#Foxes are on high alert

[jtl-fics]

Fluent Freshman - Part 40

PREV

The Winter Banquet.

Where the Spring Championship announcements happen for Collegiate Exy. A formal event meant to allow the ERC to showcase how their stars weren’t just brutes on the court. Look at how beautiful and handsome they all were. Look at how they danced together. Look at the smiles and laughter and-

Wait.

No.

Put that down.

Who had the great idea to put the Jackals next to the Terrapins? Things have been tense between the teams since the Captain of the Terrapins stole the Captain of the Jackal’s date during the Fall Banquet!

I thought we all agreed that there would never be any more steak knives! What was the point of paying for all the pre-cut tenderloins if we’re just going to give them steak knives?! 

Really gotta find an intern to pin this fiasco on.

Oh great the Foxes are leaving! Did we even get a picture of Kevin Day in his suit? Fuck it’s going to be a two intern firing kind of day isn’t it.

Someone get an eye on the Ravens before they try and grab some hapless idiot and sacrifice him to revive Riko Moriyama. If there’s even one more damn tabloid with a blurry photo of ‘Riko Moriyama’ to prove that his death was faked then heads will roll.

Honestly, the biopic that some Edgar Allan Film student is making about him seems pretty interesting. The ERC just wishes people would stop taking pics of the ‘lead actor’ and sending it to tabloids as proof that the King hadn’t died.

Fuck, the Foxes left before we got any decent pictures.

Well just great.

You’d think that after all these years of the Foxes leaving early they’d have learned that getting pictures as they arrive is the most important thing. 

Oh thank god it looks like the Trojans are starting to mediate the fight. You can always count on good ol’ Jeremy.

Fuck.

A Raven got too close to Jean Moreau and now Jeremy Knox has punched a Backliner. Great. The Trojans have formed ranks around Moreau but the kid’s just too damn tall. Someone has hit him in the head with an especially saucy meatball, he’s not injured, just confused. The Trojans are acting like it’s a gunshot he just took to the head.

The refreshment table just seemed to collapse in on itself and god wasn’t that just an allegory for this entire damn evening.

Anita Flores sighs as she watches yet another banquet go down in a riot. Honestly, she doesn’t know why they think these will end up differently. She finds herself often missing when she used to coordinate banquets for football teams.

She sighs and thinks about her least favorite interns.

Alex had been getting a bit too cocky lately. He’d make a good sacrifice.

***

(Three hours earlier)

The Palmetto State Foxes were on their way to the Winter Banquet. From what FF understood it was categorically always a 90% chance of a shitshow. Honestly FF was surprised that the percentage was that low.

There was a general tenseness in the air surrounding it that went beyond the Banquet’s propensity to become a fight. 

This year the Winter Banquet was going to be held up at the Binghamton Bearcat’s stadium. The nation knew the story from the news and FF knew the story from both that and from the Foxes themselves who were there at the time in bits and pieces.

Captain Neil had been kidnapped from this stadium and then he’d been tortured. FF hadn’t even been on the team when it had happened and he was anxious about Captain Neil going anywhere near the stadium.

“He was just…he was just gone.” Matt had said, “Neil was gone and Kevin said that he was probably dead when Andrew got back with his phone.” He continued as the two of them sat up late in the living room of the dorm one night back in early October.

“I thought Andrew was going to kill me y’know.” Kevin had said bottle in hand as FF tried to help him up the stairs because apparently he would 100% guarantee vomit if he was in the nausea box. “I thought that maybe I deserved it, since I didn’t help Neil. I just let him walk to his death.” He said and despite assurances that he wouldn’t puke FF’s shoes did not make it through that journey unscathed.

“We called…we called everywhere.” Nicky had stared up at the ceiling of his hospital room, “Andrew was adamant that he was still alive even though Kevin kept saying he was dead and that dead was the nicest thing he could hope for. I thought that was a terrible thing to say.” Nicky curled up closer to him.

“I told you, Andrew dragged me like I was nothing to get to Neil. I don’t think he even noticed the guns.” Wymack said to Abby as the two sat on the back porch during Aras’ going away party. “His eyes were on Neil.�� he gestures towards where Andrew was watching Captain Neil wrestle with Matt.

“He looked like shit.” Aaron had said unable to stomach a diagram of different degrees of burn in his medical book. “At least he was alive.” He adds.

“A hero.” Andrew’s voice had been what could be considered teasing from Andrew, “Someone who looks like her.” he had said touching Captain Neil’s burn scars as they drove away from the stadium after coming back to pick FF up.

Captain Neil had come to him the day before they were set to drive out, “Take me somewhere no one will find me for an hour.” FF hadn’t quite understood what Captain Neil meant, he never hid anywhere. People just failed to realize where he was.

“Ok.” he says instead of trying to explain because being unnoticed means no one hid codes from him.

The roof of the Library wasn’t that much different from the roof of the Tower, only that it was taller and bigger. Captain Neil had shut his phone off after texting something, likely to Andrew, and then put it into his pocket.

FF settled on the roof, sat with his back against a heating vent to stay warm. Captain Neil settled next to him and they sat in silence. It felt like back at the start of this where Captain Neil and Andrew would come find him and just sit in silence. 

It was nice. He had missed-

“They act like the stadium is the thing that kidnapped me.” Captain Neil says.

Oh okay, quiet time is over apparently.

FF doesn’t say anything, figuring that nothing he could say right now would be the right thing and maybe Captain Neil just needs to talk through some stuff.

“That stadium is where I thought I’d have my last good memory.” Captain Neil explains, “I’m not scared of it and yet Andrew’s acting like I’ll die if I’m left alone for more than 2 seconds while we’re there. Every time we go there they all act like the most important thing in the world is that I get on that bus at the end of the night.” Captain Neil explains.

FF does remember how Andrew had grabbed Captain Neil after their October game up in Binghamton. How Captain Neil had complained bitterly but had gone after looking at Andrew.

“He’s dead!” Captain Neil exclaimed and FF couldn’t help but look over at the entrance and hoped no one heard them. “He’s dead! I watched him get shot! He can’t kidnap me again!” Captain Neil continued to yell and FF couldn’t help but worry that they’d be heard below, or worse bother a student trying to study below.

FF reached out and touched Captain Neil’s arm and bright blue eyes turned to him, “We’re on a library. Don’t yell.” FF said and Captain Neil looked at him incredulously.

Then he laughed. He laughed and laughed and FF was worried that he’d gone and broken his Captain.

He suddenly felt bad about his own bout of hysterical laughter a while back.

“Thanks Smith.” Captain Neil had said with a smile.

They had sat up there until it was dark and Andrew had started calling FF’s phone and Captain Neil took the call to say he was coming back.

Now they’re on the bus, dressed nicely, and on their way up to Binghamton’s stadium. Captain Neil and Andrew are hidden in the far back of the bus with Andrew looking far more like a watchdog than anything else the closer they got to their destination.

Captain Neil had seemed largely resigned to this treatment at this point. Eventually they were at the stadium and shown to their seats. They were sat across from the Trojans and it seemed like the rest of the team was quite pleased with that.

“Smith!” Captain Jeremy Knox is smiling at him, “Nice to see you again bud, nice name change too.” he says.

“It’s nice to see you too, Captain Jeremy.” FF says and doesn’t notice how Captain Neil’s head whips around to look at him.

“You two know each other?” Nicky asks looking between the two of them with excitement.

“Of course! We offered Smith a spot at the USC Trojans.” Captain Jeremy says and FF feels his stomach cramp at the memory.

That had been terrifying.

Coach Rheman and Captain Jeremy wanted to sit down to make their offer with his parents. He was still 17 and unable to sign anything legal without their permission. He’d tried to decline and move past them and Captain Jeremy had put the final nail in the coffin at the time for any thought that he could go to college on the power of his apparent Exy capabilities.

“I saw in your file that you have brothers! USC always gives a second look at student applicants who already have siblings in the university. You could go to school with your brothers!” he had smiled brightly like he wasn’t issuing FF one of the most terrifying threats he’d ever heard in his entire life.

He had given the firmest ‘No thank you, I’m not interested in playing Exy in college.’ he could and was running to his Grandma’s to breath into a bag for twenty minutes.

“I see you changed your mind about playing Exy in college.” Captain Jeremy said with the same smile that still feels like a threat.

“Coach Wymack and Captain Dan were convincing.” he says and looks to see if there’s any way he can move further away from Captain Jeremy’s attention.

“Can I ask what convinced you to be a Fox?” Captain Jeremy asks, “I’m always trying to see what support we should be offering. I found out last year that we missed out on Andrew because we didn’t offer spots to Aaron or Nicky. I thought since you had brothers that’d be the thing that got you.” Captain Jeremy leans across the table but stops when he notices the Foxes all tense. “Whoa, what’s up?” he asks.

Jean Moreau sighs from next to Captain Jeremy, “Not everyone wants to go to college with their family, Jeremy.” Jean says, “Did it not cross your mind that he changed his entire name?” he asks with a raised brow.

Jeremy blinks, “Oh,” he looks at FF, “I guess that wasn’t the right thing to offer.” he says leaning back in his chair.

“I guess I should thank you for offering that?” Nicky says wryly before turning to look at FF, “You look better in orange anyways.” he says.

“Thank you Nicky.” FF returns loyally.

The banquet gets started shortly afterwards. Food is served. The bar is opened. People are talking. FF finds himself relaxing the longer the conversations around him go on. Matt is talking with a backliner on the Trojan line named Todd in good cheer. Captain Neil, Kevin, and Jean are all talking about the latest updates with Ichirou in French with the occasional gesture towards FF. Jean Moreau looks at him with a raised eyebrow but gives him a single nod when Captain Neil explains what happened.

Jeremy is chatting with Jack and even Jack was finding it hard to maintain his usual level of rudeness in the face of such unbridled positive energy. Nicky was talking with Katelyn and Alvarez. Aaron was chatting with a fellow med student college athlete who was an offensive dealer. 

It was shaping up to be a good night.

MASTERPOST FOR ALL PARTS OF FLUENT FRESHMAN AU

NEXT

[dillybilly]

I just have a bunch of screenshots from Dressrosa that gives the vibes of Kin’emon and Kanjuro just showing off Usopp like they’re his devoted followers or he’s their son they’re very proud of.

He just kinda seamlessly blends in with them.

[fisheito]

My favourite fantasy lately is Kuya kidnapping Eiden and bringing him to a house in the woods to punish him for endangering himself during some adventure. Kuya keeps Eiden in bondage and constantly on edge, teasing and denying him. And Eiden just takes it without asking to be let out, allowing Kuya to vent his fear and frustration, because he's nice like that.

But, at some point, even the strongest little soldiers break, and just when Eiden is about to shatter from all the stress and Kuya's oppressive anxiety, Quincy comes for the rescue. He's the only one who managed to find that little wooden shack in the middle of nowhere (you know, because Kuya's allowed him to), and he comes in and persuades Kuya to relent.

Kuya hasn't even given Eiden any dick in all the (three? four?) days they've been at it, so serious he was about the discipline aspect!

Eiden cries when Kuya finally fucks him, and Quincy makes him spill

this just reminds me of Billowing Wildfire Kuya R2 where eiden saID sO HImself

i would not be surprised if kuya went full speed into an evil edging hostage situation because he doesn't know how to process eiden's mortality

[noeggets]

Metal sonic takes his sisters hand literally

[hadesknockedupintheunderworld]

*When asked about Sonic*

Chaos Sonic: Hah. So we're still talking about that blue pitstain? Whatever. He can be fun to toy with, sure, but he's old news. Last year's model. A failure of a friend and a passable hero. Nine wants him alive for "some reason"—that involves his "intense attachment"—so I won't kill him or anything. I'll leave him alone in a room with Nine over my dead body—or my best friend's wishes, since I cannot bear to refuse him. If I could, though, I'd love the chance to "play" with him some, "rough him up" a little as payback for how he treated my best friend.

Alpha Grim Sonic (answering via writing it down, sign language, transmission, whatever because he's mute): You refer to the blue hedgehog. Once upon a time, my master, Nine, seemed to be troubled when thinking of him. There was a time when Sonic brought a fight to our doorstep, but no matter how Sonic may have hurt him in the past, he has chosen to preserve my master's life. Nine seems to trust him, and Sonic has not threatened his life. So, as I do not have the capacity to experience such things as "emotions", and they would not matter even if I did have the ability, I do not mind if my master associates with Sonic the Hedgehog. If Nine is happy, and the hedgehog does not intend harm upon him, then all is well.

ㅤ

*When asked about Shadow*

Chaos Sonic: Oh, he's that black hedgehog, right?! Seems cool! I'd love to race him sometime. Of course, I'll fight him too if he intends to lay a finger on my best buddy, but all is well if he plays nice.

Alpha Grim Sonic (answering not by speaking, because he is mute): Shadow the Hedgehog. You do refer to the black hedgehog, do you not? If he intends to bring harm upon my master again, I will not hesitate in removing him. He has not received forgiveness for trying to kill my master during the war. Nine surely allows him to live because he is gracious, but if he so commanded me to I would rip the hedgehog him limb from limb. It is my duty to do what my master commands, and I will be ready should the hedgehog try anything or should my master finally revoke his trust in him.

[daycourtofficial]

I am ash from your fire

Summary: Eris retires after a long night to find his mate, the princess of the night court, in his chambers upset.

Author’s note: Rhys is a jackass in this one. Honestly this was supposed to be Eris comforting reader but idk how it flipped at some point and sometimes you just gotta go with where the story takes you 🤷🏼‍♀️ also I’m headcannoning that Eris reads anything and everything he can get his hands on

(1k celebration masterlist 🍾)

Eris feels his shoulders sag ever so slightly, allowing the formalities of his stature to soften slightly as he moves further into his private chambers.

The only place in the Forest House he can at least somewhat relax. The hues of brown coating the walls, the paintings of hounds and forests covering the walls have been a comfort since his youth.

It was one of the few places Beron never entered. The High Lord would never sully himself by entering into his children’s chambers. No, he’d have word sent to them so they can come to him.

