#god in hind sight its so obvious

[quuerbee]

OKOKOK I FINISHED READING THAT CHAPTER SPOILERS FOR LIKE CHAPTER 380-420 I DONT REMEMBER EXACTLY WHEN THIS HAPPENED

Ok going off of the assumption that Chung Myung is left handed (STATED IN NOVEL!!!!) and that his left arm got cut off at the shoulder in his fight with the heavenly demon as the plum blossom sword Saint (which I uh. Don't really exactly remember if the arm is stated) (OK NVM IT WAS HIS LEFT ARM I JUST CHECKED) then that means he cut off the heavenly demons head with his NON DOMINATE HAND.

Yeah yeah whatever, BUT STAY WITH ME HERE. YOU KNOW WHO ELSE HAD HIS DOMINATE SWORD ARM CUT OFF? UN GUM.

I know realistically Chung Myung probably only had his left arm cut off towards the middle/end of the battle, considering his (?) sword was embedded in his left shoulder, but he had to of had SOME experience fighting unbalanced (both with having an entire arm's weight be missing and also fighting with his non dominant hand).

This, in addition to Chung Myung being the designated teacher, it really makes sense that Un Gum would ask Chung Myung for help. Chung Myung already knows all the techniques left handed because he IS left handed. And unknowingly to Un Gum, he HAS experience being forced to fight with his non dominate hand.

THIS PARAGRAPH MAKES SO MUCH MORE SENSE NOW VJCJDJBAHCJ

[scremsofpaim]

Tw for talks of SA and other forms of Abuse

Oh sweet marry mother of god, where do I begin.

First of all I think yall should know my background when it comes to HH and HB. I never got into the Fandom that much and because of that I never knew that much about the horrors of vivziepop's carrier.

Because of that, I was a causal enjoyer of HB and wanted to be an enjoyer of HH.

Now, I went into HH with an open mind and a hopeful heart because I really REALLY wanted it to be good and I really thought it would be better than HB. Cause quite frankly HB has its own fair share of issues that really need to be addressed. I watched it aaaaannnddd the writing was worse than HB. Now I really wanted to like it, I rewatched it 3 times with 3 separate friends to try to get their opinions on it so I could gaslight myself into thinking it was good. (In hind sight, I really wish I hadn't done this because apparently vivziepop is a horrible person, and I shouldn't have given her any views, but alas, I can not change the past)

But with every single rewatch of it, it just got worse and worse and worse. So here's all my problems with it in no particular oder.

Alastor, all of Alastor was a nightmare. For a character that was meant to be one of the most intimidating, his character design did not reflect that at all. The biggest issue I can speak on with his character is that he is possed to be this mentor to Charlie even though she is canonically 250 years old. Despite this, all of Alastor's interactions with Charlie on screen are completely negative, leading up the hells greatest dad music number. Because of that, the music number made 0 since, yeah sure mabye he uncollged a toilet one time (according to the song) or consuled her one time (according to the song) but none of that actually matter unless we see it on screen. You can't just say hey this guy is like Charlie's dad without something showing that before you pull out a gaint musical number about it. Like, at the very least, some level of build-up has to occur. Also the fact that he was just made to be a Tumblr Sexy man, and it's painfully obvious. Also, he's giving overpowered OC I made in middle school. Overall, he was very dissaptoing, very poorly written.

CHARLIE, Charlie was physically painful to watch. Charlie is basically just a middle school OC. She literally has the personality of a cardboard box for no reason. She is literally almost older than everyone at the hotel, and people treat her like a dumb teenager with a stupid dream. Mabye just mabye demon maturity works differently in hell, but by 250 years old, she should have a better grasp on how hell works and the extent of her powers. Speaking of which, it was really weird in the last battle that she left most of the security and fighting to her friends, who were significantly less powerful than her and literally had like no chance to win with out her taking some kind of Offensive position. Then, only after one of her friends dies does she get her crap together enough to realize she actually has to contribute to the fighting. Otherwise, they were all gonna die. Also, I understand she's meant to be a Pacifist, but her Pacifism comes off at best stupidity and at worst selfishness by just having all that power to protect the people you care about the most and being like "awww but I no no wanna hurt the angles even though I set up a whole army to hurt the angles for me waaah waahh" it's just bad writing. Overall, her character felt hollow and hypocritical.

Speaking of the finail battle, I think that lufcier coming in last second to save Charlie was because of vivziepops' daddy issues/hj

Vaggie, Vaggie felt hollow in a somewhat different way than Charlie. Even though they did try to give her some depth she didn't get more complicated than "I must protect Charlie and her dreams at all cost because I love her" even though Charlie doesn't even need protection. Also, their whole relationship ship felt very awkward and just... idk off, I guess? Like it didn't feel natural, their personalities just didn't mix in the way they were trying to portray it.

Angel Dust, oh lordy, where do I begin. First of all, I want to say this is where the mentions of SA begin far warning. Hot take, I don't actually mind angel dust becoming hypersexual because of his trauma. It's a very common thing but also... sexual harassment is not ok at all. There's also a lot of hypersexual people who don't have issues sexually harassing people, and in my experience, most of them don't. I can completely understand how angle dust ties his whole personality to his sex life and feels threatened if people don't find him attractive because to him, that feels like life and death level threat. Due to Vals abuse, if angle doesn't perform well bad bad things happen to him. So his whole life then becomes that performance. With that being said, he still really, really, should not have sexually harassed anyone and definitely should not get off the hook so easy with all of that. There were ways that vivziepop pop could have written his character without constantly harassing husk. Also, his particular targeting on husk made it seem closer to sexual harassment because you want to harass that person and not his constant need to feel validated. Basscily, I think expressing hypersexualty through media is ok and hypersexualty because trauma does need to be more talked about. But vivziepop could have handled it a lot better.

The overall plot was a mess. To understand this, you have to understand the difference between a character driven story and a plot driven story. A character driven story is where the focus of the story is on the characters and the events that happen in their life's that change them. A plot driven story is when the story focuses on the events of a story that are caused or influenced by the characters and how the characters change the plot. When it comes to a story about redemption, it's almost impossible to have a plot driven story, but that's what vivziepop did. There was really only one episode of character development, and that was angles episode. The rest of the episodes were plot based and jumped from plot point to plot point. I understand that part of this is because in the world of animation, you only get approved for a certain budget, and because of that, a lot of shows at an extremely limited number of episodes. Therefore, there is not a whole lot of room for character development, but also if you don't have room for character development. DO NOT MAKE A STORY ABOUT REDEMPTION FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!!!

End of my rant, let me know what yall think, sorry for any spelling errors I have dyslexia.

Does anyone feel like starting an unpopular HH opinion thread here?

To start this off, I prefer Sir Pentious in the pilot over the show. Don’t get me wrong, I still love him and he’s one of the few characters I actually like in this show. It’s just Pentious in the pilot for me is way more enjoyable to me, plus I loved Stumper as him. Not to mention I liked his “Hammy, but dangerous and somewhat competent supervillain” personality in the pilot over the show’s “silly harmless goofball” personality

Also feel free to list your criticisms you have of the show if you do, just don’t harass anyone.

[mythicamagic]

Fangs of Silver: Sesskag oneshot

Summary: Kagome Higurashi has her work cut out for her, hunting one of the most elusive and powerful werewolves known to man: the Killing Perfection. Sesskag smut oneshot. Werewolf Sesshoumaru/monster hunter Kagome. 

Rated M

Words: 4,700

Read on Ao3 and Dokuga

AN: for @cookieasylum​ for an art trade. Thanks bud! Hope you like it

Fangs of Silver

Warning: werewolf x human smut, knotting, menstrual sex

---

Two fingers unfurled to touch the moonlit forest floor, tracing the outline of a large paw-print stamped into dirt. Even splaying her palm wide with four fingers and thumb outstretched, Kagome couldn't hope to meet its size, dwarfed in comparison.

"Looks like I've found you again," she muttered, straightening from her crouch. Walking onwards and listening out for any hint of movement within the imposing woods- tall anorexic trees completely still with sharp looking branches- blue eyes remained alert, watchful.

She'd been tracking this one for God knew how long now. Months. Had it been a year yet? Though even the smallest victory of finding his tracks left no time for celebration.

Kagome frowned to herself. This particular beast wasn't usually so careless. He evaded her during daylight hours by wading through streams or keeping to rocky terrain, never giving the same name when mingling with villagers. Even when the Full Moon hit- he managed to be elusive and surprisingly clever. The smartest one she'd been sent to hunt. This time he'd either been sloppy or…

Kagome glimpsed something through a gap in the lower trees, located further down the hill. Smoke?

Surely he wasn't trying to trap her with something so obvious.

Frowning, Kagome set down her weapon and snuffed out the flames of her torch, checking her supplies. Enough silver bullets. Enough jewel shards. Her guns were in good shape, but she was out of herbal supplements to repress a certain annoyance that also occurred every month. Wincing, she put a hand to her lower abdomen, feeling it cramp.

Crap, not now.

She'd have to ignore it. She couldn't afford to lose this guy due to Mother Nature kicking her continually in the gut.

This beast had committed countless acts of violence- leaving behind a trail of bodies in their respective towns and villages. Unlike usual werewolves who sloppily left bitten survivors to run amok, this beast made no mistakes. He seemed to kill specific people and left them firmly for dead. He never inflicted the curse upon anyone. Surprisingly his victims were usually reported to be less than innocent citizens.

Due to the killings- a bounty had been placed on what the authorities referred to as 'the Killing Perfection.'

Creeping down a steep incline, Kagome stepped as lightly as possible within the relative darkness of the trees -autumn leaves crunching beneath her boots.

A lonesome house in the woods stood like a mourner in a graveyard under the light of the Full Moon, dark wood faintly eroded by time. Vines held the chimney in a stranglehold, but smoke puffing out of the top revealed it to be in working order despite the dilapidated state of the house.

Slipping around the side of the building and ducking out of sight from any windows, Kagome stopped with her back to the wall, loading her rifle while stooped into a crouch.

Taking a deep breath and slowly letting it out, Kagome wasted no time. She pushed off and rounded the corner, kicking open the front door with the barrel of her gun trained inside.

Empty?

Kagome didn't let her guard down, slowly inching inside and glancing around.

The fireplace was lit with healthy flames- a kettle sat off to the side, an empty mug not too far away. Everything else in the room had a layer of dust costing it, but the armchair lay newly cleaned. Footprints trailed around the ashen floor, some human, some wolf prints.

Kagome searched the lower floor that comprised of mostly empty rooms, before pointing her gun up towards the stairs, setting foot on the first step.

It groaned loudly beneath her weight.

Wincing, blue eyes snapped to the top of the dark stairs for any tell-tale signs of movement.

Wandering up to the second floor cautiously and looking around revealed nothing more than dust bunnies.

Kagome frowned, eyeing the open window. Had he jumped down and escaped?

Sighing with disappointment, she shouldered her gun and trailed downstairs.

I suppose I can sweep the outside to pick up his trail again, but I bet he's long gone. He probably lit the chimney to distract me before making his escape and transforming for the night.

Wandering over to the kettle, she touched its side.

Still lukewarm. He'd literally just been there.

And I was too late.

Kagome groaned.

"What a disappointed noise. Were you aching to see me that badly?"

Stiffening, her heart jumped. The silky sounding words had come from behind her.

Pivoting on one heel, Kagome turned her weapon on the man lounging in the armchair.

His image blurred, snatching up her gun to lurch the barrel upwards just as she fired, the blast piercing the ceiling- some debris raining down.

Golden eyes sparked, snapping the barrel in two before throwing her to the floor with impressive strength.

Kagome gasped, back colliding hard with the wooden floors, winded. She quickly grabbed one of her pistols and trained it on the man- who had disappeared again.

"W-what?" she panted. "It's a Full Moon. Why haven't you transformed?"

"Ah, you wish for me to change? Very well," his voice rumbled from outside.

Fur blocked out the moonlight pouring in from the shutters, brushing along the side of the house. Quiet, hungry panting filled her ears.

Kagome quickly fired at the windows, but the shadows melted away, causing her to wonder if it had been a trick of the light.

"I heard tell of a woman who subdues my kind before using shards of a blessed jewel to revert them back into humans…"

Paws padded around the house, nails dragging- scraping the forest floor. "You have pursued me for some time. Did you hope to transform me into a mortal like those you have hunted before me? Break my curse?" the male uttered.

"I knew you were strong, so I didn't have much hope of using them. Taking you back alive to stand trial for all the things you've done is a tall order," Kagome grunted, lower stomach clenching. She quietly hissed. Cycle blood likely marred her trousers now.

"Indeed. Even if you shot me with one of your infamous jewels though, it would not work."

A figure bent down, twisting through the front door with the ease of a feline through bars. Sleek silver fur gleamed with a fiery hue, bathed in the hearth's orange light.

Saliva dripped from exposed canines, muzzle pulled back.

The werewolf towered over her in size. He had the look of a distorted wolf- pale torso resembling a man due to broad shoulders and defined abdomen. He shifted to stand upright, hind legs strong, capable of supporting his weight. Thick hackles rose, paws more akin to hands tipped with killer claws.

Unlike the other beasts she'd faced, this one had peculiar red markings slashing over his cheeks, lower legs and flank. Glowing red eyes burned with the heat of the sun.

"You unknowingly came in search of a Pure Blood. I cannot be 'fixed' little hunter. This is how I was born," he purred, mouth unmoving, whispering honeyed words in her mind.

Those eyes strayed down to her legs, nostrils flaring. "And you are in heat, no less. A fine time to go hunting for a predator."

Kagome shivered, raising her pistol and aiming it between his eyes.

The werewolf gazed at her calmly, completely different from the wild, almost rabid beasts she'd fought with before.

A Pure Blood…

She'd never come across a creature so ancient. He looked at her with intelligence, as she'd suspected from tracking him.

"I-I'm not in heat," she muttered, finger grazing the trigger without pulling it. Why wasn't he attacking?

"You hurt those townspeople. Why?"

"I walk among men in my other form. Occasionally I find those deserving of death. Those who harm their cubs and mates. Those who leech of their pack and drink themselves into violent stupors. Sometimes they simply get in my way."

Kagome grit her teeth, "so you dispense justice alone? I don't disagree with cruel people deserving some kind of consequences but you don't get to decide who lives and dies. That's playing God."

He chuckled inside her mind, mouth pulling back from sharp teeth in an imitation of a smile. "Is what you do so different, little hunter?"

"I follow the orders of my superiors- unless I think someone can be saved with the jewels I bless."

Interest brightened his gaze, tail swishing once behind him.

Her only warning.

The beast knocked her arms to one side, striking her down with a headbutt to her chest. The action sent her gun skittering away over dusty floorboards, disappearing into harsh shadows. One human-like forepaw pressed down on Kagome's stomach, making her breath wheeze free from frozen lungs- his other holding her right arm down to keep her pinned. He then leaned in close, white ears perked atop his head.

A white maw drifted over her startled face, nostrils flaring, inhaling her scent greedily.

"Holy powers…" he uttered thoughtfully.

Kagome's left hand fumbled with the hem of her shirt, eyes narrowing. "I'm a former sister of the church. It comes in handy when dealing with creatures that go bump in the night."

She abruptly thrust her formally concealed dagger up, aiming it straight for his heart.

Powerful jaws snapped down, locking around her arm- the beast hissing as her blade ran off course but scraped down his neck and shoulder.

Kagome yelped, dagger freezing. Her hand remained free outside of the cage of teeth but she dared not move. Teeth mouthed her arm without breaking the skin, until a particularly sharp canine made a trail of crimson leak down the inside of her wrist.

A large, wet tongue roved, licking and sliding over the length of her elbow and wrist while they lay trapped within the hot cavern of his mouth.

"Now we have both shed blood tonight, little hunter. Are you satisfied?"

Kagome panted, gritting blunt teeth. She glared hotly into large red eyes fixed on her, looming close. From the new proximity, she could now see his seafoam green irises and slit pupils from within the sea of crimson. They dilated the longer she looked.

"You are quite the woman," he rumbled appreciatively. "What name do you go by?"

"K-kagome."

"Hn, I am Sesshoumaru. I thank you for your relentless pursuit of me over these past few months. It was quite flattering."

Kagome opened her mouth to reply before a hiss broke her off. The clenching of her abdomen took up attention for a moment, twisting like a knife in her gut.

"Heat can be painful to go through alone," he acknowledged, teeth slowly easing from her arm, eyes trained on her warningly not to try anything. His slick tongue unwrapped itself from her arm with a trail of saliva. He licked his maw hungrily.

Kagome gripped her sticky arm, glaring from her position on the floor. No bite. Just a nick from his tooth. It wouldn't be enough to curse her. She warily lowered her dagger.

"It's just my monthly cycle. I'm fine...gn…"

"You seem it," he mocked, wolf expression unchanging, though his eyes danced.

His great head lowered, hovering over her groin. His nose drew closer, inhaling over the red patch. His long pink tongue slid out, drawing over it with a lingering lick.

Kagome yelped, forgetting her guns and blades- grasping the dense white fur of his neck. "W-what are you doing?!"

He managed to look suggestive without human features, tipping his head slightly. "As a hunter, it must be difficult to find relief. You are always working, are you not? Chasing evil…" his voice resounded with the finest baritone in her mind, coaxing and soothing, completely at odds with his monstrous appearance. He almost sounded aristocratic. "Fortunately...you happen to lie beneath a beast tonight."

Saliva, warm and dewy, dropped onto her leg in small puddles. Sesshoumaru gazed at her while snaking his tongue out once more, prying it harder between her legs.

Kagome gasped, back-arching, a rush spilling up from her cunt to twist sweet arousal at her core. She viciously clamped down on such a reaction, growling.

"No one gave you permission to take liberties with me, pal!" she drew her knee up, attempting to kick him away.

Sesshoumaru released her arm in favour of grasping her thigh, chuckling while forcing it down. "Why protest?"

Kagome snatched up her dagger again, pressing the hilt against her chest and keeping the point raised outwards.

"Why agree?! Y-you're a…" wide blue eyes flicked over his strange, inhuman body. "I've never- n-not with a werewolf. I'm pretty sure that's breaking some sort of rule. Or law."

"I will not tell a soul."

Her gaze turned flat, fingers shifting over the hilt. "I'm supposed to be killing you. We just tried to kill each other!"

"Hn, keep your friends close and enemies closer, as they say. Allowing them into your bed does not seem like such an extreme, and I find there is always a slight thrill in fighting, is there not?"

It was a night of firsts. Kagome had never experienced anything like it in her five years of hunting. None of her superiors had ever mentioned an intelligent werewolf who could control their transformation and shapeshift at will. The only whisper of it had come from dusty old books stashed away in catacombs. The air in the lonely house felt cold, tickling her skin like a living thing, but the space between Hunter and Werewolf crackled with intensity.

Kagome swallowed, feeling squirmy. She tensed when a wet nose came back up to sniff at her neck. Warm breath fanned over flushed skin as his snout travelled up and down, scenting. It soon buried itself within dark hair, making her gasp. The suggestion of teeth scraped the crown of her head, joined by a pleased, rumbling noise. Goosebumps rose on her exposed skin, blood burning, alight with confused but obvious need.

His alien, paw-like hand ran over her hip and breast, cupping the side of her jaw. The shock of thin fur and monstrous, long fingers tipped with claws should've terrified her. Kagome had fought against such hands for years. Her body held traces of scars where such nails had hooked and dragged into supple flesh.

As it was, when his second stroked her inner thigh, Kagome shuddered. He smelled faintly of clove and damp earth. His movements were deliberate. The inferno of his eyes when they locked with hers shone with hunger- but also curiosity. That mindfulness and clarity of his thoughts was what allowed her to hesitantly touch the hand on her thigh.

It felt too large and gangly to be a human, fur and heat brushing the calloused skin of her palm.

"You can't bite me," she warned, laying the flat of her blade against his neck. "I'll kill you if you do- and that'll instantly free me from the curse."

Sesshoumaru smiled with his eyes.

He forced her down again, claws making quick work of her pants, tearing a sizable hole at the crotch.

The wiry fur of his muzzle immediately dived down, fervently taking in her scent with hearty, eager inhales. It sent a rush of arousal straight through her, hips jolting.

Nose, teeth and tongue soon brushed her sex, before the latter thrust inside, heedless of the blood.

Kagome cried out, toes curling, going completely still. The invasive probing between her legs filled her entrance, sinking deeper. It then flicked outside, allowing her to feel the velvet rough texture. It swirled experimentally over her clit.

Shakily tightening her now slippery grip on the dagger, Kagome gasped and shuddered.

"I-I thought you were going to transform into a man-!"

Sesshoumaru gave a rumbling noise in response. He gripped the front of her blouse, yanking to rip it open and fondle her breast.

"You do not wish to see the creature you've hunted feasting on you?" the rumbling purr lifted into something darkly amused, tail flicking behind him.

