#Lea the cannibal

[dirtilam]

Drew my oc's Lea and Febi having a loving night together!

[anthromimicry]

the duality of misao being one of the few psychiatrists in arkham that has actually made progress with some of their patients and treats them like human beings, but also someone who does a complete 180° later + EATS her patients and gaslights people who ask about them into thinking they were never committed there is currently making me go feral. like girlll why are you like this JSJSJ

[acesammy]

Brainstorming ways to keep the darkness from encroaching

[howisjoostfanfictionforfree]

Twice as Many Shadows

Joost Klein x Vampire!reader

Real person fiction!

CW: 18+, MDNI, RPF, getting roofied, attempted sexual assault, body horror, reference to violence against animals, cannibalism, no smut yet sorry (that’s in part 3 heehee), obligatory club scenes, countless other cliches, please let me know if I’ve forgotten anything

Reader: vampire!reader, female!reader, not descriptive with reader’s appearance but I did give them a bit of personality and a backstory that I hope does not detract from the ability to self insert,,,, yeah I may have gone too hard on backstory

Other notes: Story takes place Fall of 2022,,,,Also big thanks to my irl bestie for his help identifying stray plot bunnies and big thanks to @joosthead for always encouraging me and giving me so much advice over time when it comes to writing! You’re amazing!!!

Word count: ~5,900

Real person fiction! Beware! 👻

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You’ve been so many places over the past few years but Amsterdam is a first.

The Netherlands club scene tickles you and Amsterdam is the center of it all. Bouncing from city to city and country to country has kept you sane but this place has you pausing for the first time in what feels like forever.

The energy of summer saturated the nightlife when you arrived and parties raged until the dawn. Festival season was loud and unignorable but even the mainstay clubs and bars were full to bursting for months on end. Anywhere a body could fit there was a party to accommodate.

Even now as long warm nights turn crisper and darker as summer turns to autumn, the Dutch party on and you find yourself carried away by the momentum they never seem to lose.

It’s easy to stay. Maybe it's just been long enough since you started all this that you feel like you can breathe normally. Maybe you're just far enough away.

Maybe it really is just something about Amsterdam.

You’re growing attached to this place. You dread the day you will have to leave.

He catches your eye at the club. You notice him first, of course. Can hear him from clear across the room despite the bone-rattling music and a hundred other people.

It’s a Friday night and you itch to be among the crowd. Close enough to feel like one of them and share in their moment. You wish it were yours. You will make it yours too, just like always. 

Something about the exact way he looks and the exact way he speaks to his group of friends is so striking you couldn't ignore him if you tried. He jokes with an open affection that just shouldn't be possible in words chosen so crass and shouted so loud. Never have you heard ‘cancer dick’ sound like an endearment. 

He is so yellow and pink and blue. Your three new favorite colors. Golden hair almost luminescent under the black lights. Cheeks as pink as his flashy jacket. Eyes bluer than the toxic looking drink in his hand.

You couldn't say whether or not he is conventionally handsome. The sight of him immediately fills a space in your brain you didn't know existed like a lock and key and bowls over your pre-existing notions of the word.

Every part of his face fits in perfect proportion to the rest in a way you have never seen and it has you floored.

There's nothing unusual about it, nothing you can put your finger on, just something absolutely entrancing. 

He isn't just beautiful either. That perfect face is radiating an attitude like no one else in the room. No one else looks as happy, as carefree, as genuinely joyous. You can hear it in his words, see it in how he dances like he doesn't care who is watching. You can tell he doesn't. 

How long has it been since you felt such strong attraction? It makes you stupidly nostalgic for how simple things like this might have been when you were human.

You could have flirted with him, danced with him, maybe even taken him home, gotten his number in the morning.

Now, he is everything you want, everything you want to be, and most definitely everything you can't have. 

Not like that at least. He wouldn't have you. 

He catches your gaze from across the floor. Yeah, you probably are staring aren’t you. But you don’t look away. One perk of your creature status is a much increased ability to not give a fuck. Even when you really really should. His eyes rove over you and his face breaks into what you would call a smirk. 

You want to see it fall as you bite a chunk out of him. 

Okay, time to leave. Better get out of here before you do something weird. Turning away, you weave through the crowd. You feel his eyes on you the whole way out.

Literally. Vampires can do that. 

The itch of his gaze evaporates as you step out the door and reach for a cigarette. Disgusting but necessary. Perfect for blotting out all the people-smells that you’re suddenly having a harder time than usual ignoring.

The first drag is fucking toxic but it’s immediately easier not to focus on the cocktail of male sex hormones the club atmosphere provided. You wonder which are his of the dozens dancing on your tongue. 

The overlap between sexual attraction and the urge to hold someone between your jaws still surprises you sometimes. Of course it isn’t always about sex. You could want to eat someone you hated just as bad. Most often it’s a complete stranger.

It’s like squares and rectangles. You might not think about fucking someone every time you need blood, but every time you do want to fuck, you also want to sink your teeth in. 

If you’re being honest though, this observation is based on fairly brief encounters with fairly drunk men. In reality, you haven’t gotten any in a while. Years in fact. Literal monster behavior seems to be a bit of a turn off for most men and sexy encounters always end the moment you get a good few gulps in and their struggling makes you start to feel guilty. 

You sigh. This is far from the first time you’ve wondered at this particular predicament. Why can’t a girl get some?

You flick the butt to the ground and grind it out with your heel. It’s about time to head home. You came out to have fun and you don’t actually need to feed right now. Even if you did, it would probably go poorly given the mood you’re in. 

You don’t have the archetypical problem of killing people when you feed, not that you’ve never killed anyone, but the trauma level for whichever poor person you choose on a given night can vary greatly depending on your state of mind and right now you’re feeling a little worked up. It might be more bloody than usual. 

Ideally, it’s always drunk people you feed on, as fucked up as that sounds, in the end they usually remember less. That or sleeping people.

God. So much noncon. 

But a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do. Blood banks actually ask a lot of questions and you’ve never felt like trying to intimidate a doctor into faking a condition for you, too afraid of catching their interest and becoming a science experiment.

There aren’t any vampires you've met yet that could point you in a helpful direction either. You never even got to know the vampire that turned you. 

The exact circumstances of your metamorphosis were actually a bit of a mystery. You had no memory of being bitten.

One night you came-to in the middle of the street, blocks away from where you should have been, shoulder bloody, and within the hour you were crawling out of your skin as you transformed. 

Outwardly, you looked no different, but that night your senses shifted and heightened and your bones and muscle tore apart and regrew stronger in far too short a time. 

It was a good thing you had been alone. You had been with your friends before. It was a girls night out catching the newest Spiderman in theaters.

Sitting there on the pavement, blood seeping into your shirt, you knew there was something off and you stumbled home without finding them. 

When you arrived you realized you were more than just in shock. It hurt. Everything hurt. You should have gone to the hospital. But how could you have known?

It came on fast.

By the time you knew there was something really wrong, you were too weak to make it anywhere in your agony. Too weak to even make it to your phone in your coat pocket hanging on the door. 

In the end, you are glad no one got to witness what happened. What you are sure would have been beyond explanation. The sight of your own flesh writhing under your skin is unforgettable. The tiles of the kitchen floor where you collapsed took days to clean. 

The only thing that kept you from totally freaking out in the moments afterward was the insane thought that maybe you had become Spiderman. As stupid as that sounds.

Not that you were a hero or anything.

That much was clear from the beginning when you stumbled outside to rip into the dog in the yard across the street after realizing you could hear your neighbors through the wall and it was making your mouth water. 

Dogs are disgusting. At least it didn’t die. 

You still watch Spiderman now and then on the days you're feeling a tad existential. Honestly, you wish you could be Spiderman. You don’t really know what you are.

Your heart still beats and you definitely don't sparkle, but your canines are extendable and people really do look delicious sometimes. You feel the need to feed on people but no one you've ever fed on has turned. You checked.

It would be nice if whoever bit you had stuck around to talk it out. In the end, vampire just seemed like the best word for it. 

Never mind the flesh eating part. 

What were you saying? Oh yeah, if you try and find someone drunk enough to not notice a little bite right now, you might accidentally decapitate them. A slight exaggeration, but still. 

The worn cobblestones glitter under the amber lamplights as you make your way down the street towards the tram stop, still thinking about that perfect face.

The breeze carries a real hint of chill now, letting go of the last traces of your favorite summer since you started all this.

The shadows on the water are deeper than you remember ever seeing them. They creep up over the edges of the canals to fill the street and swallow the alley you turn down. 

You make it only a few feet before a group of guys round the opposite corner and take up the entire width of the passage.

Even with the knowledge that they would ultimately move to the side, you don’t want to deal with the urges they might inspire in such a tight space. Not right now.

Somehow you’re only feeling more and more keyed up.

Making a quick decision, you turn around to head back the way you came. The thumping of the bass becomes detectable as you near the club again, rattling you physically to match your internal agitation. 

You round the corner to try going up the other street this time and collide harshly with the exact person you had been looking to get away from. 

What was even the point of being a vampire if you couldn’t avoid clumsy moments like these?

 You take a step back as you raise your hands up slightly in a placating gesture. 

“Het spijt me,” you say trying to dodge around him quickly as his scent absolutely floods your senses. 

Fuck, he smells good. 

The general mixed smells of horny male in the club had been enough when looking at him before, but here and now, you realize you are in real trouble. The way he smells itches something deep in you. You want to fuck him. You also want to bite him. Hard.

Go now. Leave.

He spins as if to follow you as you skirt around him. 

“No problem! Hey I saw you earlier, are you leaving already?” He says in perfect English. He must think you’re a tourist. Technically, you kind of are. 

“Is my accent that bad?” you say, pausing in step to look at him. 

What the fuck are you thinking. You need to go right now. 

He grins. ”Haha, yes a little.” 

You can’t help yourself. You can tell he’s teasing. He was charming before from all the way across the room and he’s just as charming right now. All blond fluff and cheekbones and effortless charisma. You turn to face him fully.

“Well, yeah, I think I’m done for the night,” you say carefully. 

He leans in a little, opens his mouth to say something else, but stops dead when he sees what must be your eyes turning pitch black. 

You feel the subtle tug as it happens. The proximity to something so fucking potent as he leans forward pushes you over an edge you didnt even know was there. You’re literally engaging night vision like you’re going to hunt him or something. Ridiculous. You haven't had this problem in years. 

“Fuck!” he stumbles back. “Your eyes! A-Are you…….What!?” 

You’re still just standing there and you can tell he doesn’t know what to say. For as much as pop culture loves the supernatural, no one is ever actually prepared to encounter it.

You can tell he isn’t drunk enough to forget what he’s seeing right now but once again you don’t care like you probably should.

You allow your gaze to flit from his shocked stare down to his lips and then, after a moment, to his throat. When you look up again, it’s obvious he’s blushing. His eyes have become so dark they could rival your own if it weren't for the sclera.

Less than a second later, the smell of his arousal hits you.

What the fuck?

It stirs you more intensely than you thought possible and you know it's now or never. Leave or absolutely traumatize this beautiful stranger. 

You summon all your willpower and turn tail and run.

You don’t even try to conceal your speed. It's dark enough and the risk has to be taken if you stand any chance of getting far enough away to save the situation by the time that willpower runs out. 

Besides, he’s already seen you. 

By the time you reach your street you’re panting. God, that was like four kilometers. Whatever fresh Twilight bullshit that says vampires never run out of stamina is just wrong. You may have done it in a nice neat ten minutes but still, that was rough.

The burning in your chest has you feeling decidedly less sexy and you walk the rest of the way home. 

Home was a small apartment you had found on the edge of the city where you could afford to not have a roommate and the landlady let you pay month by month instead of signing on for a whole year. It was always hard finding places like that.

In the few months you had been there not one of your neighbors was especially loud or smelly or nosey and you counted it a lucky find. It was a perfect spot really, and you were glad it was within your budget.

You had been working remote for the duration of your worldly travels. Even if things got tight sometimes, it was a good enough paying job and you wouldn't trade it for anything since it allowed you to move around when you wanted.

After your great murderous fuck-up, you had found it was very soothing to be out of country, even if you were sure no one was onto you. 

It would be pretty hard to pin anything on you with no body.

As far as you know, the poor guy is still considered missing. Well, you say ‘poor guy,’ but the guy was kind of an asshole. You had never been drugged before, but you could tell for him it was a practiced routine.

The horror of the night started at the bar at the local theater. Not a place you had thought to be on your guard. You were there with a few friends in full costume to catch this month's performance of Rocky Horror.

It was intermission and you were all milling about refilling drinks and stretching your legs and fighting to fit as many people at once into the lone photo booth in the corner. The bar was small and you did not expect to stop there for longer than it took to get a new beer. 

He came up next to you, too close from the get-go considering there was no one else standing there, and made conversation while he had you captive waiting for your drink.

He wasn’t from around there, was visiting he said, and wanted to know what people do for fun. You could tell he really meant he wanted to know what fun he could have with you.

As forward as he was, it wasn't unusually pushy and you were ultimately unbothered when you broke away to find your friends. You never even saw how he managed to dose you. 

You never found your friends.

You don’t even remember how you made it to his car. 

One minute you were walking back to your seat and the next, you were outside. It was cold. Someone was carrying you bridal style.

You were pretty out of it for a good minute. Not sure how long exactly, but long enough that when you started processing things again, you were pulling up by the side of the road near a cow pasture.

He clearly thought you were still out of it because he removed his hand from your thigh, cut the engine, and got out to go around to open your door without a word. 

God knows what he had in mind for you that night, but you never found out because as it happens, he was right, you were still kind of out of it. Not like he had intended, your metabolism already working through a dose surely meant to incapacitate, but you were still loopy enough that logic was miles away and a cold and creeping dread began to fill you as you realized your situation.

The inability to think clearly, though it was getting better with each second, was only more agitating. 

It didn't even occur to you at the time that he stood no chance, that this was all ridiculous. You had been different for too short a time back then.

He was a threat, and one way or another you were about to respond. 

He opened your door. 

You had never felt the kind of fear-panic-rage before that you did in that moment. 

You were up in a flash as soon as he opened it wide enough and dragged him with you into the field.

Your strength was unexpected and his last words were no more than a surprised shout before you ripped his throat out and drank.