Eris walks towards the bookshelves, long fingers softly gliding over the edges of the leather bindings. His personal library was extensive - books of maps, histories, biographies, all subjects expected of a first-born heir. But also books of poetry, fantasy, and intrigue.

Eris was always a voracious reader, that need for escapism a constant in his life. His hands move on their own accord, searching for something to lose himself in when his ears perk up at a noise in his bedchambers. Unsheathing a dagger from his hip, he moves towards the room, seeing a shadow of movement underneath the door.

He reaches the door, slowly moving his hand to the handle. Once it’s in his hand, he turns it quickly, throwing open the door and pouncing on top of the person in his chambers.

His dagger is held at their throat, determined to find out who sent the risk before disposing of them. A laugh bursts out from under him, his dagger so close to their throat it knicks their throat at their laughs.

“That’s one way to say hello.”

His grip on the dagger falters momentarily, the sweet sounds of his mate’s voice causing him to loosen his hold. He pulls the dagger back, sheathing it back into his pants.

He brushes the hair from your face, taking in your amused look, his other hand going to inspect the slight knick on your throat.

“My precious fox.”

The nickname rolls off his tongue, his senses on high alert at your unexpected presence. He can sense something is off with you, and his eyes roam your body for injury.

Coming up short of any injuries sans the knick he just gave you, he sits on his haunches, grabbing your hands, helping you to sit up. You sit on your legs, keeping a tight hold on Eris’s hands, playing with his fingers.

You pull off one of his rings, sliding it on and off your own fingers, the warm metal soothing your cold hands.

He watches you for a moment, watches your fingers play with the rings he wears every day. He’s never understood your fascination with them, a nervous habit perhaps. He watches as you move the gold ring onto your thumb before pulling you into his arms. The feel of you settles him, and he can finally breathe deeply for the first time in weeks.

He holds you, pressing his face into the side of your neck, breathing in the scent of your hair. He pours what love and devotion he can down the bond, enjoying your presence before he can bring himself to ask why you’re here.

The two of you usually meet in his private cabin, miles and miles from the cruelties of the Forest House. He can’t recall if you’ve ever even been in his private chambers.

You pull back from him, shuffling around so you can sit in between his legs, back pressed to his chest. You know you have to tell him why you’re here, but you can’t look at him while you do it.

You’re not sure what you’ll find from him as you recount your tale.

You take in a breath, deciding to tell him what happened instead of letting him wait.

“Rhys found one of your letters,” you say, not able to look at him. “I was called away while I was reading one of them. It was foolish - I always hide them before leaving my room.”

Something warms in Eris’s chest at the thought of you, courts away from him, pouring over every word in the letters full of love you’d exchange between each other.

Much like he did every night.

“We got into a big fight, and he uh-“

Eris watches the tear slip out, sliding down your face.

“He told me I was no sister of his.”

Eris can’t help the snarl that comes from him, and you gingerly place a hand on his thigh, a motion he knows is grounding the both of you.

“What did his little lackeys have to say?” He spits out, unable to hide his contempt for them as he asks.

His dislike of Cassian and Azriel was no secret, but it took you a long time to coax out of him what about them he disliked.

“Truthfully, I found out how Illyrians treated females and it left a foul taste in my mouth,” he had told you once. It was all you could coax out of him, and perhaps that’s all there was to it.

At his core, Eris defined males by how they treated the females in their lives. Perhaps he assumed that Cassian and Azriel were the same as the other Illyrians and did not want to press further.

“They uh weren’t there,” you reply, “no one else was there. Perhaps he sent them all away so he could throw a fit.”

You laugh a little, thinking of just how red Rhysand’s face had gotten during your fight. You feel Eris’s head lay against your own, his fingers tangling into the strands of your hair.

“He was yelling, screaming about how I was defiling the family name by being with a Vanserra.” You sigh. “Then he began screeching about how you’re awful, you’re terrible, and ‘what about Mor’ and blah blah blah.”

“How’d you respond?” Eris asks, hands idly moving to hold onto yours in a soft grasp.

“I told him to ask Mor about what actually happened that day.”

He hums, allowing you to absentmindedly play with his fingers as you speak.

“He said that Mor would never lie to him. That she would never lie to any of us.” You blow out a breath, “then he said I had been cursed by the Mother to be mated to you.”

Eris knew the words were not your own, but the sound of them on your lips still stung deep in his chest.

“That’s when I told him to fuck off.”

Eris looks down at you as you peer back up at him, adoration, love, and a hint of sadness shines onto you through his gaze.

“We fought back and forth for a while after that. Then, after realizing I wasn’t giving up so easily, he gave me a choice.”

“My family name, my title, my claim to the throne, or you.”

Eris’s grip tightens. You two had spoken about what the worst outcomes would be if you were found out. Neither of you had ever expected Rhys to disown you.

Rhysand, who adored his little sister more than anything. Rhysand, who insisted you were an integral part of his life. Rhysand, who constantly ensured you were safe and happy.

He threw all that away the second he said you would never give up your tiara collection for Eris.

“Oh, my little fox.”

He peers down at you, your eyes wide as you peer up at him, your face upside down.

He knew he’d never get to love you wholly, unabashedly, publicly. He always knew something would come between you. He lets his gaze linger, memorizing the slope of your nose, the curve of your cheeks. His fingers move and, without his prompting, they start gliding across your face. They move as if he were studying it, preparing himself to have to recognize you in blindness.

To only see you in the darkest hour of the night, when his fingers can retrace these patterns, and pretend you’re next to him again.

He could, he thinks. He’d recognize you anywhere. His breath is shaky, knowing he will have to wait until you two are gone from this world to be together.

He would spend the entirety of his afterlife searching for you, in whatever form you took. If you were nothing more than stardust, a gentle whisper on the wind every Starfall, his flame would burn higher that day, reaching out for you one last time.

He resigns himself to these last few minutes with you, but he doesn’t feel the despair in his heart mirrored in your own.

You feel hopeful. You feel open.

He can’t ask, but you know he needs to hear it.

“I am no longer the Princess of the Night Court.”

Hot tears pour down his face, and he struggles to keep his mouth closed to keep from gasping at your decision. A tear falls onto your face beneath his, splashing across your cheek.

“I am officially without a name, without a home, and with no title,” your voice full of more determination than Eris could imagine, “I humbly ask if you could provide these things for me.”

A strangled sob breaks from him, and you twist in his arms to hold him. Surprise takes over your face, utter shock cascading through the bond before you can stop it.

Eris Vanserra, heir to the Autumn Court, a master of masks and facades, always playing the sly courtier three steps ahead. Never in all the years have you known him have you ever seen him so emotional.

Eris looks to the ceiling as you throw your arms around him, embracing him tightly. The heat from his hands was clawing at your back, but it didn’t burn.

You shushed him as he continued crying into your hair, the sight of him becoming undone such a shock to your system.

“I apologize, my love, deeply and truly.”

His hands stay on you, every inch of you needing to make that contact with him.

For so long, his life revolved around choices he was not privy to, choices that were not his. He was a pawn in an ever tiring game, one he was trying to make his way out of.

He presses you into him, unable to believe that someone, anyone, especially you, would choose him.

You chose him. You chose him the day the bond had snapped, and you chose him now, when everything was on the line for you.

He knew that he would make the same choice, putting everything on the line for you, preparing to finally take down Beron.

“I choose you too.”

[vivwritesfics]

Hear me out, Lando being absolutely terrified by American!gf because she explains scary dog privileges (not being scared to walk at night because you have a scary dog or man with you) to him after a night out.

💗💗

-🐮

Hcs for this one (my dream dog is a rottweiler and you guys can deal lmao) (ill fox the formatting tomorrow)

Lando norris isn't exactly big scary boyfriend material

(Especially clean shaven)

The proof was in the pudding

Like that time that guy tried to mug them

Lando pushed him and she kicked him in the balls

But they had both been left a little rattled

It wasn't the reason they got Baloo

They were looking at getting a dog anyway

Well, she was looking at getting a dog

She looked at breeders on Facebook, shelters, everything

In the shelter she found Baloo

He was the most pathetic looking rottweiler ever

He just looked so damn sappy

She had to bring him home

Within half an hour he was on her lap, insisting on kisses

"I can't wait for you to meet your daddy, Baloo," she whispered and kissed him

Every time she took Baloo for a walk, people avoided her on the street

And then Lando came home from a race weekend

Baloo was on high alert as the door opened

He barked and that had her grabbing his collar, holding him back

"This is your daddy, Baloo," she insisted as Lando kept himself plastered to the door

"What the fuck is that?" He asked, voice full of fear

She rolled her eyes

"This is our son, Lando"

She let go of Baloo and he went bounding over to Lando to sniff and roll at his feet

"I thought we were getting a puppy," said lando as he stroked Baloo's belly

She shrugged her shoulders

"Scary dog privileges, Lan," she said

When she sat on the couch, Baloo joined her

"Scary dog privileges?" Lando echoed

She nodded

"He's gonna terrify people while we go on walks and stuff"

Lando walked over

He sat beside her and stroked down Baloo's back

"He's not coming in the bed with us, baby," he mumbled and tipped her chin toward him

"We'll see"

[tired-biscuit]

18+ MDNI, fem!reader // cw: hybrids, predator/prey dynamic, mounting, sort of dubcon-ish, a hint of somnophilia, breeding, established relationship.

wc: 1.6k

fox hybrid!naruto is as playful as much as he is sneaky.

he follows you around the apartment; curiously peeking from behind the corners, watching your every move not because he’s skittish, but rather because he wants to learn how you behave when you think he’s not around.

he does it quite often for some reason. perhaps it’s the wild of the predator that’s coursing his blood or the naive wonder that’s just signature for his personality, who knows, but if you catch him by any chance — and you do, he isn’t nearly as slick as he thinks he is — he immediately comes over, wraps his arms around you from behind and makes sure to comfort you and nip your cheek or bottom lip with his sharp fangs after every kiss he gifts you in apology.

still, he continues his watch. he learns your patterns over time despite the fact that he has a habit of tripping over his own two feet and blowing his cover with all the noise it causes. he learns the way you move, the little quirks that you exhibit, the timing of them. he learns them all as a safety precaution which he doesn’t really need if you think about it.

after all, he could slam into you full force as a means to take over and could simply make you submit to his predatory instinct just like a couple of his apex predator friends had done with their own mates in the past. he’s well aware that he’d win if he did it that way; he’s no wolf or bear, but he’s still stronger and armored with a far bigger set of teeth than the one that currently sits in your mouth.

however, the problem is that you’re sneaky too.

you’re a tough little thing to grasp — hard to impress, even worse to court. are practically made to slip between a person’s fingers if they were to try and squeeze you into their fist without asking for permission to do so first. on top of all that, you being a cat hybrid amongst all the other possibilities available doesn’t help his situation either; it makes you exceptionally perceptive and equally as hard to dominate because of it. so troublesome!

and that’s not all there is to it. even your eyesight is spectacular, as is your awareness of your surroundings. the triangle-shaped ears that sit atop your head twitch and constantly angle in the direction of the smallest movement he makes. and naruto knows that they do, that they listen and assess the danger. he’s tested it out so many times during the course of your relationship.

the first step he takes towards you whenever your back is turned in his direction is also usually his last because of how fast you are to turn around to face him in mere seconds, rigid body language exhibiting high alert. he’s never even gotten the chance to fully sneak up on you yet, much less tackle you into a play fight.

this entire thing would be so much easier if you were a bunny. he’d push and you’d take it like a good little rabbit, the end. everyone knows that bunny hybrids practically throw themselves before the jaws of a predator and spread their strong legs just as willfully the moment their first heat comes into play.

but naruto, even whilst itching to conquer you because of the beast within, kind of digs the challenge a moody little kitty such as yourself brings to the table. especially when the effort that he’s put into all this preying finally manages to pay off.

actually, it enables him to catch you when you’re least expecting it — during your afternoon nap.

your feline behaviour really shines at its brightest when you doze off. instinctively drawn to warmth, he’s since learned that you always fall asleep in the patch of sunlight that spills through the window and onto the couch across the room when the days are clear and the curtains are pushed to the side. always in the same position, too. on your tummy, with your limbs relaxed and stretchy; tail swishing from side to side ever so slightly before going completely still. just like now.

oh shit, there it is; the sign he’s been waiting for!

your tail has stopped moving so that means you’re completely out for the next half hour, perhaps even more. he watches from a safe distance just to make sure, leaning against the doorway that leads into the living room and straining his fox ears as hard as he’s possibly able as a means to catch every sound.

thud, thud, thud. your heartbeat is calm, as is your breathing. you’re at ease while you sleep, he can not only hear it but see it too. open and vulnerable and trusting, allowing yourself to be caught completely off guard. you could almost pass as docile, the way you look right now, but he knows better — he’s been with you for long enough to know.

so he takes one step forward, slowly. toes, heel. nothing happens.

he takes another. all is well.

and then all of a sudden, before your heavy eyelids can get the chance to crack open at the sound of fast-approaching footsteps, and before you can come back to from the depths of the cozy catnap you were so pleasantly indulging in, naruto at long last makes his move.

your sweet fox boyfriend pins you down with his weight as he lays on top of you; he squeezes you flat against the couch until your cheek is pressing into its soft cushions. he’s warm and shirtless and his skin smells like the summery shower gel he must have washed himself with earlier, but he doesn’t seem to be scared of your claws that might come in contact with him, promising pain.

even his hair is still damp. a small droplet of water lands on your cheek when you try to turn your head to the side to look at him.

you hiss at him with prominent annoyance when it slides down the edge of your jaw, the action a subtle warning that clearly tells him to stop this nonsense right now, but he’s been expecting that, too. so he works quickly to try and tame you into submission, allowing instinct to take charge because it’s the only safe bet he has.

you’re surprised how easily he works his way around you and it’s entirely your fault. he doesn’t show how strong he actually is underneath all the shy caresses that he gives you and the nice grins and it makes you forget, giving you a false sense of authority that quickly diminishes when you’re the one experiencing that raw power on your own body.