He grabbed her hips, swivelling them to flip her over. Kagome yelped and snarled, about to protest when his palms kneaded her ass, raising it and tearing off the remainder of her pants- the pads of his thumbs dragging to her sex, spreading slick folds and delving a warm, thick tongue inside her all the deeper.

Kagome kept a needless grip on the dagger, a strangled noise caught in her throat. His muzzle nudged and pried, urging her to rock against his tongue. Feeling warm, she clumsily grasped at her coat, yanking her arms free and tossing it aside.

Full breasts were squashed to the floor under the weight of the werewolf as he pressed her down, but her nipples- stiff and hardened with pleasure- received friction from the steady rhythm. The pleasure came in small, electric bursts.

"Fuck," she groaned, biting her lip. This was wrong. She shouldn't allow this.

A clawed thumb rubbing at the sensitive bundle of nerves between her thighs silenced that weak protest. It felt good. So deliciously good. Men scarcely put their mouth on her down there, deeming it 'dirty' or beneath them.

Kagome shivered, pushing back against the roving tongue continually thrusting inside her core, flexibly twisting, rubbing against her inner walls and licking with heinous, grunting noises like she slaked his thirst. They found a kind of rhythm without communicating through words, and an incredible rush built in her stomach- delighted to rock against his mouth.

Bowing her head and trying to concentrate on breathing, Kagome jolted and shamelessly moaned as his movements became more relentless, hungrily collecting evidence of her arousal and cycle onto his tongue.

"W-why-?" she managed out, straining to look at him over her shoulder- the tongue plunging faster in quick delves like he were mining for gold- sharp teeth scraping her entrance, adding rapidly to the throbbing feeling building up in her lower stomach.

Why was he pleasuring her? It didn't align with a wild beasts actions.

Blue eyes glimpsed glowing crimson behind her. With a sudden push of his humanoid paw on her back, trapping her in place- Kagome squealed loudly as Sesshoumaru pried so deep he wore her like a puppet with his tongue, grunting with savage satisfaction when she came from the action.

"Agh!" Kagome cried out, body igniting, juices immediately flowing into his mouth, which he collected enthusiastically with broad strokes. Somewhere between all this, she lost grip on her weapon. The blade clanked against the floors loudly.

After pulling away, the werewolf paid no heed to the red staining his lips, licking at his jaw in a decadent, gluttonous manner.

"Why what?" Sesshoumaru sat back on his haunches, ears perking, haughtily eyeing her with an air of pride. He probably took great pleasure in reducing a hunter to such a vulnerable mess.

Kagome felt like she'd received her answer. "Never mind," she caught her breath, forehead dotted with sweat. Her muscles burned despite the lack of physical exertion, body feverishly warm.

She sat up slowly, wincing at the slick feeling of her cunt. It fluttered and clenched, demanding more- wanting to be filled.

"I feel better now. We can end things there and-"

Kagome caught an eyeful of his crotch, entranced by the hard evidence of his arousal.

Oh.

She swallowed, reading the look in his eye easily. They wouldn't be stopping anytime soon. From the look of his long, thick cock, they'd be spending a while easing it in if he were committed to pleasuring her.

Somehow she felt alright with that. The fever in her veins wasn't satisfied yet, though she had reservations about allowing a literal werewolf to take her. However something undeniable had come to life in the pit of her gut, something raw and hot that left her wet between her legs and wordlessly begging.

Sesshoumaru's claws closed around her ankle, dragging her towards him- her ass coming to meet his twitching cock.

"I do not think you have unwound nearly enough. You must expel all pent up frustrations if you are to continue hunting me. I worry you will fall behind if not- your tracking has become sloppy lately."

Kagome whipped her head up and growled- just as the head of his cock nestled at her entrance, cutting off the noise and sending it choking. Blushing, she reached behind her, spreading herself for him- holding herself open while Sesshoumaru gave that jagged flash of teeth in response, slipping his thick length inside her inch by inch.

Whimpering and dropping her hands, Kagome bowed forward, trying to adjust. He sank even deeper. The sheer slickness between her thighs helped but didn't assuage the terrible stretch that threatened to overwhelm her. He was too big, his large and hairy body towering over hers, encasing her back with the furnace heat of his body.

"Ease yourself back against me- slowly," panting breath fanned over her damp neck. She felt him run an almost affectionate feeling lick up the sensitive shell of her ear. "Relax. This body was built to withstand many things," his palm stroked a path over her navel, circling up her hip where a scar lay. "You will not allow me to dominate you so easily, will you, Kagome?"

Panting, Kagome tried to get used to feeling every inch of him inside her, filling her clenching walls to the brim.

His hands were three times the size of hers, one settling beside her on the floor. The way he loomed over her made the formally fearless woman feel small, crushable.

"H-ha! As if," she shakily replied. Not one to give in, Kagome did as instructed, slowly rocking back against him just like before. She winced. The sensation was much fuller and tighter, uncomfortable.

Sesshoumaru hissed and groaned, rubbing at her clit again to shoot tiny bursts of fireworks through her system. It helped coax some pleasure back into things. Kagome gave a shaky moan.

Sensing her change in enjoyment, the wolf began moving.

She cried out, wincing a little at his slight withdraw- before groaning as he eased back in, creating a slow, building pace.

The thick, soft fur that covered him from crown to foot gleamed in the light of the room. Kagome could feel it hot against her back, tickling her skin. The strands began to stick to flushed flesh. Sweat began to bead, rolling down her shoulder blades.

"You take me very well, for a human," Sesshoumaru nosed at her hair.

"I can't say 'taking a cock' nicely is the highest compliment ever, but- thanks," Kagome panted. He gave an amused huff, giving a hard thrust in response that knocked her forward.

Yelping, she grabbed onto the first available thing. Her breath caught when her fingers met soft, warm fur. His arm.

It felt sturdy amidst the sea of sensations. Kagome held tighter onto it, bracing herself. She could sense the control beginning to slip from her new bedmate.

Sesshoumaru growled ferally, fanning hot, sticky breath over her shoulders. He then slammed inside her- ramming his hard cock completely within.

Letting out a loud, startled cry that bordered on a scream, Kagome bit down on his arm. He set a brutal pace, thrusting his cock with a quickness that blinded her. She squeezed her eyes shut so tight stars burst behind her eyelids.

Strands of dark hair stuck to her forehead, the rest bouncing and swaying with the werewolf's chosen pace: hard and merciless.

She sank her teeth harder into Sesshoumaru's arm, but he was completely silent inside her mind now. Whatever debonair and lofty charm he possessed had been shoved far back into the recesses of his consciousness, replaced with raw primal need and heavy grunts. He sought to fuck, and Kagome found herself mewling receptively, weakly rocking back against him.

With a snarl, he yanked his arm free from her teeth- rearing back onto his haunches and dragging Kagome with him, holding her hips while continually rutting into her.

Kagome went completely speechless in both pain and pleasure. The new angle nestled onto his lap with the steel band of his arms wrapped around her waist allowed him to reach new depths.

Letting out mindless moans, she rested her head back against his furry shoulder, body ablaze, cunt squeezing him deliciously. The arms holding her prisoner forced her to meet each thrust, creating an intense friction inside that brought her into a state of begging. "P-please- more. Fuck-! More, I'm so close, please!"

Sesshoumaru gave guttural snarls and rumbles in response. But there was something strange happening with his cock. She could feel it even while held under the haze of pleasure. Nudging up against her entrance, something thicker than his length and more rounded threatened to push inside. His knot.

Kagome couldn't react- distracted by another orgasm ripping through her at the most inopportune time.

The knot swelled and stretched her sex farther than she'd anticipated. With a jolt of his hips, Sesshoumaru followed her into orgasm, throwing his head back in a deafening snarl. A torrent of cum flooded her, painting her inner walls- all locked in by the werewolf's knot.

Kagome jolted and strained, mouth opening in a wordless scream. Full. She felt too full. Her sex strained, still squeezing him like a vice.

Slowly, his voice drifted back into her head. "Very good...worthy female...powerful. Should claim..."

"S-sesshoumaru?" she croaked weakly, limp in his arms.

A silver muzzle nuzzled the side of her head in response, crooning lowly. "Hn?"

"You uh..." Kagome panted, giving a weak gesture of her wrist, trying to rise and finding it impossible. He was quite literally locked inside her. "You knotted me- shouldn't you have pulled out?"

She wasn't concerned about being pupped- she'd handled dodging pregnancy with herbal aid before. However, like this, it made moving away impossible.

"Why would this one do that?"

Blue eyes blinked, shifting up to him. His fur plastering against her skin felt like a feathery bed cushioning her spine. "Because now we're stuck, for who knows how long. A few minutes to 30. I figured you'd..."

Want to get away. Re-establish our roles as enemies.

He acted the same as always. She couldn't anticipate his movements or read him.

A sinuous tongue she'd now become intimately acquainted with slid up her cheek. The fur receded at her back, and Kagome stiffened with alarm.

When she turned slightly, she found herself gazing at the pale, handsome features of a man. His markings remained, branding him as something inhuman despite the skin, pretty fall of hair and stern sweep of his brow.

"I intend to have you many times," Sesshoumaru uttered out loud, sounding much crisper in the quiet room. "In a multitude of ways."

Kagome opened her mouth to reply, gasping when a tongue thrust inside her mouth. Grunting, she managed to return the dominating press of tongue and teeth, biting his lip for good measure and feeling him shiver.

When he began moving again while locked inside her, she fell into the murky waters of arousal once more.

-----

The morning sunlight peeking through the broken blinds brought many aches and pains with it. Kagome heard the front door shut, footsteps drawing away before falling silent.

Sitting up quickly, a fur throw fell from her shoulders. It pooled in her lap, revealing the full extent of fresh scratches and claw marks littering her nude body, along with bruises.

She winced at the stickiness between her legs. The smell of sex overwhelmed the stuffy room. So it wasn't a dream.

Noticing a steaming mug of green tea sitting before the lit fireplace loaded with newly chopped wood, Kagome tentatively reached out to touch it. Still warm.

He must've just left.

Running her hands up and down her flesh, she found no bite marks. He'd stayed true to his word.

Feeling a little complicated, Kagome blinked upon noticing a letter sitting atop a fresh change of clothes on the armchair. Her weapons were also neatly arranged nearby.

Picking up the parchment, blue eyes flitted over the message.

'Pursue me once more, my hunter. I enjoyed feasting on you.'

Kagome pressed her lips together. She shook herself a little. This was still the enemy, nothing had changed despite a thoroughly pleasurable night. In the privacy of the room however, she allowed herself a small smile.

After eating, washing and dressing for the day, Kagome stepped outside.

Securing her weapons, she gave chase.

End

[itstittycitybaby]

From the Ashes We Are Born (Part 7)

A/N: Finally we’ve made it to part 8! I apologize for the wait just been dealing with things but here we are! Thank you so much for your love and support throughout this series I really appreciate it.

You knew V was either going to be livid or disappointed at what was currently smothering you in the shadow gallery. There hadn’t been a discussion about pets in the gallery so technically you weren’t breaking the rules right? He was a mountain of a dog; he reached up to your hip and his hair shed everywhere. The moment you saw the dog spread across V’s beloved sofa you almost had a heart attack. Oh, you were in for it now. Hopefully V wouldn’t be too upset about the hair that littered the couch and the big friendly dog. What were you supposed to do anyway? The poor thing was wailing loud enough that you were afraid that chancellors men were going to find it. Unbeknownst to V, you figured out the latch on the bedroom window and snuck out into the night. The dog’s soft whines led you to him and that’s how you got a scrape on your arm once it tackled you and licked your face. He was intimidating considering his mountain of a size but he was a gentle giant. He reminded you of V. Scary as hell but a sweet angel underneath it all. The dog had a worn collar around his neck but no tag. Your fingers were numb from the cold streets of London and the rough material of the collar didn’t help either. “C’mon,” you cooed, setting a fast pace for the dog to follow. You’d be thoroughly fucked if a henchman caught you. Your shoes thumped underneath the cobblestone and the dog’s little click of the paws were the only thing you heard as you made your way back to the gallery.

You paced as you waited for your masked lover to come home. Nerves made you jittery as you moved around the kitchen. The dog watched you curiously, his head tilted as he watched you loose your mind. V would ask how you left the gallery in the first place. The bedroom window wouldn’t be able to open once V found out. Hell, you wouldn’t be surprised if he glued the damn thing to keep you from leaving. “It’s dangerous out there darling,” he said one night, trying to convince him to let you out. It was snowing that night, the white puffs fell from the sky gracefully. You grumbled in reply much to V’s amusement. The dog’s tail wagged as he looked at you. He was smiling at you as you stood there debating the poor thing’s fate. Your masked boyfriend was kind and gentle. V’s voice was soft spoken unless he was excited about his next anarchist plans, or was cheerful that day. Surely he would have sympathy for a dog. Right?

“Where is my love?” Shit. The clock blinked 3:23. You almost dropped your favorite mug in your hands. The dog perked up as it heard V. His tail wagged happily and his big jaws grinned and his eyes twinkled. “In here,” you yelled, cursing softly at the voice crack. V’s footsteps hurried. Have you been hurt? “Darling?” Panicking, your fingers clutched the dog’s collar as you forced him behind you, right as V turned the corner. The fluttering in your heart never seemed to stop once you saw V. It had been a year since being with him and yet here you were still enraptured by the man. God, you felt like stupid teenager all over again. His head cocked to the side. You missed the man and his grinning mask. He’d been busy, staying out late and sleeping for a couple hours and then heading out. V’s head would sink like a scolded child when you saw the wounds he was trying to hide. “Is everything alright?” “Yea,” you replied a bit too cheerfully. Fuck, I’m a bad liar. V’s eyes narrowed a bit under the mask. His lips tugged into a small frown. Your blood ran cold as he raked his eyes over your figure. More importantly, what you were trying to shield from him. “Darling,” he started, “what did you do?” You grinned sheepishly, shuffling in front of the friend you had made. “U-uhhh,” you stammered. You knew you couldn’t hide anything from V, let alone a giant dog that was trying to wiggle it’s way from your grasp. 

“My little minx has brought something home,” he commented. “Uh..No.” V sighed. “Darling I can see the paws of a dog between your legs.” On cue, the dog wiggled from your grasp and pounced on V. A little yelp of surprise came from V as the dog stood on its hind legs and started attacking his mask with kisses. “Down,” V demanded between breaths, snapping his fingers. You giggled, once again catching V’s attention. Once the beast’s hunger had been slain (V’s words not yours) did V turn to you. The dog was oblivious to the obvious tension in the air. “Okay just hear me out,” you started, clasping your hands together and giving your boyfriend the best puppy eyes you could muster. V crossed his arms. He was amused at your efforts of keeping something so trivial as a beast from him. Let alone in his own home. “I heard him crying out there in the cold and I didn’t want him to get hurt! Look he’s so skinny that his ribs are showing V,” you exclaimed waving your arms around. V did admit he was admired by your stubbornness and you did look quite adorable looking so passionate. That was until it struck him. You left the shadow gallery. His clever little minx found a weak spot in the gallery. V was a little disappointed that you had left. His love knew the rules and how dangerous it was to leave without him by his darling’s side. “Darling, how exactly did you manage to get the dog?” 

Oh you were fucked. The question that you were waiting for. The grimace that pulled onto your face said it all. V sighed, his curtain of hair following the shakes of his head. “Show me.” Your head sunk low.  The dog licked your fingers wanting to be pet. Your heart hurt as you realized this would be the last time you pet the sweet thing. Giving his ears one last scratch you left the kitchen as V and the dog followed your lead.

V was impressed. Your efforts into saving just a dog on the cold harsh streets of London made him chuckle. More importantly, how you managed to squeeze you and the beast through the bedroom window. A huff of amusement left him once you showed him how you managed your great escape. The window was big enough for you to wiggle your way through. “I hope you do realize my love, the consequences of this.” A sad smile graced your lips. “I know V,” you muttered. You glanced at the sweet dog, grinning at the both of you who was oblivious to its fate. He sat between the both of you with his tongue dangling out of his mouth. “He is a charming one,” V said as he followed your gaze. You perked up a bit. Hope bubbled in your chest. Your eyes pleaded with his. V smiled underneath his mask. “Is there something you’d like to ask darling,” he asked smugly. Watching you squirm and be teased under his wavering gaze made him laugh. “C’mon V,” you whined, a pout gracing your lips. “You know what I want.” V cocked his head, “I’m afraid not my darling.” You huffed in frustration especially at the mock of innocence in his tone. “Use your words.” You felt your cheeks heat up a bit. Huffing, you mumbled, “canwepleasekeepthedog?” 

“Klaus,” V hissed. It had been a week since the beast had become a part of the household. Klaus was good for the most part, however V grumbled everytime he had to clean the hair from the couch. Klaus looked up from his spot on the bed. Next to him his darling slept peacefully blissfully unaware at the predicament V was in. The dog side eyed him and let out a huff. V stood there dumbfounded. Of all things he did not expect a dog to have an attitude. V grabbed the dog by the collar and gently shoved him off. He grumbled at the awful hair on his side of the bed. The sheets and blankets had just been cleaned and already they were dirty again. V looked at Klaus again who just smiled proudly and wagged his tail. He let out a sigh and pet him before he slipped into bed with his darling. 

It was noon when you woke up. V’s spot was empty and Klaus was nowhere to be found. The sight of hair on V’s side of the bed made you cackle. He would grumble about it during lunch you were sure of it. The thought made you snicker even harder. Trudging out of bed with a blanket wrapped around your body, you left the room. The crackle and the heat from the fireplace made you hurry. Winter had always been harsh in London but in the shadow gallery it was absolute hell. Once you reached the living room your heart warmed at the sight of your boyfriend and Klaus. V sat on the couch, book in hand, and Klaus stretched over his lap. You laughed. V closed his book and looked at you. “Good afternoon love,” he said. You grinned, “I see you and Klaus have been getting along well.” As if on cue Klaus let out a loud snore. “You could say that,” your boyfriend replied, “though he has a talent for leaving his hair around the place.” You rolled your eyes. “He’s a dog V.” The masked vigilante just huffed in retaliation. “Yet, my darling, you brought him home.” “Yes, my darling, but you were the one who named him,” you bantered. “Klaus is a charming name,” V replied. “I know honey,” you said, leaning over giving him a kiss on the cheek. “I’m gonna fix something to eat. Want anything?” “I’ll do it dove,” V replied, trying to get up from the couch. You rolled your eyes. You appreciated V’s sentiment, you really did, but V deserved to be pampered too. Klaus woke up and side eyed the masked man. You laughed as V struggled to gently push the dog off of him. Klaus was too heavy to move and stubbornly refused to do so. V sighed as the predicament got hair onto his clothes. “You’re a bit occupied V,” you giggled. He sighed, “It seems so my darling.” Giving your boyfriend one last kiss and a kiss to Klaus’ head you left the kitchen to prepare a meal for you and the one you truly loved.  

[almond-lebkuchen]

A New Kind of King

A continuation to my Ikevamp pet fic series, Part Two featuring Puck, Brush, and King. (2500 words).

Brush adored sunflowers. There was something special about them that caused him to scurry over to it whenever he spotted some. Perhaps it was the fragrant, sunshine smell around them. Maybe it was the way its bright colors seemed to light up the area around them. Or maybe it was the sweet taste, the perfect snack to munch on during lazy summer days. In any case, he would spend his afternoons among the flowers that littered the mansion gardens without a care in the world. His friend Vincent often liked to come here as well, with his sticks, his colorful smelly liquids, and large wooden boards. Brush would join him whoever he did, ambling over while Vincent set up his work. 

Brush wasn't entirely sure what he did, but he liked watching him do…whatever it was. It was all rather entertaining if he did say so himself. He would lazily look on as Vincent would take one of his many sticks and dip them into different liquids, smearing them all over the white board. Different colors merged together into a mirage of patterns and shapes, all swirling together like an iridescent river. Time would pass by, and he would still be there, marking away at the board with his sticks. Sometimes his friend seemed happy with what he made, other times he seemed discontent. Brush hoped that today was the former.

This morning as usual, Vincent came over to the gardens, and Brush was there to meet him. He gave an affectionate headbutt to his friend as a greeting, and received a gentle scratch atop his head in return. Rubbing his paws, he sat down at his usual spot next to him, while Vincent hummed away as he set up his wooden items. Soon enough, their usual daily routine began peacefully. 

After a long while of watching him, Brush grew bored, and decided to take a nap, flopping onto his stomach into a more comfortable position. He knew that Vincent would be there a while, so he settled in for a pleasant sleep. Before long he was dreaming about fish and chasing birds, the morning sun shining down on him peacefully. 

Brush woke up just as Vincent started putting his things away. Just in time for his favorite part. At the very end, Vincent would dump all of the sticks into the water bucket to clean them. Brush loved this part of Vincent's schedule, and would amble over to him to help wash them. He would dip his paws into the cool water, splashing happily away, until the sticks were scrubbed spotless. 

