that has hacked its own governor module and refers to itself (though never out loud) as “Murderbot.” Scornful of humans, Murderbot wants is to be left alone long enough to figure out who it is, but when a neighboring mission goes dark, it's up to the scientists and Murderbot to get to the truth.

Science fiction, novella, series, adult

The Masquerade Series (The Traitor Baru Cormorant, The Monster Baru Cormorant, The Tyrant Baru Cormorant) by Seth Dickinson

Tomorrow, on the beach, Baru Cormorant will look up from the sand of her home and see red sails on the horizon.

The Empire of Masks is coming, armed with coin and ink, doctrine and compass, soap and lies. They’ll conquer Baru’s island, rewrite her culture, criminalize her customs, and dispose of one of her fathers. But Baru is patient. She’ll swallow her hate, prove her talent, and join the Masquerade. She will learn the secrets of empire. She’ll be exactly what they need. And she’ll claw her way high enough up the rungs of power to set her people free.

In a final test of her loyalty, the Masquerade will send Baru to bring order to distant Aurdwynn, a snakepit of rebels, informants, and seditious dukes. Aurdwynn kills everyone who tries to rule it. To survive, Baru will need to untangle this land’s intricate web of treachery - and conceal her attraction to the dangerously fascinating Duchess Tain Hu.

But Baru is a savant in games of power, as ruthless in her tactics as she is fixated on her goals. In the calculus of her schemes, all ledgers must be balanced, and the price of liberation paid in full.

Fantasy, epic fantasy, politics, secondary world, series, adult

[squidhominid]

One last Deltarune theory for the road

This one literally came to me while I was lying down in bed trying to get to sleep at like 8 in the fucking morning.

The trailer calls Deltarune 'Undertale's parallel story'. I think I figured out what that means.

UTDR is a time loop.

We can be pretty sure that the Sans and Papyrus in Undertale are the future versions of the ones from Deltarune.

They're the only ones who acknowledge the existence of toilets, when monsters in Undertale aren't supposed to need toilets since their food converts directly into energy, meanwhile monsters in Deltarune work like humans. Sans bleeds at the end of Genocide, and I'm starting to doubt the fanon explanation of it being ketchup.

Not only that, but Papyrus explicitly refers to a place with 'green grass' in his interview when asked about where he and Sans were 'before Snowdin', when nowhere in the Underground is like that, but Hometown is. This is pretty ironclad.

We know that Sans and Gaster must've worked together. There are the 'Gaster Blasters' in the Sans fight, but also Sans' workshop. Not only that, but Sans' workshop strongly hints at Sans in particular having come from somewhere, somewhere he can't return, something corroborated in the Sans fight when Sans explicitly, directly refers to "giving up trying to go back a long time ago, and getting to the surface doesn't really appeal anymore, either", meaning 'going back' and 'going to the surface' are DIFFERENT THINGS.

Circling back to Sans' workshop, there are two different states the workshop can be in. If you go to it normally, it references a photo album of Sans with 'a lot of people you don't recognize', 'looking happy', him having some sort of badge, and blueprints written in 'symbols' / 'maybe ... [bad] handwriting', for a 'strange machine', which may be the 'strange machine' that's behind the curtain and broken.

However, if you get the 'clam girl' FUN event, which seems to have been directly foreshadowing Deltarune (referring to the clam girl's neighbor's daughter 'Suzy', and whose dialogue is different in the Switch version to directly acknowledge Deltarune Ch.1's impending release), the photo album text changes to mention a card sticking out of the back flap of the photo album, with 'a poorly drawn picture of three smiling people', with the message 'don't forget' written on it.

This is EXPLICIT in that it almost HAS to be referencing Kris, Susie, and one other person (Ralsei? Noelle?), and explicitly referencing Don't Forget, the credits theme from Deltarune and the closest thing pre-Chapter 3/4 that the game has to a theme.

This means that the Sans in Undertale has some integral tie in his past to the members of the Fun Gang (FUN gang...?) and the events of Deltarune.

Meanwhile, there are some pretty strong implications that Gaster post-Undertale is the one instrumenting the events of Deltarune. The Gaster who was the Royal Scientist, who fell into the CORE. Almost certainly the one who worked with Sans. Because this Gaster seems to have power beyond that of just a font skeleton. The game seems to very explicitly reference Gaster's Entry 17, the save and load screen in the Chapter 1/2 demo in its initial green-on-black state has Gaster explicitly referencing the save files as if they are instances of the Hometown universe being created and destroyed at your whim, this is a Gaster with some level of control over reality.

This puts us in a scenario where, if we are to assume that a Hometown Gaster exists, and came to the Underground with Sans and Papyrus, Sans' future is Gaster's past. Meaning that if the events of Deltarune play out 'wrong', the events of Undertale never happen, which call if not the existence of Deltarune, at least the existence of the game client into jeopardy. Because the game client is diegetic, something provided to us by Gaster to establish our connection to the world. And if Deltarune plays out wrong, Gaster will not be in a position to supply us with that connection.

With the explicit ties between Noelle and Gaster (Noelle's seeming ability per the Spamton Sweepstakes ARGs to find game glitches drawn to her, the explicit references to Gaster's theme in Girl Next Door and Lost Girl), the evidence that Dess has some relation to the Dark Worlds (the baseball-shaped moon, the 'DECEMBER' buttons in that one portion of Chapter 2), Noelle being EXPLICITLY CALLED 'ANGEL' BY SPAMTON DURING THE WEIRD ROUTE.

The Weird Route is you the Player seizing control of Gaster's narrative by SEIZING CONTROL OF THE ANGEL. Leading directly to a time paradox that undoes all of UTDR.