so it’s no wonder that you stand no chance while he manhandles you and keeps you caged underneath him. that you feel utterly helpless while he drags your comfortable little shorts down your legs with zero problem; until they’re hanging off one ankle right along with your panties.

he frees his cock, fists it a couple of times with the help of some drool before he mounts you then, breathing hard and still making sure to avoid the claws you’re bound to sink into him the second he releases your wrists. he’s holding them both with just one hand, seemingly mocking your incompetency even further, albeit completely unintentionally.

and it’s true; he doesn’t mean it. naruto has never been mean-spirited like that despite the whole predator aspect that lives and roars beneath his gorgeous tan skin.

but foxes can be tricky.

so he holds his grip and they dig into the couch instead, your claws. they get caught in the blanket that you’re both sweating on top of now as his hips rut into you and yours follow the deep, almost animalistic rhythm even though your anger and pride tell you to stop, stop, fucking stop obeying him.

but you can’t stop, you’re forced to submit because he’s a bigger threat than you are; it’s just how your brain is wired. you bend to survive. it’s exactly like that situation with the scrawny mouse girl who you used to tease and endlessly make fun of back in high school.

how does it feel to be on the prey side, little kitty?

you’re unsure how to feel about this entire thing, it might be because your mind has slipped into a certain kind of haze. he fucks you like he’s never fucked you before and a prolonged mewl that you can’t hold back leaves your lips when his teeth sink into the crook of your neck all of a sudden, marking you.

the strap of your tank top is hanging off your shoulder, exposing you further, and his hot, greedy mouth follows the naked skin without a second thought, just biting, licking, sucking. marking.

he’s growling and snarling into your ear every time he slams into you, sounding like the exact opposite of himself. you’re no better either; you keep making so much noise that you’re ashamed of yourself. moaning and whining, squirming and thrashing underneath him. by the time he fills you up with his seed, you’ll probably start to purr.

just the thought alone makes you feral. the sudden urge to be bred and bear his children plagues your mind like the deadliest storm. imagining your pussy leaking his warm cum is simply too good while stuck in a lowly position such as this one.

his cock is throbbing inside you as he pounds into your slick cunt, trying to push its way into your fucking womb. he’s big and heavy, hot in your tummy and hard to fit. the adrenaline that he’s getting because of the complete control he now has over you is surely exciting him enough to make him see god.

he probably won’t see god, though.

oh no, you’ll make sure to drag this wicked fox into the very depths of hell the second his knot stops swelling and he releases you from his iron-like grip.

[utterlyotterlyx]

The Fox and The Fawn

High Lord Eris x Rhys!Sister!Reader x Azriel

Part Three

Summary - After Azriel and Nesta return from their mission you find them being as watchful as ever, and it turns out that celebrations weren’t always destined to be joyous.

Warnings - angst, fluff, flirting, slight suggestive tones

Part One Part Two

Sunlight curled around your forearm, tugging you and willing you to step outside and bask in her glory.

Ignoring her, you again focused on the matter that held your attention.

“Say it with me, Nyx,” your hands were delicately placed under his arms, holding him in place on your lap. Nyx looked at you with wide eyes and blushed chubby cheeks, dark hair weeping from sleep, his little wings flapping behind him and small digits reaching to furl into your hair, “Auntie y/n is the most powerful.”

Nyx babbled incoherently and you shrugged, cuddling him into your chest and inhaling that smell that made your heart clench with want. It was so fresh, a perfect amalgamation of Rhys and Feyre but also something utterly pure and unique to him, “Close enough, I suppose.”

A certain type of ferocity had consumed you the moment Nyx had been born, there was no one that could guard him better than you. Perhaps that was why Rhys rarely cared when you would pick up the child and whisk him away in on one of your adventures, that being you’d walk him around the city and take him for ice cream all whilst trying (and failing) to ensure that the first thing to fall from his lips would be your name.

Sunlight speckled through the stained glass panes of the library, it was sometime around noon, and you had swooped Nyx from his cot that morning before Feyre or Rhys could realise it. No one would dare to meddle with your time with your nephew.

Three days had passed since Azriel had left you with nothing but a whisper of a kiss on your brow, it had been three days of silence, three days of Rhys acting as your shadow and you letting him believe that you didn't notice his intense gaze settled upon you whenever you entered the room. The Circle had been suspicious, whispering in corners and sparing you the odd sidelong glance before resuming their hushed bickering, even Feyre, who you believed wouldn't be one of those people, was also taking part.

It seemed as though Lucien was your only friend, he actively sought you out, he had noticed your reluctance and need to hide yourself away so distracted your mind by asking about Eris, about what you spoke of. Of course Lucien knew you wouldn't divulge any details, but seeing your eyes sparkle and a soft smile form on your lips was enough to make him believe that you at least had one good thing occupying your mind these days.

A sonnet of brisk air alerted you to another presence slipping through the library doors, Nyx perked up in your arms, and you knew instantly from that and the scent of night-kissed air that Rhys was stood somewhere behind you. Your nerves stood on end as he rounded where you both sat, casting his shadow over your forms, "You stole him again," Rhys' voice was cold and distant, but he cocked his head to the side and grinned at his son, placing his finger in Nyx's hand and shaking it gently.

"Is it so terrible of me to want to spend some time with my nephew?" Rhys hummed and reached for the child, you went to shield him from your brother but relented when Rhys' gaze set alight in warning and gave in, relaxing your grip and feeling that pained void when the wriggling child was snatched from you.

Rhys settled Nyx into his chest, resting his chin atop the crown of his head and looked down on you with his usual wariness, "We have been invited to the Day Court this evening. Helion has requested your presence."

Narrowing your eyes at him, you surveyed his face for any signs of deception, "What's the occasion?" Rhys turned his back to you, sweeping Nyx from your sight, muttering something about a birthday.

It was too odd. First Azriel and Nesta being sent away, the entire family being odd and secretive, then being beckoned to the Day Court? Something wasn't right, and you certainly did not want to spend your evening watching Helion beg Azriel and Cassian for some kind of soul-enlightening orgy.

Once Rhys had stepped out of the room, you threw up your shield and floated toward the desk, once again ignoring the sun beckoning you outside and finding an odd scrap of parchment to scribe upon, scratching your message out and letting it devour itself into ash and float away.

I need your opinion on something.

A minute passed and you spied an autumn-scented piece of cream tinged paper wedged beneath an old leather bound book.

Is that all you need from me?

Smirking, you replied with a matching amount of seductiveness. That was how your conversations had been going, light and always full of mischief, but Eris was always poised to listen to your words, he was always ready to help you if you even thought of asking him for it.

For now.

Tell me what's on your mind, Fawn.

Hesitating, your quill hovered over the paper as you debated whether or not to tell him what the past three days had been like without Azriel and Nesta. The hushed words and glares, your loneliness and desire to lock yourself away. Was it divulging Night Court secrets or just your own?

I feel out of place here. I feel like I'm being punished for helping you. Rhys sent Azriel and Nesta away, and the rest of them are avoiding me more than usual. Cassian hasn't invited me to training, Mor hasn't come to my rooms to gossip, even Rhys took Nyx from my arms only a few minutes ago. It's like I'm poison that they need to dispel from their lives and I just want to lock myself away and disappear.

Watching the clock, you counted down the seconds until another note found its way to you.

I know Rhys sent them away because I found them poking around my boarders the evening before last. And, you're not poison, Little Fawn, locking yourself away only means that they win, and you're far too important to let the infantile actions of your family diminish everything that you are. Don't forget that. No one controls you but you, y/n, the world is yours if you would only ask for it.

Would you give me the world if I asked for it?

I would burn the world to ash if you asked me to. There is nothing that I would not give you.

Heart fluttering in your chest, you slumped back into the comfort of the antique armchair that you had told Cassian off more times than not for using it as a stool for his feet.

Will you be there tonight? At the Day Court?

I will.

Will you find me?

Always.

The shield around you pulsated with force and you furrowed your brow at the shimmering ripples that swam across its surface. Dull thumps echoed within your bubble, and a muffled voice called out to you. Glancing down at the note in your fingers, you turned it into black mist that curled around your fingers and danced upward to the sky and lowered the guard.

You could have cried with relief. Azriel stood before you, still clad in his second skin, blue siphons glowing like he had entered just entered Velaris and had immediately sought you out before reporting to Rhys. Azriel knew what was more important.

"You're back," you breathed as you walked into his awaiting arms, arms that wrapped around your waist and fingers that raked through your hair with a hint of desperation.

Your heart seized in your chest, needing to feel at home and at peace. But it didn't. A lump formed in your throat and a pit opened in your stomach and pooled with unease.

Azriel pulled away from you, his hazel eyes scoured your face but they held something awoken in them, like he saw you differently. His fingers floated over the surface of your skin, up the inky bargain that encased your upper arm which matched his own and across your collarbone, but he didn't touch you there as though as if he were worried that you would mar his hands further.

You took a step back, "What's wrong?"

He'd found something on his travels, something that was making him look at you differently, in a way he had never looked at you, with fear, with sadness.

Azriel's brows etched together, his eyes flowing up and down your form, noticing something off about you. Your scent. The scent of Autumn, of Eris, lingered on your fingertips, the same fingers that were wrapped around his neck moments ago. You hid your hands behind your back.

"Nothing. I just wanted to see you," even his voice was laced with his deception, his shoulders went rigid like a putrid smell had entered his nose, and he visibly shivered, "I should go and talk to Rhys. I'll find you later?"

Feigning innocence, you called, "Was the mission alright, at least? Where did you end up going?"

Azriel turned back to you, lingering in the doorway before your portrait, "It was fine," he forced a tight lipped smile, it was almost as if he had forgotten how observant you were, and how well you knew him. Still, you kept your eyes full of that doe eyed wonder that threw him off and lured him right into your talons. If he was going to lie to you, then there was no harm in aiding your own agenda, "Rhys sent us to keep an eye on some happenings in Spring. Tamlin has been expanding his armies."

A lie. A blatant attempt of deception. One that didn't stick.

Anger bubbled within you, Azriel had never lied to you, your bond was supposed to be too special for those kind of games. Instead of allowing it to bubble over, you inhaled deeply and kept your hands folded behind your back, "Well, I'm glad you're home. I missed you."

The Shadowsinger relaxed his features and almost looked as though he wanted to move to you, to gather you up in his arms and protect you from whatever was clearly heading your way. But he didn't, instead, he spoke to you softly, "I missed you too, y/n," and disappeared from your view.

A feeling of impending pain, perhaps not physical, lodged itself deep within your soul, almost strong enough to steal the air from your lungs. Clasping you hand around the ledge of the large oak desk, you hunched over and attempted to fill your lungs with oxygen, tears prickled at the corners of your eyes and for the first time in your life, your own sanctuary was suffocating you.

Nesta had greeted you with the same apprehension as Azriel had, although, at least she had made it clear that she didn't want to.

Even the walls were watching you, craning their gaze to follow your figure through the house. The only safe space was your room, so that's where you were, nestled between the cushions and watching the candlelight flicker against the cream coated walls whilst Nesta paced about the space, showing you countless dresses on their hangers since you were making no move to look yourself.

Your friend was dressed in head-to-toe black, a form fitting garment with a long slit up the right side and a neckline so plunging that it left little to the imagination. Her coronet was tightly woven, and two thick strands curled around her jaw to frame her sharp features. Blood red lips, arched brows, eyes full of anticipation.

"You have to choose one, y/n."

Ignoring her command, you turned your head to her and she knew what you wanted to know before you even asked, "Are you going to lie to me too?"

Nesta froze, allowing the hanger to fall at her side along with the silver garment attached to it, "What do you want to know?"

"I want to know why Azriel lied to me about where you both went, and I want to know why all of you are suddenly treating me like a stranger," Nesta exhaled shakily, and it was the first time that you had truly seen her stoic demeanour perish before your eyes; she glanced about the room with worry, like she too could sense the house pressing its ear up against your door, "It's safe to speak. Not even the house can hear us."

The elder Archeron sister perched on the edge of your bed, noting your hunched over figure as you hugged your knees close to your chest, it was clear that your exclusion by everyone was making you feel lesser than. Nesta rested her hand atop the comforter, almost reaching for you, but also not at all; Nesta struggled to find the words, to tell you some form of truth without shattering you, "If it ever comes to it, you know I will protect you, don't you?"

"I used to believe that."

Nesta shuffled up the bed and spoke in a hushed tone, "Rhys has been trying to understand you, where all of your power came from and why he only has a fraction of it. He asked us to go Under The Mountain, to see if Amarantha did something else to you other than take your wings. Males would stop at nothing to harness the power that you have."

Under The Mountain was a hazy memory, one that you'd rather not remember at all. You rolled your shoulders, feeling the marred flesh rippling at the action, "Is that what Rhys wants to do? To harness my power? Is that why I've been so hidden?"

Nesta didn't want to answer, but she couldn't keep it from you, unlike Azriel, Nesta remembered your observance, how nothing got past those fire ringed violet orbs, "I don't know what he wants to do with what he finds," she told you honestly, her stoic hatred for him returning to her features, "I didn't go to aid him, y/n. I went so that I could find whatever he wants to know and give it to you. Protect you."

At least one of them was on your side, and you supposed it would have always been Nesta, Azriel was too loyal to the Night Court, and despite your bargain, he would always protect Velaris first and worry about you later.

"Did you find anything?"

Nesta sighed, "Azriel didn't," but she certainly had, "Not now. Now, you wear the most incredible thing you can find and we go to the Day Court and wear the masks that we have to in order to survive another day."

The dress in her fingers, still on its cushioned pearlescent hanger, was a shade of blue-grey that you rarely wore. The bodice was like armour, perfectly fitted and boned, crystals were embedded into the curve of the breastplate and trickled down the deep seated opening that only met just above the bellybutton, exposing the taut muscle and cleavage beneath. From the point where the fabric met at the lower abdomen, the skirt curved upward over the hips and each ridge of fabric acted as a branch, curving upward and cascading down the back, pooling on the floor. The skirt was frosted, diamonds coated the branches of the skirt and curled around the hem which trailed along the floor, and a long central slit sliced upward, enough to expose the legs you knew most males would crumble for, but also little enough to keep your dignity in tact.