Brush often wondered why Vincent would bother dirtying the sticks in the first place only to wash them later. He didn't understand a lot of things his friend did, but he enjoyed doing them together with him. Grabbing a particularly thick stick from the water bucket, he started waving it about energetically, droplets of dirty water pelting the two of them. Vincent started smiling, cooing gentle gibberish to him. Brush chittered animatedly in response, pleased with himself in succeeding in making his friend smile. He was always happy when he did, as Vincent's smile reminded him of his favorite flower, just as bright and sunshiny as the yellow bloom. 

Vincent wasn't his only friend. Recently he had taken a liking to a bunny he came across one sunny afternoon around the gardens as well. His name was Puck, and while he had a rather big personality, Brush enjoyed wandering around the mansion with him. Puck knew exactly how to receive the right kind of attention from people for whatever they needed and had a natural aptitude for finding the most comfortable spots to laze around. In return, Brush would show him around the mansion and teach him where the fridge was. All in all, they made a good team.

Unfortunately, he didn't come often, so Brush had to make the most of the short time that he did. Each visit was an adventure to savor. Brush also liked how Puck's fur was soft, like velvet. Occasionally he would run his paws over him, which would make his long ears twitch. Brush longed to be able to grab and play with them, but Puck did not take kindly to being raccoon handled, even if he allowed Brush to pet him. He hoped with time that would change. 

Maybe even sooner than he thought. That afternoon, as he wandered onto the mansion grounds, he was pleasantly surprised to spot his friend being carried under the arm of his owner who was making his way to the mansion. Excited, he quickly followed them inside, close behind the heels of the person. Already his mind was racing with what they could play today. As always, Puck was ceremoniously placed in a box on the dining room table. Once the man left, Brush raced over chattering with excitement. Puck didn't keep him waiting, hopping out of his container to greet his friend. Nose twitching, he gave a few welcoming zooms around Brush before settling down in front of him.

From the moment Puck found out he was going to visit the Mansion, he already had a plan of what he wanted to do first, and for it, he required the help of Brush. His owner had recently given Vincent a fresh bouquet of sunflowers, a fact that did not sit well for Puck. A favorite treat of his being given away right in front of his eyes. So today he was determined to sneak into his room to snack on the flowers, hopefully with Brush as his accomplice. 

As for Brush himself, he was down for anything with his friend. Even if he didn't quite understand what Puck's whole plan was, he was more than interested in the part about the sunflowers. So with much enthusiasm, he gladly followed Puck onwards. 

 A little while later, the two of them finally arrived at their destination: Vincent's room. The door was already slightly ajar to their relief, allowing for easy access inside. Looking back however, that should have been their first clue that something was wrong. The second clue was a foreign stink permeating the room, still very fresh. Puck stood up on his hind legs, whiffing at the air curiously. It wasn't a familiar scent to him, but as soon as he laid his eyes on the sunflower bouquet lying on top of the couch, his curiosity was long forgotten. Heed tossed to the wind, he nyoomed towards them, tailing wiggling. But his intent on jumping onto the couch was interrupted by the sound of barking behind him, followed by a squeak. Skittering to a halt, Puck turned to see a large, yellow dog looming over his friend. Time seemed to freeze as they made eye contact. 

In this situation, Puck did the only thing he could. He ran. Out of the room, together with his friend. Behind him, he could hear the patter of paws on the ground as it gave chase after the two of them down the hallways. Scared stiff, Puck quickly turned into a nearby room where he dived under the nearest furniture. He sat there nervously, left only to bemoan his situation. He heard no signs of being followed, which meant that it must have gone to chase after Brush instead, a fact that didn't make him feel any better. Puck closed his eyes despairingly. 

Today was supposed to be perfect for Puck. Will had decided to bring him to the Mansion today for a visit, where he would be surrounded by adoring fans who would fawn on him and feed delicious treats to him. He was going to have an entire day to laze about idly and meet with Brush. Things couldn't have gone more wrong. Instead here he was, hidden under an armchair, awaiting his fate. 

Never did he expect to spend today being chased around by a giant dog, eager to do God knows what to him. Bite him? Toss him around like a toy? Or… Eat him? Would someone as tiny as him even be a good meal for it? No! He cried internally. He refused to believe it. He was simply just too adorable to become food for some pup. Puck could almost cry. What had he done to deserve this? The world was just too cruel to someone as fluffy and loveable as himself. He started to quiver, huddling in closer to himself. 

Now, now, this simply won't do. He told himself. Panicking wouldn't solve anything, and besides, stress was bad for his specially maintained fur. Besides, as grudging as he was to admit it, it was his fault they got into this mess in the first place, and he didn't want to leave his only friend to the wolves. Literally, in this case. 

Twitching his ears cautiously, he strained to hear for any movement. Detecting none, he slowly eased from underneath his safe spot. After a quick glance around to see if it was around, he scampered forward, zooming towards the room's exit and towards where he last saw Brush. He paid no heed to the surprised sounds of the few people he came across in the hallway, avoiding them with ease, using his nose as a guide to search for his friend. He didn’t have to go far before the trail abruptly ended at a empty room.

There! He caught sight of Brush, poorly hidden under a rug, with only his bushy tail sticking out. Poor Brush had tried his best to find a tunnel-like location to hide, but it was all too glaringly obvious what lay under the lump in the fabric. In another scenario, Puck would have found it amusing. But not now. Not when there was a vicious hound on the loose ready to make mincemeat out of the two of them. 

Just when he prepared himself to race over there, the very dog he spent running away from lumbered into view. Mouth open and drooling, he sniffed the air twice before heading straight towards the Brush shaped bulge. 

Puck froze in horror. This was it, the tragic untimely death of his poor food finder. He was too late to be the hero and save him. He should leave now, and let Brush serve as a necessary sacrifice for his escape. Maybe that's what he should do. That's what anyone would have done. But as he watched the dog get ever closer, Puck realized that he couldn't just let his friend die, at least not alone. So before he could stop himself, he ran in and jumped right in front of him. He quivered in fright, yet he stood his ground. This was it. The end. Puck closed his eyes, bracing himself for the end of his once perfect life, waiting for the jaws to snap him up. 

It never came. Instead, something hot and wet brushed over his face. Puck opened his eyes. Instead of the carnage he expected, the dog was repeatedly licking at him, its drool being slathered upon his once pristine fur. 

Ewww. 

What on earth was he doing? He was glad he wasn't being eaten currently, but he didn't like this unexpected new behavior one bit. But he stood still as several more enthusiastic slurps brushed over him.  

    Meanwhile King was having the time of his life. He met a bunny for the first time along with some kind of weird cat creature. He spent the entire day chasing them around, and he was sure he made some new friends now. And now here he was, curled around his new friend, administering his affections upon it. Today was the best. He hadn't had such fun since that time he played with the water hose. 

Meanwhile, Puck was completely dumbfounded. All along, was this just a…misunderstanding? This giant, yellow, fluffy hound was harmless? Were both of them in fact, never in any danger at all? Brush, looking on at the two of them, seemed to come to the same conclusion as he came out from under his hiding spot. He crept closer to the pup, and was promptly rewarded with it turning its attention towards him, licking Brush with just as much enthusiasm as it did with Puck. Brush responded by nuzzling the creature back, occasionally patting him haphazardly with his paws. 

Puck looked onwards at this display with disbelief. It really did look like it was harmless. Puck reflected back on the day, suddenly realizing for a start that he might not have been in any danger the whole time. It seemed like the pup just wanted to play. Deep down Puck supposed he did receive a kind of enjoyment in a way, with him running around everywhere. The exhilaration of it all was nothing like he'd ever experienced, not in his whole life of lazing around and being richly spoiled, even if the entire time was him being frightened out of his mind. However, he supposed since Brush seemed to be taking a liking to this new animal, it wouldn't hurt for him to make a connection with him as well. So he begrudgingly inched closer to learn more about this fuzzy new animal. However, he couldn’t help but grumble when he was licked again, his fur getting matted with its drool. He would definitely require a nice bath later that night.

Bonus: 

A few hours later…. 

Now where could have King gone? Theo wondered to himself. 

Stepping outside on the mansion grounds, he strode over to the shady gazebo King often liked to hang around. He gave a rare smile when he found him there, curled up inside. King, on sensing approaching footsteps, perked up, his tail thumping up and down upon seeing his master. Theo knew no one was around at the moment, so he took the opportunity to kneel down at his beloved pet, reaching over to scratch at his ears, cooing at him affectionately. 

"Mijn wereld, such a braaf Hond. Hmm? Wait, what have you got there? Come here, laat me het zien." 

Upon spotting something nestled under his paws, he bent down to examine the wiggling object. 

"Is that…Shakespeare's rabbit? King, where on earth did you snatch him from? What did we talk about picking up trash?" 

With a critical frown, he scooped up the exhausted Puck from King's furry grasp. Realizing he was being rescued, Puck gratefully snuggled closer to his savior, completely exhausted from dealing with King. He didn't even mind that he was being picked up by someone other than his owner this time. He gave a tired yawn, feeling rather safe in this new man's arms. 

Theo's mouth involuntarily twitched at its cute behavior. As much as he hated Will, he had to admit that konijn of his was rather cute. He gently brushed his thumb over the rabbit's body, feeling its silky soft fur. 

Shakespeare was probably looking at him at this moment, he realized. A devilish smirk appeared on his face at the thought. At the very least he reasoned, it wouldn't be terrible to have Will owe him a favor. With this in mind, he hummed contentedly as he set off to find his rightful owner. 

[written-on-the-trees]

Yungblud Fan Fiction - Be Afraid Of The Big Bad Man In The Forest

Prompt: Fairy Tale

Word-count: 1575 words

Warnings: none

Description: Scarlet has never liked the forest surrounder her home town, even though she'd never had a specific reason to. Today she gets one.

Scarlet swallowed as she stood in front of the forest, trying to choke down her swallows, and not quite managing it.

 The woods had always made her feel…uncomfortable.

 She didn’t know why; the path she usually took through the trees was clear enough, and so long as she didn’t leave it until too late in the day it wasn’t even dark. There were wolves that lived there, but like anyone in their small town, Scarlet knew that so long as she didn’t get between them and their pups or their food, then the worst they would do was follow her at a distance: curious but not enough to get too close.

 Really, there was no logical reason for them to freak her out.

   But that didn’t make me more comfortable like it should do.

   Knowing that it would only get worse the longer she left it, Scarlet squared her shoulders and headed into the woods. She refused to be scared by some trees and bushes and deer…but she did leave one headphone hanging out of her ear. It wasn’t because she was scared; it was because she was sensible. Even if there was no reason for her to be uncomfortable in the forest, only tourists and idiots got complacent.

 Her bright red coat would make her blindingly obvious to anything and everything that wanted to avoid her, but as unlikely as it was, it never hurt to pay attention in case there was something that didn’t want to avoid her.

 She walked along the path at a brisk pace, trying to ignore the feeling skittering down her spine and just get to her grandmother’s so she could drop off the big Tupperware box of baked goods her mum had packed up this morning. She half-way managed it to begin with, but the deeper she walked into the woods the worse it got.

 It really wasn’t helped by coming across another person.

 Just the sight of him alone was enough to nearly make her have a heart attack. Almost nobody came along this path - especially strangers, and this man was definitely a stranger. Scarlet knew she would’ve recognised that shock of vibrant red hair if it had belonged to anyone from the town. And as if his mere presence wasn’t just enough, he was just standing in the middle of the path: looking up at the trees with an expression Scarlet wasn’t quite sure she could place…

   Predatory.

   She didn’t know which part of her brain whispered the word, but once she’d heard it, it fit perfectly. Even when the man turned to look to her, when his face lost its sharp expression and morphed into a friendly, easy-going smile, there was still something dangerous underneath the charm, something that told Scarlet that she really didn’t want to be on her own with him. Whoever he was, he was dangerous, not to be trusted, no matter how pretty his smile was.

   “Another person! I was wondering if I was the only one out here!” he said, in what Scarlet was meant to be a friendly greeting, if the excitable tone it was delivered in was any indication.

 She didn’t like it, but didn’t want to risk being rude to him in case he was some kind of mass murderer: “Well, I wouldn’t want to interrupt your solitude. I’ll just scoot past you - ”

   Internally cursing the narrowness of the path at this point, Scarlet tried to pass round the red-head with as much space between them as possible - something he made no effort to help with, remaining smack bang in the middle of the path and watching her with a sweet smile and sharp eyes.

 The look only made her more determined to get away from him.

   “ - and then I’ll be on my way. Don’t want to keep my nan waiting.” Scarlett forced a smile onto her face, hoping it would pass for amused: “I’ve got a precious delivery of fresh baked goods to make, I can’t be late for that.”

 Whether the man bought it or not, Scarlet couldn’t tell, but she could tell that there was something in his chuckle that reminded her of the chuffing sounds she’d seen as a kid in a documentary about the wolves that lived in the forest: “I wouldn’t dare come between someone and some good home baking. God knows I’m bad enough when someone tries to get between me and food.”

 “I can completely relate.” Scarlet responded, even though based on the way he’d said it she was guessing she really wouldn’t: “Well, I’ll leave you to the forest! Have a good day.”

   The man nodded his goodbye to her and let her leave, but Scarlet could feel his eyes digging into her back until she was out of sight.

 As soon as she was, she picked up the pace. She’d worked hard to act like everything was natural while the man could see her, not wanting him to know that she’d picked up on any weirdness (or not wanting to cause any weirdness if it had all been in her head), but once she’d checked over her shoulders a few times and confirmed that he wasn’t following her, all bets were off. She almost ran back to her grandmothers, fingers fumbling with her keys when she tried to let herself in, adrenaline surging through her until she finally managed to unlock the door and let herself inside.

 She didn’t relax until the door was shut and then bolted behind her - and even then, she went straight to a window to make sure there was no hint of the red hair of the man she’d met on the path.

 She certainly didn’t see anything…but somehow she got the feeling that that didn’t mean much.

 There had been something very, very strange about that man: something that had made some hind part of Scarlet’s brain sit up and pay attention. She still didn’t know what it was: the fact she didn’t know him, the odd position she’d found him in, just standing in the middle of a forest path: or the fact that his eyes had been far too sharp for her to feel comfortable with, but that man had scared her. He wasn’t normal, and Scarlet wasn’t convinced that her not seeing him didn’t mean that he wasn’t there.

   “Scarlet? Scarlet, sweetheart, is everything okay?” her grandmother hustled into the room: “You didn’t call out as you came in.”

 It was then when Scarlet saw the knife that her grandmother was holding - not a kitchen knife, but an ornate silver thing with a wolf’s head carved into the hilt: “Nana, why are you holding a knife?”

 Her grandmother looked down at it in surprise, as if she was surprised to be still holding it: “I didn’t know who had come in.”

 Scarlet supposed that that was fair enough: “Everything’s fine, I just…I just ran into a really weird man in the forest. Nothing happened, he was just…weird.”

 “Was it someone from town? I can always ask your dad to drive you up here if one of the boys from school is giving you any trouble.”

 “No, he wasn’t from my school. I didn’t recognise him at all, actually.”

   Scarlet’s grandmother stiffened, then immediately came to look out of the window…with her hand clenched around the knife.

   “Nana, what’s - ”

 “I’m going to call your dad to come and get you.” her grandmother cut her off, uncharacteristically curt: “You shouldn’t be walking home with strangers around.”

   Scarlet didn’t argue, because she knew one of her parents would be coming to pick her up anyway…but when her dad appeared just ten minutes later, grim-faced and silent, Scarlet realised that whatever had spooked her grandmother had apparently scared her father just as badly. He broke every speed limit on the way home, and hustled her into the house as quickly as he could once they got home. Her mother was equally concerned, waiting by the front door to open it right before Scarlet could even knock.

 But neither of them said a word.

 It was terrifying.

 Wanting to get away from it, Scarlet headed up to her room. She looked out of her bedroom window…only to see a square of white paper pinned to a tree on the edge of the forest that bordered on her family’s back garden, almost glowing with how starkly pale it was in the twilight.

 Nothing about it was reassuring.

 But in spite of that, Scarlet grabbed a meat knife from the kitchen, and tucked it into the sleeve of her bright red coat before sneaking out the back door to go and grab the letter. She yanked it off the tree and unfolded it, eyes scanning over the brief message scrawled across the paper.

   See you soon, Miss Red Coat.

   Scarlet looked up to see if there was any shock of red hair she could see amongst the trees, but there was nothing…nothing but a sharp pair of hazel eyes, watching her from out of a patch of shadow under a bush. Predatory eyes.

 Scarlet put the letter in her pocket and headed inside, not looking over her shoulder once, too afraid of what she’d see. She locked the doors, headed up to her room, and closed the curtains so that no-one would be able to see in.

 Then she phoned her grandmother.

   I need answers.

[aquilaofarkham]

title: varulven rating: teen and up word count: 5,717 summary: After being bitten by a werewolf, Trevor, knowing he doesn’t have much of a choice, accepts his fate following a painful transformation during the full moon. He quickly gets used to his new body with the support of Sypha and Alucard, who uses his own wolf form to better connect with Trevor. Part two of this piece.

read on ao3 at aquilaofarkham

--

The forest overwhelms him; too many new sounds, new scents, and new sensations all happening at once. The newly born lycan can hear everything from the smallest mouse digging into the frozen dirt, readying itself for hibernation, to the subtle crack of an owl’s talons clawing into tree bark as it moves from branch to branch. It watches and waits, ever so patient for that very same mouse. 

This assault on his senses continues. All things previously closed off when he was human have suddenly been opened. Through his eyes, the world is closer, more intimate. No moment to breathe. His thoughts are bursting with excitement and uncertainty, confusion and fervor.

He lifts his head and sees a white wolf upon a nearby hill. Sitting on his hind legs, head raised high and tall, staring back at the lycan. The skies are dark, save for the full moon, but thank god it’s not snowing else they’d never find each other. He knows the wolf will stay there all night if he has to, but the lycan won’t keep him waiting for much longer. This is a comforting sight; one that compels him to move forward. To join his friend, now that the two of them share more similarities than ever before (unconventional as they are).

Contrary to what most people believe, vampires and lycans get along very well.

Trevor doesn’t know if he will make peace with this form. It’s too soon to tell. But joining Alucard on a run through the snow-covered woods seems to be a decent start. White fur and dark grey fur move quickly against a sea of pin straight black trees. Their swift paws kick up snow as one tries running just an inch faster and further than the other—whether either of them realizes it or not.

When Trevor arrived home a month ago with claw marks gracing his shoulder, Alucard and Sypha did their best. All of them did their best. The two consulted books, legends, and remedies while their hunter prepared himself for the worst. Trevor will forever be grateful to them, despite their failure to stop the lycan’s curse. After the pain of transformation ended, he suddenly felt nothing. He could see nothing, only blood red and an emptiness surrounding him. It was dark inside the wolf. A realization that his body was no longer his own. He had lost control over it.

The first thing Trevor heard was his name. Faint and very weak, not strong enough to pull him out of the darkness. Whatever force held dominion over his body, its immediate instinct was to bare its fangs and violently lash out.

“Trevor, it’s us. You remember, I know you do.” The second thing Trevor heard. Clear and recognizable, even in his state. Sypha’s firm, unwavering, yet calm voice, a voice he always hoped to hear again, was able to cut through the prison that trapped his human thoughts and sight. Another problem solved, another victory she could hang off her belt. Sypha needed one of those, yet she also knew it wasn’t time to celebrate. No premature smiles or breaths of relief.

Trevor vaguely remembers what happened next; low to the ground, he crawled towards the two human creatures in front of him. Uncertain of how much personal control he had regained. Nor was he sure of how easily it could slip away again. Then same another familiar voice, like a candle in a dark corridor leading him to someplace brighter. Trevor Belmont is always in want—or rather, in need of brighter things.

“Trevor...” Alucard was never one to reveal his true emotions especially in the way he spoke. Neutral, steady, and blunt. Most often rude if he were in a foul mood, yet he raised his voice sparingly. But if Alucard was attempting to hide a certain emotion in that single word, he failed. All Trevor could hear was a desperate plea for hope.

He put their fears to rest when the front of his head gently pressed into Alucard’s outstretched palm. Trevor didn’t move beyond that; too ashamed, too scared of this new form that dwarfed his friends. Alucard cautiously slid his hand up between the lycan’s eyes before scratching his ears. Something Trevor did to those old grey Belmont wolfhounds of his long gone home. A shockingly pleasant sensation, making him feel akin to one of said large, gentle beasts he misses so dearly. Large is obvious, but gentle? Trevor wants to try his best.

It was a good decision to leave the cellar with the now broken door. Trevor would have otherwise cowered in a corner come sunrise. Out here, deep in the snow and cold air, adrenaline rushes through his veins just as easily as blood. Mixed with his habitual tendency to compete against the dhampir, it’s enough to propel him forward, matching Alucard’s speed.