May I remind you that in Undertale, the game supports cloud saves on Steam, not for your save file, but ONLY for the Genocide flag, so tainted Pacifist follows you through EVERY INSTALL OF THE GAME, even when your save file is gone. Diegetically, you can never escape the taint of Chara.

And may I remind you that in Deltarune, your choices follow you across save files, since the game will give you Shadow Crystals if you have defeated the secret bosses on ANY save file.

Undertale is a game where the existence of the player is diegetic.

Deltarune is a game where the existence of the game client itself is diegetic.

Toby's up to some fucking bullshit.

See you in four days.

[revelboo]

TKO Pt 2

IDW Cliffjumper x Reader

• What’s it mean that he’s down to pleading and bargaining at this point? Anything to get you to stop cringing in the far corner of his berth, legs drawn tight to your body and making that spark wrenching noise. “You have to refuel,” he says, trying to keep the frustration out of his voice as he nudges the fast food container he’d snatched from a drive through your way. Do you have any idea how aggravating it was to not only maintain a holomatter avatar solid enough to retrieve the order, but also to tap into the little terminal that the human server had extended to fool the antiquated tech into thinking he’d paid? “Please, just a little. I’ll leave you alone and you won’t even have to look at me.” Teary, red rimmed eyes peer at him from the nest of blankets he’d had to give you since you won’t let him touch you and you’re still shaking uncontrollably. Cold, but unwilling to let him help.

• Breath catching as he uses the tip of a servo to nudge the greasy bag closer, your bare feet slide and squeak on the metal surface, trying to press even tighter into your corner. And anxiety seizes you by the throat as he slowly straightens, your head dropping back under your blanket. That childish certainty that the monster can’t get you if you just hide. Except he had gotten you. And even if you understand that he, Cliffjumper, is trying in his own way to look after you, he’s also made it clear he’s not turning you loose. You press your face into your arms, nails digging into yourself against the trembling that just won’t stop. Too scared to speak or move. Finally, you hear him make a noise like a growl that cranks that stress a bit tighter, but he leaves. Only then do you lunge for the food.

• How can one little organic leak so much? Crying and sobbing all the time, refusing to meet his optics, just glancing quickly at him then away. Terrified of him like he’s some awful monster. And to you, he supposes he is, but it’s not like he asked for this. To be punished for however long a human lives for bothering to save your life. For doing the right thing instead of leaving you broken out there. Running a palm over his face, he paces outside his quarters. Trying to give you time to eat and hoping you actually do. He can’t imagine it’ll look good on him if his charge starves to death on his watch. And you might just to spite him, because you seem to really hate him that much.

• The shaking only stops when he’s gone. Even though you’d always struggled with stress and anxiety, it had never been like this. This makes worrying about work or bills seem silly. Laughable. Not even knowing what he wants with you just makes it so much worse. Maybe you’re a pet. Maybe he eats humans and he’s only keeping you alive until he gets hungry. You don’t know anything and you hate it. This awful helplessness, all your future choices just taken away. Now there’s no future, just whatever this horror is. Pressing your face against your knees, you scream.

Previous

Next

[eldritch-spouse]

I like the idea that during Adrul’s period of uncertainty (after he takes over Perdition) he meets his obsession. He's on the surface mulling over his directives and a human comes along. She passes by and offers him some words of wisdom and some encouragement for whatever he is doing or worrying about and it puts him at ease.

Imagine you're on a hike, or some kind of natural resort location, and you find Adrul "resting" on a tall peak, under the blazing sun.

You didn't know who he was yet, but his identity wasn't entirely unknown to the world either at this point. The intimidation that kept you still for the first few moments of gazing at his curious, long form was silenced by your consideration. It doesn't matter who this monster is, no one is undeserving of help- And you know many people stop by here when they're going through troublesome times.

You reached out the same way you'd like to think any sensible person would, and asked the monster if he was alright. For a second, Adrul looked as if he was debating leaving, but something about your tone, or maybe just your face, perhaps even his desperation, made him stay.

He's not the first monster to speak about his circumstances in riddles. It's hard for people to open up, and you respect that, so you played along. He seemed important, so there wasn't much you could say to help him in particular, but Adrul didn't need much either.

He needed a touch of normalcy.

Adrul needed to feel like someone had no expectations of him, and merely accepted him for who he is.

And guess who was there, at the right time and the right place? You.

Not only do you lack the faintest clue as to who Adrul really is, you also don't know just how important you've become to him that day.

The prince writes you letters penned to perfection, with a seal you don't recognize. He tries endlessly to arrange "meetings" with you, seems delighted to just be by your side, even if it's at a little café that can barely accommodate for his physical attributes, with wide-eyed regulars gawking at him.

You don't see a future monarch on him, a ruler, the King of Hell. You see only someone with a sharp mind and a need of companionship, someone who has interesting perspectives and a charming way to be.

And Adrul, sees everything in you.

He doesn't mind spending the little free time he has listening to you, performing menial tasks with you, pretending to be someone normal with you.

Sugary drinks and tiny croissants are so much better than the boiling, merciless halls of Hell...

[thewriterwithnoplan]

THE TRAITOR'S SOULMATE (2/2)

Summary: Humans once had four legs, four arms, two heads, and two hearts. For humanity's hubris, Zeus struck them in two. You and Luke Castellan are determined to find your way back to each other, but before that can happen, there are things the two of you need to do.

[Part 2 to The Hero's Soulmate]

Soulmate AU: You meet the future version of your soulmate.

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Reader

Word Count: 7378

Warnings: Canon typical warnings, swearing, I use the spelling 'mom' because the series is American but I - and I cannot stress this enough - am not American, she a long one.

A/N: I've loved reading your comments, thank you so much for all the support in part one. I hope you enjoy, because we all deserve a little Luke Castellan every now and then!