It was a spectacular thing that your mother had made. Perhaps the most.

Nesta helped you into the piece, slithering it up your form and humming in appreciation about how well it fit you. The sleeveless garment was certainly made for you, and she secured a diamond necklace around your neck and rested her hands on your shoulders.

Loose curls bounced with every step, Nesta had braided two thick sections and pinned them upward, pulling the skin of your face backward, and had even gone as far as to bless your face in neutral shimmering cosmetics.

The room fell silent when you stepped into the living area, Cassian's once bellowing laughter turned to molten nothingness, Mor's quips dissipated, Rhys' loving words to Feyre who was entangled in his arms were ash in his mouth, even Azriel couldn't speak as his own eyes poured over you.

Paying little mind to the stares of your family, you turned your attention to Lucien who was stood in the corner leaning against a wooden beam with his arms folded over his chest, smirking, "Shall we? I'd hate to waste an outfit like this on people who couldn't even begin to appreciate it the way it deserves to be."

Lucien bit back his laugh and took your arm after a gentle nod from Elain who knew, and despised, how you were being treated. Under his breath Lucien muttered, "You're playing with fire, y/n."

Leading him from the house and onto the lawn, you turned your gaze upward to him, appreciating his beauty and the tied back hair that Elain had no doubt tailored to him, "Perhaps. But I won't be the one who gets burned."

The Day Court Palace had always had the ability to take your breath away, the home alone was enough to convince you that relocating would be a good idea. Maybe it was the white marble pillars so brilliantly white and tall that they kissed the sky, or maybe it was the cloudless skies that washed you in orange bliss the moment you appeared at the foot of the steps.

Even the breeze was welcoming, dancing around your arms and shoulders before moving onward. A weight had shifted within you, and you realised that it was because the Day Court had no reason to watch you like Velaris did, that for the first time in months you were actually free of eyes constantly watching you.

You didn't look back to see if everyone had landed alright when you began to ascend the steps, completely breaking protocol and sauntering upward to where you could hear music and laughter bubbling. Two familiar presences fell in step with you, Nesta and Lucien, the former to your left and the latter to your right, and you all ignored the claws scraping down the walls of your minds commanding you to return to your positions.

Music swirled around you as you paced down the hallway, being mindful of the multiple pairs of feet scuffling behind you until a hand wrapped around your wrist and tugged you back with force. Rhys loomed over you, eyes ablaze and snarl conformed to his lips, nostrils flaring with each breath, "What do you think you're doing?"

Nesta fell to your side, ready to take down the High Lord by any means necessary, Cassian was glaring at her and moved closer to Rhys, "I think that you're the one who should be answering that question, brother."

The air around you both grew heavy, it pulsated with dark energy that emitted from you both, but yours drowned his own and pierced him with its talons, making him feel weak and weary, "Remove your hand before I make you," and he did, his hand dropped from your wrist, "What a good little High Lord you are, Rhys. Father would be so proud of you."

Unspoken words flew between you, ones that told him that you knew what he was doing, that he was seeking to control you and always had, just as your father did.

Azriel had, unsurprisingly, moved to Rhys' other side, his gaze low and body ready to cut you down, he was blocking Feyre from view but she peeked over his shoulder just as Mor did with Cassian.

Power pulsated around you like a heartbeat, black began to move from your fingertips and tinge your veins with their ink from your fury, and Rhys' faltered at the sight of it, his eyes blew wide open and he found your darkened eyes zoning in on him, the violet had turned almost black and that ring of fire was blazing, "You need to calm down, y/n."

"Don't you dare," Nesta growled, placing her hands on your shoulders and turning you away, whispering to you and soothing you whilst Lucien stood up to Rhys.

Lucien's gaze was cold, his mechanical eye whirred as he took in the scene before him, of the High Lord flanked by his soldiers, needing to protect him from his own flesh and blood, "Tell me, Rhys," he found Rhys' gaze again, that constantly disapproving thing that followed you everywhere, "Tell me how what you're doing to her, to your own sister, is any different than what Tamlin did to Feyre."

Silence.

Bone dry silence consumed them, and when Lucien turned to see where you and Nesta had gone to, he only saw the train of your dress slip around the corner of the door toward the sound of freedom.

The room had turned to you as soon as you had entered with Nesta by your side, and not in a wary on edge way, in one of awe and adoration. Eris lingered by the dais, dressed in dark grey pants and white shirt, grey waistcoat and matching jacket which adorned silver swirls.

All anger evaporated from you as soon as his russet eyes found you, they washed over you with concern, no doubt seeing the blackened fingertips and sadness in your own orbs that had returned to their usual hue. He looked beautiful, more so than you remembered, more beautiful than the version of him that settled within your dreams.

You moved to the dais and greeted Helion, you had gone to bow to him, as custom when visiting other courts, but he didn't let you, "You bow for no one, especially when you look like that," he had always taken every opportunity to flirt with you, and he always held a certain resentment for Rhys for refusing your hand to him.

"Thank you for inviting us, I hope you've had a wonderful birthday," you folded his hands in your own and felt his healing touch worm its way into every negative pocket in your body, feeling lighter, more grounded.

The doors opened again, and you turned to see Rhys stalk up the centre of the hall closely followed by the rest of his Inner Circle. As if sensing your discomfort, Eris took a step up and offered a hand to you, and you gladly took it, stepping down from the foot of the dais to allow Rhys to have his moment with his friend, and not once did Cassian or Azriel's eyes move from you.

Lucien reached his brother and whispered into his ear, "I need to talk to you. Now," Eris frowned and peered to you, noting your fluttering eyelids and the unease that radiated from you and nodded, moving to follow Lucien who sent you a reassuring smile before they exited the hall.

If it weren't for Nesta stood beside you, you surely would have crumbled. She stared down her own mate and friends, head dipped low and staring at them through her brows, anger seethed from her and you knew she was going over the consequences of ending Rhys' existence right there and then in her mind. Nesta was Lady Death and you were the Queen of Darkness.

For the next hour you stuck to the walls of the hall, muttering polite hellos as you did your best to keep a safe distance between you and Rhys.

The architecture was stunning, white marble walls and golden chandeliers, pale wood round tables stacked with sparkling wine flutes and food, long benches full of revellers enjoying the festivities. Artwork delicately hung from the walls, glittering in the crystal tinted glow of the chandeliers, sparkling in the light as the skies grew dark beyond the open arches.

Helion's bellowing laughter floated about the room, and you wondered how a life in Day could have turned out for you. Though, you didn't have long to think of it before a hand curled around your forearm and gently pulled you from the room. Eris was in front of you, gingerly holding your arm in his hand as he led you down a flurry of corridors, peering down each one quickly to ensure it was safe to go there.

The High Lord led you all the way out to a private balcony, where you could hear the waves crashing against the rocks and the breeze flutter around the corner. The torchlight danced in the wind, flickering softly as he turned to you. Breathing in, you felt peace, that autumn pine and orange, wilting leaves and warm autumn rain.

Sighing, you felt tears pool in your vision, turning it slightly blurry as you tried to drink him in, "Lucien told me what happened. Are you alright?"

That singular question broke a little piece of you, you couldn't remember the last time some asked if you were alright and were actually invested in the answer. The concern in his eyes and brows made a soft tug pull at your soul, "I'm suffocating."

Eris waited for you to continue, keeping a distance he thought you'd be comfortable with between you, though all you wanted was to know what his arms around you would feel like, what it would feel like to have his lips pressed to the bare skin of your shoulder.

"They've been lying to me, all of them. Nesta confirmed it. Rhys doesn't understand why he only has a fraction of my power, he sent them Under The Mountain to see if Amarantha did other things to me when she held me hostage in the beginning. I feel like a prisoner in my own home, they're all scared of me, even Azriel," your voice broke, never in a million years, in your existence, did you ever think you'd voice that Azriel was scared of you.

"None of them want to touch me or speak to me. I can't do it anymore. I thought Rhys just wanted to protect me, but now I know it was never about that, it was about keeping me hidden and away from everyone else, he made me a prisoner and I didn't even know it."

Wrapping your arms around yourself, your tears flowed freely down your cheeks and you made no move to wipe them away. Eris took a step closer to you, his shadow waltzing with your own, "Can I touch you?"

It took you a moment, a moment of his russet eyes on you and fingers fidgeting at his side until you nodded softly and he raised his hand. His fingertips lightly dusted up your arms and neck, they curled your hair around them and grazed along your jaw, and you felt electric under his touch that spready across every single part of you. His breath was warm over your face and you took a moment to appreciate him, his godly-crafted cheekbones and jaw, eyes that told a million stories, the golden freckled skin and his curved lips.

"I'm not afraid of you, Little Fawn. Nothing about you scares me," his finger curled under your chin and angled your head upward, "All you need to do is say the words. You are the author of your own story. Tell me what you want."

Rhys had let you believe that you had free will, he had allowed you to be outspoken and poised, he had let you believe that you were nothing more than a scare tactic, and you were too enthralled with your so-called family to realise what he had done. There was nothing free about your life, you weren't allowed to leave Velaris without supervision and even such occasions were rare, you weren't called upon in battle until there was no other choice, you were a pawn to him, one that he had masterfully toyed with.

"I want to go to the Autumn Court. With you. I want to denounce my place in the Night Court and leave Velaris," the words felt like poison in your mouth but your soul was thankful for it, and the storm in your soul had already began to break with golden sunlight.

Eris nodded and took a step toward you, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you into his chest, your hands were flat against his waistcoat that had once again matched your own attire perfectly, "Your wish is my command, Little Fawn," and then you both disappeared in a swirl of light, leaving nothing but the joint bliss of your scents behind and dancing away in the night-kissed breeze.

Author's Note

I hope you love this! x

Taglist

@mybestfriendmademe @jesskidding3 @rosewood-cafe @fandomarchiveilyd @brujitafantomatico @crazylokonugget @mai-adaptive-dreams @magicstrengthandcourage @acourtofmoonlightandstars @ysmttty @lilah-asteria @circe143 @xyzmeh @paleidiot @namelesssav @amberlynn98 @acourtofbatboydreams

[formylovetodaryldixon]

"Catching the fox." Daryl Dixon Imagine.

(Not my gif!)

Jesus only caused problems since you, Daryl and Rick met him during a run, but that doesn’t prevent you all from having a little fun. (Even if you come home empty-handed)

A/N: Based on what is probably the funniest episode of "The Walking Dead" to me. I wrote this a while ago but I'm posting it for my friend, who actually finds this funny hehe Sorry if this is long and boring :c Spoiler alert: Jealous Daryl is my favorite Daryl! I hope you like it!

“So… hunky-dunky. Uh?”

In front of you all, an empty, silent road is always pleasant. Nature wasn’t lost after the apocalypse, not completely, and although the green color of the grass disappeared slowly with the passage of time, Mother Nature still retained her place in the world. Sitting by the window in that big truck full of food, the wind pushes some strands of your hair as you breathe in the fresh air. And, sitting in the middle as Rick drives, Daryl glances at you as he checks Denise’s list.

“Don’t…” He says, warning you, making you chuckle. It was the word that Eugene used when he gave Daryl his map, always using fancy ones. At his side as he drives the truck down the hill, Rick chuckles, too. “Why ya never gave me a list?”

You watch the list in his hand and then, you look back at him.

“I think it's impossible to get a high definition TV with surround sound system so I can watch the games again like in those old days. You know, the ones that were on TV before the world went to hell.”

Both men look at you with a funny look, and you look back at the window as the truck approaches that abandoned gas station on the left side of the road. There are papers and trash everywhere, and Rick parks near the gasoline pumps. All of you get out, but since the silent street is free of any walker, you walk around while Rick goes ahead to check the store door.

“We had that shit in our apartment? That round sound thing.”

You chuckle before turning around towards him, smiling innocently.

“Surround sound system, love, and no, we didn’t. We were always fooling around so we never really had time to watch the games. Remember?”

Your words catch him off guard, and his innocent eyes look at you until he understands what they mean. A second later, the boldness shines in his blue eyes and he closes the distance of a few steps between you two. Daryl encircles your waist with his right arm and pulls you gently towards him, his forehead resting against yours.

“Are ya makin’ fun of me, sunshine?”

You shake your head, softly.

“No, but why?” You whisper. “Does that turn you on?”

“Really?” Rick complains, suddenly, closer than you thought he was. “Now?”

You chuckle pulling away from your husband.

“Sorry, bro.” Says Daryl, taking his arm off of you.

Rick looks at you two with a sarcastic expression and raises an eyebrow.

“I regret coming with you two.”

But he is joking and lets it go quickly.

Daryl walks over to the black machine lying in the corner, noticing it is a vending machine turning upside down. Although Denise said it wasn’t of the utmost importance, he wants to go back to Alexandria with a gift for Tara, just because Daryl understood the feeling of trying to do something nice for another person. So, minutes later, Rick rolls over the machine with a chain attached to the truck, and as he gets out and walks towards you two, the glass shows that the interior is full.

“It’s soda and Candy.” Rick says while Daryl removes one of the chains. “Why the trouble?”

“It ain’t a trouble.”

But suddenly, out of nowhere, a man turns around the corner and pushes Rick on his way out, raising his hands in the air as Daryl and Rick take their guns to aim at the stranger, your own hand holding your weapon hidden behind your waist, as a reflex in the face of danger.

The bandana that covers half of his face shows only his pretty eyes.

“Hi.” He is agitated, as if he has run for a long time. “I was just running from the dead.”

“How many?” Daryl asks while Rick steps back to look at the corner of the lonely place, searching for any walkers close by.

“10. Maybe more. I’m not risking it. Once it gets to double digits, I start running.”

Daryl doesn’t trust him, and he keeps pointing at him with his gun.

“Where?”

“About a half a mile back. They’re headed this way. You probably have about…” He wiggles his head, looking for the right number. “11 minutes.”