This forest is his. Theirs.

--

One should never underestimate Sypha Belnades. She’s sent demons back to hell in flames of her own creation. She stood against the vampires’ mad lord and burned him to ashes which flew off into the night sky, their final resting place unknown. She played reluctant peacemaker between two men, more like children despite their own abilities. A minimal accomplishment compared to others, but an accomplishment, nonetheless. All those moments when she held her bright fingertips close against their temples saying, “Grow up or I will light both of your skulls on fire”.

Keeping track of two wolf-like creatures seems easy compared to everything else. Stay close, stay watchful, and never stray too far from the fresh set of paw prints in the snow. A real-life Ariadne with her precious red thread. Sypha adored listening to those stories from her childhood, begging to hear one more before bedtime. It didn’t matter if they were real or not, though she always believed they were.

Belief is a powerful force; just as if not more powerful than her spells. She still believes in many things that cross bearing men reject; things good and bad. Of magic, vampires, and the myths that give life to both. Sypha loves her myths—even the unsettling ones. The ones that unearth truths that no one wants to hear. She once hoped some of them would help spare Trevor from his eventual fate.

She sat on the floor of their library, surrounded by piles of books like stone walls. A momen in time that feels long ago but in reality, happened only a few short days prior to the full moon. The words in front of her blurred together as she rubbed her aching eyes, yet she kept reading.

Sypha studied the lycan’s many origins: they came from a scorned lover of Gilgamesh, having been turned into a wolf against their will. No, they were punished by the god Jupiter for eating the remains of a sacrificed boy. Actually, they were merely by-products of the oldest vampires. On and on an on. She read of the symptoms: nightmares, vomiting, lack of an appetite. Increase in agitation. She wanted to scream, “I know that already” into the pages of those particular books. What she needed from these myths were cures.

While it made her hands twitch and her heart pound with anxiety, Sypha did what she promised Trevor: she kept searching. She kept reading.

So engrossed in her reading, Sypha barely noticed Alucard as he sat down beside her. A silence grew between them every time her fingers flipped over another page. He watched her eyes move from line to line, scaling down. A warm light filled the library; it would be dark soon and he wasn’t about to let her go through yet another sleepless night. Sypha’s sharp mind needed rest, but then again, they all did.

“You have that look again.” Despite how softly he spoke, Alucard noticed her jump. Sypha glanced at him briefly, then returned to her book, burying her nose in even deeper.

“What look?”

“The one that says focused yet angry. Calm, but disturb me and I will separate your head from your neck.”

She hid her amusement at Alucard’s dark brand of humour. “I am not angry.”

“Are you certain?”

“... perhaps a little. More frustrated. These books have nothing that can help us. There are apparently plenty of ways to tame a lycan after they transform.”

“But no methods of curing them.”

Sypha closed the book; Alucard took that as a yes. “What about you? I’ve seen you held up in that laboratory. Sometimes for hours on end.”

When they started rebuilding the Belmont manor with its library, bedrooms, armoury, and kitchen, they added a new room. A mirror image of the laboratory and clinic Alucard remembered so fondly. Full of medicines, glass tubes, and other devices neither Trevor nor Sypha fully understood but were willing to learn. He used it more often than them, carrying on important, irreplaceable work.

A local rumour began spreading amongst the neighbouring villages. Talk of a stranger dressed in black going from door to door, giving remedies to the sick while refusing payment. They never did manage to catch this good Samaritan.

Sypha once saw Alucard with his hair different. Still loose but tied with a simple hairband and hanging over his breast. When she mentioned it, innocently enough, Alucard went quiet. She hasn’t seen him like that since.

“Did... did your mother’s notes say anything?”

“Unfortunately, she didn’t have very many patients afflicted with the lycan’s curse.” Usually Sypha could recognize the sarcasm in Alucard’s tone; this time proved more difficult. “But I had more success reading the notes she and my father wrote together. I’ve started concocting a tonic using distilled wolfsbane.”

“And...”

Alucard didn’t want to give Sypha false hope. “It still needs work. With its current state, it will most likely kill him.”

“Maybe...” Sypha stopped herself. Never in her life did she want to admit defeat. Always too stubborn, too proud, tasting bile in her mouth if she even thought about it. Yet she told Trevor and Alucard to grow up. Perhaps it was time she did as well, especially if the life of someone she loved was at stake.

“Maybe it would be best if we let Trevor transform. We can use your tonic to ease the pain when he changes and then try taming him afterwards. These books annoy me beyond anything else, but I found a manuscript about northern lycan myths.” Shoving aside everything else, she grabbed a flimsy set of brown papers held together by thread and sheer perseverance. “It stood out the most. I think it may assist us.”

Alucard stared at the so-called “book” in Sypha’s hand. Its ink scrawls were barely legible to his eyes. “We would have to tie him down. Or lock him somewhere secure.”

“We have that cellar. I know you don’t like this plan.”

“I don’t think either of us does.” Sypha nodded in agreement. “I will tell him.”

“You do not have to.”

“No, it’s fine. I want to help him.”

“He won’t like what you have to say. He’s barely gotten any rest.”

“No one living in this house has.” He placed his hand on her back. “Don’t worry, Sypha. I will talk to him.”

“Gently. Remember to be gentle with him.”

“I shall.”

“Before you do that, we need to finish that tonic. I will help.”

“That won’t be necessary. You should—”

Sypha pushed the manuscript against his chest. “I said I’m helping. And you should read this.”

Alucard smiled. “There’s not much I can say that would convince you otherwise, is there?”

“Nothing at all.”

Deep in her memories, Sypha nearly trips over herself. Alucard was right; she hated that plan. It worked, but she hated it for making her think the worst. For making her feel as though she had willingly doomed Trevor to his fate. That she had been defeated.

Her feet begin to ache. She keeps reminding herself of one thing: this is not defeat. Only another obstacle to overcome. A door opening to a new way of life. Sypha is used to walking through those. She scales up another hill, her two boys off in the distance, still in sight.

She should have worn better shoes.

--

Wolves cannot run forever. Even those of supernatural origins must stop, which is what Trevor and Alucard do. But one still has mountains of energy to burn. His head is a flurry of different thoughts. Some take root while most leave just as fast as they entered. No matter where they came from or what they entail, they all succeed in contradicting each other.

One thought manages to rise above the rest: what else can this new body really do?

Alucard takes his rest not far from Trevor, who seems to be in his own little world. Not content enough to run around in circles, he takes to rolling about in the snow, attacking it the same way a pup would pounce at everything in sight, animate or not. A pup... yes, that’s what Alucard is reminded of. He watches in amusement as Trevor trips over his legs, too long and cumbersome for his liking. No normal wolf would be able to handle such abnormal bodily proportions of a lycan’s.

It takes some trial and error—more error than trial. Only when Trevor actually stops to think does he regain some control over his limbs. No more flopping around; now he can revert straight back to his playful demeanour, this time on much steadier footing.

—Quite the beacon of terror, the dhampir thinks. Villagers must be quaking with fear underneath their bedcovers tonight.

Alucard lowers himself against the ground. Let Trevor have his fun. Lord knows he deserves it after a month of hell. This might even count as a valuable lesson. There’ll be plenty more to come.

Trevor rolls off his back and makes brief contact with golden eyes against white fur. Gold like amber or the cinders of a well-used fireplace. He looks at Alucard and wonders if the dhampir’s transformation is ever as painful as his own. No, Trevor realizes the longer he stares. Not painful or ugly at all. A few gentle, graceful wisps of smoke and the deed is done. Seems everything Alucard does is gentle and graceful, no matter what form he takes.

A mischievous thought worms its way into Trevor’s head. Alucard maintains his statuesque posture; beautiful, regal, and boring. At first, he ignores the other wolf, occasionally glancing in his direction out of curiosity and confusion. Packs of snow get thrown into the air with every wag of Trevor’s shaggy tail. Alucard’s head tilts slightly, his ears pinned back.

—What are you planning? Why are you staring at me like that?

What can barely be described as a tense standoff ends when Trevor shoves Alucard. Despite being larger and arguably stronger as a lycan, this action does nothing to faze his companion. Trevor repeats the gesture; still not enough to crack his hard exterior—but not enough to deter his scheming counterpart. Trevor charges headfirst into Alucard, more a ram than a wolf.

Alucard, if he so wanted, could overpower the lycan. Push him off or knock him flat on his own back. Yet he stays in a somewhat defeated pose with his limbs bent and dangling. Trevor continues his attempt at what Alucard can only assume is... bonding? He nuzzles his snout into the white wolf’s fur while his oversized front paws push against his exposed belly. Another jovial act between his family’s cherished wolfhounds.

Trevor also recalls riding on their backs as they took him up and down the halls of the Belmont manor then outside through the gardens when he was still small enough. Sypha might be able to ride on his back, maybe even Alucard as well. Wouldn’t that be a sight to behold.

Trevor becomes lost in this new, break-neck pace of thinking, one thought after another and then another. He doesn’t notice that the playful bites he’s been giving his friend have unknowingly turned aggressive. Alucard retaliates by baring his fangs and letting out a deep, guttural snarl.

—Not so rough.

Trevor instinctively backs away. As an apology, he lowers his head and tries making his body seem much smaller than it really is. The same action he attempted in the cellar following his change. Lycans simply take up too much space. Too large, too obstructive, and too rough, even towards similar creatures. He huffs out a frustrated breath into the frigid air.

Alucard ceases his growling when he sees this abrupt shift. He didn’t mean for his reaction to be so harsh. He’s supposed to be helping after all. Days before the full moon when Trevor quietly wept out of fear—fear of himself—Alucard showed his own vulnerable side. He let Trevor rest his head upon his chest, wiping away the tears and offering small words of comfort until he drifted off into a desperately needed sleep. How could either of them forget that evening?

His father taught him that even those most experienced in transfiguration often have difficulty controlling their emotions. Too dulled down or too impassioned, exploding at any spontaneous moment. It would explain Trevor’s excitable behavior.

Softly, he treads over to the curled-up mass of thick fur. Trevor pouts as though he were still human. He really is just a newborn lycan on his first night out; an overgrown pup. His playfulness should be seen as a blessing in disguise. Alucard gives his snout a couple gentle pats, apologizing himself. To which Trevor merely grumbles.

—Stick in the ass you are.

Alucard has no way of telling if that’s what he’s really thinking, but he can come to his own conclusions. He knows the Belmont well enough. He responds with a frisky bite to his ear, eliciting a surprised yelp from Trevor. Rows upon rows of fangs snap at Alucard, who always dodges them at the very last second, before getting pinned down.

They continue like this, chasing and wrestling each other, causing their own little intimate chaos. Even their growls sound happier. It took some time, but they’re finally playing the same game. All is well again—or as well as things could be.

It comes to an end when a sound off in the distance catches Trevor’s attention. He raises his head; ears perked up, and listens. It’s not Sypha, no doubt making her way across the rolling landscape, closing in on her two boys. It’s no human at all. Something else, perhaps an animal or more, scurries through the frozen underbrush. A certain primal urge suddenly rises within Trevor, one that all beasts share: the need to chase and hunt. He stands up, nose pointed in the direction of the noise, ignoring the white wolf’s yips. Before he can run off, Alucard bites down and pulls him back.

—For once in your life, wait. 

Trevor does pause. but not without growling at him for leaving teeth marks on his tail. He begrudgingly lets Alucard take the lead. They begin their hunt.

--

Somewhere, a clock hand strikes past midnight. Trevor and Alucard huddle together, their eyes fixated on a small flock of wild pheasants. Not quite the prize they were hoping for, but decent practice. Like before, Trevor allows the white wolf to go first, all while trying to tell himself that as a human, he’s still the better hunter.

However, he must admit, it is mesmerizing to watch Alucard hunt as a wolf as it is watching him fight as a dhampir. Every step is deliberate and creates no sound as eyes never leave their prey, inching closer. A calculated, flawless leap forward, the panicked scattering of pheasants except for one thrashing around for freedom under his paw, and then finally, the wolf twists the bird’s neck in his jaws. He makes it all seem so easy.

Alucard carries the lifeless, slumped prize over to Trevor. So quick and barely even a drop of blood. He finds the rest of the flock a few feet away. They continue pecking at whatever berries and frozen grub they can scrounge for, unaware or having already forgotten that one of their own is dead. Trevor enjoys a challenge in all aspects of his life, but for now he’ll a dumb prey over a clever one. He start by mimicking Alucard’s movements and everything seems to be going well. Cumbersome due to his size but after some adjustments to his stance, the dhampir feels optimistic.

Then Trevor loses his chance to strike by half a second. The pheasants begin to disperse, and he rushes into them, striking one with his claws. It tries escaping; Trevor tries catching it. There’s a struggle as both hunter and prey put up their own fight. Jaws clamp down on the bird’s neck, but instead of a clean snap, splatters of blood and feathers cover the white ground. Trevor stares down at his prize, mangled and torn beyond recognition.

—Too rough. Again.

Alucard expected something like this would happen and, in the end, Trevor was successful in finishing his first hunt. So, he isn’t disappointed. Yet Trevor dully paws at what used to be a pheasant with dejection in his eyes. Alucard tries cheering him up by licking his bloody snout clean. It helps.

They come across a drove of jackrabbits with their guard down, a rare but lucky sight. The second hunt goes much smoother. Alucard catches two, Trevor four, all of which hang out of his mouth intact. If Sypha were here right now, she would have a good laugh at the sheer ridiculous sight of such a beast with his jaws stuffed to the brim with rabbits. 

Speak of the devil. Out of the corner of Alucard’s eye, he sees Sypha in the near distance, two pheasants hanging off her hip. He motions for Trevor to follow him.

Trevor doesn’t acknowledge him, nor does he notice Sypha. If a new sound or smell no matter how faraway demands his interest, then he must comply. All else, even close friends, fade away. He can’t help it in this form. He meanders over the hills, leaving Alucard and Sypha to do little but trail behind him. Something tells them that this is not just simple curiosity pulling the lycan.

Silently, Trevor leads them to a clearing in the trees. Out of the darkness, shapes and silhouettes come into view. Not particularly large, but substantial. Some far apart, some close together. Houses, few of which still have candles inside, burning the night away. The softened lights illuminate each frosted window like small drifting halos. It’s deathly still in this hamlet; they might have never discovered its existence had it not been for Trevor.

—Trevor. Alucard joins his side, fearing the worst. His head is lowered as he violently bats at it with his paws, agitated by some unseen tick. Every breath comes out as a growling rasp while streams of saliva drip off his fangs. The look in his eyes, the one Alucard and Sypha know so well, is gone.

It’s happening again. Even the idea of being so close to other humans is enough to reawaken the hunger. Not to hunt or feed, but to rip and mangle and leave nothing unscathed. Trevor loses his balance, stumbling from foot to foot, shaking his head. God knows he’s trying to gain back control, and it hurts him. Alucard barks in his ear, deafening him.

—Fight it. Trevor, or what Alucard hopes is still Trevor, responds with a fierce snap of his jaws. They snarl, and bark, and brandish their claws. Sypha tears her eyes away, despite not wanting to. She can hear voices within the houses, villagers stirring from their rest at what they believe is the sound of two wolves tearing at each other’s throats. She pleads for them to stay inside. This doesn’t concern them.

—Fight it. God damn it, I know you can. Fight it!

Trevor doesn’t care for Alucard’s thoughts. With another swipe, he sends him skidding across the ground and into the base of a tree. The pain is sharp but quick. Alucard stands, thankful that he is no ordinary wolf. Before he can charge at Trevor, Sypha moves between them, her hands raised.

“Trevor, stop!” She’s not afraid, not anymore. Or rather, she doesn’t look afraid. Her expression is firm, brows furrowed. All concentration on this one spell. It needs to be performed without any uncertainty. There’s no fire or ice emitting from her fingertips, yet Trevor howls bloody murder.

Spells that can change the mind and its contents are dangerous. In the hands of a less experienced practitioner, too much can go wrong. If one doesn’t succumb to an early death, then madness. Which is why Sypha has always preferred to manipulate tangible elements. But she’s never been above taking risks. She focuses every bit of her energy into restoring Trevor’s conscience. Hopefully it will shift itself in the right direction and neither she nor Alucard will be forced to commit the unthinkable.

“Look at me... keep your eyes on me. It will be alright, I promise.” Sypha doesn’t make promises lightly. Trevor huffs, gritting his fangs, but his gaze never leaves her. He waves his head from side to side again, as if trying to shake off a terrible headache. The growls quiet until they disappear. Sypha breathes a relieved yet trembling sigh when Trevor’s eyes soften. She steps forward and wraps her arms around his head, so large her fingers barely touch. Her forehead rests against his.

“Shh, none of that. You did well. I told you it would be alright.” She strokes his fur, listening to every whimper.

As his senses return, so too does his memory. Trevor wriggles free from Sypha’s grasp and runs to Alucard, still whining. While shaken up, his body bears no serious injuries, only some out of place fur. That doesn’t stop Trevor from licking and nuzzling him like an overbearing mother wolf. Alucard appreciates the concern, but he can stop now. After a moment of calm respite between the three of them, he decides that this night should come to an end. Before Sypha can follow him, the tip of her hood gets caught in Trevor’s teeth.

“What is it?” He lets go and lowers his underside against the snow, gesturing to his back. He knows Sypha came here by foot, all on her own; he can’t just let her return the same way. “Oh... well, this is...” Does he really want her to...?

Trevor gives her a nudge before she can stutter out another syllable. Alright, then. When in Rome and all that. Grabbing handfuls of fur, Sypha climbs aboard. She fumbles a bit then finds a comfortable position. Moments like these make Sypha thankful for their isolated, self-contained life. How would she explain this to her grandfather or the other Speakers? Even so, she can’t help but bury herself deeper in Trevor’s warm fur.

They catch up to Alucard with his mouth full of dead jackrabbits. Using the light of the moon as their guide, a lycan, a dhampir in the shape of a wolf, and a Speaker magician retrace their steps back to their home. Back to their bed.

--

The next day arrives, bringing with it the sun as it crawls over the Wallachian mountainside. Sypha stirs awake and forces her sleep heavy eyes open. The hazy light of early morning shines through the snow-covered glass of the bedroom window panes. Curling into the fetal position, she holds her knees tight against her chest. Both hands massage her bare feet, alleviating some of their soreness after her midnight excursion.

Is it possible for a single night to feel stretched out to its limits? Lingering for longer than a few hours at the most? Sypha remembers the set of events that occured last night, despite them feeling like a dream. All of them tumbling into place one after another without rest. The last memory is of her in bed, safe, warm, and guarded. A bit suffocated but sleeping better than she did for the entire month. She knows who to thank for that.

Sitting up (a feat much easier said than done), Sypha believes she’ll look down at two wolves who are fast asleep. Just as she did before closing her eyes in the darkness, their bodies cuddled around her. One has white fur and a sleek build; the second, a lycan with thick fur and a mass that might have broken the bed in half.

She sees the white wolf, but in place of the other is a large blanket spreading out. As though the lycan had been neatly skinned and stripped of all its fur. The most curious thing about it is the human-esque shape protruding from underneath. Sypha lifts up one of the corners and with wide, bright eyes, she smiles. None of the books mentioned anything about this.

Trevor lies on his side covered by the fur blanket (or what must have been his skin), naked and in the grips of a deep, comfortable sleep. His breathing is gentle and every so often, a soft snore escapes. Sypha thinks she’s staring at an entirely different man. The tired, dark circles under his eyes are gone and his skin looks softer, healthier. Those years of turmoil and loneliness since he was twelve, all faded away after one night.

Tenderly, she runs a few fingers through his tousled hair. He will be fine. The fear she had when his fangs sharpened, and his eyes grew vicious was only momentary. Sypha wants to be hopeful, her most cherished emotion right after belief. She wants to hope and believe that Trevor might find the strength within himself to live with this curse. She also wants to bend down and hold him for the rest of the morning, no fear that he will disappear the next day or even in the next hour. But Sypha won’t wake him just yet. She slips out of bed, hurrying across the cold floor, a blanket wrapped around her shivering body, until she reaches the manor kitchen.

The lasting effects of a night well slept soon dissipate as Sypha abruptly stops, staring with surprised eyes at Trevor and Alucard’s midnight spoils. Namely, a pile of dead pheasants and hares complete with bloody feathers strewn along the wooden table where they have their meals together. They were all so exhausted, she almost forgot about those.

Sypha walks past the pile and begins preparing her breakfast.

--

Alucard is next to wake up. He opens his mouth in a wide yawn, licking dry lips, before giving his back a good stretch. After a few smooth wisps of mist rising into the air, he returns to his normal form. Fully clothed, wearing everything from his high boots, tight black pants, and the white shirt with the plunging neckline. He remains splayed across the bedsheets, straightening out the rest of his limbs. Letting out a tired yet satisfied moan, Alucard props himself up on his elbow and turns to Trevor. His reaction is just as pleasantly shocked as Sypha’s. Reaching over, he nudges him awake.