Masterlist

Amphitrite had been gifted a premonition and the world was all the worse for it. The dream had come from Apollo or perhaps the Oneiroi or whatever great heart pumped blood and Gods and monsters out into the world.

It did not matter to the Goddess from whom the vision came, for in this dream Amphitrite had watched her husband fall in love and sire a child to a mortal paramour. A precious boy that Poseidon might even one day love, with a taste for the colour blue and a heroism that would grow to rival his namesake. And for the Queen of the Seas, that simply would not do.

It would not be the child’s nor his mortal mother’s fault – she was not Hera after all – and so she would have to punish her husband for the blame would be his. But how was one to punish a King among Gods before his crime even came to be? Why to beat him at his own game, of course.

So, Amphitrite set out to sire her own demigod with the mortal man her husband would hate most. A devout catholic.

Amphitrite stayed with her mortal lover and their half-blood daughter until the girl was all but five.  Far longer than the greater Gods were wont to spend with their offspring. But what a precious babe she had bourn and what a traitorous husband she had back home.

But fate and prophecies and soulmates were such funny things. Inciting chaos. Inviting paradox. Introducing dangers untold.

It took Amphitrite all those years – though seemingly short in her immortality – to realise her fatal error. She had been the one to leave Poseidon. She had been the one to sire a child. She had been the one to drive her husband to the surface and his mortal. And so, the blame was hers to shoulder.

Amphitrite decided that she would be a self-fulfilling prophecy no longer. It was time to venture back below the surface.

In a last fit of guilt, she bestowed her first and final act of mercy unto her mortal lover. She told him everything.

When finally, she had gone back to the sea to reconcile with her husband, the catholic man took his turn to bestow his first and final act of mercy unto his young demigod child.

Against all the teachings of his faith. He abandoned his young daughter at Half-Blood Hill. And let the devil-spawn keep her life.

The Spirit of the Hudson River never did learn to like you. You with your greedy hands, snatching debris from its murky waters. You and your strange sea creature friends who would not dare brave such pollution were it not for your presence. Your pile of war spoils tossed aside like children’s toys. Your strange little bubble of air on the sandy floor of the river, where you stowed your treasures and slept bracketed by water. Were it not for the pollution that slopped against the edge of the river as if it were trying to escape you, the Hudson River Spirit might have chased you and your sea friends and your collection of trinkets out of his waters. But as it were, you made a strangely amicable tenant for a demigod. So, as long as you paid your dues the spirit let you keep your little underwater oasis.

For your first years living there, you made your way in New York City by selling lost things dredged from your river home. Bikes and old weaponry and tarnished jewellery and buckets of coins from across the world. You were careful and you coveted your few precious belongings, but with the rivers bounty, you rarely went hungry.

By the time you were fourteen, you found you could venture further into the city without as many questions. You had met an odd assortment of people whilst selling the lost and unloved things of the river; all who knew someone, who knew someone, who needed another set of hands and so you offered yours. You babysat and cleaned, worked in delis and sandwich shops, helped old women with their groceries and young families mend their clothes. A retired teacher gifted you packets of schoolwork and with little else to fill your hours under the river you took to learning. Your numbers came easier than letters and reading always gave you a hard time but the activities she gave you each time you tended to her balcony garden gave you something to do when the sounds of the city kept you up at night.

All the while you followed Percy Jackson from the recesses of the Hudson. Shuffling your little bubble and its blessedly dry treasures up and then back down the river as he was bounced listlessly from school to school. Watching over him as the mythosphere tried desperately to barge into his little mortal life. Feral harpies that tried to snatch him into the air, great snakes that tried to sneak through air vents and all manner of underworld-born sea creatures that sought to pull him below. You had wrestled and dismembered and slayed them all. Adding their feathers and scales and great weapons to your dragons-hoard.

You were sixteen when you finally knocked on Sally Jackson’s door to introduce yourself. You had spent weeks working yourself up to it, planning your outfit and then fussing over each piece. All your clothes had been gifts and were often a size too big or printed with some generic tagline like Spread peace not hate!; or made entirely from yarn that the old woman whose meals you prepped at the start of each week had gifted you after she had taught you how to crochet; or like the dress you wore now, were sown together from thrifted fabric scraps and embellished with pretty shells and baroque pearls. You had planned the time you would arrive down to the minute so that her oppressive husband would be out, but the hour would not be so late as to make an unexpected visit threatening. You had planned to keep Percy safe while you were away from him by entrusting your friends Clarence the Crab and Emily the Squid to supervise him for the evening.

What you had not planned for was the possibility that Sally Jackson would be the most lovely woman you had ever met. You had been struck dumb by it the moment she opened her door and greeted you with a kind smile. Couldn’t your mother have chosen a mortal as gentle as she to be your parent? Alas, the Gods had never done a thing for you.

“Can I help you, lovely?”

You tried not to burst into tears as you asked, “Mrs. Jackson?”

“Are you alright?” She opened the door wider, leant out and scanned the corridor behind you. “Is there something you need?”

“No ma’am. I’m here about your son, Percy. His father sent me.” A good ambiguous statement that would pique her curiosity but let on nothing about the Gods. Allowing you to spin your tale – that you were Percy’s long-lost step-sister, come to reconnect. 

“Poseidon?” Alas, the Gods had truly never done a thing for you. “Is something wrong? Is Percy, okay?”

“He’s fine Mrs. Jackson, I’ve been keeping him safe.” 

She scanned the hall behind you once more, “You best come in.”

Over a cup of tea, you told Sally Jackson everything.

You liked your home under the river. For lack of a better term, it allowed you to remain liquid. You could follow Percy wherever trouble took him. You could stay up until the city grew quiet for that brief moment before dawn. You could train with the Hudson River Spirit, even if he only entertained you because he enjoyed winning.