The distrust doesn’t go away, but Rick is the first and the only one who lowers his weapon.

“Okay, thanks for letting us know.”

“Yes.” The man breathes through his bandana. “There’s more of them than us. Right? Gotta stick together.” He looks at Daryl, due to his gun still pointing at him. “Right?”

Although that stranger appeared from nowhere, he finally lowers his gun, too.

“You have a camp?” The man asks.

Maintaining the safety of Alexandria was the main thing, and being selective with the new people you all let in was the first rule until you all knew they could be trusted.

“No.” Daryl says.

“Do you?” Rick asks.

The man thinks about it for a few seconds.

“No.” He finally says, and then, he looks at you standing next to them. “It’s just you two, with a woman?”

Before you realize what he meant, Daryl raises his weapon quickly, his hand tightening around it in anger.

“Ya want me to shoot ya, asshole? She’s ma wife and you’re gonna say yer sorry.”

The man breathes in and Rick looks at him.

“You better say it now before he shoots you.”

Before looking at you, the man looks at Daryl who is still pointing at him with his gun, so the new one does it. You don’t think what he said was an insult, but it is better to follow the situation calmly before Daryl shoots him for real.

“I’m really sorry, madam. I didn’t mean to offend you.” You move your hand in the air to minimize the misunderstanding, telling him it was okay. “Well… sorry for running into you. I’m gonna go now.” He turns around and starts walking, talking over his shoulder. “This is the next world; I hope it’s good to you, guys.”

Daryl and you share a confused look as Rick watches the man walk away.

“I’m Rick, these are (Y/N) and Daryl. What’s your name?”

The man turns around again and pulls his bandana down.

“Paul Rovia. But my friends used to call me Jesus…” He extends his arms out, casually. “You pick.”

“You said you didn’t have a camp.” Rick answers back. “You are on your own?”

“Yeah.” He looks at you all with a sudden confidence. “But still, best not to try anything.”

However, Daryl doesn’t seem impressed, or intimidated.

“Best not to make threats ya can’t keep, either.”

“Exactly.” And the man starts running out of there.

“How many walkers–” Rick tries to ask, but Daryl cut him off.

“No. Not this guy.”

However, Rick makes his question anyways.

“How many walkers have you killed?”

“Sorry! Gotta run. You should too.”

And he disappears around the corner.

Running into new people is still strange, but that situation was a new kind of strange, and hard to understand too.

“What the hell was that?” Daryl asks.

“Yeah. He was clean.” Rick nods. “His beard, it was trimmed.”

“And he was way too confident to be just by himself.” You say.

Rick nods again, because if the man is strange to you both, then that is more than just a coincidence: something else is happening.

“He didn’t have a gun, either.” Daryl frowns, looking down the path Jesus took.

“We could track him.” Rick put away his gun. “Watch him for a while. Get to know him more. See if he’s really alone. Maybe bring him back.”

“No.” Daryl complains, his voice always low and husky. “That guy calls himself Jesus.”

But then, a noise from the back of the place attracts everyone’s attention: all of you go there, encountering firecrackers exploding in a barrel before hearing the thunderous sound of tires against the pavement.

“Shit.” Daryl says when he realizes the truth. “He swiped yer keys. Didn’t he?”

The moment you all get back to the front, the place is still empty, with the truck full of food moving away up the hill.

“Sorry!” Jesus yells as he drives away, taking the vending machine with him, too.

The three of you stop in the middle of the road, watching with frustration as the truck goes away under your eyes.

“Shit.” Rick says.

The vending machine leaves a path on the middle of the road, like breadcrumbs to track down the thief, until you find it halfway on the way. Daryl opens the case to secure Denise’s sodas for Tara while Rick and you catch your breaths after running up there. The strands of your hair stick to your forehead, while the beads of sweat begin to fall on theirs.

“This is a special request from the doctor.” Daryl says, showing Rick the soda can, opening one to give it to you.

“Hey…” Rick breathes and takes the broken one Daryl gives him. “Whatever she wants. She saved Carl’s life. We didn’t know her, and she turned out to be all right. And if there’s still people out here, and they’re still people, we should bring them in.”

“What? Like this guy?” Daryl points to the road Jesus left.

“No, fuck that guy.” Rick shakes his head and looks inside the machine for something.

You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, your mind full of thoughts about what had just happened, but without saying anything, at least until you can formulate a coherent opinion.

“What’s on your mind, (Y/N)?” Rick asks when he sees you looking at the ground.

“Well, I just think that…” You doubt if you should share with them what you are thinking, but it is a waste of time while the truck is still moving. “It’s nothing. We should keep going.”

You try to take a few steps but Daryl stops you reaching out his arm.

“Hey.” He says softly to you. “S’okay, jus’ say it.”

You are not naive; you know how that world works now. Not only were the alive against the dead ones. That life was a battle against other people as well. However, not everything was black and white. Or it was?

“I don’t say that what he did is right, but no one steals for pleasure these days, so maybe he did it because he needs it, too.”

Rick wiggles his head slowly, half of him giving you the reason because that is true although nothing apologized what that man did.

“So what?” Daryl frowns, his temper rising again. “Would ya jus’ let him go with our stuff?”

His personality is like a roller coaster, full of constant ups and downs, but luckily, you know how to handle it.

“Don’t talk to me like that, Dixon, and it was you who said I could share my opinion. But I am not saying we should let him go just like that. Hell, no.”

Daryl gives a step back, confused by your sudden change of mood, just like his own.

“So?”

You frown back.

“The truck is ours. And, if in this world the strongest ones win, that will be us. So, we will get it back.”

The force in your eyes and the way you look at him catches him completely. But Daryl is no longer shy, and although he likes your privacy as a marriage, he can’t help but tangle his hand in your hair, softly.

“Since when ya are this ballsy, woman?”

Playing, you push his hand away.

“Fuck you, Dixon. I was like this long before I met your ass.”

“I really hate you both.” Rick says, making Daryl chuckle.

“Sorry, bro. S’jus’… she looks so hot right now.”

You chuckled as Rick raises an eyebrow.

“It’s because we ran until we got here. Now, we should get going.”

At first, you try to be understanding to the request of both men asking you to wait behind the bushes while they surprise the stranger, who just finished fixing the tire of the truck parked in the middle of the road, away from the danger posed by Paul, or Jesus, or whatever he chose to call himself, but you can’t help but compare him to a fox, somewhat elusive, almost slippery as he managed to dodge the blows of Rick and Daryl, who were hit in the stomach and pushed against the truck, respectively.

So, when Jesus turns around, he stops dead with your gun pointed at his face, his hands in the air.

“You would really shoot me in the face just for a truck?”

You tilt your head, taking the safety off the gun your dad gave you for protection before dying.

“No. Not in the face, but maybe in the legs just below the knees so you stop being so slippery.”

He takes a deep breath.

“You wouldn’t do that.”

Behind him, Rick and Daryl raise their own weapons, making you lower your own.

“Oh, trust me, pretty boy, I totally would.”

But suddenly, before you can say more, a walker comes out of the bushes, grunting at you all.

“Do you even have any ammo?” Jesus asks, but Daryl and Rick are already tired of him, and both shoot the walker at the same time. “Okay, again, are you gonna shoot me over a truck?”

“There’s a lot of foot on that truck.” Rick says. “The keys. Now.”

In the end, Jesus gives them the keys and Rick ties his hands and feet up to leave him there, on a side of the road.

“The knots aren’t that tight.” Rick says to him. “You should be able to get free… after we’re long gone.”

For his part, Daryl growls when he sees that some of the soda cans had crushed during the fight, with all the content dripping from his backpack.

“Maybe we should talk now.” Jesus smiles when Rick walks away.

“Nah.” Daryl walks pass him by and makes you walk with him to the passenger seat. But first, he stops to shake a can and throws it at Jesus. “Here. In case ya gets thirsty.”

When you two get to the passenger seat, Daryl goes up first, and though he has to move to let you go up, too, he leans down to take you by the waist to help you go up to sit between his legs. You are a little surprise by his action, but he just closes the truck door and chuckles as Rick moves the keys around his finger.

“You were right, (Y/N).” He smiles at you as he starts the truck. “We are the strongest ones.”

As the truck begins to move, Daryl leans back against the seat and shows his middle finger out the window.

“So long, ya prick!” He yells at Jesus.

The loud music in the truck accompanies you all the way. As you lean your arm against the window frame, the wind makes your tied hair move back, in a soothing and peaceful way. Daryl’s right hand continues to rest against your waist beneath your t-shirt, holding you against him while everything around is still fine.

“He ain’t that pretty, y’know?” Daryl says quietly over the music, after a long moment of silence.

You frown, turning slightly to look at him.

"Are you kidding with me? I was just messing with him. Jesus...” But you laugh when Daryl frowns, even though you just said the name of the son of God, not the stranger’s. "That's not what I meant!"

He snorts, but before he can answer back, Rick talks first.

“Hey, look at that.” He says, pointing something on the road in front.

A barn. When you get close, the even path changes for an unstable one as you all enter the barn’s lawn, but, out of nowhere, there is a blow that comes from the roof, getting your attention before theirs.

“You hear that?” You ask as Daryl lowers all the volume of the music.

“I think that son of a bitch is on the roof.”

And then, Rick is really tired of that fox.

“Hold on.” Rick steps on the brake and the truck stops abruptly, throwing Jesus through the air until he falls in front of you all.

But then, he just gets up on his feet, and runs away. It is ridiculous. It is almost comical the way Rick drives to chase him down the field, but in the end, it is Daryl who has enough of him.

“Motherfu-” Daryl stops himself to take you by the waist, and he moves from under you. “Stay here, I’ll be right back.”

Before you react or before Rick can stop the car, Daryl opens the door and gets out of the truck to chase after Jesus on foot.

Rick drives near them as you sigh.

“Sometimes I can’t believe I’m married to that man.”

Rick laughs and tries to move the truck to block Jesus, but that elusive fox is more agile, so Rick steps back the truck as Daryl and Jesus swing from side to side in the middle of the field, waiting for one of them to take the first step.

“We should clear the way for them.” Rick says when some walkers around the place start to move too close to them.

You open the truck door, moving away from it, pulling the knife from the sheath of your waist.

“We came to a conclusion, asshole!” Daryl yells at Jesus, still in the middle of the place when he runs away, so Daryl looks at you two before start chasing him, again. “I got him!”

Some walkers were tied up around another truck, and you and Rick make them fall when they manage to break the rope free.

Back in the truck, Jesus opens the driver’s door and tries to get in, but Daryl grabs him from his jacket and tries to pull him out.

“Come ‘ere, ya little shit.”

No one sees it coming, no one pays any attention, but a walker comes up to Daryl from behind, walking dangerously until it enters Jesus’s view. So he raises a gun, watching Daryl without moving.

“Duck.” He says.

Daryl understands it at once and crouches. The bullet flies over him and enters directly into the walker’s head causing it to fall. Daryl looks back and studies the body on the ground before turning back to look at Jesus.

“Thanks.” Daryl breathes out and punches him on the face. “That’s ma gun! Come ‘ere.”

The shot pierces your ears and Rick’s, causing to both of you to look at the truck in the distance, and you two run to them. Daryl tries to pull Jesus out of the truck, but Jesus knocks it into neutral, and the vehicle starts rolling into a pond behind. Daryl jumps out of the truck and Jesus followed him, but his head gets hit with the door and he passes out. When Rick and you finally reach the place, you watch Daryl moving Jesus with his boot as the truck sinks.

You sigh heavily when you all see the last of that truck before it disappears forever.

The new car you all get is old, ironically, but Rick keeps driving through the silent road in the middle of those huge trees. From the backseat, Daryl pushes Jesus who was still pretty unconscious, but his body continues to fall back on Daryl’s shoulder.

“Is he your new best friend?” You tease him, making Daryl groan. “I’m getting jealous, actually.”

“Be quiet, woman.”

“I told you I could go in the back with him.”

“Yeah?” He says. “Over ma dead body.”

Just to annoy him even more, Rick moves the car so that way Jesus’ body would fall back on Daryl. He growls again, pushing Jesus far from him as Rick drives back to Alexandria.

That same night, Daryl and Rick walk down Alexandria Street back to their homes after leaving Jesus in the basement. He was fine despite the hit, and by now they just had to wait for him to wake up in the morning.

As they arrive at Rick’s house first, it is time to say goodbye.

“It is pretty stupid of us to go out there. Isn’t?” Rick asks as he goes up the stairs of his porch.

“Yep.” Daryl says walking away. “Do it again tomorrow?”

“Yep.” Rick answers watching him go. “Tell (Y/N) to come.”

“Hu-uh.” Daryl waves his hand to him.

Two houses away, Daryl goes up the steps to the porch and opens the door to his house. The only light comes from a lamp on the table in the living room, shining with an amber color. Daryl closes the door behind him and watches you come out of the kitchen.

“There’s a couple of sandwiches in case you’re hungry.”

But he just walks towards you while you stop in front of the stairs. You are tired but it had been a funny day in spite of everything, and you laugh when Daryl wraps his arms around your waist to lift you up.

You hold yourself with your hands on his shoulders, your legs around his waist.

“Nah. Jus’ want some time alone with ma wife.”

[vixensp1ce]

omgg jing yuan + hybrid (bonus points if it’s a fox hybrid!!)

fem!reader \ kinktober

the room is kept dark and cool and quiet, just like a proper fox's den.

yet unlike a proper fox, you don't have a mate. and the heat, bubbling up within you, begging for a release, has no place to go.

you pace the room relentlessly. your wallpaper is scratched to pieces - you'd begged jing yuan to let you keep it, if only you had something to whittle down your insanity.

jing yuan...

you curl up in your bed as if in a trance, finding a piece of his clothing that you'd hidden away under all the blankets and pillows. it was wrong, you knew, for a hybrid to treat its owner as means for a release - but you could hardly care at this point.

you bury your nose into the cloth. his scent had nearly all but faded, but in this time of the month, all your senses were hyper-alert to a potential mate. and jing yuan…

a wave of ghostly pleasure has you trembling, fingers inching towards where you needed them the most. how many times had you chased your own release the past few days? yet it hadn’t seemed to improve your condition in the least.

as if on cue, someone taps at the door. “puppy? can i come in?”

your tail sweeps a couple of cushions off the bed in your enthusiasm. you weren’t a dog at all, but by the time jing yuan had found out, the nickname had already stuck. not that you minded. puppy sounded much better than fox.