“Good morning,” he coos. Once Trevor’s eyes open and he gains an awareness of where he is, his cheeks go slightly pink.

“I didn’t expect this.”

“Did you feel anything transfiguring back?”

“No, nothing at all. If only the first transformation went this way.”

“So, you remember everything we did. Hunting, running...”

“I do... more than I remember most things when I’m human. I don’t think I’ll ever forget what it felt like to run that fast. Then there was... when I almost—”

“Nothing happened. It wasn’t your fault, and no one was hurt. Remember that as well.” Aside from a brief lapse in contentment, Alucard is relieved at how well Trevor is taking everything. He stares at him for a bit longer. His blue eyes, normally so tired and worn, look so much brighter in the winter sunlight. “How do you feel?”

“Good. Actually, I feel better than good. I felt so heavy before. Everywhere I went, even when I met you and Sypha, I was constantly carrying around all this extra weight. You could never see it, but it was there, beating down on my shoulders while I rotted from the inside out. I don’t know, it sounds like I’m being too dramatic. But now... I feel lighter. Newer, I guess. It’s as though I’ve just taken the longest fucking bath of my life.”

“Interesting way to describe it.”

“But, be honest with me.”

“Aren’t I always?”

“How hideous did I look? When I was... you know, in that form?”

Alucard doesn’t answer right away, preferring to keep Trevor in mild suspense. “It was not that terrible of a sight. You might actually look better as a lycan than a human.”

Trevor feebly tosses a pillow at his face. “Shut up.” Then comes an exasperated groan as he shoves his face into what used to be his “skin”. “Christ, that was a long night.”

“Do you think you’ll be able to go through it again?”

A valid question, and an important one. Trevor thinks about it at length. He can’t decide whether he wants his answer to be optimistic or his usual of reluctant acceptance. “I guess we’ll have to see in about a month’s time. Not like I have much of a choice.”

Alucard reaches over and grazes a couple fingertips along his stubbled chin. “You should know that I’m proud of you. We both are.”

“... don’t think I’ve heard that word come out of your mouth before.”

“Which one?”

“Proud. Of me in particular.”

“I’ve been proud of you many times in the past. I simply never vocalized it.”

“Well, my life’s purpose as been fulfilled. Guess I can die a happy man now.”

Grabbing the very same pillow, Alucard brings it down upon Trevor’s head again and again. “That was a horrible joke.” But the hunter, turn lycan, then turned back into a man only laughs.

Real laughter; it’s been too long since Alucard heard that sound.

[reddeaddamnation]

“The lioness” - Ser Arthur Dayne x Lannister! Reader

Not many love stories throughout history were like the one of ser Arthur Dayne and Y/N Lannister, the lioness, the eldest daughter of Tywin Lannister. It was almost like their fates were intertwined, but the Gods fooled with them and made their love impossible, although for the Lioness, the word “impossible” meant nothing. The White Cloak Arthur wore prevented them from marriage, but was marriage the only proof two people were meant for each other?

Y/N was an excellent huntress and often joined hunting parties or ventured off on her own. The bow and arrow became a part of her and even the fastest prey couldn’t escape her. Legends said that she could strike a moving target, while standing up on a galloping horse! One cold authumn day she decided to join Prince Rhaegar, with whom she was close friends with, and his entourage on a trip to the woods and even though she knew he didn’t find pleasure in hunting, she blindly ventured deep in the woods after an elk she saw on the path and failed to listen to the warnings of the prince. 

Eventually the elk proved to be too fast for the girl and soon enough she lost it amidst the closely located trees. Before she could curse her luck, she heard something else closing in behind her. Heavy footsteps crunched on the dry leaves on the ground and loud, choppy breaths echoed in the forest. The horse Y/N was riding on started becoming uneasy and by the time she turned around to look behind her, she was already thrown off the saddle and the horse ran away in terror deeper into the woods. A big brown bear stood on its hind legs and stared at the fallen girl with a bloodthirsty, yet curious gaze. It was far too close and could attack before Y/N could reach out for an arrow. And what could an arrow do against such a beast?

The bear walked towards her on all fours, drooling and snarling, its breath coming out of its mouth in white clouds. Y/N backed away and watched her foe with a furious gaze, as a cornered lioness would, alone and frightened, but never losing ground. Her hand was on her dagger as she waited for the bear to get close enough. Suddenly they were both distracted by horse hoofs clattering against the forest ground and someone jumping off the animal. An armored figure lunged at the bear too fast for Y/N to see and a shiny sword was stabbed through the large upper body of the bear. The beast let out an ear piercing roar and staggered a few steps back, before collapsing on the ground. “My lady!” the knight exclaimed and crouched down next to Y/N, who was breathing heavily and barely heard the call, because she felt her heartbeat in her ears. “Ser Arthur...” she murmured, eyes shifting to her savior. “Forgive me for scolding, but lord Rhaegar warned you that these woods were dangerous if you go off track. Thank the Gods I found you in time.” 

Y/N let out a low chuckle “Yes, the woods can be dangerous. Especially when I am in them.” she smirked “Everything was under control. I didn’t need your help and now if you will excuse me, I will take my trophy.” she tried to stand up, but her still quivering legs failed her and once again she was saved by ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning. Y/N laid in his arms dramatically, clutching onto his tunic “Not a word to my father.” she warned. That was the first time their eyes met in a deeper, more intimate way. Dayne unintentionally tightened his grip around her. “Never.” he answered with a smirk, which made her weak “This will be our little secret.” Neither of them gave the thought of letting go. It was like his hands were where they belong, holding her perfect form close and looking into her dangerously inviting eyes.

“Y/N? Y/N! Are you alright? I told you not to-“ Rhaegar called, making his way towards them, but stunned, he stopped in his tracks, seeing what was happening in front of him. It was in that moment when he wondered sadly how this love will happen, if there is one. The two heard his voice and quickly pulled away at an appropriate distance from each other. “My prince,“ Arthur bowed slightly at the sight of his master “I found lady Lannister here, next to the corpse of a bear.“ he glanced at Y/N and winked “The elk apparently seemed too small a prey for her so she decided to fight and defeat a bear all on her own.“ Rhaegar raised his eyebrows in surprise “I’m impressed, Y/N. Lord Tywin should be proud.“ Y/N let out a shaky laugh “Oh, he will be.“

A heavy silence fell between the three and to break it, Y/N exclaimed, as she remembered about her mount “Ah! My horse is gone. He must have ran off when the bear appeared.” She started walking around the trees, whistling from time to time “Nightshade!” she called out “Nightshade!” and louder. “No use. He is gone for good.” Rhaegar stated “Please, use my horse for now.” he pointed to his tall, slim, beautiful stallion, which was calmly drinking water from a nearby pond. “I would love to, your grace, but your horse is far too tall for me.” Y/N answered, staring longingly at the beautiful animal. Truth be told, she wasn’t the tallest of her family, but her height didn’t matter, because of the power radiating from her. “If that is so, then allow me to offer my own horse.” Arthur pointed to his own horse, which was just as beautiful, but at a more eligible height for the shorter girl. “Yes, that one should suffice for me. Thank you, ser Arthur.” she shot him a small smile, but couldn’t keep his gaze without blushing. Rhaegar shot him a look with an allknowing smirk “Alright then.”

On the ride home was the second time they were so close to each other, and in the same day at that! When he suggested she rode his horse, she didn’t expect him to get on with her! She wasn’t complaining of course, although she was struggling not to squirm. His chest was pressed against her back and she felt his hot breath on her neck. He had his arms around her, almost like he was locking her in between them. They almost didn’t speak, but their bodies did all the talking and it was so obvious that even the prince himself was starting to feel uncomfortable.

[floatingpetals]

Ragdoll || Shifter Series

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: None? Fluff

Word Count: 1200+

Request: “can you do a one-shot where the reader is a new member of the avengers and can turn into animals then Bucky finds her in the cat form sleeping on the couch before Cap and Tony apresents her and plays with her, kisses her, etc., but then she turns back to her real form completely naked? (sorry for my english, its not my main language)”-anon

A/N: First, your English was excellent! Second I loved this prompt. So much. I didn’t go with the usual black cat or tabby with this either. Because besides Scottish folds, I love Ragdolls. I haven’t personally met one that’s mean, all the ones I have met are incredibly affectionate. So for this I kind of wanted to add the characteristic to the reader. Also, I picked purple for the eyes because it adds a sense of oddity to the reader shifted form, since purple isn’t very common in eyes. The readers real eyes can be whatever you want. I hope you like this part!!

The gifs are not mine, credit to the wonderful owner!

Ragdoll | Duckling | Series Masterlist

Bucky sighed as his eyes slid close, collapsing on the couch in the living room. He let out a strangled tired groan when he nestled back into the cushion and threw his legs up on the coffee table with a clang. It had been the first time in over 72 hours that he was able to relax and literally put his feet up. A quick one-day mission turned into a long three-day stakeout. All he wanted to do was go to his room, shower, and pass out. But Steve got to him first, told Bucky to meet him in the living room. Something about needing to tell him something.  Bucky didn’t know, he was still a bit fuzzy from exhaustion but stumbled his way into the room. He was so focused on collapsing on the couch, he completely missed the small bundle of fur that was curled up on the opposite side against the pillows.

The sudden dip in the couch caused the creature to jump, bright purple eyes snapping open to whip around to find the intrusion. Uncurling from it’s ball, the creature stretched out, kneading it’s paws into the cushion while letting out a toothy yawn. A silver and grey ragdoll sat, watching the strange new human with a calculative look and a flick of it’s fluffy tail. The fatigue on the man was glaringly obvious. He was practically limp in his seat, all his weight sprawled out on the couch. Something must have happened to him. Around his eyes, the cat noticed the dark circles and faint stress lines etched into his face. Giving him a slow blink, the cat crossed the distance between them, it’s curiosity peaked.

Bucky hadn’t noticed the eyes on him, his mind seconds away from shutting down but he did notice the soft brush of fur against his right arm and lightweight that settled on his thigh. His eyes snapped open, turning to the sudden touch. He froze staring straight into the brilliant purple that almost appeared a touch worried. It blinked slowly, almost as if it understood his fatigue.

“When the hell did we get a cat?” He whispered, still not believing the fluffy regal animal perched at his side was there. The cat let out a soft chirp as it gracefully climbed on to his lap. “Wait, hold on.”

The cat ignored him, using his shoulders as a way to stand on its hind legs to be eye level with him. The cat chirped softly again before leaning in to gently headbutt his chin. Bucky stilled, stunned as the cat rubbed with a loud purr. He raised a hand, hesitating as he considered his options. He could push the cat away and go find Steve. Or maybe this was what it was he wanted to tell him. Wanda had mentioned she wouldn’t mind a pet around the tower. But Tony always nixed that idea. Something about the fur on his couches.

Torn, Bucky settled for simply returning the cat's affections with a few awkward pats on its head. The cat didn’t seem to care from the noise of content, turning around to rub it’s head against his palm. He thought that was the extent of things, until the cat turned to his left side, eyeing the hand that laid limply by his side with a narrow gaze. It didn’t seem to appreciate it’s lack of participation one bit. It pushed off his shoulders and hopped across his lap to butt it’s head against the metal.

“Hey, no wait.” The cat cut his protests off with a loud indignant yowl before rubbing against his metal fingers again. Sighing, Bucky gave in with slight hesitation. He didn’t want to hurt the small animal, but it didn’t seem to care the touch was colder, inhuman compared to the rest of him. It just purred louder when he curled his metal fingers to scratch behind it’s ears. Bucky felt his heart melt at the soft mewl the cat gave, and how it leaned into his touch. A weight lifted off his chest, all the stress from the past week leaving him as a soothing calm settled in it’s place. His other hand reached to stroke along its back, and the cat preened under the attention. 

Giving in, Bucky scooped the cat up and hugged it to his chest. The cat made a soft noise of protest but instantly relaxed with its head cradled under his head while Bucky scratched at its chin. A smile spread on his face, a bubble of happiness growing in his chest. He didn’t know where the cat came from nor did he care.

“I have no idea what your name is, but I think I love you.” He cooed, brushing his lips against the cat's forehead. The cat meowed in response, snuggling further into his chest. Bucky sighed and relaxed back into the cushion, the cat still securely in his grip. He fell asleep with the cat curled up on his chest, the gently purr lulling him to deep restful sleep. A soft shake woke him up.  

“Hey, Buck. You up?” Steve’s voice cut into his sleep, slowly bring him back to the present. Bucky blinked up, bleary-eyed at Steve sitting on the coffee table, who had a strange look in baby blue eyes.

“Hey, Steve. Sorry, what?” Bucky moved to sit up, but a heavier weight than a cat was tucked up into his side causing him to stop. He slowly turned to his left, gasping when seeing the small woman that was curled up gripping his left arm. A blanket was wrapped around her body, her shoulders rising with each breath. “Who-?”

“I see you’ve already met our newest recruit.” Steve snickered, keeping his voice low for the slumbering woman. Bucky, however, was a blushing, bewildered mess.

“Wait. But who- What? I don’t-.” He fumbled, too shocked, and exhausted to find coherent words. Steve chuckled, shaking his head at the sight of his best friend.

“She’s a shifter, Buck. Let me guess, you met her as something else. An animal perhaps?”

“Cat,” Bucky responded, attempting to lift his arm away. The woman made a noise of protest and curled around his arm tighter with what would have been a bruising grip.

“Yep. Ragdoll, right? That’s one of her favorites. I will admit. This is the first time I’ve seen her warm up to someone so fast. Normally she’s a bit standoffish with strangers.” Steve smirked and raised a brow at Bucky. “What you do pal?”

“N-Nothing!” Bucky squeaked. “She was a cat, and she climbed in my lap and I- Oh god. She rubbed herself all over me. And I helped!”

Steve threw his head back, forgetting she was sleeping as he laughed loudly. Bucky shushed him, glaring up at Steve as his head swiveled back to the woman. Surprisingly, the woman didn’t wake, not even twitch.

“Yeah, she does that. Kind of loses it to the animal instinct a bit.” Steve stood with a shrug, still smirking at his friend's predicament. “Well, I have a few other things I need to take care of, and you two seem quite cozy right now. I’m gonna head out."

“Wait! Steve!” Bucky whispered harshly, the tight grip on his arm keeping him from chasing after. “Get back here you punk!”

“You seem to be handling it, pal.” Steve threw over his shoulder. He paused at the door, a sly grin spreading across his face. “Oh and one more fun fact. Whenever shifters change, they can’t shift with their clothes on. So yeah, she’s naked under there. And she has zero shame about it. Have fun!”

Steve walked out with a snicker at the sight of red that covered Bucky’s face. Bucky was already plotting his revenge as he turned his attention back to the smaller woman beside him. A thousand ideas were running through his brain, but none of them helpful for an escape. He tried to shake her awake, but she slept like the dead. Nothing seemed to help loosen her grip either. She would just grip tighter, mumbling in her sleep with a frown tugging on her lips. Giving up, Bucky knew he wasn’t going to get anywhere anytime soon. All he could do was wait until she woke up.

Crap.

Perma Tag: (Open)

@shadowingthemoonlight @alicia5833@myersge@womderland-fandom @grunge-crybabies@capbuckthor@anotherotter@redstarstan@hispeculiartreasure@jasmineladjevardi @feelmyroarrrr@veronicalei @wildefire@geeksareunique @kitty11223 @ssweet-empowerment

(Let me know if I missed you, strike means I can’t tag you.)

Bucky Tag: (CLOSED)

@bexboo616​ @aya-fay​ @papichulostan​ @learisa​ @srgntjbarnes​

(Let me know if I missed you, strike means I can’t tag you.)

[redvsvblue]

For @achievementtooth! Merry Christmas! 

(Some SFW, non-shippy FAHC, Ryan-centric.) 

Ryan glares bitterly at the people shooting him sharp, judgmental glances, stuffing his hands further in his jacket and ducking his head to avoid attracting any attention. He doesn’t want the cops on him now.

He must look quite a sight, he thinks – the remnants of face paint still smeared around his hairline and under his eyes, blood dripping steadily from his busted lip and a bruise blossoming over his jaw, aching dully with each step. He’s shoved his hands as deep as he can in his leather jacket but the cold still seeps through him, drying the blood on his chin and breezing up the back of his shirt.

Ryan huffs irritably as he slips into an alley – a shortcut – scanning the dim surroundings as he stomps down the trash-riddled path. His phone buzzes in his jeans – probably one of the others letting the rest know they’re safe. Ryan doesn’t check it, and no more buzzes follow, so it’s not likely to be bad news; it’d be vibrating right out of the pocket if it was.

Ryan supposes he should consider himself fortunate for escaping without the cops – heists go sideways all the time, but at least this time he’s not running. Still, it’s cold and all he wants to do is get home and not worry about the crew for at least a few hours.

A tiny rustling in a back doorway draws his attention. He glances halfly at the darkness pooled under the frame and keeps walking and – and stops dead in his tracks when a tiny, quiet mewl sounds from the doorway. He sighs. Drops his head. Looks over at the black ears poking out of a crumpled newspaper, the green eyes studying him curiously.

He can’t leave it out here.

“Okay,” he sighs, mostly to himself, and turns to slowly crouch in front of the cat, taking out his hands to show he’s harmless.

The cat blinks at him. He extends his fingers and stays very very still, watching as the cat steps out of its newspaper home to carefully sniff his hand. When it butts its head against his knuckles, a quiet chuckle slips out of him and he gently pets its matted fur, eyeing it up for any obvious injuries. There’s no collar. He gently rubs a thumb over its neck – no bump of a microchip, either.

It’s thin, too, black fur matted down over the faintest outline of ribs, and Ryan switches to stroking along its back, eyes drifting up to its tail, bent in the middle at an unnatural angle.

“You’re a stray, aren’t you?” He murmurs. The cat meows and wanders closer, a little unsteady on its feet. Ryan sighs again and carefully lifts the cat up, cradling it in his elbow as it jerks and tries to escape – when it realises what’s happening, it calms down again, burrowing against Ryan’s jacket and trying to bite him when he pets for too long.

“Okay, okay,” he laughs, playfully stroking its ear. He cocks his head at it. “You seem like a Maisie.”

The cat tries to bite him again.

“Not Maisie, then,” Ryan laughs as he continues down the alley, keeping the cat close to him as the wind rips through them. “Polly?”

A hiss.

“Midnight?”

Another hiss.

-- 

Ryan bends down to release the cat into his flat before stepping in and locking the door, toeing off his shoes as Violet wanders curiously away, sniffing his hallway and the guns leaning against the wall.

“No, no, get away from that,” he scolds, gently nudging her hind legs with his socked foot on his way to the kitchen – he glances back to see Violet following him, her eyes intent on his ankles.

Ryan strips off his jacket on the way and hangs it up on a hook – he’ll have to scrub the dirt off it later, but that’s for later. Right now, though, he heads to the cupboard under the sink and pulls out the food bowls he keeps in there – the last one to use them was Edgar, the bulldog he adopted off the streets a few months ago and gave to a nice family just down the road.

Ryan finds the cat food – leftover from Kenny, the previous kitten he sheltered – and pours some out for Violet, fills the water bowl and leaves her to entertain herself while he goes to shower and bandage himself up.

-- 

Later finds Ryan in a staring contest with Violet on the sofa, his bowl of Cheerios forgotten in his hand as he reaches out to pet her, her broken tail flicking against the cushion.

“S’ppose I’m keeping you, then,” he says, breaking the eye contact to swallows down another spoonful of milky Cheerios, gently encouraging Violet to come sit next to him. He’ll have to go to the vet tomorrow – he sighs and shakes his head, stroking a hand down Violet’s back as she curls up.

“Takin’ all my free time, aren’t you?”

-- 

“Yeah, I’m good,” Ryan says, pressing the phone to his ear as Violet winds around his ankles, meowing loudly for the food he hasn’t managed to put down yet because of Geoff.

“You sure? Don’t hide another damn broken rib from me, Ryan - “

“Yeah, I’m fine, Geoff. Just a little beat up.”

“Okay. Because we, uh, need a little help with clean-up, if you can come by tomorrow.”

“Clean-up?” Ryan asks dryly, clumsily resealing the bag of food and glancing down at Violet, who starts up another round of loud meowing.

“Yeah, I – is that a cat I hear?”

“No,” Ryan says immediately, setting down the food bowl and backing away the moment Violet leaves his ankles alone. “I’m – outside.”

“Outside? You’re supposed to be laying low.”

“I am!”

“I better not see any damn news stories about the Vagabond, Haywood. Come by tomorrow, noon.”

“You got it, boss.”