Each time he thrashed, the panic fought to overwhelm you and you drank faster to quiet him. He couldn't hurt you if you made him stop moving. 

When he ran dry, the panic-rage still burned and it seemed only natural to take a bite. A real bite. You had to make sure he stopped. 

So you did. 

And then another bite. 

And another and another and before you knew it, he had no head. 

Then, he had no arm and then soon, he only had a leg. 

The only thing you didn’t eat was his clothes. 

When light started to creep over the horizon, you finally came out of your state. You felt both calm and horrified. The threat was gone, but you also didn’t know you could do that. Where did it all go? Forget the size of your stomach, your entire body couldn’t have fit his inside of it. 

It was a little startling at the time. 

You burned his clothes and drove his car to the bottom of a lake. It might have been enough, probably was, but after that you didn’t stick around long to find out.

All this was to say that you enjoyed where you were now. It had been a good couple of years and you were now only vaguely disturbed about your latent abilities. You had even gotten back to the point where you were going back to bars and clubs again!

There was a time when you stayed away after that. You had been slow to return to enjoying nightlife, but Berlin had done wonders in that department and Amsterdam only solidified it. There was something about the Dutch brand of party that made you feel alive.

Tonight put a slight damper on that feeling of progress though. You’re not sure what you would have done to that guy if you hadn't left that very second.

Even if the situation was entirely different, it was the first time since that disastrous night that you have felt so out of control.

You can’t say you felt particularly murderous but you did want to hurt him in ways that make you blush a little now as you trudge up the steps to your door and wrestle with your keys. 

Ugh. You can never repeat that night. 

You will have self control. 

You do have self control. 

Mostly. 

You should just calm down already. As you bolt the door and slip off your shoes, you resolve to make tea and forget about it. Besides, you didn’t really do anything and no one will ever believe him. 

The next day finds you completely normal and you spend your time working. You had a good night's sleep all things considered.

It’s such a good thing that vampires can sleep. Sure, maybe you would get more done if you didn’t, but honestly you think you would go crazy. You love your comfy little nest and you love turning your brain off. It needed to be turned off after that encounter. 

By next week, the entire thing is forgotten (filthy lie) and you feel like it is high time for another visit to the club. Boredom is killer and you can't resist anyways. Last time was surely a one-off.

You do yourself up and make your way downtown. 

The street lamps reflect off the water and the countless neon signs of bars and restaurants give the streets an ethereal glow despite the shadows, deep as ever.

They scatter in in every direction, multiplying in protest of the city lights and gathering themselves to obscure every corner.

The pounding bass spills out the door of every club you pass and the carefree Friday night energy of every person wandering the streets is tangible. 

Amsterdam is so awesome. 

You purposefully choose a new spot you found on Instagram, hoping to avoid running into him again.

You’ve never been big on social media, but ever since your life took you on the road it became critical to your navigation of the world. It took some getting used to, especially with no one in your life to ask more than superficial questions, but you figured it out. 

It still startles you occasionally just how non tech-savvy you can be. It’s not usually an issue but when you forget how to convert file types or struggle to navigate online forums you can't deny you’re a little behind the curve. Honestly, you might as well be a vampire from the 17th century not the 21st. One hidden away in a decaying manor far from modern technology. 

An exaggeration, but it really feels that way sometimes. 

You often pat yourself on the back for learning how to use the software necessary to do your job. Your career hadn’t required it of you before and it was only due to the fuckass pandemic that it had become an option. Now that you had the tech down it was very convenient to be able to do your job virtually.

That had been one of your biggest concerns in the beginning. How were you gonna fund your life on the run if you had to constantly search for new employment? 

When you get to the club it is delightfully similar to the photos and you spend your evening rotating between dancing your ass off and people-watching from the side when the smells and jostling get a little too exciting.

Yes, the club is exciting. The right amount this time around. You feel like a real young adult. You give yourself another pat on the back for your foray into normalcy.

It’s a smaller club on Lange Leidsedwarsstraat. By no means tucked away, but far enough from Leidseplein main square that there are far fewer tourists.

The ice is starting to melt in your drink. You can’t be bothered with it when there is so much to look at.

There can't be more than fifty people crammed in this tiny renovated warehouse but they manage to sport a variety of fashion and dance styles. Inevitably, you spot hakken amongst them. The tangle of decks and mixers on the small raised stage is huge and the lone DJ operating it all glows in alternating colors as lights strobe from behind to scatter over the crowd.

You work your way out of the corner and back onto the dance floor again. The upbeat song playing now hits just the right vibe for how you’re feeling. 

Doe de Fryslân bop

Wist je niet dat ik van Fryslân kom?

Dude, doe de Fryslân bop

Blaas het op als een fietsbandpomp

You bop along for a minute as the song demands and notice a group of several people shouting along much louder than everyone else. They seem to know every word.

One of them facing away from you turns in place as he dances and suddenly you’re locking eyes with the exact same guy. 

Jesus Christ, what are the odds. 

Well, maybe not terrible odds if you consider he’s probably a local. 

But still. Goddammit. 

His face instantly lights up and it would be kind of cute if you weren’t panicking. Those baby blues pack a punch. What happened to not giving a fuck?

Before you can move a single muscle to make your retreat, he is surging towards you through the crowd and  o h   s h i t   you did not expect that.

You thought he’d be running too. Even if he had been surprisingly horny in the face of inhuman eyes, you figured the freakish speed there at the end would have been enough to spook him.

Shocked, you fail to stop him from grabbing your wrist like he can tell you’re gonna make a break for it again. Vampire reflexes who? You open your mouth to protest but before you can say anything he leans in and bites your shoulder.  

What.

WHAT?

You realize you’re shouting it as he pulls away laughing. 

“Fancy seeing you here!” He is way too happy.

“You bit me!”

“Are you gonna bite me back?” 

“What!?”

“C’mon, I know you want to.” The way he waggles his eyebrows should not be attractive. It is.

“Excuse me?!”

“I’ve watched enough tv to know a bloodsucker when I see one.” He looks stupidly smug.

“Yeah, tv. You should probably stop watching so much.”

“Your eyes were beautiful y’know.” You feel your own heart stutter.

“I think you had too much to drink.”

“Please, that was not drunk at all, you should have seen how we ended the night!”

“Yeah, you definitely were. But you’re joking, right? You should know most girls aren’t into roleplay right off the bat.” Maybe you can embarrass him into leaving you be. 

He scoffs and brings his other hand to the back of your head so he can pull you in as he leans down to whisper in your ear. 

“Why did you run?”

You can tell he’s deliberately holding your face close to his throat and god damn him, you know what he is trying to achieve and it works. This close to the source, the other smells of the club can’t run interference.

His presence is just as overwhelming as the first time and the smell of his skin and the thump of his heart is so close now you can’t help your reaction once again.

You feel the familiar tug behind your eyes and the shadows of the room start to melt away. The little silver chain sitting against his clavicles snaps into perfect definition.

He pulls away to gauge your reaction, the sly motherfucker, but his grin melts into stupefied wonder when he sees exactly what he had hoped for. 

“There it is.” He whispers. His heart is beating harder than ever and his scent rushes forward to envelop you even though you are no longer pressed to his neck. He smells like adrenaline. He smells like arousal.

You pout as he drinks you in. He pulled a fast one on you. 

Realizing he’s still holding your wrist, you flex in warning. He grips tighter like he’s afraid to let you go.

“C’mon, I’m not gonna go around gathering a mob with torches and pitchforks, what’s the big deal?”

You hold his gaze. You remember very well what the big deal is. What you are capable of when emotions are this high. He has you feeling something, alright.

But, you have to admit, even though everything about his presence is sending you into the stratosphere, it is nothing like that night. This feeling, albeit intense, is a good one. 

When was the last time someone talked to you like this? After seeing what you were? Never. Maybe you overreacted before. Maybe you can control yourself. As much as you want to rip into his shoulder you're not doing it. You‘re enjoying looking at him too much.

He really is beautiful.

Right now it doesn't feel like you're in danger of a big deal 2.0. Just maybe something equally stupid.

“You know I’ll have to kill you if you out me right?” You look over at the rest of his group where they are still dancing. 

His eyes widen at your indirect confirmation- you are a vampire. His grip becomes stiff and you finally get a whiff of fear. Good. Even if you’re lying, he should know who he’s dealing with. 

He stutters a bit, “I-I told some of my friends I saw something crazy, but they don’t believe me I swear! They just think I was drunk! Like you said!” 

God, he’s outing himself already. He’s so lucky you’re not actually evil. You just laugh and begin swaying to the beat again. You break his hold on your wrist effortlessly now, just a hint of real strength, so you can grab his hand instead. 

“Don’t worry, I’m just teasing. Dance with me?”

Even in the low lighting of the club, you can tell with your shifted vision how hard he’s blushing. In spite of his fear, he smells like he’s ready to fuck you pregnant. 

God, he’s a freak. 

You love it.

He acquiesces after a stunned moment and begins to bounce along with you. After a minute, you see him start mouthing the lyrics and it strikes you again how well he seems to know them. 

“A favorite of yours?” you say. 

”I wrote it!” he exclaims, leaning in. “You like?” 

“Did you really?” You are genuinely skeptical.

He scoffs. “I did! I am huge Netherlands artiest, don’t you know Joost Klein? Also, I know the DJ so he plays my stuff.” You hear humor in his voice but you don’t know what part is a joke.

Joost Klein. Huh. You have never heard that name in your life.

“Wow, I feel so lucky to meet a celebrity.” You bat your eyes at him.

He clocks your bullshit immediately.

“Really! I can show you my stuff! Come to my studio and I’ll show you what I’m working on!” 

You smirk. You are really dancing quite closely now. 

“Wow I dunno, I never usually let boys show me their stuff on the first date.”

He chokes out a laugh “So this is a date huh?” his hands are on your waist now.

“I don’t know yet” You say. “Dance with me some more.” 

Because you are insane, you turn around and lean up against him. The music is a little slower and heavier now than the alt-pop rap playing before. Joost gets the message immediately and soon you’re grinding to the beat. Already, you can feel his bulge against your ass.

You let yourself get lost in the rhythm of the music and the feeling of him against you. It's easy to lose time when his scent and his touch surround you like this. You could almost forget the itch in your canines. 

His head bows and his lips skim your shoulder where he bit you. What a strange sensation. A role reversal. You still can't believe he did that. For a minute, you feel strikingly human.

You arch up into him and let your head fall back against his chest. His lips move up to your ear and he asks, “Can I have your number?” You twist yourself back around to face him. 

It’s getting harder not to just kiss him. 

You maintain eye contact for a minute, his gaze searching yours.

Without breaking the stare-down, you reach into his pocket oh-so-slowly and pull out his phone, offering it to him.

He is starting to look a little crazed but he breaks the eye contact to look down and open it for you. You punch in your number when he turns it to you and slide it back into his pocket, just as slowly. 

Hooking a finger into his belt loop, you look up at him under your lashes. Joost looks like he doesn’t know whether to fuck you now or fuck you later. If he can wait to get you home.

You don’t let him deliberate. 

Leaning up, you ghost your lips over his. “See you soon.” 

And with all the stupid supernatural guile you can muster, you sink backwards into the crowd and disappear. The last glimpse you catch of his face is one of outrage. 

You laugh all the way down the street. 

A side street without lamps lends the shadows you need for cover as you give it just a bit of a speed boost in case he gets the idea to go looking for you again. Lord knows you’ve bumped into him enough times now that he might think to try it. 

You aren’t even to the end of the street before you get a text.

        +31 06 5337496:  y r u so mean to me ( ｰ̀εｰ́ )

          +31 06 5337496:  when will you come to my studio?

          +31 06 5337496: ପ(๑•ᴗ•๑)ଓ ♡

You're still not sure what he really means by studio. Maybe it was a joke for his apartment. A studio apartment? Or maybe he really does make music. That would be fun. Not that you know much about Dutch music. Or Dutch. You sigh. It’s a process. 

Saving his number you write back.

        cap

          I am not mean

          had to get out of there before you turned full blood-                 

          sucker on me biting my shoulder like that

          Tuesday? 

The dot-dot-dot pops up and goes away no less than seven times before he finally replies.

          Joost:  (/>w<)/ yayyyy can’t wait!!

           Joost:  meet me at 16 Schimmelstraat at 14:00 :333

You can't help but snort at the way he texts. Definitely a funny guy. You have such good taste. 

It took him quite a while to respond compared to the speed at which he first texted you. You might be technologically illiterate, but even you know that means Joost had to think about something a little harder.

He does seem to get flustered by everything vampiric. Oh this was going to be so much fun.

On the other hand, Joost might just be a slow texter. 

You know where you would place your bet. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thank you so much for reading!! Sorry for the atrocious amount of backstory. I didn't realize what I’d done until it was too late (and I didn’t want to rewrite). I promise the next one will be more Joost-centric interaction and less boring exposition. Btw this series will include smut! Yay!!

[strawwritesfic]

Joel x Female!Amputee!Reader: (Don't) Hold Your Breath [Ch. 5]

Summary: You’ve made a lot of monumental mistakes in your life. Cutting your arm off isn’t even at the top of the list. Now you’re about to learn a lot of life lessons at the hands of your savior and her brute of a guardian–and they’re not about to let you learn them the easy way either.

Challenge: "#32 in His Rulebook" by Edible Heart Monster on Lunaescence Archives

Rating/Warnings/Tags: M (post-The Last of Us; excessive swearing; sexual references; violence against children; infected children; references to abortion; references to cannibalism; references to starvation; references to riots; implied domestic abuse; implied grooming; implied sexual relationship between an adult and a minor; death of a parent; violence; gore; blood; gun use; ableism; amputee!Reader; enemies to lovers; not canon compliant)

Pairings/Relationships: Joel/Female!Reader; Tommy/Maria; Reader/Male!OC; Ellie & Reader; Ellie & Joel; Ellie & Maria & Tommy

Tag List: @imaginesfire

Master List��(with important note!)

Rule #5: Don't touch anything.

It wasn’t the clicking that bothered you about later stages of the infection. You could easily tune out a sound. Besides, when you wanted to pay attention to it, their signature sound made them easier to look out for. No, what you didn’t like, what truly frightened you about clickers, was the way they moved—the way their limbs floundered, the way their heads whipped back forth, the way their feet scuffed along the ground beneath them.