You liked your bed made out of stacked wood pallets and a mountain of blankets. You liked your wooden chest of draws stuffed full of trinkets and weapons and the precious few items you owned. You liked this place that you had carved out with your own two hands.

But you also liked your home in the Jackson household. Where there was always music playing. Where it was always warm and dry. Where there would always be some blue-ified food in the oven or blue candy in the mason jars by the sink.

It became your job in the summers to babysit Percy, to keep him away from Gabe and from danger while entertaining his endless need for motion. You took him to art galleries (which he hated) and aquariums (which he loved), to craft fairs (which he tolerated because he liked the things you made) and swimming pools (which he only liked when he won your swimming races).

“What even is a soulmate?” Percy had asked you one day at the park.

“The person with the other half of your soul,” You scrunched your nose up, “Or well, that's what people say.”

“You’re saying I’ve been walking around with half a soul?”

“I didn’t say I believed them,” You rattled your water bottle in front of his face until he took it. “Stay hydrated.”

He frowned at you, “You don’t believe in soulmates?”

“Of course I do, but it's a little more complicated than that, kid.” You took the water bottle back and played with the cap for a moment while you thought. “Think of it like this. You can have two different puzzles that are cut the same way, right? So all the pieces from one will fit with all the pieces from the other. But that doesn’t mean they belong together, the picture doesn’t come out quite right because even though the pieces fit, they don’t necessarily belong to the same puzzle. Maybe that’s what it was like for your mom, like she couldn’t find the pieces that made up her picture and so she went with the ones that fit at the time.”

“You don’t think my mom and dad were soulmates?”

“I never met your father.”

“But he’s your dad too.”

“He’s my mom’s husband. Maybe my mom and dad are soulmates.” Percy didn’t seem to like that answer.  “Maybe it doesn’t matter. Maybe your mom and my mom each have pieces that fit into your dad's puzzle but neither match his picture, or both. Maybe his picture is a year with your mom and a lifetime with mine and having you. Maybe he needs to collect all those little pieces at the right time when they’re the right shape or he’ll end up with a completely different picture at the end.”

“I kind of understand.” But he gave you a look that said he probably didn’t. “What picture are you making?”

You hid your smile behind the lip of your water bottle, “My soulmates about yay-high, pretty as a magazine cover with dimples and all. I’m collecting my puzzle pieces with you and your mom and this city so that I’ll have half of his picture.”

“If you know who he is, why don’t you just go find him now?”

“Still looking for some pieces, I guess.” You kicked a rock with the toe of your boot. “Souls are fragile. If you go rushing in and trying to jam the pieces in when they’re not shaped right just yet you could damage them.”

“What happens if you do that?”

“It’s probably harder to find each other in the next life. You’ll chip pieces away and your souls won’t fit right.” You shoved your hands into the pockets of your cardigan and pulled out a sandwich, you gave Percy the bigger half.

“Who taught you all this?”

“My mom used to tell me and well, I've thought about it a lot.” You tugged Percy by the back of his shirt so he didn't go stomping through a puddle, he glared. “But anyway, some people think it’s just fate. That you find your soulmate no matter what and it’s a perfect fit either way.”

“It would be easier that way.”

“Sometimes that’s just not how the story goes, kid.”

Percy thought that was the most important thing anyone had ever taught him, but he figured some of the other stuff you taught him came in handy too. You taught him the tricks you learned to work around your dyslexia. You taught him to skip stones and to not throw rocks at seagulls. You taught him to flip off the Empire State Building but only when his mom wasn’t around. You taught him to knit and do a cartwheel and make a good cup of tea to take his mother in the morning. You taught him to chew with his mouth shut and to sword fight with wrapping paper rolls. You taught him to braid hair and throw a punch and say all the swears in Ancient Greek.

And then one day, a Satyr came for Percy Jackson, and there was nothing left for you to teach. 

You wrote Sally a brief letter of warning, picked your way through seven years’ worth of belongings and collapsed your life into a backpack. You said goodbye to Clarence and Emily with a brief promise to visit, pushed a final wave of pollution from the waters and thanked the Hudson River Spirit for his hospitality. He gifted you sixteen perfect round pearls and insisted that he never wanted to see you again. You spent the bus ride to Long Island threading them into a necklace made of fishing wire, tying off each pearl with your teeth. 

It was a tentative tradition between demigod soulmates to exchange gifts upon their first meeting. So few and far between were the possessions of a half-blood that even the smallest bauble would likely mean the world. The practice had died out some over the centuries as the Gods received fewer offerings from mortals and turned to their children for sacrifices. Gift-giving to your soulmate as a demigod became all but synonymous with spitting at the feet of the divine and loudly proclaiming you would make offerings to your soulmate instead. A pearl necklace would be an excellent final addition to the collection of small gifts you had assembled over the years. Let the Gods weep at your feet and beg for scraps if they needed them so much, you would ignore them just as they had ignored you. 

You arrived at Camp far sooner than you might have liked, a few hours past mid-day when hopefully the rest of your ilk would be occupied with meaneal chores and activities. You considered waiting at the crest of the hill for someone to notice you only to find a pine tree planted firmly at its peak where you might have stood. Instead, you make the alarmingly easy trek down to the Big House.

“Chiron!” He had always been your favourite of the two men, currently sat on the porch drinking juice and playing cards. 

“Yes, my girl?” He barely spared you a glance as he shuffled his cards between his weathered hands. He stilled for a moment and then tossed his head back in the way a horse might toss its mane. “My dear!” 

You raised a hand, halfway between a salute and a wave, “Nice to know I haven’t been totally forgotten.”

“Au contraire.” Mr. D stuck his nose up at you. “Which one are you again?” 