Ryan breathes a sigh of relief when he hangs up, slipping the phone into his pocket and touching the tender skin of his jaw while he watches Violet munch away on her breakfast.

“I’ve got a reputation to keep,” he says to her, narrowing his eyes. “You better not fuck it up.”

Violet’s bandaged tail twitches.

-- 

“What’s that? You’re all cut up,” Gavin says, peering curiously at Ryan’s forearm – Ryan grunts and rolls his sleeve down more, pulling it down to his wrist to cover the scratches. Violet hadn’t appreciated the bath he gave her last night.

“Nothing,” he bites out, shooting Gavin a glare. Gavin shrinks back a little, but he’s lost the petrifying fear he had of Ryan when they first met, and sometimes Ryan misses being able to just scare him away with a look.

“Y’should cover those up,” Gavin says. “Keep ‘em clean an’ all.”

“And you should mind your own business,” Ryan says.

Before Gavin can reply, Geoff claps his hands, staring down the room until they all settle down and look at him, standing at the head of the table.

“Warehouse. We need it gone,” Geoff announces, dramatically flipping the whiteboard over to reveal a poorly drawn stick figure plan. “Gavin, Jeremy, you’re taking the inside.”

He swivels to point to Ryan.

“Michael and you are taking the outside,” he says. “Get the cars and whatever crates they’ve got out back. I want it all in smithereens, you got me?”

“Loud and clear,” Michael says.

-- 

“What if someone was caught because the cops found their fingerprints in the person they killed the night before?” Michael asks. Ryan cuts him a questioning glance.

“Inside?”

“Yeah, like, if they fingered someone and then killed them, could the cops see the fingerprints?”

Ryan frowns at him and Michael shrugs.

“Gavin asked it last night,” he explains. “He wanted your opinion.”

“I think there’s too much – movement of – fluids and whatever for them to stay there,” Jack says over the crackly comms, the chopper blades whirring in his background. “Ew.”

“Yeah,” Ryan agrees, crouch-walking to the next car to wire it up to blow.

“Okay, what if they fingered their ass or something and they didn’t take a shit or anything before they died.”

“Don’t you empty your bowels when you die?”

“Yeah, you do,” Ryan replies calmly.

“Isn’t there a way to do it anyway?” Michael asks. “Some fuckin’ - nerve or something that makes you shit yourself?”

Jack laughs brightly over the comms and Ryan merely blinks at his hands, dumbstruck for a moment.

“Like Geoff does?” Jack chuckles.

“Yeah, but we’re not – pinching his nerves,” Michael says. “He’s just a shit machine.”

“I mean, if you ask him we’re probably pinching his nerves,” Ryan mutters.

“Could we get the shit nerve, though? Where even is that?” Michael asks, planting a bomb on a car window.

“I’m pretty sure it’s in the intenstines, right?” Jack offers.

“Yeah, base of them,” Ryan says. “It’d be messy to get to it, but we could do it. Just have to cut him open first.”

“Jesus, Ryan,” Jack gasps – Ryan shrugs and fixes his mask before taking out another batch of bombs from his bag.

“You asked,” he says simply. “You’d either go in from the front or from the back; it wouldn’t be clean in any way - “

“God, you’re so fuckin’ creepy sometimes,” Michael says.

-- 

“Man, I wish Gavin would hurry the fuck up,” Michael grumbles, popping his collar up to protect himself from the chilly breeze sweeping Los Santos. He glances at Ryan again. “You can go inside, you know.”

Ryan glances up at his building – they’ve walked there from a quick dinner together, and now Michael’s just waiting to be picked up.

“Nah,” he says, rolling his shoulders in an easy shrug. “Someone needs to make sure you won’t kill Gavin.”

Michael chuckles good-naturedly and looks at the street, scanning it for any sign of that dastardly purple Blista.

“Take any longer and I might fuckin’ kill hi - “ Barking interrupts them, abruptly dragging their attention to the dog barking at Ryan, a bulldog pulling on its leash and the kindly lady walking him over to them.

“Ryan!” She says, opening her arms for a hug which Ryan gives with an easy smile and a warm laugh, crouching to pet Edgar as well. Michael gives him a bemused look and eyes the lady up.

“How are you, Ms. Edwards?” Ryan asks, growling playfully back at Edgar before pushing himself up to stand, tugging his jacket closed again.

“Call me Jane, how many times have I told you?” Jane scolds gently, her eyes sparkling with mirth. “I saw your latest stunt on TV, you know,” she continues in a conspiratorial whisper. “That was quite a close one, that was.”

“Ryan?” Michael asks, shooting puzzled looks between them.  

“Uh, this is Jane,” Ryan says, awkwardly gesturing between them. “Jane, this is - “

“Oh, yes, you’re the feisty one!” Jane declares. “Mogar, is it?”

“Michael,” Ryan cuts in. “His name’s Michael.”

“Michael! What a nice name,” Jane says – Michael shoots Ryan a glare and Ryan shakes his head. “Yes, you nearly got caught up in that great big explosion, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” Michael says slowly, smiling politely. Edgar barks again and Jane shushes him with a quiet down, Edgar as Ryan leans down to scritch behind his ears.

“So, uh, how do you two know each other?” Michael asks.

“She lives down the hall from me,” Ryan says.

“Yes, and he was sweet enough to give Edgar to me,” Jane says, smiling down at Ryan and Edgar.

“Give him to you? Ryan, I didn’t know you had pets,” Michael teases.

“Oh, no, he took him in as a stray,” Jane corrects. “Got him all healthy again and gave it to me.”

“Oh?” Michael asks, smirking at Ryan.

“He was almost roadkill,” Ryan says in his defence, rising to talk to them at eye-level again.

“Back in my day, he would have just been turned over to the pound,” Jane says, tutting to herself. She catches sight of something and gasps quietly, reaching out to finger a hole in the shoulder Ryan’s jacket.

“Oh, let me sew that up,” she says, running her thumb over the fraying edges with a frown.

“It’s okay - “ Ryan starts to protest, but Jane clicks her tongue and shakes his head.

“I know, I know,” she says. “I was just like you, remember? I know how to fix bullet holes.”

“You really don’t have to - “

“I insist,” she insists. Ryan sighs and nods and glances down at the bulldog nudging against his leg – Edgar’s gotten bigger since he’s last seen him, rounder around the ribs and hips, so far from the starving, half-dead creature Ryan found on the road all those months ago. Jane turns to Michael and lays a bold hand on his arm – Michael jerks but doesn’t shake her off, and Ryan struggles to hold back his smile as Jane starts speaking in a low, secretive voice.

“See, now that I’m – retired from that lifestyle,” she says, patting Michael’s arm, “I’ve got plenty of time for pets and chatting to nice young men on the street.”

Michael goes pink and Ryan stifles a laugh.

“I, uh, I - “ Michael starts, flustered and out of his depth and Ryan’s never been more satisfied to see him so caught off-guard. “Lifestyle?”

“Oh, yes, I used to be a criminal, too,” Jane says, matter-of-factly. “Young and spry. Dealt drugs over the border. Lucrative trade, drugs.” She curls her fingers around Michael’s arm and leans in and Michael’s helpless to it, eyes widening ever-so-slightly.

The squeal of wheels saves him from whatever Jane was going to say next and Michael abruptly breaks apart to see the Blista screeching to a stop by the curb, Gavin grinning and waving at them from behind the wheel.

“Oh, that’s my ride,” Michael says, gently pulling his arm from Jane’s grip to wave back. “I should go. See you tomorrow, Ryan?”

“Yeah,” Ryan agrees, flashing Gavin a little wave as well.

“Well, I’d sure love to see you around more,” Jane says, and taps a finger to her lips. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell any of your secrets.”

“Thanks,” Michael says with a little laugh. “It was – nice meeting you, Jane.”

“And the same to you,” she says. “Now go, off to go stir up some trouble,” she adds, making a little shooing motion with her hands that makes Michael laugh before he jogs to the Blista.

“You’re terrible,” Ryan says, waving the little car off as it speeds away.

“Mhm,” Jane agrees, and opens her palm in front of Ryan. “You want to crack it?”

Ryan looks down to see – a fortune cookie – Michael’s fortune cookie, sitting pretty in her palm, the plastic wrapper crumpled and shiny.

“You little thief,” he chuckles, plucking it from her palm to tear it open.

“Mhm,” Jane agrees again, giving him a sly, mirthful little glance as he cracks the cookie. Edgar barks at them.

-- 

Knocking wakes Ryan up from his accidental nap – Violet startles on his chest and snaps her claws out reflexively and they sink right into his skin. He hisses and nudges her off and she leaps to the floor before scampering away to hide somewhere – probably the kitchen, like last time, or maybe his bedroom. Ryan rubs his eyes and groans, muttering obscenities under his breath as the knocking continues.

It must be his crew. There’s no one else who would knock so persistently at – Ryan checks the clock – at two in the morning.

“Coming!” He shouts irritably, shoving on some shoes and grabbing a gun in case it’s an emergency. He doubts it, though. Emergencies tend to have a way of just busting in somewhere, not knocking and waiting.

It’s Jeremy on the other side, dressed head-to-toe in an uncharacteristic black that makes Ryan frown as he opens the door, leaning against the frame as he crosses his arms.

“What,” he asks flatly. Jeremy, cheerful, optimistic Jeremy, just grins and shoots him a finger gun. Ryan raises an unimpressed eyebrow at it.

“Need to talk to ya,” Jeremy says, gesturing to Ryan’s flat. “Can I come in?”

“No,” Ryan says.

“Well I can’t do it out here,” Jeremy says. “Unless you wanna come with me?”

Ryan considers it for a moment, turning the thought over in his mind, but he needs to change Violet’s bandages in an hour and he has no idea how long Jeremy’s thing’ll take.

“What is it?” He asks.

“It’s important,” Jeremy insists. “Can you just let me in?”

When Ryan doesn’t move, Jeremy does the boldest thing Ryan’s ever seen him do and he steps forward to push Ryan aside – it’s so unexpected that Ryan doesn’t even think to shove him away, and Jeremy walks in like he belongs there, when in fact he’s never even been inside the building before.

“Wow, this is a lot more homey than I would’ve expected,” Jeremy says.

“Get the fuck out!” Ryan exclaims, but a flash of black comes zooming around the corner and he hurriedly slams the door shut to end Violet’s dreams of seeing the outside world. Yet. She needs to at least heal first before Ryan entertains the possibility of her running away and never coming back.

Violet meows angrily at him and starts nipping his ankles, growling at she bites his sock and pulls at it – Ryan gently scolds her and reaches down to nudge her away. Jeremy’s jaw is on the fucking floor. Violet tries to bite his hand and Ryan frowns at her, pushing her a little more forcefully and walking away to lead her down the hallway – she gives up her bitter growling to dash to the sofa instead, plopping down on her favourite cushion and only hissing a little when Ryan sits down beside her.

“Yeah, yeah, you wanna be where the people are,” he sighs.

“You have a cat?!” Jeremy asks, coming over to hesitantly sink down in the armchair.

“It’s temporary,” Ryan snaps, annoyed and disgruntled and goddamnit, all he wanted today was a nap.

“What, is – I can’t believe it!”

“Shut up. What did you want.”

“I – well, it was about Gavin’s birthday.”

“Really?” Ryan growls, glaring at Jeremy. “You came over to talk about that?!”

“You’re not busy!” Jeremy protests. “It’s just you and – and - “

“Violet,” Ryan says, stroking Violet between the ears. He sighs and tips his head back against the sofa. “Don’t tell anyone about her.”

“What, that big bad Vagabond actually has a pet cat?”

“She’s not my pet,” Ryan says. “She – I found her. I’m going to give her up when I find a good place for her.”

“...well, uh, that’s – actually what I came to talk to you about,” Jeremy says quietly. Ryan’s head jerks up to look at him and Jeremy fiddles with his fingers, glancing at the floor, the wall, and Ryan in turn.

“Gavin’s birthday,” Ryan prompts.

“Yeah. Yeah, his – birthday. He’s always wanted a cat over here. He, uh, he used to have one back in England and I thought – you’re the best at keeping secrets, I thought you could help me – get one?”

“You trust Gavin with cats but not your car?” Ryan asks incredulously.

“That’s different! He knows the limits of a car!”

“Pushes them a lot.”

“Yeah, but – I’ve seen him with Lindsay’s cats! He’s fine with them!”

Ryan gently pets a knuckle under Violet’s chin and looks her in the eye. Her ear twitches and Ryan shifts to stroke her flank, listening to her purr under his palm.  

“Does he want any particular cat?” He asks, glancing at Jeremy.

“Not that I know of.”

Ryan studies Violet again. Pets her soft little ear.

“He can have Violet,” he says.

“I – I didn’t mean – I meant adopting a cat from a shelter or something, it doesn’t have to be - “

“I need to give her away anyway,” Ryan says. “At least if Gavin has her, I can keep an eye on her.”

“I – oh. That’s – That’s really sweet of you.”

“Don’t tell him she’s from me,” Ryan warns, shooting Jeremy a glare.

“I won’t,” Jeremy promises.

“I mean it,” Ryan adds. “I’ll key your goddamn car if I have to.”

“I won’t! I promise!” Jeremy exclaims.

“Hm. Okay,” Ryan concedes, turning back to Violet. She meows at him and Ryan hears Jeremy’s soft huff of laughter from behind him. He glances at Jeremy. Swallows a little nervously before gently lifting Violet up at setting her down on the floor, pointed towards Jeremy.

“Go on,” he croons, nudging her towards him.

“Can I - ?” Jeremy starts, looking up at Ryan. Ryan nods and Jeremy leans down to pat his shin and lure her over – his entire face lights up when Violet pads towards him, nosing curiously at his arm and sniffing his hand before letting him pet her.

“Mind the tail,” Ryan offers. Jeremy nods and pets carefully down her back and she arches at the attention, purring happily when Jeremy settles her on his lap.

“How’d you choose the name?” Jeremy asks, laughing when Violet rolls over. 

“Listed some until she stopped biting me for ‘em.” 

[tuanyiems]

No Jam (Part 3/Final)

Characters: Reader x Markson (GOT7) Genre: Angst, Fluff, Slice-of-Life Words: ~4300 Plot: He said you were boring–not enough. You agreed. You were happier on your own anyways. But six months later you find yourself on a blind date with a new guy and late night talks with another. Looks like being forever alone is not on your agenda. [Masterlist] [Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] a/n: A bit late but here is the final part of No Jam ^^  I was struggling to write this part (in fact I wrote it 3 times lol) and to be honest I’m still a bit iffy about it but if I didn’t post it anyways, I probably never would have finished the story ^^;;; Also I go back and forth between past and present in this so I hope it’s not confusing but if it is, please tell me so I can improve in my writing :DDD Thanks for following the whole way through for my first mini series ^u^ - “I-umm, do you want to have dinner here?” she asked suddenly as I was about to leave. “I mean, I’m not much of a cook, but I make a pretty mean ramen.”  I couldn’t help myself as chuckles of both relief and happiness escaped me. Ramen never sounded so enticing.   Her smile mirrored mines as she opened the door to her apartment. And suddenly butterflies filled my stomach. Her apartment had always been a secret realm, a place whose door I had become well-acquainted with. But the stark white of her door gave no clues about the girl that lived behind it.   And right at this moment the door was opening for me. She was opening it for me.