When a clicker came for you, you got a front-row seat to all that movement. This one lurched and stumbled towards you at an alarming pace. With your back pressed against a tree, you had nowhere to run. All the noise coming from its broken maw would probably draw the rest of the swarm. All your nights of staying huddled inside a tree hollow, waiting for them to migrate, were for not. Soon you would feel the snap of chipped and rotting teeth against your neck.

Both of your hands scrabbled through the moist earth around your tree. Maybe you hadn’t tossed your pistol into the forest behind you, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away to look properly at the area surrounding you. The clicker drew closer and closer, closer, until it kneeled in front of you, its head still twitch madly, the clicking still sputtering from its throat.

You whimpered, but all that did was draw the clicker’s dirty, broken fingernails toward your face. The thumbs dragged slowly up your cheeks until both were pressing hard into your eyelids.

“You let it take my eyes,” came the familiar voice a young child. “Can I have yours?”

Pain shot up once more through your missing arm, and you rocketed upward in fog of cold sweat. Your breath swooshed in and out of your chest as your eyes, still thankfully whole, darted around your tiny prison cell of a room. There was a window, but all that did was pump warm afternoon light inside. Still, you felt cold and clammy with residue of your nightmare sticking to your skin. How many times were you going to have that one before it lost its shock value? For fuck’s sake, it had been years!

Your arm gave another nasty throb; you clapped your remaining palm around it. Despite your recent nap, you felt more lightheaded than before. A quick look about your sleeping space told you why: Blood was smeared across the wall. Apparently, you had been thrashing in your sleep. How fucking mature of you. That would certainly get the others to respect you.

“I’m not waiting around! Get the hell up!”

Along with someone shouting those word came a banging on your door. From the sound of it—and the echoed banging in your head—they’d been at it for a while. Maybe that had been what woke you up. Not that you were complaining. You appreciated getting torn away from that particular dream before the eye gouging started in earnest.

“What?” you demanded when he didn’t speak.

He’d changed his shirt, you noted. Plaid, still, and a different color, but at least less dirty. Looking down at your array of clothing only made you feel angrier. The fabric underneath your missing arm was crusty and red-brown with dried blood.

“Infirmary,” he answered shortly. “Now.”

“Huh?” Slowly, one of your eyebrows lifted. The other soon followed. “Where’s Ellie? Wasn’t she supposed to come get me for dinner?”

“Ellie’s busy. She remembered that no one had changed your bandages.”

“So?”

“So,” Joel rolled his eyes, looking the most casual you had ever seen him, “she insisted I come and take care of that for you.”

“Tell her thanks but no fucking thanks.”

Casual Joel did not mean casual banter. That became very clear shortly thereafter, when his mouth set and he looked back down at you. His eyes slid down, all the way to your stump, which was hurting quite a bit more than it had since Ellie had made you a better tourniquet. You tried to step back inside your room to hide the worst of it, but Joel had already spotted the blood. He looked angrier than ever.

“Infirmary,” he said again, and took your still-existing arm. “Now.”

He yanked, and before you could protest, you were tripping after him. Joel released you immediately, maybe afraid that you had fucking fungus cooties on your skin. At least you had worn your shoes to sleep. Splinters littered the hallway, something you had not taken note of on your way in.

Joel was not much of a talker. Several people met the two of you on your way out, but shied away as soon as they spotted Joel. He didn’t seem to notice, and didn’t greet those that did hazard throwing greetings his way. A few times, his walkie-talkie—he must have picked one up during your nap—gurgled, but he ignored it. You weren’t sure why, as a few of them sounded a little frantic.

Maybe he was taking you out to pasture.

Cold fear flooded through your body at the thought of being killed. You were so close to having made it just a little farther. You couldn’t die! You just couldn’t. But if Joel noticed your sudden panic, he ignored you as he led you outside and through the maze of cement corridors.

The thought of running off occurred to you. Tommy seemed like an absolute idiot when it came to judging people. He wouldn’t let Joel murder you—unless that whole charitable persona from earlier had actually just been a persona. They might have just been waiting for Ellie to become preoccupied before delivering a headshot. Your breath stuck to your throat; your head spun; a painful pulse drummed in your missing limb.

Joel pushed a door ahead of you open. He stepped aside to allow you a good look at a slightly larger, more light-looking room inside. You took a half-step backward, tensed to run. In the same moment that Joel seemed to sense your intention to flee, to snap to attention so he could run after you, two gunshots sounded from somewhere within the compound. Distracted, Joel turned toward the source of the noise. Distracted yourself, you didn’t take the opportunity to spring away.

“We have word that an infected has been brought into the facility,” came Maria’s voice, crackling over Joel’s walkie-talkie. “Repeat, we have infected inside the facility!”

“Shit!” In a flash, Joel had lifted the device to his mouth. “Any idea where it is?”

“No. These morons shot the messengers before we could get that much out of them. Sounds like they brought them in a couple days ago. It won’t be a clicker, but we might have a runner, if they change before we can take it out.”

“I’ll check things out. Do you have Ellie?”

“She’s right here.”

Joel nodded, even though Maria would not be able to see him. Meanwhile, your cold sweat had returned in full force. Your head swiveled about, clicker-like, as you tried to take in your surroundings. Runners didn’t give you much warning before they came for you. A bell rang out across the grounds; people screamed; and Joel took several running steps past you before he turned back with a grimace.

“Get in there! And don’t fucking touch anything!” he said.

He was gone before you could answer. For a few tense seconds, you stood there, looking around with fear gnawing at your thinking process and your heart throbbing in your palms. Maybe—just maybe—Joel was right. At least inside the infirmary building there was only one exit, and if you closed the door, why would any runner have a reason to come after you? You pelted inside as quickly as your drained legs could carry you, then slammed the door shut, turned about, and slid down the flat surface, panting.

Then you heard the grunting.

Hesitantly, hardly daring to believe it, you looked up. Two beds were stationed in the sun-lit room, and one had twisted, dirty sheets sitting in tangled mounds across the mattress. An equally twisted, dirty man stood next to it. His eyes and shoulders rolled. A strangled moan broke from his busted lips. His face stretched to a horrifying degree as he stared down at you.

Newly turned. You knew that look anywhere. Fuck if that did you any good. Even if that man knew what was going on, that wouldn’t stop him from ripping your throat out—or worse. The best you could hope for was to appease him long enough to get the fuck out of there. With as smooth and slow a movement as you could manage, you rose from the floor.

“Look—”

Some wordless burble tore out of his mouth as the man threw himself at you. You jumped backward. Still unused to your new weight, you flailed upon landing—and knocked over several metal shelves holding medical supplies. The resounding crash bothered your assailant not at all. One shelf dug into your shoulder, but you stepped away quickly enough to avoid going. Your body swiveled around to try to make it toward the bed, but you tripped, forcing you to use your single hand to scrabble for the sheets.

All the while, the man screamed incoherently. How the fuck no one else had heard, you didn’t know. Really? Joel’s first thought hadn’t been the fucking infirmary? Or maybe he knew it was there, and he just wanted your death to look like an accident.

The man’s gait might have been no better than yours, but the next time he ran for you, he made it. You tumbled backward across the mattress and landed with your shoulders against the tile floor. His filthy teeth snapped at you again and again as you scrambled to get back on your feet. His clawed hands swiped through the air right in front of your face as he drew closer and closer to the upper half of your body.

“Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck!” you shrieked as your legs kicked wildly and uselessly in the air behind him. You threw your shoulders from side to side to no avail. You were going to die in a shitty fucking infirmary because of a fucking runner! The only thing you had was a fucking pair of scissors and—

—and why the fuck weren’t you using them? You twisted around, still kicking, beating the man around the face and head with your stump of an arm as you withdrew the scissors from your pocket. The movement caught the man’s attention. His mouth snapped closer to that arm.

“Not my other arm, motherfucker!” you shouted, and thrust the blades into his neck.

They weren’t exactly sharp. He didn’t stop moving. His hands crept around your neck, but you’d made a dent. Without waiting for further prompting, you stabbed again—and again and again and again. Blood splattered your face, but as long as you kept your mouth and eyes shut, you didn’t have anything to worry about. More worrying was that the man kept squirming, and your stump wasn’t doing much to hold him down. “Stay down, you—”

A single gunshot rang out in the room. The man fell still. Then he rolled off you, landing with a thud on the floor at your side.

Joel stood in the doorway, illuminated by the light outside. The barrel of his rifle leaked smoke into the air, and one of his eyes remained looking straight down it until the runner gave a final, great twitch. You could hardly breathe. Every single fucking part of your body hurt.

He was kind enough to let you catch your breath.

“I think I need those new bandages now,” you said breathlessly, after several minutes had passed.

Looking distinctly disconcerted, Joel paused before putting his gun back up and walking inside to scoop up a wad of bandages left on the floor. “Yeah,” he said as he bent down to help you get onto the nearby bloodstained bed. “I’ll get right on that.”

[kafkasmjjw]

Hi :) can you recommend your top 5 moonjo/jongwoo (jongmoon?) fics?

i’m going to link my top 5 post-canon, canon divergent and aus because i’ve been in this fandom for too long to choose only 5. these aren’t ordered by preference, and i’m choosing complete fics and only one per author. please heed the tags and ratings in case any of it makes you uncomfortable!

post-canon:

origins by mslunita

Moonjo is hardly protected by tissue; his body is rough-cut. Bone-fed. It’s easy for Jongwoo to break the skin and feel as if he’s sharpening his teeth on the skeleton itself.

monsters call it love by finalizer

He looks like a statue, an impossible man cut from white marble—neat and composed and perfect. Jong-woo wants to ruin it. Poke at it, prod at it, mar it with his fingertips and his teeth. Something so perfect has no right to exist. He wants to destroy him.

since we’re feeling so anaesthetised by eris

Jongwoo flexes into the pain, fingers twitching around the phantom contours and pressure mapped out on Moonjo's throat. From somewhere almost outside himself, he says, “Would you have let me kill you?”

no angel speaks to me by gfriendly

“Want to know how I remember it?” Jongwoo asked.

if i were a carp by theletterv

“Eat me.” It’s a quick answer, and the disorientation of it just as quick. Jongwoo turns so fast it pulls something in his neck, blinks at him owlishly but the peace on Moonjo’s face never falters. “Eat you?”

special mention to 'choose happiness' by ennui_ing because their fics are absolutely stunning and a must-read. top tier characterisation.

canon divergent:

pyre by anthean

And really, why is he surprised? Jongwoo is special. He’s precious. Moonjo wants to know him inside out, skin to muscle to bone to marrow, in every way that he can. That Jongwoo wants him too only cements Moonjo’s own desire.

tender sugar by angelas

“Uhm, sorry,” Jong-woo says, “I think maybe I should lea—” “Oh,” Moon-jo intercepts. “There’s someone special in your life.”

on the seventh day we rest by SLq

“Are you lost?” Jong-woo looked up. A man stood at the bottom of the hill. He watched Jong-woo steadily, generous mouth curled in a smile.

как в старой сказке, я не знал, кто волк // i didn't know who my enemy was, just like in an old fairytale by fia_lka

“So the only way you could help me right now, ahjussi, is if you dropped on your knees right there and sucked me off instead of her. Would you do that?”

dangerous beginnings by uhlee

Honey, I like this side of you. Take what you want from me. You use me so well, jagiya. Is it good, jagi? Am I good?

AUs:

flower by mayday0329

I thought he would give up after that. But instead he smiled again, and fumbled in his pocket for something, before taking out a tung flower. It had withered a long time ago, but one could still see that it had been a startling white before. He pressed it into my hand, along with a crumpled business card. Will you come find me again, then?

do you ever feel lonely, jagiya? by sweetnsimple

“Do I make you feel lonely?” he asked. Jong-Woo opened his mouth. Swallowed and tried again. “Yes,” he said.

pray we never meet at the wrong hour of the night by mslunita (i know i said one fic per author but carli’s writing is a weakness of mine)

Moonjo laughs at the last one. “Cannibal,” he says aloud, a glint in his eyes. He clears his throat. “Well. This is quite the macabre list.” He drags his eyes from the screen back to Jongwoo. “You’re something special.”

why did it have to be you? by tooprofessional

“Are you going to punish me?” He took a step closer, slowly looking up the younger man’s frame, eventually meeting his gaze. He tilted his head to the side. “You know, for causing a scene.”

they live in the dark by vivisextion

“You know, I’ve heard supernatural presences can lower the temperature of a room…” Jongwoo shuddered. “Please don’t remind me.”

annnd that's it for the complete fics. as for wips, im currently devouring second circle of hell by reddiary. a true fucking masterpiece. and hell at your heels by an anonymous writer who should know they changed the trajectory of my life. ennui_ing's how much can you change before it's some kind of murder? has me by. the. throat. fills me with a good dose of dread every time and the characterisation is gorgeous. ANNDDDDD of course, this hotel au 'all the ghosts are in the garden', by b that is so so SO well-paced and in character it's actually insane.

[gothcsz]

𝑻𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒇𝒂𝒓𝒆 / Chapter IV.

PAIRING: Javier Peña x Original Female Character

SUMMARY: The beginning of the end...

WORD COUNT: ~7.5k

RATING: 18+ Mature topics such as sex, drugs, murder, the occult, religion, cannibalism and other triggering matters will be explored in this body of work. Minors DNI.

CHAPTER SPECIFIC TAGS: The start of a very wicked love triangle, slowburn slowburn slowburnnnn, mentions of religion (Catholicism), porn WITH plot !!!, some characterization, other things that I'm probably forgetting.

DISCLAIMER/WARNINGS: The Javier Peña referenced in this body of work is solely based off of the character that appears in Netflix’s Narcos and not the actual person. Very canon divergent and I will tweak things as I see fit to compliment the narrative of this story. While efforts have been made to be accurate in terms of canon timeline, a lot of details will be fictionalized.

A/N: this took me longer than i anticipated solely bc i hate rereading my writing lol i'm tryin suuuuper hard to get javi's characterization down so i hope i'm doing him justice fr 🙏🏽 the plot is slowly getting started and i'm just rly hype for it bc i love the whole southern gothic vibe like it EATS!!! anyways feel free to drop any type of feedback/support on this blog or ao3. i'd really appreciate it <3

♰  read on ao3. ♰

♰  playlist | pinterest | series masterlist ♰

“You know, most guys woulda thrown in the towel by now.” Paloma tells him, legs steadily peddling her bicycle as Javier drives in his cruiser alongside her. 