“The little one that went missing some seven years ago,” Chiron stood as you climbed the stairs onto the porch. “How are you, my dear? Where have you been?”

“Shouldn’t you be at Yancy Academy?”

Mr. D’s eyes turned sharp in the way that had once made your friends whisper that some days, he was more maniac than man , “And how do you know about that little girl?”

“Percy Jackson is at Yancy,” You smiled at him, all teeth, “How did you think he survived long enough for your baby satyr to find him?” 

“You have been protecting young demi-gods?” Chiron asked wearily. 

“Percy Jackson is a full-time job, I’m afraid,” You tugged at the strap of your backpack, praying you could keep control of the conversation. You had a lot of time under the river to think and this was one of many things you had spent countless hours mulling over. Weighing and considering what story you would tell them – to tell the truth of both your parentage and put Percy in harm's way or to lie and balance your life on its sharp edge. “I found him in Manhattan, he was like a magnet for mythological activity. By the time I’d had enough of rebelling and wanted to come back to camp, I was protecting him from attacks every other week. He wouldn’t have lasted a month. I came back as soon as I could.” 

No matter how many times you played it out in your head, the lies won every time. 

“Kids.” Mr. D threw back the last of his juice.

“Perhaps you should settle back into the Hermes Cabin, dear.” Chiron smiled down at you, the corners of his eyes pinched, “You’ve given myself and Mr. D much to talk about. We’ll settle the issue of your paperwork tomorrow.”

“Of course.” You rustled through your bag, digging up a palm sized statuette that you set onto the table. “Before I forget, I brought you a gift Mr. D.”

“A toy,” He snatched it up. “Oh joy.”

“It’s you, as the mortals’ see you. It’s from the gift shop at the Met.”

“How kind of you, my dear.” Chiron softened, and you watched as even Mr. D’s temper seemed to ease, his hands gentle around the gift as he admired it. 

An unseeing piece of plastic for the God who served as no more than a silent observer over the affairs of the camp. Let him choke on his ego, you thought as you left the pair to their discussion. 

Cabin 11 was blessedly empty when you entered, but your old bunk was not. A pile of clothes was thrown haphazardly across the bedspread. You snatched a sleeping bag and a lumpy pillow from the storage closet and threw them down with your bag. If you could not have the bunk that had been yours at twelve, you would claim the corner that had been yours at five. As you shook out the sleeping bag and pulled out your belongings, you tried not to think of your bed of blankets under the river or Sally Jackson’s couch. 

Instead you turned your mind to the Big House and the conversation that was no doubt happening within. 

You had constructed a perfect image, if you did say so yourself. Grown in ways Mr. D could not have predicted but Chiron would insist he had foreseen. Still a rebellious young woman in the mortal sense, with your scuffed leather boots and ripped jeans. But the parts that had screamed ‘insubordination’ to the Gods were neatly tucked away. Your twin knives strapped to your forearms under the billowing sleeves of your crocheted top, your vicious tongue caged behind a sweet grin, your once sharp stare softened at the edges.

Once you had fashioned yourself so that the Gods could not paint you as a hero, now you fashioned yourself so that they might forget you were an enemy. 

Let Chiron think you were a misunderstood wayward girl scout come home from her self-imposed quest. Let Mr. D think you were a stupid girl who had seen the world beyond the Gods’ protection and finally accepted that you needed them. Let them all think wrong. You had left to protect your brother and returned for one reason only. 

“You’re here.” 

You turned, and there he was, “Luke Castellan.” 

He opened his mouth and then closed it, limbs jerking slightly as if he wasn’t sure whether to move toward you or stay put. He was almost certain you could hear the way his pulse was racing, his heartbeat clanging wildly in his chest as he searched desperately for a suave reply, but everything else seemed lack lustre when you said his name like that.

Your face twisted into something like anger and for a moment he thought he’d messed it all up before your lips curled and you practically spat, “I do like your scar.”

And then he was laughing at you, wild and bewildered and not the least bit contained. Before long you were laughing too, neither of you quite sure what was funny, just so wholly relieved as your chests were flooded with wonder and warmth.

It felt like fireworks and popping candy. Just as he had promised all those years ago. You resisted the urge to throw up on his Converse. 

You might have been crying and he might been too but you weren’t exactly sure because one moment you were both laughing at nothing and the next he was on the floor with you. He held you like he had never held a single thing in his life, like he was lost at sea and you were the only solid thing for miles. He tucked your head under his chin and sucked in great forced breaths that you could feel beneath your cheek. Because he was warm and there and real. And that meant the last seven years, the better part of your life, hadn’t been for nothing. 

 You and Luke make your way to dinner side by side. You had spent the afternoon rambling about your lives, about your meetings with your future selves, about your home under the river, about his responsibilities as a camp counsellor and yours as your brother’s keeper. He told you about Annabeth and Thalia and the rest of his siblings, you told him about your parents and Sally Jackson and your sea friends. You gave him his necklace which he lets you fix in place at the base of his throat – you do not spend a moment too long running your hand up the back of his neck and through his curls. 

He had been almost bashful when he gifted you a watch that matched his, inlaid with twin fragments of mother of pearl taken from the same shell – kind of like your soul had been, he had said. You swear you’ve never owned anything as precious. You let him strap it to your wrist as he tells you about spending a summer diving for it in the lake. And then softly, tentatively, he tells you about his quest.

Luke could have cried from the way you were looking at him alone, so very gently, like you could cradle him with your gaze alone. At a loss for words, you simply whispered, “I am so proud of you.”

His grip is iron-clad and you tell your next story with your face pressed into the side of his neck, pretending you can’t feel him shaking softly. 

When you make your way to dinner you’re both glowing with the soft exhaustion of emotion. You all but lean against one another as you collect your goblets and fill your plates.