“Sorry my place is a little messy right now,” her voice broke my trance as I entered. Her apartment looked exactly like her—a small but open space with warm hardwood floors and cream furniture draped in fuzzy, fleece blankets. In the corner of the room was a small desk stacked with binders of paperwork. It looked out of place in the room and on closer inspection it seemed to be office work. She kept insisting she was just an assistant, but it was obvious she wasn’t. Looking at the other tables around the room, sprawled with sketches and handwritten story drafts, it was obvious to anybody who saw, that she was a writer. I glanced back to where she stood by the stove, a small smile etched on her lips as she inhaled the steam from the noodles. I let out a breath at the sight, her hair falling down her face in loose curls. She was queen of insisting how boring she was, but every moment we shared put me on edge. It wasn’t like this at first. A year ago she was just a cute girl who ordered to-go cups in the morning, and who passed by in the evenings with her head down, shoulders sulking, slowly making her way back home. And though I was curious how she spent her days, that was all—mere curiosity. It wasn’t until three months later that I began to realize her routine of coming into the coffee house every first Tuesday of the month to chat with her friend. And then she started coming by herself. At first it was just the weekends, but slowly it became every day. With her tired shoulders, she’d come into the café each evening, order a cappuccino and then lose herself in the world that lived inside her leather journal. “You’re staring again, Boss,” Bambam grinned cheekily one night when Y/N was staying later than usual. “I’m just surveying the mood of my customers. It’s called good business, Bambam,” I retorted, quickly glancing away. The younger boy chuckled. “Just go talk to her. It’s better business to talk to your customers.” But I never could. She always looked so tired when she came each evening, but her smile always returned when she sat down and opened her notebook. Interrupting that felt rude, like I was invading her space. It was that night that I learned she had a boyfriend. He was tall and handsome, which was fitting for a beautiful girl, but there was something off about him. It was the little things. Like on the weekends when they had afternoon coffee together, he would go on for hours while she smiled quietly. Or when he suddenly visited her some evenings, she would close her journal midsentence and follow him out the door without even finishing her cappuccino. But what bothered me the most was what he didn’t do. He never asked her questions. Not even a simple: How was your day? Maybe they had been together long enough to know every inch of each other, but even so, people change, they grow. How would you know unless you asked her? Perhaps I was just sour with envy but if I were him I don’t think I’d have enough time in the world to ask her all the questions I wanted to. What made her happy? What made her sad? Tired? Scared? I wanted to know it all. But all I could ever do was send her messages via paper to-go cups. “Y/N,” I spoke up, glancing back at her by the stove. “Are the drawings on your table part of the book you’re working on?” Her cheeks turned pink at the question as she mumbled a soft, “Ah…yeah.” She fingered at a strand of her hair shyly before tucking it behind her ear, which was even more flushed than her face. The simple gesture made me smile. “I didn’t know you were an artist too.” “They’re just doodles…” There was a slight pause before she glanced up at me shyly. “It’s a children’s book.” I smiled at the sketches on the table. It took a full year to finally know what she was working on. I wondered if he even knew what she was dreaming up the whole time they were together. She always closed her notebook so quickly whenever he stopped by. And it wasn’t too long until he just stopped coming by altogether. To be honest, I spent many nights wishing he’d never come again so she could spend more late nights at the coffee house, but then one winter evening, my wish came true. I could see it in her eyes as soon as she stepped into the café with only a thin sweater and her bag full of stories. “Cappuccino is already on its way,” I greeted her playfully as she stood in front of the register. She glanced at me with cloudy eyes before mustering up a weak smile. “Hmm? Ah, thanks.” “I’ll bring it to you when it’s ready,” I replied, watching as she quietly nodded before heading to her usual table. “What’s wrong, Boss?” Bambam asked after he caught me staring at her back for far too long. “Something must’ve happened to her,” I muttered, before personally attending to her cappuccino. Bambam chuckled, shaking his head at me. “How can you even tell? Isn’t she always like that?” I shrugged in response, praying to the gods that my intuition was wrong. Perhaps it was just a bad day at work. Or maybe she just had a small fight with her boyfriend. Any minute now he would come running through that door, ready to make up with her. But as the hours passed her boyfriend never came running through the café doors and then, it was closing time. “What do you want me to do about her?” Bambam whispered as the café music came to a full stop. “Just…You can head home. I’ll take care of the rest.” And then it was just the two of us. Alone. For the first time. It was strange. I spent months pining after this girl, degrading her boyfriend in my head, and suddenly I’m given the opportunity of a lifetime but I wasn’t happy. To be very honest, it was a pretty shitty feeling. All I wanted in that moment was to turn back time to when she was with another man and happy. But I couldn’t turn back time. I could only sit next to her and watch as she crumbled before my eyes. Putting all other thoughts aside, I pulled her into my arms, hugging her tightly as she trembled out an endless stream of tears. It was then that I made a promise to protect her smile, even at the cost of my own. “It’s what I’ve been working on the past six months,” Y/N spoke up, handing me a stack of her illustrations. I smiled as I felt the smooth paper between my fingertips. Y/N just handed me her world, allowed me in. I tried to act nonchalant but my heart was pumping in my chest. But the air in my lungs quickly grew stale as I thumbed through the pages. This was not the world I hoped for her. The children’s story was about a rabbit—a quiet rabbit and her beloved boy. The boy loved soft things and so the quiet rabbit pruned her fur all through the night. And the boy loved the quiet rabbit. The boy loved bouncy things and so the quiet rabbit practiced hopping until her hind legs were sore. And the boy loved the quiet rabbit. Then the boy said he loved fun things. He told the rabbit to speak. So the rabbit tried her best to speak. She spent nights and days, huffing and puffing for her voice to sound. She tried so hard until her belly was aching and her throat was hoarse, but no sound came. And the boy no longer loved the quiet rabbit. He threw the quiet rabbit away. My eyes lingered on the last page she had drawn so far. The rabbit was crying and in a small thought bubble, she had softly etched out the words, “I am not enough.” “You’re the first person to see my work, Mark. Please be gentle on my fragile heart.” She made it to sound like a joke but I could hear the faint trembling in her voice. She was nervous. Vulnerable. And in these pages, I could feel her heart breaking as if it was six months ago and she was crying in my arms again. I didn’t know him, but I hated him—hated how he affected her. She was perfect just the way she was, but he had blinded her to that. No matter how much she insisted on being okay with being “boring”, with being alone, it was the fact that she kept insisting that meant she wasn’t okay, right? She repeated herself almost daily to reassure herself more than anyone else. I stared at Y/N’s back as she put the dishes away. She was stuck. As strong and as indifferent she made herself to appear, the truth was that she was just as stuck as the quiet rabbit in her book. It was why no matter how much time she spent each evening, sketching away in her journal, the ending never came. The rabbit was stuck on the same page, abandoned and afraid. And I could do nothing for her, except sit and watch. “Are you gonna go on a third date?” I finally asked, biting at my lips nervously. My eyes wandered over her as she looked away. Even with her tired eyes and messy hair falling loosely on her shoulders, she looked amazing. In a way, it was better than this morning… “You missed your chance,” Bambam scolded me as I gazed out the coffee house window where Y/N stood by the lamp post across the street. I sighed because I knew he was right. She looked stunning in that white dress. It was like an angel had appeared in front of the coffee house, albeit, a pretty nervous angel but beautiful nonetheless. It made me wonder if I had thought of this new Jackson guy too loosely. It didn’t seem like she liked him much from their first meeting but maybe I was wrong. After all, if her ex was any indication of the kind of men she liked, then the talkative, hyena-laughing Jackson was the perfect fit. Except he was better. As much as I hated to admit it, Jackson seemed like an honestly good guy. I should be happy for her. But as I watched Jackson approach her, and the smile that returned to her lips, I couldn’t help thinking that that could have been me. But I was just the coffee house guy that made her cappuccinos. So I watched Jackson take Y/N by the hand and pull her further away. The moment I held her in my arms, I promised I would protect her happiness, but I never thought it would be so hard now that she was quickly becoming my world. I didn’t want to see her in another man’s arm again. Yet, right about now she probably was. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be nosy,” I spoke up again, realizing she hadn’t answered my question. “No, you’re not, I just don’t know that answer to your question.” “Is it because you’re hesitant about dating, or are you unsure about Jackson?” She leaned closer to me. “How do you always know the right questions to ask, Mark?” And I chuckled, letting out a breath I didn’t even realize I was holding. I slipped my arm around her, holding her close. Truth was I just wanted her to say Jackson. I wanted her to give me a reason to keep holding her close. But she didn’t answer. “What’s your ideal guy, Y/N?” I asked. She was quiet again, resting her head closer to my chest now. I took in deep breaths, hoping to calm my nervous heart. I don’t know why I was so nervous though. I knew she wouldn’t answer me because with all our late night talks, it was obvious she didn’t know herself. Or maybe that was just my way of holding on…in case one day she’ll like a guy like me. “Are you asleep?” “Umm, I don’t really have an ideal guy either,” she whispered back. I sighed. It probably wasn’t a guy like me. “It’s getting late,” I uttered reluctantly. She left my arms a little too quickly. In a blink of an eye I was outside of her world again and despite the summer air, I felt cold as I stared back at her longingly. “Thanks for always being there for me,” she whispered softly. And in her white dress, looking timid and tired, with her shoulders slumped but a smile etched on her lips, I wanted to pull her into another hug. She looked like her quiet rabbit. “I just,” I muttered, looking into her eyes and hoping she could see all the love I carried in it. “I hope you know that you’re enough.” - The next day, she didn’t come to the coffee house. Or for the rest of the week either. “Did something happen between you and Cappuccino girl?” Bambam asked cautiously one evening when it was clear she wasn’t coming in again. I shook my head but my eyebrows remained furrowed as I stared at the café entrance. A part of me was still hoping to see her walk through those doors. Why did she suddenly stop coming? Did I do something wrong that night? “Why did she stop coming then?” Bambam continued to ask. I grumbled at his insistence. “I don’t know.” “Well, why don’t you go find out?” I glanced at the younger boy who only shook his head at me while laughing. “It’s not like you work here, Boss. I can close the shop tonight. Besides, isn’t her house like fifteen minutes from here?” “It’s ten.” “Even better! You can grab some flowers on your way there,” Bambam chuckled before ushering me out from behind the counter. “Why would I need flowers?” The younger boy just laughed. “Just get them. Flowers are always nice to have in hand.” I shrugged, letting Bambam push me out of the shop. The truth was, I wanted to visit her the first day she stopped coming, but that’s just plain creepy. I’m sure she allowed me into her space with the confidence that I wouldn’t take advantage of that knowledge…which was to say, I shouldn’t go stalking her…even if I was really curious. I mean, I am justified in going. How can you expect me to not be curious when she’s been coming by every single day for a whole year only to suddenly stop abruptly for an entire week? That’s a whole seven days! I mean, I’m a pretty good acquaintance. Friend even? I’m just worried is all. What if she fell sick? Or worse, what if she got kidnapped. I paused in my steps as the thought suddenly hit me. Oh my goodness, what if she’s been kidnapped?! With a bouquet of flowers in hand, I sprinted towards her apartment, only stopping when I was greeted by the same stark whiteness of her door. At least there was no sign of blood on it. I knocked at her door only to be greeted by a silence that made my sweat run cold. Of course, I was quickly pulled out of my delusions when I saw two figures walking down the hallway. There was Y/N looking as healthy and beautiful as ever…with Jackson. At the corner in the hall, she pulled him into a hug before waving him off. And as much as I was happy to see her happy and alive, I was equally just as sad. This meant I did something wrong, right? This meant she was purposely avoiding the café…avoiding me. And I wanted to disappear. I shouldn’t have listened to Bambam. But Y/N’s apartment was in a corner and the only way out was by passing by her. I mentally curled into a ball as I awaited the despair that would be my embarrassing self when Y/N walks passed me. “M-Mark?” I opened my eyes to find her smiling up at me. She looked genuinely happy to see me…which made me even more confused. “Have you been standing out here this whole time?” she asked in exasperation as she quickly rummaged through her purse for her keys. “I’m sorry if I kept you waiting. You know, we really should have exchanged numbers by now.” I followed her in blankly. She was talking to me like normal. Did I not do anything wrong? Why did she go missing for seven days then?! “Ooh,” she muttered softly. “Your poor flowers.” I glanced down to where she was looking. My bouquet of daisies was looking more like a bouquet of stems now. I chuckled at the sight before handing her the sorry-looking flowers. “They’re actually your poor flowers.” She looked at me with bright eyes as she slowly put down her things. A smile settled on her lips as she gently patted the flowers in her arms. “Nothing a little water can’t fix,” she whispered as she moved to her kitchen sink. She was in a plain blouse and jeans, with her hair pulled back in a simple ponytail, but she looked different. Her shoulders weren’t slumped over. Her steps seemed lighter. Was this the effect of Jackson? “You seem happy,” I mumbled, standing beside her as she cut off the ends of the stems. “Today was a good day,” she replied softly. As if naturally, she leaned closer to me so that our arms touched and it took all of my power not to pull her into my arms. I could smell her faint perfume, light citrus and sweet cotton. It was an odd combination that was uniquely hers. It was addictive. “I’m glad you stopped by today,” she confessed quietly as she put the flowers in a vase. She took my hand gently and led me into her living room area. And warmth flushed to my cheeks as an involuntary smile spread across my face. But I didn’t want to be happy. What was even happening right now? “Looks like you decided to go on that third date after all,” I finally spoke up, before cringing because I sounded more bitter than I wanted to. “Hmm?” “Jackson,” I mumbled as I took a seat on the couch. Grabbing her bag across the room, she sat down next to me. She glanced up thoughtfully. “Actually, I didn’t.” I arched my eyebrows up at her in confusion. “We decided to just be friends.” I bit at my lip to keep from smiling too widely. I waited for her to go on. “Jackson is a wonderful guy, but I could only see him as a friend.” “Then…” I paused, fiddling with my fingers nervously. Why did you stop coming? What did I do wrong? As if she knew what I was thinking, she leaned closer to me. “You were right. I do hold back a lot of the times.” “You just work at your own pace,” I defended. She shook her head against my shoulder. “No, I hold back. I am a private person. I never want to share what’s going on, but also, no one ever asks.” She turned to look at me with a smile. “And then you came along and only ever asked the right questions.” I chuckled. “And now all you do is talk, talk, talk.” She rolled her eyes, hitting my arm playfully. “Why did you visit me today?” “Why did you stop?” Without answering me, Y/N pulled her bag into her lap and began pulling out materials. “I was meeting with Jackson the past week because he knew another writer that volunteered with him at the children’s hospital.” With a huge smile, she put a loosely-binded book into my lap. “Through him, I met with an agent and a publisher,” her voice climbed an octave as she sat up with excitement. “You’re looking at the first edition of my first book.” My eyes widened as her words began to make sense. Without thinking I pulled her into my arms, squeezing her into my chest as I laughed with excitement. “That’s amazing! You’re amazing, Y/N!” She chuckled against me, her arms finding its way around me as well. “Of course, I’ll have to edit everything from the writing to the art and it’ll take months before it gets released, but the publisher liked the premise so much he gave me a contract on the spot.” Without thinking, I kissed her forehead. “You’ve worked hard for this.” Y/N cleared her throat, chuckling nervously as she pulled out of my arms. Her face was flushed as she fiddled with her thumbs and suddenly I realized…I just kissed her. “S-so t-hat’s why you haven’t been coming…” “Ah, yeah, kinda…” I looked back at her. “Kinda?” She sighed. “I’m sorry I left you hanging. The truth is that night, I realized a lot of things. It was like I was standing on my tiptoes for six months, waiting to hear the words you told me that night…when you said I was enough, I couldn’t stop crying after you left.” “I…made you cry?” I whispered nervously. “But like, tears of relief,” she reassured me, lightly placing her hand over mines. I flipped my hand over to clasp hers. She smiled at the gesture. “I kept saying I wanted to be with someone who just understood me, but there always was someone.” I smiled back when she looked at me. “Mark, I’m really glad I met you. But when you told me I was enough, I was happy but also afraid. I didn’t want to repeat my past, only finding validation in someone else’s words. Our late night talks have taught me that much at least.” I nodded my head quietly, squeezing her hand as encouragement. “So I stepped away for a little bit to do some soul searching. The words you told me had to come from myself.” “And now you have a book published.” She laughed, collapsing into my arms again. “Only a contract. It’ll be a long while until I get published.” “Look at you, speaking like a writer,” I teased. She blushed. “Only because you’ve been pushing me this whole time,” she said softly. She lifted the book on my lap, opening the cover slowly. My cheeks, my ears, my heart—warmth filled me as I read the first page. With her skin, soft against me, smelling like citrus and cotton and home, I felt myself melting against her. Dedicated to Mark—for being the moon that comforts me when the night feels too dark. “You helped me find my ending,” she whispered. She paused for a long while before looking back into my eyes. “This is really sudden and it’s okay to say no, but I was wondering if you’d like to help me with a new beginning.” I broke into a laugh as I pulled her in close. “Oh my goodness, you’re even asking me out like a writer!” “Mark!” she whined, though a smile spread across her face. “Give me a break, this is my first time!” I pulled her even closer, until our foreheads touched and I could feel her light breathing against my lips. “I hope you know, that a new beginning,” I whispered softly, gazing into her eyes. “doesn’t mean I haven’t forgotten about that dinner you owe me.” She laughed, her head leaving mines as her eyes wrinkled into happy lines. “You’re going to make me pay on the first date?” she teased. I smiled at the sound of her words. “You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for this.” “Come on, let’s not make you wait any longer then.” “It better be as extravagant as you promised.” “I know this coffee shop nearby that’s pretty fancy.” “Haha, very funny.” - He threw the quiet rabbit away. Without the little boy, all her days felt like night. The nights stretched long and dark. The quiet rabbit was afraid. But on the other side of the darkness, there lived a gentle moon. This moon watched over the quiet rabbit as she pruned her fur, as she practiced hopping until her hind legs were sore, and until her quiet voice became hoarse. And the moon loved the quiet rabbit. So he shed his light on the quiet rabbit. And nights were no longer scary. The quiet rabbit did not have the little boy by her side anymore, but she was okay. The quiet rabbit loved the gentle moon and that was enough.

[jarlenadreams]

Whispering Winds: Chapter One

Eric checked his watch once more before turning back around to check the list of flights before he moved to the window. After a few moments of watching the plane, he then chose to sit down in the bank of seats after noticing he had about an hour more to go before he could board. Finding a socket that he could plug into as he surfed the internet to kill time, he set up his laptop and scrolled through his list of contacts before finding who he wanted and began to type his email. Subject: Vacation!! Yes, this means what you think it means…. You, you lucky people get the blessing of my arrival home in 24 hours, 26 if my flight is delayed. I am tired of backpacking through Europe and being the roving photojournalist and am really looking forward to Gram’s chowder. (yes Gram, that’s a hint I’ve not eaten properly in months and no Mom, I don’t need a check up) I need to find a place to bunk so I’ll leave that to you guys to decide to fight to the death over who gets to keep me and in the famous phrase out of Allie’s book she’s reading … may the odds be ever in your favor (see, I did listen little niece when you facetimed me) Love ya’s Eric. He spell-checked it twice to humor that little voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like Dr. Marlena Evans, known more informally as his mother before hitting send. He only had screwed up once but it was enough to not forget his mother was a stickler about certain things. Closing down the email browser, he chuckled at the image on his desktop, a photo of his girlfriend and himself, his arms wrapped around her as they both grinned at his sister Carrie, who had sworn she would keep his girlfriend a surprise until he was able to get home to Salem and tell their mother when they were all together. “It’s not that she wouldn’t understand Carrie.” He replied as he sat across from her and Austin at the café in Paris. “Because Mom has the biggest heart of any one that I know. But rather…” “It’s the fact that she’s a bit out of your league?” He nodded. “Exactly.” Eric looked at it once more, smiled at the redhead in the photo and shut it. Not paying attention as he packed the laptop back into the bag at the figure approaching him, who seemed to bang into him accidentally. The other man’s hand coming to shake his in apology but looking horrified as his ring nicked the inside of Eric’s finger. “At least let me get you a coffee or something to eat as an apology?” He grinned and shook his head. “I’m good. Accidents happen all the time. Have a good day.” Orpheus nodded, a faint grin on his face as he walked away from the younger man and continued on to his flight, pausing only to remove the ring from his finger, the toxin on the tiny needle more than having done its job. Hearing the ping of his smart phone, he withdrew it from the outer pocket of his leather jacket and read the message, a frown appearing as he took the significance of the message in. “You’ve always been a coward. Leaving me to see this through….” *~*~*~*~*

Hey pretty lady?” John’s hand fell away as he came in the doorway of Marlena’s office and he caught her lost in thought, her fingers idly resting against the metal blinds that were opened to allow the sun in. “Doc?” Getting no response from her, he came in and called her name once more before coming around the desk and lightly touching her shoulder. She didn’t turn around, that lovely smile that was just for him on her face at the moment of recognizing him as she always did when she came out of her thoughts. But rather, this time her whole demeanour was different. “I know him … “ She stopped, correcting herself with a shake of her blonde head. “knew him.” Thinking that someone they knew had passed away, John asked quietly who she meant. He had no clue at all what was going to come out of her mouth next, or how it was going to take his breath away. “Knew who Doc?” “Your father… I’ve met him before. But the thing is John …” She finally did turn around and he could see the unshed tears in her eyes before her hands made the futile swipe to keep them at bay. “I don’t know how.” He blinked and wrapped his arms around her out of instinct. “I … I think I need your help John.” *~*~*~*~* Arriving home at the townhouse, John allowed her to go past him, watching her drop her computer and work bags beside the desk as she headed to change out of her work clothes before going to the couch himself and grabbing the cordless phone and making a call. “Hey it’s me. Do you have a minute?” Steven Johnson, known to the world at large as Patch, merely shook his head with a grin. “When don’t I have a moment? Kayla’s doing a late shift at work and hell if I know where my son is.” “Probably with his cousins.” John replied. “Yeah probably.” He chuckled. “But something tells me that Joey isn’t the reason for the call. What’s up?” John grinned. “No, as much as I like the kid, he isn’t but I need my partner to answer a question before I bother to call the Governor.” “You’re afraid to deal with Kim?” “Time differences don’t make for a happy Kim when I wake her up to get him.” John agreed. “You should know best of all what it’s like to wake up a Brady before they’re good and bloody ready, People have died for less mistakes.” They both laughed and Steve nudged him again about what he needed him to do. “When you and Rafe oversaw the clean up of the hideout … did the Salem PD happen to leave a clean up list of what was taken out?” Patch paused. “Anything specific?” “Like a laptop or a hard drive? Steve stopped what it was that he was fidgeting with, a look of concern on his face as he listened intently at what wasn’t been said out loud, once an ISA agent … *always* an ISA agent. “What’s brought that on man?” John glanced at the doorway leading off the living room to see if she was there, taking a moment to try and collect his thoughts on best how to answer that loaded question. Steve went to the obvious person for what he thought was John’s concern. “Is it Paul, is he still showing effects?” Closing his eyes a moment, John’s eyebrow rose as he exhaled slowly. His hand went to pinch the small of his nose and glanced again to make sure his love wasn’t in earshot as he brought his partner into the loop. “No it’s … it’s not Paul.” John answered. “It’s Doc.”

Marlena was taking off her jewelry and putting it away in the pretty inlaid box that John had gotten her from their last trip to Italy when she spotted that god forsaken medallion peeping out from under her pretty baubles. Reaching for it, she remembered a conversation that she and John had had in the clinic on San Christobal about being led to something .. shivering at that thought, she put the coin down and checked the clock on John’s side of the bed. Doing a quick mental count, she reached for her laptop and earphones. Hoping that she would catch her in. John wasn’t the only member of the family hesitant to call Kimmy when she was overseas. *~*~*~*~*~* John came to bed and found Marlena sitting cross legged in the middle of the bed, her earphones dangling around her neck, laptop on her lap and her scribbling furiously on the note pad beside her. “What’s all this?” He asked quizzically as he took in the familiar sight of his beloved wife hard at it after a consult with Kimberly. Coming around the side of the bed, he propped himself on his pillows and watched the scholar at work. “Do you remember when I came home all those years ago?” She asked, never breaking her train of thought as she continued to scribble. John’s hand shot out to still the pen. “Doc?” “I’m serious here. Do you remember when I came home. We were in your office and I offered to help you in investigating how I got home and we started at the beginning with how you were so sure I was allowed to go on my merry way?” John nodded, it was still a sore spot in his heart about how things had gone. How the primitive side of him wanted to keep her with him, but the logical side … well it led them apart and back together again so many times since. “John, I don’t know how … and I don’t know why … but I’m getting really convinced that your father was one of the people who held me.” He looked at his bandaged hands and then back at her. “What brought that on?" The fact she was able to repeat exactly what he had said to her in a language that John knew she didn’t and couldn’t speak before hand, was proof enough as he reached out and took her tiny hand in his own. “John, I think we need help… *I* need help.” John brought her hand to his lips, feeling a little more worried with each passing heartbeat that he was starting to think he could hear in his ears. “I shouldn’t have let him bite that pill."

~*~*~*~*~* The hit should have been so easy, in and out. Lord only knew the number of times he had undertaken one of these over the years, but only in hind sight was Eduardo Hernandez able to say that the target had thrown him off and he had to think fast on his feet. His gun was drawn, he was right on top of the target and yet the man in front of him was *not* the target, but he knew him very well. Winterthorne’s motto was not death before disloyalty for nothing. “Failure is not an option and yet here I am in front of one of the only two who failed me as a brother.”

Orpheus merely smirked up at him. It had been surprisingly easy to get into Salem. Under the very radar of the two men who destroyed his world all those years ago. With a well-placed bribe here and there to various people including the target of Hernandez’s rage upon his arrival, he replaced the other man and it was all it took. They started fighting in the back, Orpheus’s weight was enough to throw Ed’s aim off target, taking out the driver and knocking everyone else out. Orpheus soon had his arm across his enemy’s throat as he smirked, the emotion not reaching his eyes as he tilted his head. “Death before disloyalty… I wonder why you’ve never lived up to that yet. Lord only knows how you’ve managed to mess this up. But you won’t tell anyone. Because this will all fall on you.” He cocked the gun and fired ...