“Most guys are idiots, querida.” He replies cooly, one arm dangling lazily out of the driver’s side window and his aviators sitting pretty on the bridge of his nose.

Paloma’s laugh rings out beautifully and he can’t keep himself from smiling. “S’no wonder they quit on you. You’re stubborn as hell.” He grumbles, thinking of the various times that she’s rejected his offer to drive her wherever she needed.

Initially, Javier’s behavior bordered on being a downright nuisance, deliberately encroaching on her personal space with excessive proximity. It wasn’t entirely due to his duties; rather, he found amusement in witnessing her irritation. The combination of her sharp retorts and accompanying eye rolls became an addictive response he couldn’t resist provoking.

It was entertaining, to say the least.

Amidst his constant patrolling, Javier got to learn more about her little by little. Details like what her routine consists of and how she interacts with others.

It’s abundantly evident that Paloma is adored by nearly everyone she encounters. Her kindness, wit, talent… beauty. It’s thoughts like these that had him second guessing how he was approaching the sheriff’s orders.

It was making him feel like a stalker, honestly, so he decided to pull back a bit. She is grown, after all, and she’s reminded him of that fact almost daily. 

So, Javier gave her the space they both need. Not following her around everywhere or posting up outside her job. During his downtime, he is able to put more analytical attention on the current homicide case. Starting with the guy that had lingered at Nina’s funeral.

He asked around, trying to get any information about a potential boyfriend or anything of that nature but came up empty handed.

Paloma grins proudly at his words. “You say stubborn I say strong-willed. I do appreciate you easing off, though.” She looks over at him and he admires how pretty she looks beneath the sunlight.

Brown hair clipped up into a messy updo and a soft, yellow sundress adorning her body. A hidden gem in this vast and obscure town.

“‘Least I could do. Helps me think, too, drivin’ around.” Javier keeps himself from reminiscing on his days in Colombia and the endless amount of stakeouts he’d been apart of. Sure, his ass would get numb and most of the time they acquired nothing but it helped him analyze any and every detail he could examine; often the copious amount of time he spent trying to piece everything together lead to a bigger break in the investigation.

He’s just applying the same technique here. Unfortunately, he hasn’t been able to make anything out of it all.

“Ah, so the car is your go to spot? Mine is the abandoned tracks over by Montrose. For some reason, I think better there… if that makes any sense.” The conversation continues easily and naturally. That is another thing he’s come to learn about her, Paloma is very amiable.

“It makes sense, muñeca. You shouldn’t go by yourself, though. Don’t know who could be followin’ you all the way out there…”

“I think it’s an officer that goes by Peña and I’m pretty sure he’s stalking me.” She teases him and he rolls his eyes, letting out a dry chuckle.

Javier really wants to urge her to let him take her to work but he knows she’ll challenge him.

Thinner strands of her hair stick to her neck and other damp areas of her face; the sweat on her thighs which he can see gleam beneath the hot sun each time she pedals. That leather seat she’s sitting on must be uncomfortable.

“I’m sure he’s just trying to make sure that you don’t run into any trouble. Which is why I think you should let me give you a ride to the library before you pass out and die of heat exhaustion tryin’ to bike there.” Javier tilts his head to the side to look at her and she stays quiet, thinking over his words before letting out a defeated sigh.

“Fine, but only because it’s hot as shit and I may or may not be jealous of the A/C in your cruiser.” He can’t help the smirk that tugs at his lips as she caves in, rolling the vehicle to a smooth stop and putting it into park so that he could mount her bicycle to the back of it.

Javier’s eyes trail over her form as her back is turned to him, grabbing her things out of the small basket. If her father knew the scandalous thoughts he had about her— he’d have him quartered and drawn. That does have a wave of guiltiness wash over him since the man is trusting him fully to look out for her and her wellbeing.

Which he is, in that regard Romeo has nothing to worry over, it’s Javier’s attraction to her that’s messing with his conscience.

It doesn’t help that Paloma plays into it, feigning innocence when she gets a reaction out of him. Maybe he shouldn’t be so reactive.

“I got it.” Javier insists, taking ahold of the metal handle and brushing up against her as he does so. He feels her body stiffen at the sudden touch yet he keeps a satisfied simper at bay.

“Thank you, officer.” She recovers smoothly with that intriguing timbre she uses when they banter flirtatiously.

It is so wrong yet so right of them to continue whatever this is. Seeing just how far they can take it before the inevitable happens. Javier will hold off as much as he can, really he will, for the sake of his job and budding friendship with Romeo… if she ever decides to be explicit in her demands, however, it’s going to take a lot of willpower to not give in.

Once the bike is secured and she’s in the cruiser, he hops back into the driver’s seat and begins the drive into town.

The ride is silent at first, Paloma shoving her face in front of the small vents on the passenger side and letting the gust of air cool her down. He catches glimpses from his peripheral as she digs through her bag to pull out a satin handkerchief, wiping her face and neck, then her thighs.

He can’t help as his stare follows the motion of her dragging the fabric along her smooth and sweaty skin. Almost jealous of the damn thing, imagining it to be his touch instead.

“I wouldn’t be in this predicament had my car been fixed…” she breaks their silence, peeking over at him as she fixes up her hair. It’s clear he understands the implication behind her words.

“I did volunteer myself to take a look at it, didn’t I?” Javier responds as she sprits some perfume onto her wrists and behind her ear, rolling on some deodorant and just like that Paloma’s freshened up. Now the cab of his cruiser smells like her and it’s going to drive him fucking insane.

“If I remember correctly, yes.” He stops at an intersection, finally being able to look at her properly. 

“You free Saturday?”

“You askin’ me out on a date?” Paloma’s eyes twinkle in pure mischief.

“Your dad would kill me if I did that.”

“In front of the whole town, too. Make an example outta you.”

“I’m tryin’ to steer very clear of that, so no, baby, unfortunately I’m not askin’ you out on a date. I’ve got time to stop by and take a look at it before I go in for my shift.”

Paloma purses her lips in thought as Javier trudges forward, the terrain changing from dirt road to asphalt as they near the library.

“Yeah, you can come by at lunch. Daddy’s out all weekend on some huntin’ trip with his friends so… I’ll be home alone.” It’s tantalizing, the way she drops that tidbit of information at the end. Javier is well aware of Romeo’s absence but he hadn’t stopped to think what that meant for him and Paloma.

As if there is a him and Paloma.

She flirts and eyes him like she would let him have his way with her but she is also strong-willed and and clever enough to be leading him on.

He’s just now built some rapport with her and he doesn’t want to jeopardize it. They can continue flirting without crossing the physical threshold. 

“Alright, nena, I’ll see you at lunch Saturday.” He’s in front of the main entrance to the building now.

“It’s a date, officer.”

“You must want me dead.” He huffs.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell him.” She pauses, biting down on her lower lip, “It’ll be our little secret.” Paloma whispers before opening the door.

He begins to swell in his pants as her voice drops into a whisper, words coated in seductive suggestion at the idea of them fooling around inconspicuously. 

“Wait, your bike—” He’s already reaching down to unbuckle himself when she stops him, leaning in through the open window of the now closed door.

“Don’t worry about it. You can take me home later. I get off at 6.” She winks at him, pulling back and turning on her heels to walk inside.

Javier slumps in his seat, head falling back against the headrest as he reminds himself how fucked he is.

When Saturday afternoon rolls around, Javier’s heart is racing in anticipation of his alone time with Paloma at the Leighton residence.

All week he’s been plagued with profane scenarios of what could potentially unfold. Partially because he hasn’t gotten laid since returning stateside but also for his unwavering carnal desire for her.

The fact that she is irrevocably off limits only intensifies his yearning. He wants Paloma so bad because he can’t have her.

That’s lead to him finishing into his fist in the shower, images of her kneeled before him with her mouth wrapped around his cock at the forefront of his mind.

The first time it had happened, he felt like a damn teenager getting off to a crush. But then it continued to happen and at that point he just let his fantasies run amuck. 

It’s not like he’d ever tell her or anyone for that matter, so his illicit imagination will continue to be just that: fleeting thoughts. Guilty pleasures only he can indulge in.

He pulls onto the property with ease, cutting the engine and sitting there for a minute to collect himself. It’s embarrassing for Javier to give himself a pep talk at his grown age, ‘keep your shit together’ his new mantra.

With his metallic toolbox in hand, he’s ready to knock against the screen door when he hears music playing faintly nearby. He follows the tune, rounding the corner of the wraparound porch to the backyard.

The music is recognizable now, a Fleetwood Mac song and his eyes fall on the girl lounging peacefully.

Paloma’s in a hammock, her long legs crossed over one another and hanging from the side. She’s reading a romance novel, he notes, from the incredibly cliché cover of a buff man with a half dressed woman in his grasp. He can faintly hear her humming along to the song, fingers tapping in rhythm against the hardcover of the book.

“Hola muñequita.” Javier greets suavely which has her peeking over her book then smiling wildly when she sees him.

“You made it!” Paloma excitedly stands from her spot, allowing him get a better look at her. She’s got on a red bikini top and a jean mini skirt. He wasn’t prepared to see this much of her bare skin and it throws him off entirely. So much for that pep talk.

It is a magnificent sight, though. Thankfully his sunglasses shield her from his wandering gaze, but with the intensity of his stare, she can probably feel it.

Javier knows her figure is divine, all the different outfits she wears both around town and on stage showcased her assets tastefully. However, seeing her in a top that’s almost too small and a skirt that’s definitely too short has those desires of his ramping up viciously. 

It doesn’t help that she’s got a dainty, golden cross necklace hanging from her neck. It rests tantalizingly against the smooth skin right above the swell of her breasts. So many things he fantasizes about doing to her and none of them holy. The piece of jewelry reminds him that he needs to back off. 

Amidst his leering, Javier notices a faint scar running from the left side of her hip up to below her breast and he’s curious to know how it got there.

“You had an inclination that I wouldn’t make it?” He returns to the conversation before it’s painfully obvious that he’s checking her out.

Paloma smirks, meeting him halfway as he descends the steps of the porch to approach her. Her hands cross behind her back and she stares up at him through her mascara coated lashes. “Figured you’d probably wanna spend your Saturday afternoon at home instead of playin’ mechanic.” She sways lightly and he narrows his eyes at her. 

He can see right through her act, not that she’s being very subtle.

“I’m a man of my word. Already been puttin’ off this visit longer than I should have.” He can’t help himself from bringing his finger up to twirl a strand of her hair, enjoying the silkiness of it against his touch before letting it fall softly against her.

If they hold their gaze a second longer, one of them will break and while Javier is certain that it’d be blissful, it would also be a mistake.

“Here, I’ll take you to her. She’s in the shed.” It’s like she can read his mind, nudging her head in the direction of the small structure and she turns to begin leading him there, in which he follows wordlessly, not being elusive at all as he gets a better look at her from this angle. The skirt is just barely covering the curve of her ass, and a flash of red is revealed each time she takes a step.

He bites down on his tongue harshly, adverting his gaze and thinking of literally anything else to keep his erection away.

He surveys the area of the backyard, not seeing a pool or any body of water nearby and he wonders why she has the bathing suit on.

Not that it should matter to him. She’s probably just tanning, you pervert. It’s hotter than hell out today.

Paloma’s humming again as she goes to remove the wooden plank that keeps the door of the shed closed, grunting as she struggles to pull it free. The soft sounds she emits do nothing but make it harder for him to show some fucking resilience.

“Do you need help—” Javier’s cut off as she successfully slides the thick piece off, resting it against the metal wall and dusting her hands off on her skirt.

“Appreciate it, though.” She flashes him a toothy grin, the wide doors creak as she pulls them open; revealing a beautiful vintage car. 

Javier lets out a low whistle, perching his sunglasses on the top of his head and placing his toolbox on the ground as he walks around the vehicle to get a better look at it.

His hands fall to his hips, circling the area slowly and shaking his head in disbelief. “You’re tellin’ me the mechanic didn’t jump at the chance to fix this thing?”

“Like you said, most men are idiots.” He can’t help but laugh, exhaling from his nose.

“S’always interestin’ to see it in practice.” He returns to the front of the car, propping open the hood and getting a better look inside. “You got the keys?”

“In the visor.” She replies, “Good luck tryin’ to get her to start. All she does is stutter before given’ out entirely.”

Javi makes a note of that, acknowledging her with a hum, already seeing a few things out of place and he’s eager to get to working on it.

Before turning to law enforcement, Javi had the inkling to become a mechanic. Plenty of his uncles worked in auto shops and he has vivid memories of spending hours there with them learning everything he could under their supervision.

Experiences he holds near and dear to his heart, it’s part of the reason why he’s so clever and dexterous.

“I’ve got some stuff I gotta get done. Try not to miss me…” Paloma’s voice rings out and Javier hadn’t noticed that he zoned out.

He glances at her over his shoulder, “I’m more interested in gettin’ to know Darla, if I’m bein’ honest with you, hermosa.”

Paloma had to excuse herself before she quite literally jumped on Javier and had him take her against the hood of her car. The way he looked with his hands on his hips, eyes focused on admiring the vehicle had left her in a trance that she was sure if she stared any longer, she would have started drooling.

Something about the promise of seeing him sweaty and greased up had her mind spiraling with different erotic fantasies that would surely send her to straight to hell.

So she properly lets him be, busying herself with a few chores she has to get done before leaving for the creek with Sloane later. It is the first time Paloma will be meeting August and she’s nervous even though she doesn’t look it.

She finished the book Slo had passed on to her in a matter of days, intrigued to learn more about August’s ideas and the concepts he’s clearly very passionate about. When she relayed this over to Slo, the middleman between the two, she wasted no time in conjuring up a plan for them to meet. Originally, it was going to be more intimate with just the two of them but Paloma stressed that she was not ready for that so Sloane was quick to make it a group affair by suggesting they hang out by the creek.

It’s why she is currently clad in a bathing suit, with the summer at full send; being down by the water seemed like the best way to spend the latter half of her afternoon.

Right now, though, she’s more focused on not trying to fuck her dad’s friend slash co-worker.