“come in,” you call, stuffing his clothing back under the blankets.

the door creaks open and jing yuan pokes his head in. “how are you feeling?”

the sweet, fresh scent of jing yuan nearly sweeps you into a high. you can feel yourself leaking already, pussy clenching and unclenching just for him. the sight of his soft, white hair, kind face, and the slight outline in his pants…

“puppy? are you okay?” when you take too long to respond, he widens the door and steps through.

you feel frozen to your spot. there’s no way he can’t smell your desire for him, is there?

he kneels by the bed, reaching out to rub your ears. you press your face into his other hand, relishing in his redolent scent and gentle touch.

"jing yuan..." when you open your eyes, he's regarding you with an expression of such concern. "jing yuan, will you do anything to make me feel better?"

"i will, puppy." when you hook your fingers into his shirt, he obeys, coming up to sit on the edge of the bed. "what do you need?"

you tug him down with a sudden force - it's easy to forget that hybrids are part wild animal. "i need you, jing yuan, please..."

with your thighs open wide beneath him, exposing your soaked-through underwear, you see each miniscule expression pass over his face, his scent changing ever so subtly as jing yuan struggles to keep his arousal in check.

you put on your best puppy eyes. "please... it hurts so much..."

he exhales ever so slightly, before covering your eyes with a hand. you take two shaky breaths before you feel a slight pressure, tracing up and down your slit ever so lightly.

it takes every muscle in your body not to make a noise or move when you hear the sound of clothes being shed, and then a hot, heavy warmth against your mound.

"jing yuan..." you allow yourself a quiet whimper.

jing yuan pulls the corner of a blanket over your eyes in response. "don't look at me, puppy. or i'll feel too guilty to carry on..."

you nod, tail wagging eagerly.

he massages around the outside of your lower lips for a moment, rubbing your slick between his fingers. "you're so wet," he murmurs almost imperceptibly to himself. your ears twitch.

the pad of his thumb slides over your clit, pulsing under his touch. you're so sensitive that you shudder, struggling to keep your legs apart.

"be good," he whispers, and you feel his heat over your entire body before something hot and hard prods at your pussy.

"please," you all but beg. "please, please."

the tip slips in easily, and your whole body convulses as your walls ripple and suck him in greedily.

he groans, low and gravelly, a sound full of restraint and desire that you'd only heard through thin walls.

"you're so tight, puppy." jing yuan chuckles tightly, breathing hard. "no wonder you've been so down."

he kisses you sweetly, and you all but grind yourself into him, feeling every vein pulse and nudge against inside you.

"so good, so good, please, need more..."

"okay, okay." he pushes himself into you, and you cry out in pleasure, the tip kissing your cervix. he begins to thrust shallowly.

"not enough, not enough-" a growl slips into your voice and you bite it back, feeling your face warm.

jing yuan laughs. "anything for you, puppy."

he pulls himself clean out, giving you a moment of anticipation, and slams back into you.

you howl in pleasure, scratching at his skin. he sets a relentless pace, your back arching as he stimulates that ultra-sensitive spot within you. your hands fly to your clit, rubbing frantically, squirting pre-cum all over him.

jing yuan pants, lifting your thighs onto his shoulders until he's battering you into the mattress, his balls bouncing against your clit with every thrust.

"i'm cumming, i'm cumming-" the thought of jing yuan finishing inside of you, filling you up warmly, was enough to send you over the edge. "inside of me, please, please-"

your mind goes white, your body writhing and jerking as you cum the hardest you ever have, squirting all over his dick. dimly, you feel thick, hot ropes painting over your stomach, jing yuan groaning your name.

[frost-queen]

Witches road // part 4 (Fem!Reader x Agatha Harkness)

Forever tag:@missmelodramatic,@alex--awesome--22, @ellie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve , @queen-of-books , @glimmering-darling-dolly , @denkisclown , @wildieflower , @meyocoko , @justanothercoco, @subjecta13-thefangirl , @m-rae23 , @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr , @swampything07, @melsunshine , @panhoeofmanyfandoms , @venomsvl , @the-uncoordinated-house-cat , @rosecentury , @imagines-by-her, @evilcr0ne , @vviolynn , @niktwazny303 , @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 , @erikasurfer, @slythetic , @p0nycurtis , @quailbagutte , @fantasticcroissantpandagarden, @lanfear-is-my-darkmistress , @thefutureisus2020 , @r-3-becca , @fantasticcroissantpandagarden, @hor1zond1ar1es , @emril-osvigne , @eliscannotdance , @thepotatoislost

Summary: The Salem Seven have found Agatha. Leading you all to run for the next trial. Where messages from the past clear the mist just a bit while another darkening rises. [Witches road series]

Through many miles of tricks and trials, we'll wander high and low

A fox stood with its front paws on a log. Darting off behind a tree. A crow cawed loud, flapping its wings. The fox reappeared darting from one place to the other. Crossing a snake. Slithering through the leaves. Curling and spasming into a little ball. The snake enlarging as two arms slithered out of it’s skin. A snake shedding their skin. The crow came landing down to where the snake was, cawing loud .

The hand reached out to grip onto the crows neck. It screeched loud before its neck grew thicker. Feathers settling with skin. The snake that had shed it’s skin had fully turned to a human form. The crow’s legs stretching as feet appeared down below.

With a simple gesture they removed the hand from around their throat, taking a deep gasp. They shared a look before others came joining. Seven in total. Salem’s seven. Their demands carried off by the wind. Howling like a banshee’s cry into the night. Agatha Harkness.

Agatha Harkness. Teen shot up with shock as the gush of wind had overwhelmed his senses. Frantically he looked to his side, seeing you already sat up. Listening to the winds whispers as well. A glance in return from you, made him fear the worst. Agatha Harkness. The wind whispered making the others shoot awake. – “What’s that?” – Jen asked. Lilia shuddered out a breath. – “The Salem seven.” – she replied keeping a hand on her chest.

“Long black coated figures?” – Teen asked to specify. Lilia nodded. Agatha chuckled a bit nervously at their arrival. – “We didn’t close the door. We’ve brought them here.” – Lilia explained. Agatha Harkness. Sending chills down your spine. – “We’ve got to run!” – Agatha shouted already taking her leave. All of you started to run after her.

Following the path with the hunt going on. Through a narrower path came Agatha to a stop. Panic written all over her face as she heard them in front of her. – “That came from in front of us.” – Alice said. Lilia and Jen had already turned to run the other direction when it appeared their presence alerted them too.

“They are at the back too.” – Alice pitched in. Feeling them close in. Salem seven all around you. Salem’s seven on the witches road. They were there when the door opened and they’d be here when you’d die. – “How do we get out of here?” – Teen asked. You looked up sensing them in the winds.

Knowing they’ve come to claim your souls. Knowing you’d be dead before you’d reach the end if you staid. You pushed Jen a bit aside to reach the other side. Pulling at the thick roots. – “We go old style.” – you said. – “No!” – Lilia immediately protested. Teen curled up a smile, finding it exciting.

“What do you have against brooms?” – he asked ripping off a root as well to claim as a broom for Agatha. – “They are culturally forced upon us. Reflecting domestics on us.” – Lilia responded. – “And they are simple.” – Jen finished taking her broom.

Agatha eyed you making you face her. Holding your broom out, you and her started to circle each other. Speaking in tongue to finish the ritual. Then you handed each other’s broom out for the other. Agatha taking yours as her fingers brushed against yours. Making her flash her gaze teasingly at you.

You took her broom over, staring at the root. Hearing the faint of your own past screams in your ears. Agatha who already sat on her broom, shouted at you. – “Y/n! On!” – You snapped awake, getting on your broom. Holding tight to the root, you flew up. Letting the wind carry you. It felt like eternity since you had flown and it felt liberating.

The entire coven flying after each other. – “Salem Seven!” – you shouted loud to alarm them that they were coming from down below. – “Higher!” – Agatha yelled back, leading her broom up. Everyone followed. Higher and higher you went.

A blood moon rising from over the tree tops. The witches road down below. High and high you went. Up to the top. Better look below. The road increasingly coming closer. Tumbling and soaring in the air. The road pulling you down once more. There was no escaping the path. Chained and shackled to the road. Down, down the brooms went. Spinning and tumbling in a flash to reach the grounds fast.

Feet touching the ground, you stumbled forwards. Broom behind as you tumbled further till you bumped against a fallen Teen. Both looked briefly at each other before helping him up. As a cry for help, the next trial. Never had you all ran so invitingly over to it. Embracing it and nestle in it’s warmth for protection. With a glance at the door, you got shoved inside. A change of wardrobe to fit a slumber party at summer camp.

“Who’s trial is this?” – Teen questioned. Always coming up with the right questions. – “Agatha’s.” – you responded looking her way. Agatha looked uncomfortably back at you. – “Who says that?” – she responded, masking her fears with loud cackling. Tilting your head, you knew just how much of that was a lie. Swallowing nervously, she distanced herself from the coven.

The others set out to find the first instructions. You kept your gaze on Agatha, seeing how nervous she was. Agatha seemed to have picked up your glance. Clearing her throat before looking away. Knowing there was little she could hide from you. Teen pulled out an Ouija board. Setting off a timer on your watches. 30 minutes. 30 minutes was all you had. He read the rules as all of you came closer.

Tick tick tock, the time was ticking. You came sitting down with them, moving your fingers over the pedal. As Agatha was initiating the session, you weren’t sure what devils game she was playing. Mrs. Hart name got spelled out. Lilia’s hand got pulled back out of shock. Agatha moved back, changing her expression.

Taken over by Mrs. Hart… or so it seemed. Quirking your eyebrow up, you felt a sense of devilish game. This was no way near funny. Teen called her out on it as everything went serious once more. This time you felt for real. A shift in the atmosphere. A presence nearing down to join the living. Called back from behind the veil of lingering death to have one last chance to speak.

Hands moving as the pedal moved over the board. Spelling letter after letting as it all became clear. Agatha calling it to stop as it was spelling her name. You glanced her way, keeping an eye on her. – “What do you want with me?” – Agatha asked. The pedal moving once more over the board. P-U-N-I-S-H. Agatha gasped loud, letting go of the board.

“She let go!” – Jen called out. After the words had been called out, changed it the night. – “We must punish Agatha!” – Jen shouted. Agatha crawled back, waving her hand beggingly to not. The others closing in on her.

Lights flickered drawing thy attention away. Agatha gone as it made everyone freak out. – “Agatha?” – Teen called out, flashing his flashlight around. His light went up, lighting up a figure. It made him scream at Agatha’s face. Agatha dropped to the ground. Skin as grey as dried out parchment. – “Agatha stop playing around.” – Jen called out. Agatha’s body twisting and breaking as she crawled backwards over the floor. Straight over to you.

You immediately jumped out of the way. Her face looked up to you, hissing loud at you. Your familiar jumped in front of you, hissing right back at her. Scratching her once across the cheek. Lights flickered hauntingly. Agatha’s figure gone once more. Alice helped you back up by your arm, asking if you were okay. You nodded, joining the others as Agatha stood up stairs.

Her body twitching and spasming as the grey drew away out of her face. She shuddered the feeling off. Mist oozing down the steps till it rose. Rose till it formed out a shape. A spirit. A ghost. You immediately knew who it was before she needed to say her name. Agatha’s mother. Her gaze went over you all till her eyes rested on you. – “You.” – she said with a point. It made everyone look at you. Agatha’s eyes curious with worry.

“You are not supposed to be here.” – she said with a stern glare. Taking a deep breath, you tried to deafen out your past screams. To blink away the scenery of the women. Roots snapping around you. Crawling all the way. – “Mother?” – Agatha spoke confused looking between her and you. Sensing something was off. – “Did… did you?” – Agatha asked for her plea was not heard. – “Go forwards and leave Agatha with me.” – Evanora proclaimed.

“Gladly.” – Jen was the first to speak. – “You can’t leave her here. Not with her mother!” – you made clear with a glare at Jen. Knowing just how awful this woman was. Agatha came rushing down the stairs. – “Please don’t leave me here. I can be good.” – she cried out. Holding her arm out for someone to take it. – “Please I beg you take me with you.” – Agatha was desperate.

Her gaze shifting towards you. – “Y/n…” – she said hand out to you. You rose your hand to take hers. Just before your fingers touched her mother took over once more. – “No!” – Alice called out, shoving you out of the way. Hands out she channelled an orange energy. Hitting Agatha in the chest. Evanora drawn out. Spirit separating from the living.

Agatha felt the power. Moving her hands out the orange swirled with her purple. Spreading out to sniff out the orange. – “No! Agatha stop!” – Teen shouted, seeing what it was doing. It was draining Alice’s powers from her.

Agatha kept drawing her magic. Claiming it as hers. Teen rushed to Alice to pull her away. You joined him, pulling her down. Magic stopped. Alice fell down with  a thud. Sucked dry. In shock you stared down at her. – “She was trying to save her! And you killed her!” – Teen shouted at Agatha. – “I… I didn’t know… I couldn’t stop it…” – Agatha replied shakingly.

“Yes you could!” – Teen responded angrily. He knelt down to Alice. You looked at Agatha with disappointment and fear in your eyes. After all those years, she hadn’t changed. She slipped out. Teen got up, going after her. You still knelt beside her. Letting your fingers brush over her face down to her chest. Eyes closed to sense any life on her. Asking the elements for any sign.

“Agatha!” – Teen shouted loud. Agatha came to a stop. – “So that’s what it means to be a witch? Killing people to serve your own agenda.” – Teen asked. She licked her lips brief, turning her chin up. – “No not for me.” – he finished as Agatha came closer. Smiling wickedly at him.