The other campers steer clear of you, content to leave Luke to chauffeuring the new kid around. You count yourself lucky, it was only a matter of time until one of the older campers recognised you.

You were almost to the end of the Hermes table – that perfect spot at the end where you might just have a chance of holding a private conversation after dinner – when Chiron interrupted you. 

“Mr. Castellan, I see you’ve acquainted yourself with our newly returned camper.”

“That’s my job, sir.” You tried not to stare at the crooked smile he flashed the centaur. 

“Perhaps you ought to show her how to make an offering,” Chiron says pointedly, “She’s been away for a long time, and it’s your responsibility to treat her as you would any other incoming Camper.”

Luke turned to you, his boyish grin still charming but the mirth leaking out of his eyes, “Of course. Do you remember how it’s done?” 

“I do. Just not a lot of food to be spared in the mortal world.” 

You squinted, the corners of your mouth pulled up in what Chiron would likely mistake for sheepishness. But Luke could see it in your eyes. How your anger had made you pointy in all the places someone your age ought to be soft. He wondered how all the jagged edges of you would feel against all the jagged edges of him. He thought maybe if the two of you were careful, you could make something smooth as sea glass and twice as pretty, together.

You dump a clump of mashed potatoes into the fire with an unconcerned flick of your fork. Luke lops part of his own meal on top of yours, you glare enviously at the reasonable portion he had left on his plate. You hoped the food would burn at the bottom of the braiser. 

“Sorry, sir.” You mocked Luke. He stuck his tongue at you once Chiron had turned his back. 

You hurried to snag the seat at the end of his table, sliding into place across from each other. You flounder for a moment, wondering whether to draw your legs as far under your seat as they will go or bask in the gentle brush of his knee against his leg. You settle for the latter and try not to evaporate under his gaze, as he stares at you even as you start eating.

Luke realised he’d spent too long staring when you all but groaned, “Don’t tell me I have to sacrifice my dinner to you too.” 

He flashed you a grin, then tried to say as nonchalantly as possible,“Is that why you left? So you could enjoy a proper meal every once and a while?”

You stared at him for a long while, “You, future you, told me to leave, to find my brother.”

“Why would I do that? If you had stayed at Camp–”

“That’s almost exactly what I said to you.” You pushed your food around as you stared at a point just beyond his head, he thought for a moment that he could see the neurons firing behind your eyes, like a hundred tiny zaps of lightning, “But I’ve had plenty of time to think about it. And I think you were right to send me away.”

“I don’t think I’ll be hearing that very often.” He dodged the pea you fling at him with a grin. 

“I think maybe if I don’t leave, I won’t become this me or do the things I’ve done and maybe that’s important for us or our future or some past you rewrote by telling me to leave.”

“Seems overly complicated.” 

“I think it’s supposed to be complicated,” You couldn’t help but admire the quiet skill with which he wielded his cutlery, “If it were easy, we would find each other in every universe.”

He paused, knife aloft, “You don’t want to find each other in every universe?”

“It doesn’t matter what I want.” You speared a leaf of spinach onto your fork to hide your scowl behind as you said, “The Gods have made it this way to keep us separated.”

“We’re together now.” 

“Which means they lost.”

Luke watched you for a drawn out heartbeat, then leaned over to transfer the perfect squares of meat he’d been cutting onto your plate. 

You took a long moment to chew before you said, “So, your plan to send me after Percy worked.”

“I thought it was your plan.”

“I forgot to ask you whose plan it was.”

“I say it’s your plan.” He took a long pull from his goblet that left his lips tinted red. 

“It doesn’t matter what you think.” You passed him a napkin before he could ask, “It’s what you will think.”

“Sure, Precious.” He smothers a laugh into the napkin at the way you scrunch your nose at him, “You know, because you're so protective of your food. Like Gollum with the ring.”

“That’s the stupidest explanation for a pet name I’ve ever heard.” But you’re damn near head down on the table as you laughed. “I definitely got the smarter half of our soul.”

“Then it was definitely your plan.”

You’ve still got a hand pressed to your face to conceal your smile when you say, “What about when I meet you? Any words of wisdom?”

“Try not to fall for me. I can tell you’re pretty charmed but it’s really not appropriate. I’m seventeen, and you’re what? Twenty-four?” 

You launched your bread roll at him. You’re twice as incensed when he catches it whilst looking directly at you, “Asshole.”

“Smartass. See, two can play that game.”

Luke can’t help but think you’re just as pretty sneering as you are smiling, like no expression no matter how ugly could detract from your beauty. Maybe you’re like him, he scarcely dared to hope. Maybe you’re something better, another part of him whispered. The way you talk about the Gods and turn your nose up at them, and play their game only when it suits you. 

You weren’t vengeful in the way he was. You weren’t the spitting vicious thing the Camp had liked to pretend you were when you weren’t around to prove otherwise. You were worse and better and everything he needed. You were a storm on the horizon, a snake coiled tight. You were better than just angry. You were disillusioned. Not a product of juvenile resentment but true wrath born of awareness. Not the wild foaming-at-the-mouth kind that he had imagined when he had first heard your name. But the dark carefully contained kind he had seen in the face you would grow into.

This, Luke thought, you were the start of everything.

It’s some weeks later when you stick your hands through the grating of the bunk above Luke as leverage to lean over him and croon, “Up and at ‘em, Pretty Boy.”

He pushed his face out of his pillow, curls sticking up at odd angles as he looked at you half-asleep, “What?”

“Remember? Training?”

“No,” He scrubbed sleep from his eyes, “What did you call me?”

“Sickly.” 

“I don’t think that was it.” He propped his head up on a fist as he smiled at you sleepily. 

It was so disgustingly cute that you had to turn your back when you said, “Just meet me there.” 