Some time passes, and when Paloma takes a look out in the direction of the shed, she sees that he’s ditched his flannel, leaving him in a white undershirt and his broad shoulders are now on full display as he leans over the hood.

That’s when she sees it. It glistens beneath the sunlight, a silver pistol tucked between his jeans at his lower back. She knows officers carry a weapon on them at all times, but the unorthodox placing of Javier’s further adds to the appeal of this alluring man. God damn him and his desirability. 

Paloma’s mind now wanders to the repeated wet dream she keeps having, the one where Javier takes her on the wooden railing of the porch. Specifically, the variation where he’s kneeled in front of her, her dress covering his face as he devours her entirely.

She interlocks her fingers in his hair and tugs at it, in which he responds by wrapping his lips around her clit and sucking on it harshly. That leaves her wailing and panting his name over and over and over again…

The force in which her thighs clench together is enough to snap her out of her delusions. She’s no better than a man, really, and she huffs to herself as she reenters the house to grab the six pack of beers, her guitar and notebook before sauntering over to him.

She’s more than capable of handling just being around Javier without thinking sinfully. It’s why she’s walking like a woman with a purpose, trying to prove to herself that she can be totally normal about this… budding friendship she has with him.

“How’s it goin’ in here?” Her voice cuts through the sound of the radio that continues to play softly. She brought it in here for him to have some entertainment before she hurried off to the house.

Javier pulls back, lips twitching up into a smirk as he eyes the beers in her hand. “Goin’ fine. Whoever you took her to really fucked it up. No wonder he couldn’t figure out what the problem was. It’s everythin’.” Back of his hand wipes sweat from his brow, some of his hair matted against his damp skin. “I thought you didn’t drink.”

“Never said that. I just said on occasion.” She reminds him, popping the cap off of two beers then handing him one. He thanks her softly, wiping his hand on the already stained rag and tucking it into his back pocket. 

Her knees almost go weak at the action, but she’s a woman on a mission, remember?

“So what’s the occasion today?”

“It’s hot as fuck outside.” They share a laugh and tap their bottles together before taking a long sip.

“And the guitar?” 

Paloma sits on the wooden chair nearby, her spot whenever she comes in here to keep her dad company while he’s in the middle of building something. Most recently, some planter boxes she’d requested for their garden.

“I figured since I had some new company, I could play something for you. It helps move the writing process along.” She kicks her sandals off, tucking her legs beneath her and laying the guitar across her lap.

“I’m getting a peek behind the curtain of Paloma Leighton’s illustrious writing process? Well, I’m truly honored,” he remarks, dripping with sarcasm. She rolls her eyes at his jest but can’t help but chuckle, taking another sip of her beverage and downing it in one gulp.

She catches the intensity of his gaze lingering on her throat, tracing the subtle movements with each swallow. Paloma can’t help but entertain the thought: does he fantasize about her as she does about him?

“Don’t feel too special. I’m always playin’ somethin’ for someone.” She sets the finished bottle aside, thumbing through her notebook until she finds the adequate page and folds the tattered front so that it lays flat on the thick arm of the chair. 

As she does this, Javier lights a cigarette and puffs out a cloud of gray smoke. “You do it all yourself?” She can hear the curiosity in his tone and for some reason, it makes her blush.

“For the most part. The band just helps bring it all together. They add the umph to it… s’not always the case, though. Sometimes I oversee the entirety of it. From the lyrics to the melody and everything in between. It’s real fun.” She begins to tune her guitar, brows pulling in concentration as her ears perk up to catch any inconsistencies until she’s thoroughly pleased with how it sounds.

Javier remains silent, his fond gaze lingering on her as he takes a drag from his cigarette. With practiced ease, he lifts the beer bottle to his lips, alternating between the two vices at a leisurely pace. As he delves deeper into understanding her, the allure intensifies, dangerously blurring the lines between flirtation and something more profound.

Something more. He’s trying real fucking hard not to see it like that. 

Javi’s never been inclined to seek deeper connections with his partners. Emotions and commitments tend to complicate matters, a burden he’s well-acquainted with in his already convoluted life. He sees no need to add unnecessary strain by entering into half-hearted relationships.

This is why he exclusively pursues sex, seeking gratification without the complications of emotional entanglements. His experiences in Colombia, where he didn’t mind paying for intimacy, epitomized this mindset. There, a mutual understanding prevailed: their encounters were solely about shared pleasure, with no expectation of anything beyond.

In the short months that he’s been here, Javi has finally began finding some kind of peace in Seminary, all things considered, and while fucking the sheriff’s daughter would be a bad move— catching feelings for her would be a hundred times worse.

“It’s a little morbid, m’still workin’ on it and it’s fairly short. S’just the chorus.” Javier nods, letting her know that he’s listening as she begins to sing.

“If I die young, bury me in satin Lay me down on a bed of roses, Sink me in the river at dawn Send me away with the words of a love song. The sharp knife of a short life, Now I know there’s no such thing as enough time.”

Her voice is softer, southern accent complimenting her strums on the guitar and while he enjoys the electrifying performances she puts on stage; he loves hearing her like this.

Rich and smooth. Like miel (honey).

“You’re right, it is morbid.” He comments, truthfully, and Paloma lets out a breath.

“I tried not lettin’ what happened to Nina get into my writing. No need to keep dwellin’ on it but damn is it hard to keep it away. Figured I’d just get it out of my system and get back to workin’ on my other stuff.” 

“There’s nothin’ wrong with dwelling on it…” He begins tentatively, already sensing a pang of regret for broaching the subject. Once more, he finds himself grappling with the challenge of articulating his thoughts effectively.

“I know, but for my peace of mind it’s best I just get on with it.” Her shoulders rise and fall in a shrug, fingers plucking at the guitar strings again.

For the next hour or so, they immerse themselves in conversation, delving into a wide array of topics. While Javier meticulously tends to the car’s engine, Paloma remains by his side, offering her company. Amidst their discussions, they explore trivial details about each other’s lives: favorite movies, food preferences, and other basic facts. Through these exchanges, Javier learns of Paloma’s irrational fear of reptiles, her affinity for sleeping with her windows open, and her distinct preference for waffles over pancakes.

Javier indulges in the easy flow of their conversation, sharing with her his fondness for spy novels, his penchant for card games, and reminiscing about his favorite arepa spot in Bogotá.

The latter captivates her, drawing her focus entirely. “I can’t wrap my head around the fact that you lived there for such a long time. It’s just unimaginable to me... A completely different country... so fascinating.” She muses, her tone tinged with wistfulness.

He’s eager to shift away from this subject, recognizing her genuine curiosity and good intentions. However, he’s apprehensive about delving into discussions about his past work and experiences, topics he’s not ready to broach. With a brief, dismissive response, he seeks to subtly steer the conversation in a different direction.

“Yup, lotta crazy shit…” He returns his attention to the engine and Paloma catches the hint and doesn’t say much else after.

“Paloma!” The sudden call of her name has them both turning their heads to the opened doors of the shed where he sees a girl her age standing on the porch, searching the area until her eyes fall on the two of them and she beelines in their direction.

“I’ve been knockin’ on your front door like a crazed woman for the past five minutes! There’s a random truck parked out there, what’re you doin’—” When the girl’s gaze lands on Javier, her entire body language switches and he raises his brows at the change. “I didn’t know you had company. Who’s this handsome fella?” 

Javier is accustomed to captivating the attention of women, especially the striking ones. They consistently cast him that same flirtatious glance, their gestures taking on an added want of attention. This encounter proves to be no exception. With her bottom lip captured between her teeth, she checks him out not so subtly, her gaze lingering on his toned arms before returning to meet his gaze, a playful spark dancing in her eyes.

Maybe this is exactly what he needs: a diversion to divert his attention from Paloma. Despite his intense desire for her, he knows it would only lead to complications in the future.

Pursuing women younger than himself is not the path he wishes to tread, especially since he (allegedly) left his playboy days behind in Colombia in pursuit of a fresh start.

Yet, amidst his longing for Paloma and the current lack of romantic encounters, Javier finds it difficult to view things in this new perspective.

Always thinking with the wrong head. It’s his achilles heel.

“Javi. What’s your name, gorgeous?” He smirks flirtatiously, wiping his hands clean on the rag again and reaching out to take her hand in his in a handshake.

“Sloane.” She squeezes his hand gently before letting go, sultry smile still present on her countenance.

“Sloane, pleasure to meet you sweetheart.”

Paloma doesn’t like the nasty feeling she gets as she watches the interaction. It’s clear as day that they’re flirting, and honestly what did she expect out of her best friend, and now, charming acquaintance?

She’s well aware of his rapport in Colombia and the daily flirtatious behavior towards her. Paloma’s also aware of how willing Slo is to fuck anything in her line of vision. Yet, not being on the receiving end of the former is odd and has her feeling things she doesn’t want to feel.

What really has her skin crawling is the way he calls her sweetheart and introduces himself as Javi. He’s never told her to call him that.

Honestly, she probably would have felt more green if he had called her hermosa or any of the other Spanish names of endearment he’s reserved for her. 

Reserved for her? She sounds so possessive. 

Sloane giggles, “You’re the one who’s been followin’ her around all over town on daddy’s orders, huh? P, you didn’t tell me he was this hot. I woulda told you to count your blessings had I known.” They exchange a look that Paloma really can’t stand catch sight of, so she interjects.

“Sorry I lost track of time. Javier’s been lookin’ at Darla tryna fix her.” His name rolls of her tongue smoothly and this has a smug smile sprouting on his face. 

No cowboy or officer or Mr. Peña. Just Javier.

She gets up from her seat, sliding her sandals back on and leaving her belongings where they lay.

“There’s a part or two that’s missin’ but it shouldn’t be hard to get ‘em. Other than that, my work here is done.” He turns his back to the two girls and Sloane mouths over to her.

Oh my god?!

Paloma shoots her a look as Javier slams the hood of the car closed.

“Thank you, Javier, I really appreciate you doin’ this for me.” Her tone is genuine, despite the jealousy that had consumed her just then.

“No problem, cariño, I’ll let you know when I get my hands on those missin’ parts.”

“That sounds great! How much do I owe you for—” He cuts her off with a wave of his hand, collecting his things. 

“Don’t worry about it. M’doin’ this out of the kindness of my heart. S’what you do for a friend, right?” Speaking of hearts, hers skips a beat at being considered a friend and she feels her cheeks getting hot. Get a grip!

“Yeah, I guess so.” Paloma refrains from saying thank you again, not wanting to overdo it but she really is appreciative of his hard work.

Maybe she could find another way to show just how much she appreciates him doing this for her.

“Gabriel’s waitin’ for us out front, baby. We’re already runnin’ late.” Slo’s voice snaps her back to reality and she nods. Javier clears his throat and side steps her.

“Hope y’all have fun. Be safe, hermosa. Call me if you need anythin’.” Warmth spreads within her chest at his words, which would have annoyed her had they been coming from anyone else.

There has definitely been a shift in their dynamic, but she can’t quite place what it is. The bitterness she felt just then definitely a factor.

“Sloane, darling, hopefully I’ll see you ‘round town soon.” And just like that, the warmth is gone as he addresses her best friend, a wink thrown in her direction before he’s leaving the two girls in the shed.

“Okay, you have a lot to catch me up on. Frankly, I’m pissed you haven’t sent him in my direction. I mean, look at him. That’s a whole man right there, dear lord I was about to cum just by shakin’ his hand!” Paloma cringes but she doesn’t let it show, instead pulling excitement from their afternoon plans to uplift her mood.

“How about we get goin’ before Gabriel ditches our asses and we’re left walkin’ all the way down there.”

It’s not much longer after that that they make it to their destination and Paloma rejoices in the feeling of the cool water against her hot skin. She ditched her mini skirt along the way, currently sitting in a more shallow end, head falling back against her shoulders as she soaks in the sun.

She can hear Gabriel and Sloane splashing around nearby, and she contemplates joining them when the sound of her name gets her attention.

“Paloma, yeah?”

She head snaps in the direction of the voice and her breath gets stuck in her throat once she sees the source.

He stands tall, his figure slightly lanky but gracefully lean, his golden locks tousled. His eyes, a light shade of blue and captivating, hold a magnetic charm.

With a quick glance, she takes in the intricate tapestry of tattoos adorning his skin. They seem to complement him perfectly, she muses, adding an extra layer of intrigue to his already handsome appearance.

And for the second time in such a short period of time— Paloma finds herself subtly squirming in her spot, a familiar sensation stirring within her legs.

This man, though, much more age appropriate and everything about him screams intriguing.

“Depends who’s askin’.” She can’t help but tease, one eye closed and her right hand coming up to block the sun from hitting her face directly. She’d forgotten her sunglasses at home and that annoyed the shit out of her once she realized.

“A friend of a friend. May I?” Gestures to the empty spot in the shallow water besides her and she nods, “You’re much prettier than I remember.”

Eyes follow him as she lowers himself besides her, their bodies softly brushing up against one another and she shivers slightly despite the blazing temperature, “We’ve met before? No way, I definitely would have remembered you…”

“Technically— no we haven’t met but… I was with Slo that day at the library. M’August.” He introduces himself and her stomach knots.

That’s when it hits her, a very vague recollection but a recollection of him nevertheless.

“Right, wow, that feels like forever ago.” She shakes her head, gently swaying her hand beneath the water. Suddenly, she feels much more nervous. She’d spent a good part of her week obsessing over his book and now he’s sitting right next to her while they’re both half naked.

His explicit poem comes to mind and she shakes that thought away quickly before her whole body turns into a bright shade of red.

“Time is a very tricky concept. You want these?” He conjures up a pair of shades and her brows raise at the action. “Noticed you’ve been scowlin’ ‘cause of the sunlight.”

A small smile spreads on her lips and she nods, he passes the accessory over to her and their fingers touch briefly against each other and she swears she feels fireworks.

Paloma really has to stop being such a helpless romantic. That never ends good for anyone involved.

“Thank you, August. You’re so observant.” She slips them on and lets out a small sigh, her head falling back between her shoulders.

She can feel his eyes all over her, but she doesn’t mind it. “Slo tells me you’re a fan of my work?”

She can’t help the laugh that slips from her lips and her eyes widen once she realizes that that wasn’t the most appropriate reaction for her to have. “That… came out really wrong. I’m so sorry.” She shakes her head at herself, “I did enjoy the Paragons of the Sacrificed book.” Is honest in her opinion, looking straight ahead at the glistening body of water to avoid further embarrassment by looking at him.