“You are so just like your mother.” – she teased flicking her finger off his chin. Teen pulled disgusted away from her. Lilia and Jen moving behind him. Agatha turning round to take her leave. Lilia and Jen hurrying after her to not let her leave. Teen’s jaw tensed. Fingers tingling with energy. Lilia and Jen grabbed Agatha by her arms. She needed to be punished for ending Alice.

Teen clenched his expression. Blue energy forming through his fingers like hoops. With a loud cry, he blasted Agatha back. Sending her to a puddle of mud. – “No… no wait.” – Agatha called out. Splashing and crawling her way out. The puddle swallowing her whole. Teen then charged his anger towards Lilia and Jen. Swallowed by the puddle of mud.

Teen curled up a tiny smile. His appearance slightly changed. They should see you in a crown.

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

Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!

[the-starry-seas]

woke up with bail/fox thoughts of bail always requesting shinies for personal guard things and this sets fox on high alert because why be specific about that. what are you doing to my shinies. and then he finds out that bail is giving them lunch and letting them nap on the couch in his office and he's like. ah. this is... ah. *the comically biggest heart eyes you've ever seen in your life*

also having thoughts of fox assigning himself as bail's guard whenever bail actually needs one, cause bail is kind to the shinies and that means fox actually wants to protect him. fox getting hurt on a trip offworld and telling bail exactly how to escape back to the ship, but bail won't leave without him. he just says, the shinies say 'we are not things'. they say you taught them that. i believe it too. and he's not nearly strong enough to carry fox, but he can take just enough of fox's weight that fox can stagger along.

fox has no idea about the uproar caused by bail flying them back to alderaan instead of coruscant, to take fox to the palace medbay where he'll be given the same standard of care as bail himself. all fox knows is that there's real flowers on the bedside table, and the window is open to let in real sunlight and the smell of grass. and that bail is there. asleep, on a little sofa, his arm stretched out so he can hold fox's hand.

perhaps the most startling part of all this, for fox, is when breha comes in and feels his forehead and asks if he's doing all right and says she brought more flowers. there's no assistants or bodyguards or troopers. it's just her. like she trusts fox the way bail does. like she cares about fox the way bail does.

the way her husband does, fox reminds himself. there is no room in a natborn's world for a clone. his place is with the GAR. he has never deserved anything else. he never will. but when she promises to get him anything he wants, and that beautifully cool hand rests over his as she kisses his cheek and says she hopes he gets his rest-

he wants. he wants so badly.

it doesn't really surprise him when bail wants him, too. many senators find the rank of marshal commander... something to be conquered. not wanted, by any means. just another thing to brag about, the best clone in the Guard obeying their every whim.

what surprises him is that bail courts him. that bail is steady and gentle and respectful and always asks for fox's permission to touch him. that breha is just the same whenever fox sees her and talks to him like he's an old friend. that they treat fox like someone to be desired. someone worth fighting for. fox doesn't know what to do about that. he knows he wants to find out.

he finds out so very many things, and the best of them all is, by far, what it feels like to be loved.

[qu1cks1lversb1tch]

Hello! Love your writing, so yummy. I was wondering if you would take a request? I was thinking what it would be like if Lucifer was dating a fem reader who was a fox sinner and she randomly does animal like things. I think he would be so interested in the ear and tail movement and would try to see what different things cause what reactions. Foxes are very wary so I could see her jumping easily and him taking advantage of that lol 😭. Then, if he would see her like "pounce" on Angel as a prank cause they're besties. Lastly, I just know if he heard her growl, his knees would get weak (imagine them having a growling fight for some reason cause he growled at Alastor that one time 🤣💀). Anyway, I'm dragging this on, so have writing this if you do! I'd appreciate it! *mwah*

A/N— Just when I think the requests can't get any better, another wonderful anon pops up to steal the show. I LOVE THIS so much. This is more or less a small compilation 💅🏻🦋 I had to do a little research for this one, but I think it's so silly 😭💖 I hope you have a wonderful weekend anon!

Animalistic | Lucifer x Fem Fox Sinner!Reader

Warnings: Reader is a common Red Fox Sinner, swearing (I mean, seriously — it's Hazbin 🤣), Reader being a menace to society

Word Count: 696

Summary: More often than not, your animalistic behaviors take over. . .

Lucifer watched you from afar — not in a creepy way, but in a ‘that's my girlfriend and I'm admiring her’ kind of way.

Right then, he was watching you wallow on the couch that had been placed in the lounge specifically for you, by Charlie, because you refused to sit on a piece of furniture that had the scent of the Radio Demon practically rolling off of it in waves. 

So the fucker went and sat on your couch.

The audacity. 

You were pretty pissed at the moment, which was evident by the growling and angry mumbling that became louder at times. 

He only caught a couple pieces of dialogue, like: ‘no fuckin’ respect for BOUNDARIES!’ And: ‘I ought ‘ta shit in that fuckers shoes!’ 

But it was enough to keep him attempting to hold in his laughter, which he ultimately failed in. 

You quit wallowing in attempts to get your scent to return back to the couch the moment you heard a noise. You jumped, one ear twitching while your tail lifted into something resembling a ‘u’ shape, showing you were now on high alert. 

The moment you caught a whiff of your boyfriend, you turned to face him. He was biting his bottom lip so hard to keep from laughing. 

You could only roll your eyes and stand from the couch, fixing your hair as you trotted over to hug him. “Better not be laughing at me.” You whined. 

“Your words, not you. Never you.” He replied, holding you close as you went about rubbing your scent on him as well. Just so no one would get any ideas. 

You were watching. Waiting. 

Your tail was swishing at your side in a playful manner, just waiting for Angel Dust to walk past the dark hallway like he did every evening before bed. 

The moment his footsteps could be heard, you were prepared to launch out of the darkness — something you hadn't done in months. 

He came into your line of sight and it was go time. 

Launching out of the darkness, you easily tackled your best friend, the two of you tumbling until you landed on top, pinning two of his arms to the floor with your sharp canines on display as you grinned down at him. 

“Gotcha!” You cheered happily, your tail swishing from side to side.

“First off, ouch, that fuckin’ hurt — secondly, why the fuck can't you ever attack the short king with your midnight zoomies?”

“He's almost always asleep at this time.” You pouted removing your hands from his arms, nipping at his hand when he went to pet your ears. 

“I dare you to wake him up next time.”

You grinned, getting off completely to help him up. Oh, you would.

Charlie approved of the relationship between you and her dad, but that didn't mean that she didn't witness some odd things whenever he decided to stay for dinner. . .

She could ignore you pouncing on him at random because you pounced on everyone except Alastor. 

She could also ignore him helping you hide snacks for later because she knew that a good snack didn't last long in the hotel. 

But it was harder to ignore you biting, growling, and scratching at Lucifer, laying on your back in his lap on your couch, with him growling playfully and running his fingers through your hair. 

It was cute in a way — her dad embracing the form you were given, and you, eager to play almost constantly. . . Except for when you were nervous or felt threatened by another demon higher on the food chain.

Though one look told her that he had hearts in his eyes. 

And you did too. Even when your sharp teeth finally latched onto his arm and you gently shook your head before releasing and bursting out into a fit of giggles that had Lucifer quit growling, instead leaning down to place a kiss on your forehead.

He smirked when your ears twitched and eyes crossed at the sign of affection. 

You growled in return, playfully nipping at his hand with a noise somewhere between a very fox scream and a whine. 

But it was all in fun.

[mrs-hatake]

Jealous, jealous, jealous girl!

pairing: sylus x afab!reader

Surveying the N109 Zone is not a regular occurrence in your agenda…is what You told Yourself at first. In the beginning, You’d just patrol around Sylus’ neighborhood, ensuring that that sneaky little fox isn’t up to no good. Somehow, as the days turned into weeks, watching over the N109 Zone has become a habit that you can’t seem to break free from. 

But Your endeavor isn’t fruitless. Though You have yet to witness Sylus competing any sort of felonies, You have stopped petty criminals from harassing the few innocent civilians living in the zone. At the mere sight of crime, You’ll wear a porcelain maroon mask (one that You’ve purchased so that Sylus won’t recognize you), jump out of Your car and head straight into battle. 

The crimes aren’t much to begin with but the more You get involved, the lesser they’ve been committed. Your assistance even made news into their shoddy newspapers. Masked hero saves The Zone! Is how most of the headlines are read. 

Tonight has been a quiet night. There are not bored looking children roaming the streets for some highly inappropriate prank that’ll cost the city quite a few millions in damages —not that the city council will do anything about it.  You don’t spot shady looking people who are breaking and entering. It’s a silent night. Still, You wait out a few minutes, just to make sure that everything’s good before You leave. 

Just as You’re about to press the grey button to start the engine, a familiar tuft of hair catches Your eyes.

Sylus, in his glorious height and broad shoulders, leisurely walks from around the block. A hand casually slipped into the pocket of his dark jeans pants. Though the man is giving the aura of friendliness, You can tell that Onychinus’ leader is on high alert. His shoulders being slightly elevated is a dead give away. 

You observe the man, following his every move, ready to strike when needed. Despite the fact that the two of you have gotten closer in recent months, You still can’t fully trust Sylus. How can You when he’s a crime lord?

As You continue to watch, Your tense muscles relax. It truly does seem that Sylus is simply out for a walk. In the back of Your mind, You vaguely remember Sylus informing You that he has trouble sleeping at night. Maybe tonight is one of those nights and he thought that strolling through the city might tire him enough until he sleeps. 

Just like earlier, You’re about to start Your car when a figure appears from the shadows. 

High heels step into the street lights, black leather gleaming under the artificial lights. They’re adorned on feet that carry long and smooth pairs of legs. Supple thighs are barely hidden by a blood dress, too short and revealing to be worn in the dangerous streets of N109. 

Sylus is a crime lord, that much is true, but You don’t believe he’d do something to an innocent woman but You can never be too sure. 

With a bated breath, You watch as the two about to cross paths. They’ll pass each other and You’ll be reassured, once again, that Sylus isn’t all that bad. 

However, the mysterious woman stopping directly in front of Sylus catches you off guard. Her boldness as she runs her finger down Syulus chest, the very same one that’s been haunting You in Your dreams, has You gawking in disbelief. 

Her flirtatious demeanor that is eagerly reciprocated by Sylus has You double taking at the exchange. Yeah, Onychinus’ leader can come off as flirty with You at times but it’s never anything serious. Yet, seeing Sylus’ lips curly lazily as his eyes appreciatively roam over the woman’s figure has Your chest feeling hollow. 

Without a thought, You shove Your car door open and march to where the two are. 

Thoughts of Sylus’ teasing remarks, him relentlessly calling You kitten, sweetie and other frivolous pet names, the nonstop skinship, all of those seemingly insignificant moments has Your footsteps thundering down the chewing gum covered pavement. 

Once they’re within reach, You impulsively yank Sylus away from the woman and step between the two of them.

Purple eyes that can be mistaken for sugilite blink with incredulity. The woman’s—whom Your brain tauntingly marvels at her beauty—pouty lips part ways, as if to defend herself but You don’t let her. 

“Sorry.” You press Yourself closer to a stupor caught Sylus. Glaring at the woman, You continue,  “He already has someone to warm his bed at night.”

“What?” Both Sylus and the woman ask, as if they haven’t heard what You had said. 

You don’t repeat Yourself but the fire burning in Your gaze is warning enough for the woman to back off. 

Suddenly, a quick bark of laughter cuts through the night air.

The nerve of the woman to laugh at You! 

Behind You, a voice sighs, “Y/N.”

The heated glare is now directed at Sylus who has his face hidden behind his large hand. 

“And you!” You shove Your finger into his rock solid abs, “How dare you seduce me and flirt with another woman?” You spit out the words in his face.

“I-” Sylus tries to explain but You cut him off. 

“I took You for many things, Sylus, but a womanizer wasn’t one of them!” Your tone is cold and disapproving. 

Sylus, despite being on the receiving end of Your venomous words and harsh glare, stares down at You in amusement. This only adds fire to the fuel.

 “What’s so funny?!” Your gaze shifts between the giggling woman and the amused looking Sylus, nausea churning Your stomach. You need to leave before You continue making a fool out of Yourself. Screw Sylus for his flirtatious nature. And screw him for playing with Your heart. 

“Relax Y/N.” A familiar voice stops You from running away in embarrassment and driving all the way home with Your vision filled with tears. 

“Kieran?” You blink in astonishment at the…woman? “What?”

Kieran chuckles, his gaze soft and apologetic. “I’m not stealing your man, don’t worry.”

When You’re still staring at him with shocked confusion, Kieran explains, “Boss and I are luring out a rival kingpin who has been relentlessly targeting our organization.”

“But,” You tilt Your head, still trying to process what has been said to You, “why are you dressed as a woman?”

Vibrant red colors Kieran’s cheeks, amplifying his beauty. He avoids meeting Your eyes as he explains, “The dirtbag has a specific type of woman and I’m the only one who matches the description. Luke’s sick so…” he rubs the back of his neck.

An awkward silence envelopes around the both of you. It is only interrupted by Sylus’ chuckle. 

As if remembering his existence, Your entire body flushes in embarrassment as Your behavior from earlier caught up to You.  

“So you’ve been warming up my bed?” His eyebrow rises when You turn to face him, “I’ve been wondering why I’ve been sleeping so restfully the past few days.”

Mortified, Your hands shoot out to push Sylus away but he catches Your wrists in a strong grip, “You’re not going to let this go, are you?” 

Sylus leans forward, his lips a hair's breadth away from yours, “Never.” 

[i-wanna-write]

If One’s Different, One’s Bound to be Lonely - Wolverine x Reader Fic

Fic Synopsis: We know Wolverine and Sabertooth but the reader is known as Jackal. Just like the other two, their mutation is animalistic, lending them healing factors, enhanced physical abilities, and animal senses. This fic details their relationship with the Anchor!Wolverine and how they ended up meeting the Worst!Logan

Part 1

Chapter Warnings: violence, cussing, lewd comments/thoughts, reader is described as female

Word Count: 3k+

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The day you met Victor and James changed your life. You immediately left Montana, not wanting the psycho and his brother to follow you and cause more trouble. You ettled in another secluded cabin, this time in the words of northern Alberta, Canada. You wanted to put distance between yourself and that run in.