Luke’s freshly showered and holding an apple core when he deigns to join you in the forest. He tossed the apple at you and you caught it without thinking. You fake gag at him as you throw it further into the forest. 

You wiped your hands against his shoulder as you say, “I’m not sure if an apple core counts but that was dangerously close to an Ancient Greek proposal, Castellan.”

“I got hungry.” He shrugged. You squared off across the clearing, stretching as you warmed yourselves up for the ensuing sparring match. 

“You’re going to have to do better than that.”

“Is this you rejecting me?” He landed an open hand on his chest and staggered backward. “You wound me, Precious!”

“Was that you proposing? Because I’m,” You wiped your hand again for good measure, scrunching your nose up, “Disgusted.”

“You would be honoured if I had just proposed to you.” 

“You should be nicer to me.”

“And go easy on you just because you’re my soulmate? Unlikely.”

“Because, asshole, I’m the one who got you out of chores this morning, or have you forgotten already. You seemed rather grateful for your little sleep-in.”

He unsheathed his sword and twirled it round in his hand, “You’re a bad influence.” 

“Like you weren’t ready to worship the ground I walk on when I told Chiron you needed to get my training up to speed.” 

“Do you want me to tell you, you’re brilliant?” He pointed his sword toward you with that grin that made you want to hold him down just so you could admire it longer. “You’re brilliant.”

“You’re stalling.” You pull your knives out, one from your boot, the other from your belt. You miss your old clothes with their pretty sleeves and their personality, your camp shirt seems a poor trade in comparison. 

“Stalling? Me?” Luke scoffed. “Never!”

“Don’t you have a counsellor meeting at half-past?”

“I do, so please don’t feel bad when you lose. I only have half an hour to wrap this up. You understand.”

“Who’s fault is that Mr. Just-five-more-minutes?”

He gasped in mock offence and lunged forward, his sword swinging at you in a great arch. You leapt back, out of his range, then ducked low and rushed toward him. Luke was quick, in a viciously smooth move he swept his sword at you again. You brought your knives together, bracing as the impact ricocheted up your arms. Admittedly, you were at a great disadvantage given that you were reluctant to throw a knife at Luke’s head – even though he’d demonstrated an impressive ability to swipe your wayward throws out of the air – and that he had an additional several feet of reach on you.

Luke feigned to the right, you lashed out at his left side and narrowly avoided his sword as it came down at you. He whistled slowly as both of you backed up to circle each other for a moment. 

“You’ve got moves, I’ll give you that.” 

And so the dance went on. Luke struck, you parried or slipped out of his blade's path with a flourish. You struck, Luke swung his sword and slipped around your blows. Finally, you found the chink in his precious armour. He fell back to his right foot when he deflected a blow. You jerked forward. You jabbed the knife clutched in your left hand toward him as you moved in with the right. Just as you hooked a foot around the back of his leg, Luke’s sword made contact with your left shoulder slicing through sleeve and skin. Luke fell backward with a sharp hiss, his sword flying to the side.

In the end you had laid him out flat in twenty minutes. Luke Castellan had spent the last seven years fighting to win. You had spent them fighting to survive. You supposed it didn’t hurt that the greatest swordsman to enter Camp Half-Blood in nearly three centuries was reluctant to let anything sharp or pointed anywhere near you. You secretly thought he might have been going easy on you for being his soulmate after all. You collapsed on the forest floor beside him, your chest heaving to draw in oxygen. 

“I’m sorry about your shirt,” Luke huffed. 

“Orange isn’t really my colour.”

He turned to you with a wink, “Oh but it is.” 

You wave your hand through the air.

“I’ve gotten very good at putting broken things back together over the years.” He tried not to look at the line of stitching that ran from the ankle of your jeans to the rips at your knee. You tried not to look at his cheek. Instead you reached out and trailed your hands across his necklace where the pearls sat snuggly at the base of his throat. 

“You’re wonderful.” He brushed his knuckles down your shoulder and they came away red. “Even covered in blood you’re the most wonderful thing I’ve ever seen.” 

You groaned, “Sweetness, you can’t just say–”

“You call me Sweetness when you visit me.” He whispered it like it was his greatest secret. You traced up his throat to his cheek and pressed your thumb into his dimpled cheek. “You’re still being wonderful. I can’t think when you’re–”

“Wonderful?”

“Okay, Smartass.” He sighed up at the sky, then pulled the both of you to your feet, “Enough lounging, we need to get that cut checked.” 

You let him dust the dirt from you and resheath your knives, one in your boot, the other in your belt. Silently revelling in the gentle way he tugs you this way and that. You were well on your way to the infirmary, shoulders bumping and fingers just barely brushing, before he spoke again.

“Where does it come from? The nickname.”

“Sweetness?” 

He looked away from you and squinted off into the distance, as if you were suddenly too bright to look at, “Yeah.”

“My mom used to tell me this story about meeting her soulmate. She probably meant Poseidon, but at the time I thought it was about my dad,” The back of Luke’s hand bumped into yours again, his fingers catching yours, his gaze resolutely ahead but you were definitely holding hands. “She said it felt like swallowing lightning and gorging yourself on popping candy. Like sweetness.”

“You like popping candy?”

“It’s my favourite.” You gave him a queer look as if to say, it’s not yours, you utter heathen?

Luke laughed at you all the way to the Apollo Cabin as he listed all the reasons it was the sub-par candy option. Nonetheless, when you emerge from the infirmary, he unloads a fistful of little packets he’d pinched from the candy bowl when the Apollo kids’ hadn’t been looking.

“Who has sub-par candy options now, Sweetness?” You teased, your mouth crackling merrily.

“Keep calling me that and you can have all the terrible candy you want.”