“Don’t apologize, I know Slo has a tendency to… over-exaggerate.” They shared an amused laugh at the expense of their friend but it’s all in good fun. She feels some of her nerves lessen.

“I am happy to hear that you enjoyed the book, though. S’the whole point why I wrote it. Sharin’ new things to new people.” He explains.

“New things, indeed. You cited a lot of notable publishings. Got me lookin’ more into the history of religion… I can’t help but feel a little ignorant, y’know? So much knowledge out there and I’m so… uneducated.” Paloma scoffs at herself, self depreciation at its finest.

“Oh, that just isn’t true, little dove.” The nickname has Paloma looking over at him; he’s gives her such a warm and charming look that sends the butterflies in her stomach into a flurry. “Is it alright if I call you that? Seems very fitting… paloma is dove in Spanish.” A fact she’s very well aware of, since her mother reminded her about it all the time growing up.

“Yeah, I quite like that. No one’s ever really called me it before.” She replies almost sheepishly and he brings his large hand down to rest on her knee which has her breath hitching in her throat.

“Doves represent peace, love and purity … your parents sure did somethin’ namin’ you that.” His squeezes his grip on her knee briefly before pulling his hand back.

Pure? That’s possibly the last word she’d ever used to describe herself.

“As I was sayin’... throughout your life, others’ opinions have shaped your perspective. Eventually, you decide to see the world through your own eyes. Do some explorin’ of your own. It might take time to reach this realization, but what’s important is your willingness to learn and challenge conventional beliefs. So much knowledge out there, s’up to you to seek it and form your own opinions. S’way better than just followin’ what other people want you to think. Bit hypocritical comin’ from me considerin’ the group I lead but that’s different.”

Unbeknownst to Paloma, she finds herself captivated by every word that escapes his lips, hanging on to each syllable as if they were precious gems. His voice carries an irresistible attractiveness, his words akin to twinkling stars scattered across the vast expanse of a darkened sky.

He’s leading her to him… towards something in the same way constellations help sailors navigate the sea. 

They spend the rest of the day just… talking. He delves deeper into the intricacies of a group he belongs to—individuals adrift in the world, much like himself. Together, they’ve traveled through the majority of Texas, exchanging stories and delving into philosophical musings, united in their quest for deeper meaning and connection to something greater than themselves.

That leads Paloma to learn that he’s from Fayette, which is a few towns south, and that he, Sloane, and Gabriel all grew up in the same trailer park together. They’re the closest thing I have to a family is what August tells her and she feels sentimental as the statement tugs at her heartstrings.

She also learns that all three of them have a criminal past, which surprises her entirely and he explains to her that it was during their adolescence and it wasn’t anything major. Just stupid shit to pass the time.

She believes him without asking any further questions.

It’s not until they’re both getting bitten up by mosquitos that they decide it’s time to head back.

“It’s finally nice to put a face to the name, August. I hope I get to see you again… maybe read another one of your books?” Paloma bites her lip as they walk side by side.

“Likewise. Next time I’ll make sure to bring it to you personally. Don’t need Slo playin’ messenger and misconstruing our words.”

They make it back to Gabriel’s truck, he and Slo leaning against it and sharing a joint as they eye the duo. Paloma slips her skirt back on.

“‘Bout fuckin’ time. I need a shower, bad.” Sloane huffs, passing the joint to Paloma whom rejects it which gets an eye roll out of her friend and then handing it over to August who accepts it with no hesitation.

Paloma sees a motorcycle nearby and her curiosity gets the best of her, “S’that your ride, August?” She flips her hair over her shoulder, looking at him. He lustfully eyes the exposed skin of her neck and shoulders before nodding.

“Sure is. You ever been on one before?” Thick smoke emits from his lips and nose as he passes the joint back over to Gabriel who finishes it off wordlessly.

He’s so quiet, Paloma observes, but her attention returns to August.

“No. They look real cool, though.”

“You should let me take you home. Give you your first ride on one, little dove.” The offer is rather suggestive and she doesn’t mind it. She’s very interested in getting to know him better.

Paloma would have taken him up on it had she not been wearing the outfit that currently adorns her body. “Maybe next time.” She smiles at him softly and he nods, she looks away sheepishly as she blushes.

They share their goodbyes then she’s piling in to Gabriel’s truck after Sloane and on her way back home.

The day’s events echo through her thoughts as she gazes out of the window, Javier’s presence now intertwined with that of August’s. A sense of excitement bubbles within her, unfamiliar yet exhilarating—the attention she’s receiving is unlike anything she’s experienced before.

Two distinctly attractive and intriguing men have unexpectedly entered her life, each leaving an indelible mark. Rather than overcomplicating matters, Paloma resolves to embrace the moment and allow things to unfold naturally. It’s a thrilling prospect, injecting a sense of excitement into her life that she hasn’t felt in quite some time.

“Oh fuck.” Paloma curses as she sees her father’s vehicle parked by the front yard and him sitting out on the porch.

Looks like he’s gotten back from his hunting trip early. It is nearing ten o’clock and she knows she’s about to be interrogated on her whereabouts. 

She’s relieved that she hadn’t taken August up on his offer to bring her home on his motorcycle. Now that would have sent poor Romeo over the edge.

“Oh, baby, I feel for you.” Slo pats her thigh compassionately and Paloma groans. Dread creeps up her spine making her wither uncomfortably.

“He wasn’t supposed to be back ‘til tomorrow mornin’. Ugh, he’s so not goin’ to let this go.” The truck stops and both Gabriel and Slo flash her an understanding yet somber look.

“Thanks for the ride. I’ll call you tomorrow, ‘kay Slo?” The girl nods and they both hug before she’s exiting the vehicle and preparing herself for what’s to come. Paloma tugs her skirt down, noticing that it had ridden up much higher than what was appropriate. 

“Where the hell have you been, girl?” He asks once she’s close enough to survey him. He’s drinking, that’s never a good sign.

“We went out by the creek and—”

“The creek? With who? At this time of night? Paloma, how can you be so reckless. Especially with what the hell has been goin’ on around here?!”

Anger contorts her features, her expression tightening with indignation as he addresses her as though she were a wayward teenager, rather than a capable woman out in the company of her friends.

“And dressed like that.” The tone in his voice makes something within her snap and she crosses her arm with attitude, getting defensive.

“Like what? I was by the water and I’m wearin’ a bathin’ suit. S’that illegal now?” Paloma is so ready to go inside, shower, and get in her bed.

“Is this what you do when I’m not around? Sneakin’ off lookin’ for trouble in the dead of night?”

“It’s only ten and I really didn’t expect to stay out this long. I got preoccupied. Why are you makin’ such a big deal outta this?” She defends herself and it’s ridiculous, really, that she even has to.

He doesn’t say anything else and she just rolls her eyes. “I’m goin’ inside.” And that’s exactly what she does, walking right past him and indoors where she intends to take a very long, hot shower to help her forget about this spat of theirs.

Their arguments follow a familiar pattern: he erupts with emotion, then retreats into silence. Occasionally, he offers apologies, while other times, they linger unspoken. Paloma, however, is well-versed in navigating her father’s dramatic outbursts, having grown accustomed to them over time. It’s not the theatrics that trouble her; rather, it’s enduring it that proves challenging.

The shower runs while she takes a good, long look at herself in the mirror. 

Paloma finds herself approaching a crucial juncture, feeling increasingly prepared to confront her father in a heart-to-heart conversation. This discussion, she knows, will culminate in her revealing her decision to leave town and prioritize her own needs for once. While the thought of causing her father pain weighs heavily on her heart, she recognizes the necessity of taking this step in order to forge her own path in her life.

The steam rises from the hot water, gradually filling the room with its thick, swirling embrace. Paloma’s reflection blurs and fades amidst the steam, prompting her to shed her clothes. With each layer discarded, she feels a sense of liberation, a moment of vulnerability before she finally steps into the welcoming cascade of the shower.

[sjhanny2000]

Lustful Blood (2/2)

A/N:  I AM BACK!!! Nearly three months later and I'm back. This semester has been a hell ride since I'm teaching AP U.S. Government and Politics for the first time but oh well! To make up for my absence, here's not only the conclusion to this AU but double the amount of the first chapter! Enjoy!

Warning(s):  TDoFL AU, mentions/references to cannibalism, non-consensual transformation, reference/implied rape, minor gore, canon-violence, angst with a bit of fluff, Demon Slayer spoilers