After that run in, you went from encountering two mutants for the first time in over 50 years, to five in the month it took you to find a secluded cabin. You may have killed two out of the five you encountered.

It wasn’t your fault though. One was able to phase through walls and proceeded to do so through your motel room and into your bathroom while you were taking a shower. The man tried to have his way with you but your claws quickly castrated him before he had the chance, followed by a quick slice to his throat.

The other was a woman who was able to will someone to do anything she wanted. All she had to do was meet another's gaze and they were basically her puppet. She spotted you at a gas station and attempted to strike up a conversion before you made eye contact and told her to fuck off.

That’s when she got a hold of you and had you rob the gas station. Unlucky for her, it wore off once you handed the money over to her and you were quick to slice her throat with your claws.

For some reason that was usually your method of death. It was more poetic than ripping someone’s throat out. It also was something an average human could easily do with a knife, allowing police to never guess a mutant was the assailant.

You finally reached Alberta and were able to settle down into a small cabin that was a studio with a small bathroom situated, having just a tub and a toilet. You weren’t picky though, happy to just be alone again after a month of travel through towns and civilization.

Your days consisted of reading or hunting in the woods, sometimes venturing to the nearest town to acquire some food or more reading materials. And alcohol. You always needed to have beer and whiskey wherever you lived.

You enjoyed the silence when you were alone. How on mornings, you'd drink a coffee and read outside, watching the sunset and listening to the birds become awake. It was nice, no instinct to kill someone or being overwhelmed with scents to ruin your day.

Until that instinct came back in full force.

One minute you were seated on your dilapidated couch at night, eating a rabbit you just caught, skinned, and gutted, the next you were standing, alert with all senses. Your claws were elongated, teeth on full display.

Having been in this cabin for a year, you were used to all sounds around it. The sound of a family of foxes scurrying back to their home. The sound of the occasional bear walking by insearch of the foxes. The sound of the vultures circling over a dead carcass.

You never heard the sound of gunshots.

Following it was silence. No longer were the animals running around, the birds flying high. The only sound was your own breath and heartbeat for a moment.

Then you heard it. A roar so loud, you were surprised it didn’t shake your house. You immediately rush out your door, the fresh air filled with the smell of copper. Of blood.

You let your nose lead you, running a mile before you were able to make out two silhouettes in the dark. One was couching over something, the other a few feet away, leaning against a tree with their hand on their chest. You took a breath in, their scents hitting your nose.

“Fucking great.” You mumble to yourself, a few feet away from the pair.

Thanks to their mutations though, they heard it.

You watch as both of their gazes shoot your way.

“Well, look who it is.” The one crouching says, coming to raise. “Fancy meeting you here, huh frail?”

You roll your eyes, taking Victor in. He looks exactly the same as a year ago. Hair just as short, stubble still on his face. His canines are showing as he smiles and you watch as his clawed hand, which you now notice has blood on it, raises to his mouth and he licks it clean.

You grimace slightly, never relishing in the taste of blood. You turn your gaze to see James is still with him, leaning against a tree with an aggravated look on his face and holes in his jacket. You notice the holes are consistent with the amount of gunshots you heard.

“You okay?” You ask James, walking slightly closer to him as your eyes are finally adjusted to the dark.

“”M fine Bub.” He gives a curt nod of his head and you stare at him a moment, noticing that his hair has grown in the past year. It still curls around his ears and to the nape of his neck but now the tufts on the sides of his head are slightly longer. While it is a weird hairstyle, you silently think he pulls it off well.

You turn back to see Victor watching you, although this time in annoyance rather than distrust. You think he’s probably a little butthurt you broke his arm and tore out his throat.

You look down at the body before him, noticing claw marks on his torso and blood soaked in his clothes. The man appears to be in his early sixties, slightly overweight and balding. A gun is thrown to the side and it doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together.

You sigh, starting to walk towards your cabin before turning to look at the men, an eyebrow raised.

“You assholes coming or what?”

You turn back around and continue on your way, listening as the two of them begin to follow.

///\\\

You lead the other two mutants into your small cabin, none of you saying a word on the mile walk to it. You open the door for the men to enter, observing how they look around and know there's not much they'll see.

“Take us back here so you can have your way with us, frail?” Victor asks, turning from his spot behind your couch to look at you, smiling with his canines.

“Actually, so I can rip your throat out again.” You smile back, all canines.

Victor's smile falls from his face to annoyance, pride filling you. James' lips quirk up in a grin before being replaced with his usual brooding expression. It happened so fast you almost think you imagined it.

“I don’t like you.” You start, pointing at James. “And I certainly hate you.” You add, now pointing at Victor. “But odds are that hunter would’ve found me and I probably would’ve been the one to kill him so,” you shrug this time, ending it at that for your explanation.

“Awe, you going sweet on us frail?” Victor asks almost mockingly.

You just shoot him a smile back, not wanting to play into his taunts. You walk over towards the bathroom, opening the door.

“Only a tub but gets the work done if you want to wash the blood of ya.” You say to James, making eye contact with his deep brown eyes. “I was in the middle of my dinner but will go hunt another few rabbits. You touch any of my shit, you’d wish I only ripped out your throat.” You pointedly look at Victor.

You make your way from the opened bathroom door, walking past a thinking Victor. You pass James who is leaning against the kitchen counter and back to observing your small space. You’re about to make contact with the door handle before Victor’s voice cuts you off.

“What kinda man am I if I let a frail do the huntin’.” He says, walking back over to you.

You quickly glance down at his crotch, enough to make it obvious, before looking back to him. “Don’t think you’re much of a man to begin with.”

Victor growls, hand reaching out to strike you before James intervenes. You didn’t even notice, he reached you so fast. He now stands between you and his brother, his back to you. He’s so close your senses are filled with smoke from a cigar, a hint of whiskey, and his own blood. It’s amazing what your mutations do, sliding bullets out and healing as if they never happened.

Victor and James share a look, as if silently communicating before Victor leans into the taller man's ear. “If you wanted her that bad, just had to say so, Runt.”

Victor moves past the both of you, opening your front door and slamming it shut. James walks away from you, heading back towards the kitchenette. He opens a cupboard, as if knowing what’s in there, and grabbing one of your bottles of whiskey.

He doesn’t grab a glass, just opening the bottle and taking a swig. You sigh, walking over to the man, and lean against the counter next to him, though not close enough to touch.

“He always a misogynistic asshole?” You question, taking the bottle from James hand and gulping some down yourself.

The rims taste like him, a lingering taste of tobacco and mint. Your mind starts to wonder if the taste would intensify if his mouth was against yours but quickly shakes your thoughts.

James lets out a snort, grabbing the whiskey back. “Only around women.”

You snort at that, finding it funny how opposite the two brothers are. One barely speaks, the other enjoys his own voice too much. One is short, the other tall. One seems to enjoy the kill, playing into his instincts, the other fighting against them at every moment.

“Since you’ve probably gathered how I spend my years, roaming place to place, how do you and Victor?” You question after a few minutes, trying to learn more about them.

You’re met with silence and not surprised. It was bordering a personal question and you had to guess James wouldn’t be privy to answer it. You just let the silence take over again, going back to your thoughts.

“War.” James finally says.

“Hmm?” You question, turning to look at him in wonder.

“You asked how we spend our years, war.” James says.

You feel like an idiot for a moment but don’t let it show, quickly asking another question. “What type of wars?”

James sighs, turning to look at you as well to meet your E/C eyes. “Fought in World War 1, fought in World War 2. Now we just roam like you. Sometimes come across a mutant and Victor will take them out.”

“So that’s what he wanted with me.” You conclude.

“Among other things.” James reveals, eyes trailing down your body, as if realizing you’re not dressed like a boy as you were when you first met.

You immediately look away, suddenly feeling the intensity of it all and noticing how close the two of you have gotten. You’ve known this guy, what, three hours total? What’s wrong with you? You clear your throat, grabbing the whiskey and swallowing before speaking.

“Well, if you need to clean up. Help yourself.” You say, gesturing to the bathroom.

James takes that as the conversion is over and nods. You watch as he pushes off the counter and walks towards the bathroom. The door shuts and you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

Running a hand through your hair, you walk over to your couch, picking up your previous discarded dinner and throwing it away. You hear the tub turn on and try to ignore the naked man in the room so close. You wash the dish and head back to the couch, grabbing your nearest book and diving in to distract yourself.

You’re brought out of the chapter you’re reading thirty minutes later when the bathroom door opens, James standing in the doorway in nothing but his jeans. You swallow, feeling your heart raise. If you thought he was huge in his shirt, he appears larger without it.

His pecs are defined, as are his abs, showing off his muscular build. His chest is lined with hair, traveling down his stomach to the waist line of his pants. You imagine that if he were to take them off, it would continue down.

Your observable gaze catches James and you realize he just caught you ogling. You blush slightly, turning away in embarrassment. You’ve seen shirtless men before. Hell you’ve seen naked men and lied with them. But none of them compared to James and that is just with him without his shirt.

Your front door suddenly bursts open and you raise, teeth bared and claws grown. You hear a schlit and look over to see James in an attack stance, his own mutation on full display. That’s when you finally get a good view of part of his mutation. Out of his knuckles are three, one foot bone like claws on either hand.

‘So that's what he sliced me with.’ You think to yourself, wondering if they hurt when they exited him.

“Am I interrupting something?” Victor's voice drawls, your gaze traveling back to see the man with the door closed behind him.

Despite having gone hunting, he’s surprisingly clean. He holds three gutted and skinned decently sized rabbits in his right hand. You retract your claws and teeth, James doing the same.

“We’re just discussing why it was taking you so long.” James bites at him.

Seems like the more comfortable he grew in your presence, the more of a backbone James seemed to grow towards his brother. The older man just rolled his eyes, walking over to the table and putting the rabbits down.

“Time to get cooking frail.” Victor says to you.

He walks over to you, side stepping to take a seat on your couch. He brings his legs up onto the coffee table, boots still on, and crosses his ankles. You watch as he folds his hands on his lap, claws still drawn and gaze on you.

“Ain’t your mother.” You retort, smiling mockingly.

“We’re your guests, where's the hospitality?” Victor asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Same where my normal genes are, non-existent.” You cross your arms across your chest, awaiting him to get up and do it himself.

“For Christ sake, Victor. I’ll cook the damn food. Least we can do after her letting us in.” James grumbles, grabbing his shirt and jacket from inside the bathroom and putting them back on.

You hide your disappointment and watch as the tall man walks to the kitchen, this time rummaging through the cupboard before finding what he was looking for. He quickly gets to work at preparing the rabbits, you making your way to lean against the counter and watch him.

Despite you barely knowing them, your instincts tell you that James is the better of the two. That he wouldn’t ever harm you, at least on purpose, and had no ill will towards you.

You couldn't say the same about his brother. But somehow, you feel safe with James here. How he was willing to step in between you and Victor, his back to you in defense. You’ve never felt safe around soemone. Not since before your mutation made itself known

Soon, the meal is finished and you sit in the teared up recliner while James sits on the couch next to his brother. You all eat in silence, though noticing how Victor's gaze travels between his brother and you every so often, nose flaring.

You know he can probably smell your attraction towards his brother. Hell, you know it based on your own mutation. The moment you saw him without his shirt in your bathroom doorway, you’re core throbbed and you knew James would be able to smell you.

But that’s just nature, hormones. Any woman would have the same reaction in the situation, it’s just basic biology. Mutant or not, James was an attractive man. And guessing by his own scent he was giving off, you were an attractive woman in his eyes.

Once dinner is done, James, again your favorite brother by a long shot and not just due to looks, takes the plates and washes them. He returned back to the couch, standing over Victor with his arms crossed and looking almost expectantly.

“What?” Victor questions gruffly.

“Should get going.” James says pointedly.

Victor makes a face. “We got a place to stay the night, with no one around, and you want to leave?”

“She never invited us to stay.”

“I never invited you to stay.”

You and James say at the same time, looking at each other awkwardly. Victor lets out a laugh.

“Ain’t that cute. Soon you two will be fucking against the wall and produce little runts runnin’ ‘round.”

You stick your tongue in your cheek, wanting nothing more than to rip this throat out again. It seems if he can’t have you, he may as well embarrass his brother since he also wants you.

But you're not going to give anything to either of them.

“Victor.” James growls low, eyeing his brother.

You watch the silent exchange between the two before the older one rolls his eyes. He removes his once again kicked up feet from the coffee table, moving his neck side to side to crack it before standing up.

“Always gotta be the good guy Jimmy.” Victor mumbles before brushing past his brother.

You watch as he makes his way to the front door before turning around and flashing you his canines.

“See you around frail.” He says before opening it.

“I hope not.” You call back as he slams the door shut.

You’re alone with James and stand, arms at your side while his are still folded across his broad chest. You watch as he sighs, as if having expected that of Victor.

You feel sorry for the guy, really. He obviously loves his brother, at least a little. But it puts him with someone on the verge of losing sanity due to his instincts. You noticed that within only a year, Victor had no qualms about showing off his canines and claws, not once withdrawing them during this run in.

Meanwhile, James seems to have a good moral compass and always tries to diffuse a situation. He was just as quiet but more polite this time. He’s either logically thinking you’re aren’t a threat and beginning to feel comfortable around you, or maybe relying on his instincts and going of your mutual attraction to not see you as a threat.

The two of you stare at each other for a moment. Neither of you moving or saying anything. You stare into his brown eyes, watching as emotions flicker through them. Anger, annoyance, acceptance. As if he knows this will be his life forever and there’s nothing he can do to change it.

He breaks the gaze first, lowering his arms and walking towards the door. You eyes follow his movements, watching as his hand opens the door before he pauses to look back at you.

“See ya ‘round, Bub.” James softly says before stepping outside the cabin, closing the door behind him.

“I hope so.” You whisper back to the closed door.

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