“Try some,” You shoved a packet toward him, because if he kept saying silly things like that and looking at you the way he was you were liable to do or say something equally as stupid. “You’ve got half my soul, maybe it’s our favourite.”

“I don’t think they had popping candy when we had one soul,” He flicks the packet held between your fingers. “And aren’t you the one who says we’re puzzle pieces not halves?”

“You have been listening to me!”

“Hard not to.”

“Asshole.” You flashed your teeth at him.

“Smartass.” He said, but the bite wasn’t there. He was watching you again, in that way he did sometimes before he said something stupid that made you want to throw yourself in the lake or run back to Manhattan or do something equally as stupid, like kiss him. “You–”

You twisted your hand in the front of his shirt and jerked him toward you, the little sachet crinkling in your fist. For a heartbeat, you were both silent, an inch away and staring as if you could will the other to be the one to press forward. But then he closed his eyes and Luke Castellan was kissing you. Like lightning and popping candy. With all the elegance of two lovestruck teenage fools and all the heat of two people who knew they had all the time in the world but still couldn’t bear to waste a second of it. His hand held you by the chin and then splayed lightly across your cheek and tucked hair softly behind your ear. You were only just reaching for the mess of curls at the back of his head when someone wolf whistles.

“My favourite.” Luke grinned, licked his lips and then turned. Hands stuffed in his pockets and a big stupid grin stretched across his face, as he shouted at you, “Stay out of trouble.”

You flip off the Aphrodite kid who’d whistled at you, and hurried back to the Apollo Cabin. You and Luke Castellan were going to need a lot more popping candy. 

You’re in the lake, encased in an air bubble, sprawled out side by side with your backs against the sand, when Luke tells you what he’s done. That mere weeks before your arrival he had done the unthinkable. He had robbed the King of the Gods blind and betrayed half the Pantheon in doing so. You weren't sure whether to laugh or cry.

You had simply laid there, silently, for what had felt like aeons to Luke but maybe that had only been because he had to keep reminding himself not to hold his breath. He wasn’t drowning. You weren’t going to turn him in. He hadn’t just blown his whole plan and his life with his soulmate in one fell swoop. He just had to keep breathing and wait for you to say something. He thinks that maybe your mother had passed on some divine knack for diplomacy as Queen of the Sea with the way you seem to turn the issue of his betrayal over and over in your head. 

After a while, you reach your arm toward the bubble and the sky. For a brief, terrifying moment, Luke thinks you’re going to pull the lake down on him. When you don’t Luke spends another infinite second wondering whether he would just let you do it. 

He tosses the thought aside and focuses on the coin weaving between your knuckles. Like magic, it appears and disappears around the bends of your fingers but it wasn't real magic, just you fidgeting. He pressed his lips together and tried not to think about you at the bottom of the Hudson River, flipping your coin and turning over the issue of your soulmate and your brother and the camp you’d left behind. What is it you had said? You’d had plenty of time to think about those things. 

Maybe that's what you need now – time. He’s about to offer it to you, offer to swim his way back to shore so you can think, even if he'd probably drown on the way. He’d give you all the time in the world if he had it. 

But then you finally speak, the golden drachma rolling between your fingers, “If you hurt my brother, soulmate or not, I will kill you.”

“I am your soulmate.” He insisted as the implication made his skin itch.

“You are.” Your smile was so gentle it almost felt sad. “So you understand that my love for him comes before my hatred of the Gods. If you have put him in danger wit–”

“We get married.” He blurted. “We have a future. I woke you, when you visited me. That must mean I win.”

“It means, if that’s the path we’re even on, if those people are even the versions of us that we become… maybe you don’t hurt Percy.”

“I won’t.” He swore and you weren’t sure how to ignore the half of your soul that lies so sweetly. “I wouldn’t.”

“Maybe.” You swallowed like you’d been chewing glass your whole life, and someone had finally offered you something substantial to sink your teeth into. “Maybe if we leave now, there’s a world in which I don’t have to pick between my blood and my soul.”

Luke was quiet for a long moment, “We could recruit him. You said it yourself, he’ll be more powerful than any of us.”

“He’s twelve.”

“He’s the son of Poseidon.”

“He’s twelve.”

“You were twelve when you left to protect him.”

“And look how that turned out,” Your grin was brittle, but he swore you were still the loveliest creature he’d ever laid eyes on. “I’m sat here planning to betray everything I was raised to follow.”

“You’re going to follow me?”

Your eyes traced the shape of his jaw, his nose, his scar. You looked pained, “I fear I would follow you into much worse, Luke Castellan.”

“I’m trying to lead you to something better.” He reached for your hand, took the drachma from your fingers, and pressed a slow, soft kiss to your palm. He smiled and there were dimples in his cheeks and tears in his eyes as he whispered, “We can try for better.”

“Leave Percy.” You pressed your fingers to his cheek, “Let him come to camp, let him join us when he’s ready.”

“You’re sure he’ll join us?”

“He will, I know it. We just need to let him see the Gods’ apathy for himself.” And you sighed. Luke wondered how many lifetimes your souls had seen, how many times you had searched for each other, how many times you had been torn apart. You sound ancient when you say, “You and I have seen more than enough.”

He turned his head and whispered in the scarce distance between you, “What do you propose?” 

“We leave. As soon as anyone catches on, we take anyone who agrees with us and flee.” You brought his hand to your mouth and pressed your lips to his knuckles firmly, “We can plot your revenge and plan my new world on the way.”

Luke feels ancient when he promises, “Okay, on the way then.”

But he swears, as you lean forward and kiss him, that no matter how many times you do it this lifetime or in all the lifetimes until this story – of you and Luke Castellan – became ancient, it would still never stop feeling like the first time.

Like lightning and popping candy.

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