Word Count: 3.6k+ 

~~~

Bah-dump. Bah-dump. Bah-dump. Bah-dum-bah-dum-bah-dum-bah-! 

 The sound of your heart pounding filled your ears, deafeningly loud and numbing to your senses. Your body felt as if it had been hit by a lightning strike, nerves and muscles quaking with excited electric energy, your fingers itching and mouth dripping copious amounts of saliva. 

 Fresh meat mother, feed us!

 You could sense four fresh, delectable bodies entering your sensory field at a rapid pace, their swiftness unlike that of any civilian you had come across since your awakening. No, these four were something else, their scents tantalizing familiar, and oh how did your stomach grumble in want of their presence. Yet, as your stomach yearned to taste their flesh, your heart was another matter; it madly thumped and thrashed against the confines of your ribcage, outstretching its veins outwards in hope of grasping onto something or rather, someone. 

 I’m here! ________, I’m here!

 Your mind came to a crashing halt for just a split second, because youknewthesesomeonesbuthow-? 

 MOTHER! FEED!

 You didn’t have the time to process that damning thought, no matter how debilitating it was. No, your children needed you on your guard and your body needed the sustenance these four bodies would provide; they had to be in good health due to their obvious athleticism, which meant their flesh were fresh and tender, perfect for sinking your teeth into and-. Desired drenched saliva swished about within the cavern of your mouth, thick lines of the transparent secretion trickling from the corners of your lips in copious amounts. 

 Your meal was approaching. 

 Silently slinking into the shadows of the canopy above you, you settled yourself amongst two hearty branches and silently laid in wait for your prey to arrive, your children growing silent and the air still. You need to feast, you were so hungry-.

 Don’t hurt them-!

 INTRUDERS!

 Maybe, maybe you should wait to eat, but could you truly wait any longer? You had become so weak, with the ridges of your ribcage and bones present more than ever, perhaps just a drop of blood would be enough to curb your urge to feed. No one had to die nor suffer, just a drop of blood would do and how glorious it would taste! Yet, your salivating day dream of finally consuming something evaporated the second you felt one of the four individuals seemingly disappear into thin air. 

 One intruder vanished, three remaining, find…

 What is the meaning of this-?

 “-said this is where the demon’s been hiding. Stay on your guard.”

 “Hai!” 

 “Remember, just because there’s wisteria and security measures in place throughout the estate, doesn’t mean you don’t need to stay on your guard.” Dressed in a sleeveless, mid-thigh dress that was the color of crimson spider lilies, golden bangs framing an face hidden from your sight, the woman’s voice possessing uncertainty yet confidence within its cadence. The woman’s calloused hand was cupping your left cheek with such love it made your stomach turn and twist, cheeks growing hot out of embarrassment. “We’ll be back as soon as we can, promise.” 

 A silent hiss escaped your lips as the memory momentarily blinded all of your senses, clawed fingers coming to tightly grasp your locks in a weak attempt to relieve the sudden pressure within your cranium. Now was not the time for these thoughts, not when you and your children’s survival was at stake! 

 “-don’t understand is if the demon who’s been holed up in here as long as the village leader says has yet to hurt anyone, why are we in such a rush to hunt it down? Maybe they’re like that one boy demon slayer’s sister, y’know, the one that’s supposedly a good demon!”  

 A quiet, saddened sigh left the woman cuddled beside you, her slate blue dress clashing pleasantly against the emerald stalks of grass that laid below her sprawled out body. Her hand was stretched outwards in a pointless attempt to take hold of the azure sky looming above the both of you, a soft, spring breeze drifting across your bodies. “Have you, y’know, ever wondered if a demon could be good? Like, one that chose to protect people instead of eating them? That would change everything!” 

 Familiar, stop, please make it stop! It HURTS-! 

 “We can’t afford to take any chances here just because the demon hasn’t killed someone yet. It’s better to deal with it now then give it the opportunity to kill someone in the future.” 

 “We can’t afford to take any chances, ___-chan. But I promise, when we return from our mission, we’ll all make a trip into town. Just hold out till then, okay?” Calloused palms gently cradled your fingers, the woman wearing the violet dress gifting them with a light squeeze that made your heart flutter with excitement and ached in dejection at the same time. 

                                                 MAKE. IT. STOP!!!

 The branches of the canopy began to grow antsy from the duress of your quaking mental foundations, what little control you possessed over your shipping psyche threatening to slip through your brittle fingers whilst your children willed themselves to thrash in rage. 

 GO AWAY!

 “Look out!” 

 Any energy left within your body seeped into your children, sneaking vines and needle sharp thorns lashing toward the three individuals, no women, in search of bloody penance for invading your shared home. 

 One of your prized children, a venus flytrap you had come to lovingly name Takara after it had prevented curious villagers from entering your home one late night when you were debilitated from endless mind aches, reared its body back and aimed to entrap one of the women within its jaws with a deafening roar. 

 “GET OUT!!!” 

 Various of the rose bushes uprooted themselves and hurried forward, doing their damndest to sink their thorns within the intruders' skin, the ones who met your beloved children with peculiar weapons that were sharp as knives yet wielded like hand held katanas. With a pained grimace, you forced your scrunched eyes to open, blobs of salty, pain saturated tears staining your dirt covered cheeks whilst you forced yourself to shift into a better vantage point and further away from the intruders. Vines took hold of your torso and lifted you upwards further into the canopy until you were met with the night sky, desperate, agonizing gasps escaping your lips as you felt child after child die in your defense. 

 “There you are.” 

 Before you could even register what was happening, a deep, cocky voice belonging to a man sounded off behind you and as you moved to face him, you were met with twin, razor-edged blades aiming for the meat of your esophagus. A cry of surprise escaped you whilst your body was yanked to safety by a swarm of vines, thick oak branches that had erupted from below at some taking the brunt of the attack from the fourth intruder that had most definitely not vanished. Sent tumbling across the broken glass paneling of the green house, you found your battered form tumbling over the edge of one of the metal beams that supported the roof with a terrified scream. In a weak and desperate attempt to stop yourself from falling to your death, you swung your arms outwards and managed to take purchase of a  glass shard jutting from the beams, a cry of pain escaping you at the feeling of the transparent material piercing into the meat of your right wrist. As you uselessly hung there, mind boggled and heart racing, your gut instinct urged you to look upwards and the moment you did, horrified dread poured into the pit of your stomach; descending from the night sky in a flash of color and deafening sound, the fourth intruder was flying towards you with enormous blades and aimed with killing intent. At that very moment, time seemed to slow, and you knew you had two choices: free yourself and lose your hand in turn or die. 

 With the yank of your shoulder accompanied by a scream, the glass ripped through the tendons and bones within your wrist and hand, blood spraying madly against the glass and the stranger’s obscured face as your descent downwards saved you from another killing blow. 

 MOTHER!

 Branches, thick leaves, and vines shot outwards, each attempting to slow your plummet, only for each outstretched chlorophyll limb to be sliced to pieces by the accursed blades. As the wind rushing past you, your (h/c) locks whipped angrily around your face, until in a small second of reprieve and chance, the gusts thrust upwards against your falling body freed your eyes of the growing tangle nest of your hair and you found your (e/c) irises meeting vibrant pools of invigorating fuchsia. 

 Muscular arms two times the same as your own cradled you against a (naked) chest of pure muscle, your husband’s hypnotic pools of fuchsia peering down at you with unadulterated love and affection, a blinding grin set on Tengen’s handsome face. “You aren’t sneaking away from us that easily, spirit flower.” 

“You gotta stay today, Y/N-chan! You promised!” Suma’s arm sprung forth from the mound of blankets and bodies that were you and your spouses, tears forming in the woman’s dazzling cobalt irises as she grasped onto your wrist in desperation. 

“I-uh-I really do need to begin on my chores,” You attempted to break free of your teary-eyed wife and scramble out of Tengen’s massive lap, face burning as bright as the summer sun out of pure nervous embarrassment. “Plus, I am not used to performing actions of pleasure as well as you, Hinatsuru, and Makio and-!”

A cream white hand of calluses appeared from the sea of covers that were blanketing your shared naked forms and came to playfully fondle your breast, Makio’s lips bearing a mischievous, shit eating grin of her own. “Well let’s fix that then, baby girl. Chores can wait.” 

Slinking forward with the heady scent of wanting lust filling your nostrils, you couldn’t help the squeak that left you as Makio’s lips met your own, the taste of persimmons meeting your tongue whilst her tongue scraped the inner walls of your mouth. Wandering hands swept across the unblemished skin of your forearms, something warm and wet running across the junction of muscle and flesh of your shoulder up your neck until-. You couldn’t help the moan that ripped from your throat at the feeling of teeth nipping at your right earlobe, Hinatsuru’s soft spoken voice gracing moist air into the shell of your ear. “We want to see all that you have to offer, love. Outside and in.” 

Her hand traveled to your core and with the flick of her wrist, her index finger-. 

 “Tengen-sama.”

 His name left your mouth before you could stop it, fresh tears pricking at the corner of your eyes at the sight of your husband for the first time in forever because how long had it been since you had last seen him? 

 A part of you relished in the mortified realization that bloomed across the Sound Hashira’s facial features, his lips moving soundlessly against the wind rushing past the two of you. 

 “Spirit flower?”

 In an explosion of blinding pain, a multitude of memories burst forth from the darkest recesses of your cavernous mindscape, bitter words and touches from childhood intermixing with bright and happy ones from your time with your spouses at their estate. Suma’s back breaking hugs, Hinatsuru’s light as a feather kisses, Makio’s balance stealing pats on the back, Tengen’s all encompassing figure, each point of contact sweeping over your skin with suffocating reminiscence. 

 As you clutched onto the wood of the front gateway standing tall around you, you watched on in silent sadness whilst your spouses set off down the dirt road with purpose, Nijimaru leading the four of them towards yet another mission. Just as they reached the edge of the horizon, your three wives spun around and waved a final goodbye, Tengen watching on with fondness. 

“We love you Y/N-chan!” 

 “Y/N-chan!” 

 Strong, unrelenting arms of muscle wrapped around your dirtied form and suddenly, with the abrupt jolt of your body, you were no longer falling. Senses having gone haywire and far too afraid to see just who was holding you, you would not dare open your eyes nor move, holding your breath in hope that they would just leave you there.

You are the monster, the demon. 

 The very thing they despised and hunted in atonement for their sins. 

 “Tengen-sama!” 

“Tengen-sama what are you doing?!” 

“Tengen-sama?” 

 Too loud, everything was too loud. Make it stop, make it stop, make. it. stop.

 The body holding your own shifted ever so slightly and in a blur, you found yourself cradled within the lap of the man who should be slicing your head off your shoulders, not cradling like some baby, like you were still the person he had once loved. 

 “Spirit Flower, open your eyes.” 

 “Tengen-sama, that isn’t Y/N-!” 

 “Makio!” 

 How deafening was the tense silence that followed Hinatsuru’s reprimanding shout but you did not dare open your eyes, unwilling to face the reality that lay beyond your eyelids because how could you do so? 

 “You’re alive, Kami you’re alive,” A overly large and calloused thumb, the one that used to caress the bridge of your cheekbone fondly whenever you were within reach and it made you feel so special-- moved to wipe away the tears gracing the flesh of your cheeks with such tenderness that was unholy undeserving for a monster such as yourself. “Our sweet, gorgeous Spirit Flower.” 

 “But if that’s Y/N-chan, that means…” 

 A quiet, mournful sob followed those damning words closely like a predator stalking its prey and bare arms were wrapping tightly around your neck-. 

 What?

 Your eyes snapped open in surprise, body going stiff beneath Suma’s breath taking hold as she rubbed her face against your own, and you found your shocked gaze meeting Tengen’s tearfully joyous one, the Sound Hashira gifting you with a watery smile. “That was quite a flamboyant way to reveal yourself, you know. I give it a 9/10.” 

 Makio’s two-toned hair appeared in your field of vision in a blur of movement, the fiesty kunoichi shoving Suma away from your person to strangle you in a hug of her own, a soft squeak slipping from your lips. A touch of lips as light as a feather graced your left temple and you managed to move your head just enough to see a silently sobbing Hinatsuru kneeling above you, violet irises shining with boundless, unending love. 

 How could, what was, why-?

 “Why?” You croaked, voice crackling with misuse or the lack there of it. “Why?”

 The singular word caught all four of their attentions in an instant, Suma popping back into your vision with a stern glare. “If you’re asking why we aren’t killing you because you’ve been turned into a demon, Kami, so help me-!” 

 Hinatsuru moved to restrain the frothing blue-eyed kunoichi without hesitation, the more composed of the two gracing you with a strained smile and effort. “What Suma is trying to say is, how could we ever think of killing you when we’ve thought the person we love was dead this whole time, only to be alive in the end?” 

 “We thought we lost you forever, you baka.” Makio let out a sniff whilst she pulled away and wiped the tears from her face. “When we found your kimono in that hellhole of a cellar and there was blood everywhere, we-!”

 “-presumed the worst,” Your attention shifted back to your husband, a haunted look marring Tengen-sama’s typically vibrant features, one that made your skin crawl with discomfort. “It was pretty unflashy of us.” 

 Squirming against Makio and Tengen’s holds on your body, you did your best to get away from them, before you made a mistake you could never remedy. “You need to let me go, forget you ever saw me, please, before I hurt you!” 

 “No way!” “Hell no!” “Absolutely not!” 

 “Now you listen and you listen good, spirit flower,” Much to your chagrin, Tengen’s mighty arms drew you back into his lap and held you there, the Sound Hashira gifting you with an unforgiving glare of foreboding warning. “We’ve thought you’ve been dead for a year, we were forced to hold a funeral for you without anything to bury, without the chance to tell you our goodbyes.” 

 “So like hell we’ll let you out of our sights. You’re our wife and we pledged to stand by one another in sickness and in health, that includes one of us becoming a demon. You got that?” 

 All you could do was dumbly nodded in confirmation, words failing you in that moment of truth, and Tengen’s mood shifted from threatening to reserved within a second, the silver haired man gazing down at you with calculating fuchsia irises. “Now, with all of that nonsense out of the way, tell me with truth: have you eaten a human?” 

 You could have sworn your eyes popped out of their sockets in fearful anxiety. “N-no! Never! I mean, I wanted to but something stopped me every time! I’m sorry-!” 

 Hinatsuru gave your back a comforting rub, offering you a supportive grin. “It’s okay Y/N-chan, no one’s upset with you!” 

 “Yeah! So can it with the stupid apologies, baka!” Makio cuffed you on the back of the head, glaring warningly at your person. 

 Rubbing at the now sore spot on the back of your head, you turned back to Tengen with searching eyes, body quaking with nerves. “Then, what are you going to do with me?”

 “Well first, we’re going to find you something else to wear then the drabby rags you have on now.” His fingers plucked at your clothes with distaste, the man speaking with such nonchalance it left you reeling. “And then you’ll bring you to Shinobu-san and let her see if there is anything she can do to reverse your condition. She’s been making some progress in research supposedly due to an anonymous benefactor and a little demon girl who refuses to eat people just like you.” 

 “There’s another demon like me?” 

 Suma grinned at your questions, practically bouncing with excitement in Hinatsuru’s arms. “Her name’s Nezuko-chan! The Butterfly Girls said she’s very nice, just like you Y/N-chan!” 

 Blush broke out across your cheeks, embarrassment fueling you to curl tightly against Tengen and hide your tomato red face between his muscular breasts. 

 Mother, safe?

 “-chan?” 

 You snapped to attention, only to see your four spouses peering at you with worry, and you felt your fingers curl into the fabric of Tengen’s uniform unconsciously while you did your best to fight back the tears that threatened to fall. “The plants, they talk to me. They want to know I’m safe.” 

 Jumping to her feet in a flash, Suma set her gaze on the trees looming above with a shout. “It’s okay plant babies! We’re here to bring her home, safe and sound!” 

 Take mother away from us? 

 “They won’t take me away forever, I promise,” The plants surrounding the five of you grew taught with apprehension, protective anger within them beginning to grow. “T-they want to help me, help us! They’ll feed me, take good care of me!” 

 Feed mother? Take care of her? 

 “Yes! S-so it’s okay, I’ll be okay! We all will be!” 

 Your children grumbled in agreement, the want to feed once again growing in intensity and the urge to sink your fangs into Makio’s arm because it was sitting there and it smelled so-. 

 Thoughts of fulfilling your hunger came to a grinding halt at the rough jerk of your head backwards, something hard and unforgiving slotting painfully between your jaws. It took you a moment but you quickly realized that a thick branch had been shoved into your mouth, the limb thick enough that it would take a considerable amount of energy to snap it, the very energy you lacked due to your lack of feeding. 

 “Can’t have you trying to feast on us just yet, spirit flower.” A thick rope was promptly attached to both ends of the branch and tied tightly at the back of your head, Tengen making quick work of the muzzle he had clearly put through in haste. 

 The bark of the branch cut into the meat of your lips but you couldn’t find the will to care; all you could care about was that you had just attempted to eat one of your wives, a reality that made your stomach curdle in disgust. 

 “I’m fine, tree hugger. Not a scratch on mine, see?” Makio wasted no time in showing that she indeed was fine, the woman moving to stand on her feet beside Suma and Hinatsuru, the latter who gave your shared husband a worried look. “We should probably leave soon, Tengen-sama. The sun should be up within the next two hours.” 

 “If that’s the case then, let’s be on our flamboyant way, shall we?” 

 With a simple thrust of his legs, Tengen was standing with you draping over his left shoulder like a sack of flour, a noise of surprise escaping you at the sudden movement. “Sorry, spirit flower, but if we’re going to make it to the Butterfly Mansion before the sunrise, I can’t carry you in style. Now hold on tight!” 

 Before you could even think of objecting, Tengen was on the move and that meant so were you, a muffled scream ripping out of your throat while the ex-shinobi turned demon slayer made what seemed like a mad dash for Shinobu-san’s estate, your three wives following close behind with grins on all four of your spouses’ faces.

~~~

Thanks for making it this far! Comments, likes, reblogs and more are always appreciated! 

[moorishflower]

hi!! im absolutely astounded at the amount of depth and heart thats in all your fics, and im also very floored at the amount at which you write—im at a cross between admiration and maybe jealously lol!! I wanted to ask, are there any fic of yours (sandman or not) that you think are underrated/deserves more attention?? super excited for everything you ever write!!

asdfg anon thank you <3 So I have a Problem where I have a lot of anxiety about what I create, and when that's writing, if I am not writing The Next Great Novel, then I need to sate the brain demons SOMEHOW, and writing a LOT is the easiest way to do that. I want very badly to please people, and fortunately it's not a hardship for me to write the amount that i do, though I AM trying to consciously like. Take breaks if I need? Take a night off? Keep it healthy looool. But that I'm able to write things that people are consistently finding value and meaning in is a continuous and beautiful marvel to me so thank you, thank you very much!!!

So I read your second part of the ask wrong at first and had gathered uh several fics which I think are underrated that are NOT mine

One Half of a Whole by @violetequus8 - Absolutely REMARKABLE post-apocalyptic literature. Equus captures an entire world and history in 4000 words. There are sentences in this fic that rewrote my brain chemistry.

The entire like this slumber that creeps to me series by @tobrokenstone - THIS. This is survival the way I fucking LOVE IT. Bleak, stark, hard decisions, lasting consequences, surprisingly tender cannibalism (this last may be...specific to me and a few select others lol)

Once again repping the point-set-triangulation series by therm0dynamics, which is singlehandedly the series that got me into Hob/The Corinthian (it's about MIRRORS it's about PARALLELS)

And at this point I realized that you'd asked about which of MY fics I think are underrated, and I was just so caught up in the thought of repping my friends that I lived in a world where I did not write for a moment loool

Salt and Rye is the result of a prompt on tumblr. I wanted to try and capture that feeling of recreating a parent or grandparent's recipe and failing, because it's SUCH a disheartening moment, but I wanted to make it lighter, because Hob has someone there to share the comedy of it with him.

Here there be dragons is my latest fic in the Siren AU and I do think that people who aren't into scifi in general will be more likely to give it a pass, but I'm very proud of it, and very proud of the emotions it evoked in ME, and I promise it's not hard scifi like The Martian or even really pervasive scifi like Star Trek! I just tried to think realistically about what our planet would look like and feel like in 1500 years, and how we might need to leave it. Also, Dream's still a carnivorous octopus man.

an act of faith is the vampire fever dream that struck me at like 3pm on a Saturday and I blacked out for like two hours and this was what I'd written during that time. I enjoy writing obscene levels of devotion and you can't really get much more obscene than "willing to tempt death year after year even though no one's asked you to in order to prove to YOURSELF that your lover loves you"

Honestly I don't think many of my fics are underrated! They're all written at different points in my development and my understanding of myself as a writer, and they range pretty widely in terms of theme and genre sometimes, so some, statistically, are going to be kind of niche! And that's okay! I guess the only thing I'd say is that even if you think something isn't your jam, unless the tags are specifically triggering you give it a try! The worst thing that'll happen is you get a paragraph in and then back out again. An extremely smart person (it was @xx-vergil-xx <3) recently said something along the lines that part of healthy interacting with art is also knowing when to put it down, but it's also important to give different things a chance so that you learn more about yourself and your preferences. I myself am trying to expose myself to and write more angst? Because it makes me deeply uncomfortable to do so! But that's a valuable feeling to know and recognize! Idk i just think we all get different stuff out of writing and it's just nice that I've been able to provide something to so many people <3

[cunn1ngboy]

OR IF NOT HOUSE, IMAGINE MELENDEZ COMING IN, TELLING EVERYONE TO KEEP IT COOL AND CALLS SHAUN ONTO HIS SCHEDULED SURGERY, AND TAKES THE SANDWICH BAHSHAHXHSHSHAJ

HANNIBAL FANDOM!!!!!!!!

THE GOOD DOCTOR FANDOM!!!!!!!!!

IM CALLING OUT TO YOU!!!!!

PLEASE IM BEGGING!!!!!!

WRITE A CROSSOVER FANFIC!!!!!!!!!!!!

I DONT CARE WHAT YOU ARE GOING TO WRITE

I NEED MY FIXATIONS TO MEET

HANNIGRAM IN A HOSPITAL???

SURGEON!WILL AU?!?!!!

AUTISTIC BROS??!?!?!?!?

I.DONT.CARE.

PLEASE!!!!!!!!!!!

[asklamnco]

HELLO MY NAME IS DIRTILAM AND THIS IS MY ASK LAM&CO

Here is where you can ask me or my characters

This is just for fun of course and not to be taken seriously

ANYWAY ASK AWAY

-w-

[melody-wings]

 I wanted to draw something scary for October so I made one of my characters lea the lioness into a blood thirsty cannibal.... Neat huh? :3

[tunneltalkpod]

An Excess of Malice

Allie's at the rodeo so Lea and Anne bravely walked themselves through a very exciting week as Lea was there in person to see Mercedes Moné debut! We talk women's division; we talk how the other recent debuts are fitting in; we talk about what Adam Cole should be up to if we HAVE to see him. In other news - Samoa Joe: phoning it in. Wardlow: pointless. Kylo Riley: still scarred by his cannibal past. Eddie Kingston and Chuck Taylor: beautiful bodies training... for the future? And Darby? Well, God or Tony Khan intervened to make sure he's NOT going to Everest. Let's get into it!

Listen now on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, or wherever you get your podcasts!

[385bookreviews]

1.3.1 Red Rising by Pierce Brown

SPOILERS

Pages: 382

Read Time: 9 hours and 48 minutes

Overall Rating: ★★★★★ Storyline: ★★★★★ Dialogue: ★★★★★ Characters: ★★★★★

Genre: Adult Science Fiction

TWs for the book: Mentions of r*pe, violence, death, murder, blood, war, slavery, torture, animal death, injury, execution, grief, classism, SA, cannibalism, cursing, bullying, sexism, colonization, genocide, su*c*de, kidnapping, abuse, racism, ableism, alcoholism, vomit, drug use, confinement, self harm, police brutality, medical trauma, fire, dysphoria, betrayal

POV: First person from Darrow

Time Period/Location: A future of genetically enhanced and segregated humans on the planet Mars

First Line: I would have lived in peace, but my enemies brought me war.

Darrow is a miner under the surface of the planet Mars. He is a Red, the lowest of the color sorted caste system that now governs this interplanetary society; Browns, the servants; Obsidians, the inhuman brute soldiers; and Pinks, the sex slaves; are above them. After that comes the Grays, similar to cops. After them are Blues, ship navigators; Yellow, doctors; Greens, engineers; Violets, entertainers; Oranges, mechanics. Above them are Silvers, who handle money; Whites, who handle justice and are almost religious figures; and Coppers, who are bureaucrats. At the top of the pyramid, are the Golds. They are superhuman in physicality and intelligence. The Reds under the surface however, think they work to terraform Mars so that others may inhabit the surface. But it is merely a lie to keep them in check, as the surface is already terraformed. Darrow and his wife Eo sneak into the Grays’ garden and are publicly flogged for the crime. But Eo, in the presence of the ArchGovernor of Mars and as an act of rebellion, sings the forbidden and illegal song. They hang her for it. Darrow buries her body, which is also illegal, and he too is hung. But instead of death, he wakes in the custody of the Sons of Ares, a Red rebellion group. They take him to a Violet carver, and he is made genetically into a Gold. He is trained in all things of the Gold and the Society, and is sent to The Institute, a school for Golds to rise high in the Society and become Knights, Imperators, Governors, Praetors, etc. There he meets two brothers, Cassius and Julian au Bellona. They were all separated into Houses based off of the Roman gods, Mars, Ceres, Diana, Minerva, Neptune, Bacchus, Juno, Vulcan, Apollo, and Pluto. Darrow, Cassius, Julian, and others are chosen for House Mars. But very quickly, 500 of the higher ranked students are pitted against 500 of the lower ranked ones, to pick off the weaklings. Darrow reluctantly kills Julian, and allows Cassius to think it was someone else. Their House is quickly torn apart, as Cassius, Darrow, Roque, Lea, Quinn, and others form a tribe, a snotty girl named Antonia forms her own tribe, and a big brute named Titus takes control of the main castle. Sevro, the 100th pick of the House who is immensely shorter than everyone else and often referred to as Goblin, goes off on his own and joins a pack of wolves. Titus begins SAing girls in the castle, slaves from House Ceres, and even other girls in House Mars, and cuts off Quinn’s ear. Cassius, Darrow, Roque, Antonia, and Sevro, with the unwitting help from Virginia (Mustang) from House Minerva, take back the castle and overthrow Titus. Darrow installs himself as leader, and, upon finding out that Titus is another Red who had been carved like him, allows Cassius to kill him, as Darrow allowed him to think that Titus killed Julian. With Darrow now in charge, he captures House Minerva and House Diana in one fell swoop, earning the nickname the Reaper because of the slingBlade (scythe) that he carries. However, Antonia plots against him and, using Lea and Roque as bait, she lures Darrow into a trap to kill him, bribed by the Jackal, the menace of House Pluto killing in the south. Lea is killed during this attempt on Darrow’s life, and Roque goes missing. Fitchner, the Proctor of House Mars, reveals that the Jackal is the ArchGovenor’s son. The next night, Cassius leads Darrow out of bed, far from the castle, and reveals that the Jackal sent him a video of Darrow killing Julian. They duel, and Cassius stabs him through the stomach and leaves him for dead. But he is rescued and nursed back to health by Mustang, as he had let her escape from the siege of House Minerva. She nurses him back to health, and, when she falls ill, he goes in search of medicine. He comes across Fitchner again, and he explains that the game is rigged in favor of the Jackal, as the ArchGovernor bribed and threatened them all. He demands medicine from Fitchner, and also learns the main people supporting the rigging of the game are Proctors Apollo and Jupiter. Upon returning to Mustang, he formulates a plan. Soon, he has a small army of people he enslaved and then freed. They take House Ceres, and then House Apollo. Fitchner comes to him to warn him to stop, but Darrow imprisons him in the bottom of the fortress and steals his gravBoots, armor, weapons. They march toward House Jupiter, and take it quickly. It is surrendered by a small boy named Lucien, and Darrow pulls the ruse on him that he trusts him and that his army is drunk after they take the castle. But when Darrow suddenly stabs him through the hand, it is revealed that he is actually Adrius au Augustus, the Jackal. Darrow gives him the choice of surrendering and becoming a slave, or sawing off his own hand to escape. Adrius chooses the latter option, and then attempts to kill Darrow, but Pax, one of his closest warriors and a former member of House Minerva, sacrifices himself for him. He runs away, pursued by  Sevro, his Howlers, and Darrow, but escapes with the aid of Proctors Apollo and Venus. Apollo attempts to kill Darrow, but Darrow kills him first, not before Apollo reveals that the Proctors have captured Mustang, who Darrow is now in love with. He storms Olympus, the floating mountain above the arena where the Proctors live. He captures them all and frees Mustang, revealing his feelings by kissing her. He then sends her to deal with the Jackal, who is now attacking House Mars. He frees Fitchner, who then reveals that Mustang is actually Adrius’ twin sister. Fearing a betrayal, he quickly takes back House Mars and it is revealed that Roque is alive. Cassius, the head of the house in Darrow’s absence, surrenders to him, but not before spitting blood in his face and declaring a blood feud over the death of his brother. Darrow meets with Mustang, expecting a betrayal, but she just delivers Adrius to him, naked and bound. And just like that, he has graduated from the Institute at the highest level. Shockingly, on the spot, he is offered an apprenticeship by the ArchGovernor himself. He agrees, and therefore infiltrates his enemy’s household as a sworn sword of House Augustus.

Darrow O’Lykos (Darrow au Andromedus; The Reaper): Darrow is an immensely noble character. His constant battle with his self identity and his own rage and need for revenge against his greater mission makes him a very compelling main character. The love he expresses for Eo before, during, and after her death is heartbreaking, and you really get an understanding for how immensely intelligent this character is. He is capable of change, unlike a lot of the Golds we encounter. 

Cassius au Bellona: Cassius is a likable character at first, but you quickly notice all of his flaws. While Darrow is in the wrong for lying about Julian’s death, it was a strategic play, and Cassius seriously goes off the deep end after discovering this. He is too emotional, and based off the love they first expressed for one another (calling each other brothers), it is a compelling friends to enemies trope. 

Adrius au Augustus (the Jackal): Adrius carries a mystique about him as you don’t see him until near the end of the book. He is talked about frequently though, rumors (all true) of him sacrificing members of his own house, killing indiscriminately, cannibalizing for food, make him a terrifying and intimidating figure. This makes it an even larger plot twist to realize that he is just a small boy, and an even larger one when he saws his own hand off before Darrow’s eyes and kills the most unkillable character in the book. 

Storyline: The world building for this book is beyond phenomenal. They have their own ways of speaking and culture in each color, and amongst the Golds, they have two different ways of speaking, midLingo and highLingo. There are Bronzies, golds who don’t achieve much, and Pixies, who also don’t achieve anything but being young and beautiful and weak. There are highReds, who live on the surface of Mars as the most basic sanitation workers, and the lowReds, who are enslaved under the surface as miners. The Violets and Pinks that they own are all inhuman in appearance, genetically modified with extra fingers, wings, etc. There are people stretched across the Solar System, from Mercury to Pluto. The intricacies of this Society Pierce Brown created is only just touched on but already reveals so much. The plot twists are impeccable, and, even though this was my second time reading, I was still on the edge of my seat. From Eo’s death, to the revealing of Mars already being terraformed, to Julian being Darrow’s first kill, to Cassius and Darrow’s falling out, to Adrius’ revelation of being in House Jupiter the entire time, to Mustang being revealed as his twin sister. It was a raw, well thought out, emotional, intricate, book.

Representation: As far as representation goes, there wasn’t a ton. There are heavy undertones of racism, classism, police brutality, and misogyny. Matteo, a Pink who helps train Darrow in the ways of the society before he is sent to the Institute, makes mention of having been with men before. Tactus au Valii-Rath, while not mentioned explicitly in the book, is of Afro-Turkish decent. Darrow and Cassius’ relationship is somewhat homoerotic in nature. 

Summary: This is one of my favorite book series of all time. Worldbuilding? Immaculate. Characters? Immaculate. Plot? Immaculate. The only thing it’s iffy on in the first book is representation, but for a sci-fi novel published in 2014 written by a presumably cishet white man, it’s pretty damn ok. 

Quotes:  “Man cannot be freed by the same injustice that enslaved it.” “Funny thing, watching gods realize they’ve been mortal all along.”

[majinmochi]

Macy’s really gonna have Lea Michelle headline the parade like human remains and evidence of cannibalism wasn’t found in her house in 2013?

[beepbee-p]

ABOUT ME

LEA .ᐟ american + balkan. nineteen.

LIKES .ᐟ books. baking. kitties. flowy dresses. hiking. my friends. laughter. smile lines. dimples. older films. biology & history. rain. the pattering of rain. snow. lakes. forests. the ocean. the sound and smell of the ocean. the beach. sand. mermaids. sirens. roughed up men. pathetic men. crying men. loser men. blood. cannibalism used as a metaphor for immense love and intimacy. love. revenge. fluffy princess slippers. my baby blanket. my kitty.

DISLIKES .ᐟ very hot summers. idiots. people who yell when they don't need to. two faced bastards. bugs. when i don't understand math. people who are rude for no reason. boruto (the show). heiarchy (2024).

PLAYING .ᐟ

LIBRARY .ᐟ fablehaven series. the scorpio races. throne of glass. the winner's curse triology.

MANGA .ᐟ odd girl out. muse on fame.

FILMOGRAPHY .ᐟ alice in wonderland (2010). avatar (2009). avatar: the way of water. the fall guy. a little princess. the notebook. rudolph the red-nosed reindeer. white chicks.

SHOWS .ᐟ bad and crazy (k-drama). bloodhounds (k-drama). crash landing on you (k-drama). doctors (k-drama). hidden love (c-drama). highschool return of a gangster (k-drama). tokyo ghoul (anime). vagabond (k-drama). weak hero class one (k-drama).

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