~*~*~*~* “I’m not feverish, I’m fine but I’m telling you that yes I think I need you to call in favors.” And that was exactly how John knew she was scared senseless. They had been at loggerheads over his involvement with the ISA over the past few weeks. Now she was willing for him to do this? Marlena batted her hands at him to get him to stop the conversation and moved to go put her laptop away as she heard the cell phone on John’s side go off. “I think that’s for you Sailor.” “Don’t think that this is over.” John muttered. “You can speak a language that I’ve never heard you speak in all these years. We are going to figure this out.” He hit select and went out of the room. Marlena turned back around as he shook his head with a smile. “That was Brady.” Their boy was always a sore spot within her man’s heart. So many mistakes and yet they were trying to rebuild their relationship. If not for Brady himself, but for the tiny infant who stole his grandfather’s heart. “And?” She came to him and smiled back at him. “What did the prodigal son of ours have to say JB?” “I’m going to be his best man.” Marlena burst out laughing at his reaction, thinking he was joking, but soon grew serious. “You do realize you’re going to have to stand beside him as he says his vows to her right? Can you do that for him?” John shrugged slightly. “If I want to see my son and his boy .. I may not like Theresa Donovan, but I can be fair. She has grown up around them. Our grandson is good for her.” “And you can put what she did in the past? Because I look at her and sometimes I think I can’t. We lost so much time because of her actions.” He smiled, cupping her face in his hands before he leaned in and kissed her slowly but very oh so very thoroughly. Studying her dazed expression, John grinned. “But we’re making up for that and more. I can move past. But I have not forgotten.” This time the phone that rang was hers and John turned her around with a laugh and a smack to her shapely ass as he pushed her forward. “Go answer that, I need to get changed, we’re going to TBD to their par..par..” “Engagement Party.” Marlena merrily replied to his groan of disgust and answered the phone. *~*~*~*~* Brady hugged his brother and stepped back. "You owe me." Eric grinned. "So I can chalk this up to jet lag. Time zones are a bitch." "Well we're glad to share our night with you cousin." Theresa smiled sweetly, surprising both men before flouncing off to find her friend Anne. Eric looked dazed and pointed at her. "Who is that again?" "Motherhood." Brady offered lamely. "Or the incredibly shiny ring on her hand." The boys burst out laughing until Brady noticed Eric wasn't looking right. "Are you alright?" He nodded. "Must have just been a bug I picked up on the flight." "Where's the lady you were bringing with you?" Eric rolled his eyes. "Who *didn't* Carrie tell?" "Our mother." Brady grinned cheerfully. Eric blinked and went behind the bar to get a bottle of water. "The redhead over there. Her name is Serena... Serena Mason."

[nedcanquen]

Le Loupgarou - Chapter 1 (NedCanWeek 2017 - Sun/Moon)

It’s NedCan week! That means it’s time to crank out some fic that still features our favorite couple but is a little different from Mr 7th Floor (I try anyway). 

This fic is short multi-chaptered thing to fulfill several of the prompts for NedCan week. This first chapter fulfills day 2: Sun/Moon.

Way back when I tried to write a fic about 17th-century trade wars, I wrote about a Matthew/Matthieu who was French/Wendat (Huron) and escaped the genocide of his people as a result of the Beaver Wars by living for a time with Jesuits. I took that basic premise to write another Matthew/Matthieu.

Tags: Werewolf AU, supernatural, Historical AU.

Pairings: NedCan

Image from Pexels.

Eastern Canada - early 1700s

It came from Europe. It certainly was not a monster that was native to his home, Matthieu could tell by how clumsily it moved through the forest. ‘Moved’, more like stumbling and crashing, as bad as those new traders fresh off the boat who got themselves killed within the first day - those who had no business being here. Sometimes Matthieu wondered about his unknown father, who had given him his too-pale skin, hair and eyes, physical attributes that made these newcomers seek him out for business more readily than they did his kin. Still, their goods were of good quality, and hunting a creature this clumsy would be easy.

So Matthieu hunted - not just for the tools, tobacco, fur, and other products worth a fortune in trade, but also because he didn’t want some foreign menace tearing his home apart - foreign diseases, an animal that could easily feast on too many native ones to throw everything off balance. He’d already seen what such things could do, he’d kill any new thing before it could do that.

He was lucky it was summer, otherwise he wouldn’t have been able to track it for this long. But now he’s willing to speed up. It’s time to end this. He had tracked it for most the night under the light of the full moon, and whatever it was, it wasn’t trying to hide, or couldn’t. Broken branches, scattered leaves, blood and the smell of something foreign in the wind assaulted Matthieu’s senses. He works alone, even though he grew up doing this in a group of young boys, then men, just like him. But now his people are gone, and Matthieu has no one to work with. The Beaver Wars have all but decimated the only people he had ever known. The only reason he’s alive, is because he favors his father’s looks. His mother’s brother had brought him to a French settlement when they heard the enemy was coming, and the Jesuit brothers adopted him without question.

He exists between two worlds and belongs to none, like the land he was born in, in conflict - fought over between nations that have no business being here but they are transforming it nonetheless. His ability to hide and blend in between all these peoples, to speak their languages - to disappear into the forest, or town or port when he needs to - keep him alive. It’s a lonely life, but it’s the only one that he now knows. In his early and more naive years, Matthieu refused to work for any of the Europeans unless they were French, he also would not look at any Haudenosaunee (the Iroquois) if he could help it - those who killed his mother and took his cousins from him. As he grew older, his attitude and practicality had to change. The way he saw things, the English were going to win and if he were to survive, he would have to learn to at least live with them. He was making progress with that but it was still difficult to accept the Dutch - the ones who sold his people’s enemies their weapons without reserve, who had sealed the fate of his family. Until yesterday at least.

They had sought him out - Matthieu had built a reputation for himself as a guide, tracker and hunter. He accepted few jobs but it appeared that despite their parsimonious reputation, these Dutchmen were willing to pay him a lot of money.

Maybe he should have hired more to join, but there was something about this deal that made him suspicious - too good to turn down, which would mean a knife in the back as soon as the job was done. But also odd. There was something those Dutch sailors were refusing to tell him, it was in their stiff manner when they presented to him the silver bullets to kill the thing with.

The tracks seemed to confirm part their story at least, or what Matthieu could understand from their clumsy command of his language - large beast, brought for labor, escaped, kill on sight. The few things that didn’t make sense were the last two descriptors of the ‘beast’ - dangerous, intelligent. For the first few hours, Matthieu had been cautious, convinced that the beast was leading him into a trap, with how obvious the trail was. The other curious thing was, there seemed to be three tracks - a man’s, a wolf’s and the beast the sailors spoke of. It’s possible another hunter and his dog was also trailing this beast, which was the other reason Matthieu was cautious - some would kill before sharing possible spoils - but now he is not so sure.

It is only now that the third possibility occurs to him and he freezes in fear, could it be? No, but…? Their hesitance to talk, the special bullets. Matthieu is young, confident, stupid and has lived apart from his people for too long if he was only putting this together now. But if it’s European how can it be a Wendigo?! And it’s summer! Matthieu banishes his banal thoughts and is able to move again. There was no wisdom that said Wendigos were native only to his land, that was like saying that those baser instincts such as greed, hunger and desperation were unique to his people - why would such a creature be restricted to his own home? But Matthieu had stopped believing in Wendigo during his time with the Jesuits, not because they had convinced him entirely about the truth of God, but because if Wendigo were real, this whole land would be covered with them. The wars had proven that all the nations were selfish and greedy enough to be filled with nothing but Wendigo. But now Matthieu’s mind returns to his childhood and considers. Yes, Wendigo were said to hibernate in summer but they could be awoken.

Had those fools attempted to trap and use one for profit? For labour? Knowing how greedy these traders could be, how dismissive of things they could not see in front of their own eyes and calculate the worth of, it wouldn’t surprise him. And wouldn’t a European Wendigo be just as hopeless navigating his forests as a fresh European man would be?

Whatever it is, it is too late to leave and come back with a full party to lay traps, though it is likely smarter to do so. Matthieu’s curiosity is getting the best of him, as it always does. He carefully, quietly, takes his musket and moves on. The tracks show that the creature has hunted, and is slowing. The trail of blood tells Matthieu it is eating but there’s no evidence of an animal’s neat eating habits here, it is more akin to a human that has starved for days. The scent is getting stronger now, and it’s growing lighter around him, soon the sun will rise. The beast is slowing almost to a stop, so he guesses it has found a place to hide during the day, after the mess it has made overnight. Matthieu quietly climbs a tall rock to get a better shot. He will lose all advantage of surprise if he misses.

What he sees doesn’t really resemble any Wendigo he’s heard about, but the stories range. This beast is covered in heavy grey fur with a hint of a reddish hue. It looks more like a giant wolf than a man, save for its very long hind legs and the clear sign of five fingers and toes rather than paws, albeit with claws. It feeds on a wild boar, which says something about the strength this creature must have despite how clumsy it is in the forest.

Matthieu takes aim, and he’s about to shoot when the first ray of sunlight hits the creature and it freezes, turning abruptly, which makes Matthieu lose his shot. The rest, well, it makes him freeze.

Though the face has a long snout, it’s eyes are nothing like any wolf’s eyes that Matthieu has ever seen. They’re confused and afraid, and they’re green - green like a grassy field. And human.

What Matthieu sees next freezes him in his spot. The creature seems to fight itself, reaching towards the sunlight and snapping back, snarling at it, before inevitably crawling into it, submissive and defeated. Then the change happens and the thing howls in agony - fur falls off in matted clumps to reveal pale flesh, the claws turn brittle and fall off, bones painfully crack into a different shape and the snout shortens back to a man’s face. The howl turns into a human scream and doesn’t end. The man screams himself hoarse as he curls up in pain, his body outside of his control. The sound and sight makes Matthieu’s heart clench in his chest, tears of sympathy sting his eyes. It’s difficult to witness anything endure this kind of pain but he knows he can’t do anything to help, at least not yet.

Matthieu has no idea how much time has passed from the beginning of the transformation to when it seems to have ended, but the man now lies on his back, staring into the sky at nothing. He breathes heavily and tears run down his blood-streaked face. His eyes are the same.

Those eyes flicker to him and widen slightly, before closing. When he opens his eyes, they’re dull. Matthieu only now realizes that he’s breathing just as hard, he can barely process everything that he has just seen. But if nothing else, he knows this isn’t a Wendigo - Wendigo do not change back.

The man speaks, but Mattieu narrows his eyes, he can’t understand Dutch. He jumps down from his rock and walks closer. It’s probably stupid, there’s no guarantee that this man is harmless just because he’s now naked and appears weak but…Matthieu also knows he’s not going to kill him right at this moment, unless he obviously threatens him.

The man freezes for a time but doesn’t close his eyes. He looks at Matthieu in confusion then and tries again. “French?”

Matthieu nods. “Yes, if I must.”

He nods. “I just said, if you’re going to help me, help me. If not, then to get on with it and kill me. I’m too damn tired to fight.”

Matthieu narrows his eyes, still pointing his musket at the man. He knows that the likelihood of him killing the man are rapidly dropping but he still wants answers. “What are you?”

The eyes close with pain. “Loupgarou.” The man sighs as if that’s the answer. Matthieu doesn’t know that word, though he thinks he knows half of it. Loup means ‘wolf’, but garou…? The man speaks. “They said if I laboured for them I could earn a cure. The others...when I met the others I knew it was a lie.”

Others? “There are more like you? How are you-”

“A wolf bites us, or a dog, I don’t fucking know anymore. Sometimes you just get sick and die, sometimes nothing happens, sometimes you turn into a loupgarou - every full moon, you have to change. You have to leave everyone you know, or you may hurt them, so if you’re going to help me, point me to water and let me go, or shoot me and be done with it!”

Matthieu makes a split decision that he hopes he won’t regret. He has no idea why he’s doing it, except that the alternatives feel wrong. While the man is still too exhausted to move, after this latest outburst, Matthieu sets down his travel bag and pulls out spare clothes and dampens a cloth with some water.

“What are you doing?!”

“Dressing you. After this, I will give you water, and you will help me cut up that boar you managed to kill. If it isn’t sick, we’ll cook and eat some and then, you are going to help me bring it back to my home, we’ll dry and preserve it, and I won’t have to hunt for weeks. On the way you can help me think of something to tell the sailors who hired me to kill you, so that they will leave you alone.”  

The man looks incredulous. “Wh...No! You can’t keep me around! Didn’t you hear me? I’m a threat, I’m dangerous!”

“Once every full moon.” Matthieu scoffs. “Which has just passed. Which means we have a month to figure out what to do with you. Now stop whining and make yourself useful. Do you have a name Mr Loupgarou? Or is that what I’m expected to call you?”

The man makes a face. Impossibly terrifying but Matthieu knows he’s just trying to cover his own terror, and perhaps surprise. Matthieu holds his ground and stares right back at the man. Finally the other relents. “This is supposed to be a new world. Why don’t you give me a name?”

Matthieu chuckles without much humor. He wonders if the man can understand what a new name truly means. Matthieu is lucky to still have his, a French name for the French father he never knew, though he had often wished he had a more common name among his nation when he was younger. But his cousins who had those Wendat names had been taken by the Haudenosaunee. If they survived, according to the customs of war, they had by now been given the names of those who had died before them. Matthieu, one of the few survivors of his nation, got to keep his name, only because it had never belonged to that nation to begin with. The world he was born in was dying so fast, so maybe the man had a point about new names and new beginnings. “You may regret leaving that choice up to me. Come on.”

Matthieu stops and looks back after he hears no footsteps behind him. He freezes at the expression the man has on his face. Matthieu doesn’t know what to call it - amazement? Amazement and disbelief with something else he’s never seen before. He feels a rush of heat to his face. It’s not fear, though the rush of adrenaline is familiar. Matthieu figures it’s just exhaustion from the night and it’s time to return home. Thankfully the man realizes that Matthieu is not leaving without him and moves. They return in relative silence.

Notes:

Matthieu was born into the Wendat nation, more commonly known as the Huron, who lived north of present-day Lake Ontario (in what is now the province of Ontario). From what I could discover online, ‘Huron’ was a name given to this nation by the French (it meant something like ‘ruffian’) so they didn’t call themselves that. It’s sadly difficult to discover accurate information about Canada’s First Nation’s online, but when I tried to find out what this nation would have called itself, Wendat was what I could find. I may be wrong, and if I am, please let me know and I will change it. 

The Haudenosaunee Confederacy are more commonly known to us as the Iroquiois, again, ‘Iroquois’ is not the name that this nation called itself, it was coined by the Algonquin, who were allied with the Wendat/Huron. The word means ‘enemy’. The Iroquois lived kinda south and east of Lake Ontario (present-day New York...yeah in my other fic, Matthieu is Wendat/Huron, and Alfred was born to the People of the Flint/Mohawk, who were part of the Haudenosaunee Confederacy...it was all kinds of interesting for their relationship as brothers). 

The Beaver Wars were fought for monopoly over the beaver fur trade (and other reasons) and while the French were allied to the Algonquin and Wendat/Huron, the Iroquois were allied with the English and the Dutch, the latter of which made a lot of money off selling weapons to fuel the war. The war ended with an Iroquois victory and the near genocide of the Wendat/Huron, not entirely by blood (though there was a lot of killing), but also through forced assimilation. Captives were taken in by the victorious side, given different names and from then on became Haudenosaunee. Another reason for the wars is believed to be that the Haudenosaunee were trying to replace the people they lost due to European diseases. There was a custom that prisoners of war were adopted into the victorious nation and given the names of those who had died before them, so some of Matthieu’s cousins are actually alive, they’re just not legally his cousins anymore.  

Loupgarou is French for ‘werewolf’. 

Again, any mistakes in facts are all mine. 

[taekwondorkjosh]

Meta about Tail-Fighting Techniques part 1: Stance and Style

Andalite Tails are regularly described as faster than the human eye can follow. Now, this description comes almost exclusively from the eyes of children. Children with no martial arts experience. So, I believe this description is, if described more literally, “The tail moves so fast I blink and flinch a little, missing the actual movement,” which is a very common thing to do when ANYONE moves rapidly.

Also, we can assume that Andalites are made of similar elements as humans. Never once does Ax mention a dietary issue in the books, I’m pretty sure. Mertil and Gafinilan have no health issues (aside the obvious one T_T), and we can assume that their atmosphere is very similar. Aside from the tail element I mentioned in previous meta, we are made from the same materials.

As such, it would be impossible for such a creature to accelerate part of its body at some of the speeds the children describe Andalite Tails moving at without causing SEVERE damage to their own body. If a human was able to punch at 200 miles per hour, their arm would likely dislocate! God forbid it make contact with anything. The impact would shatter the bones in the hand, even more so than a normal punch can break your hand.

So, lets assume that Andalite Tail Speed is something a little more manageable than mach-two hahahahaha.

Martial arts in general can usually be broken down into concepts and overall emphasis on certain techniques. Andalite Military Tail-Fighting, called AMTF from here on, would have an emphasis on sudden, sharp attacks, distracting and interrupting your opponent’s field of vision, and mobility.

In a one-on-one, Andalite versus Andalite fight, AMTF would involve Andalites facing dead-on with their opponent. This would allow their torso to block line-of-sight to their haunches and Tail Mount, where the majority of tail-strikes begin. Andalite eyes are great for seeing around and up and everywhere, but they can’t see around or through objects. To further disrupt line-of-sight, an Andalite uses their hands and their wide, expressive ears to try and block the stalk eyes of their opponent as they try to look at the Andalite’s hind end. The ready position of the tail is a vertical half-circle with the blade hovering above the rear legs. Some rookie Andalites keep their tail blades further forward, but this makes it very easy for more experienced fighters to target the vulnerable parts of the tail itself, and also cuts down on the ability to generate power. The rear legs are bent slightly, shifting the weight to the rear end and also lowering the Tail Mount, making it harder to see.

The main eyes are expected to keep focus with their enemy’s main eyes. The eyes are often the guide to where the Andalite will attempt to attack, but it is not always so. Experienced fighters almost never break eye-contact with one another. One stalk eye is meant to continue watching their surroundings at all times, though in one-on-one duels the second stalk eye will usually remain focused on the tail tip of their opponent. The other stalk eye is supposed to try and peer through their opponents defenses and pay close attention to the tail mount and rear haunches. The hands are held about level with the shoulders, usually wide open, and one remains mostly stationary until a strike is performed. The other hand regularly moves around, trying to block the sight of the other Andalite’s stalk eye. This blocking hand rarely moves forward, as moving a hand towards an enemy can get it cut off. Andalite tails are usually faster than Andalite arms, after all. When attacking, the hands often have to move in order to get away from the deadly blade and any recoil from a block, as well as to add speed to their torso’s movement. 

When fighting multiple enemies, be they Andalite or not, Andalites will use this position, but will not settle back on their hind legs for more than a few strikes. They will prance about, bouncing off their hind legs and moving a few steps around their opponents. They will often try and keep one opponent between them and the other opponents, strike, and use their immense Andalite speed to circle and pick another foe to target. Against groups of Andalites, this often results in very long, arduous fights. Against other foes, such as Hork-Bajir or humans, an Andalite usually only needs a single strike to take one down and this strategy works very well.

[onceuponaredstring]

☾ || Hunting was illegal in these woods. Sora’s pack had made sure of that decades ago for obvious reasons. 

So by the time Axel realized what the cold metal under his paw was, the harsh teeth of the bear trap had already snapped closed, biting into his ankle and ripping as he tumbled to a stop with a yelp.

In a panic, Axel pulled in it’s grip but the metal only dug further into his flesh. And it burned. Each erratic pump of his heart drew a fire further through his veins. He cursed in his head, snarled aloud; tried to get a grip on the trap with his teeth and burned the roof of his mouth.

As the fire spread, Axel threw his head back and howled, low and desperate in hopes that someone from his pack might hear. It was early in the night, the last tendrils of purple still clung to the horizon but maybe one of his packmates would be out for a run trying to chase off the restlessness in their bones like he’d been.

“No one will hear you all the way out here.” 

Axel’s head snapped around to look back over his shoulder. 

The voice belonged to a young human - definitely human though Axel could smell the tang of vampires on their clothing - swathed in the warmth of a long coat and a thick scarf and well armed. The barrel of a rifle peeked up over their shoulder, a magnum holstered at their hip. The silver knife strapped to their leg erased any hope that maybe it was just a poacher, in over their head in the wrong neck of the woods.

Oh.

Oh no.

Axel was suddenly very aware that he was on the wrong side of a monster movie as the hunter circled slowly, tapping a baton against their own hand as they eyed up their prize.

"You're a tough one," the young hunter praised, looking mildly impressed, "Most of your kind would have shifted back by now." Axel knew they were right, he could feel the silver burning his skin at every point the trap pierced it. He almost wished he could turn back right then, if only to spit on their shoes.

His jowls pulled up with a snarl, all sharp teeth and malice as he tugged at the traps hold. The chain holding it to the thick trunk of a nearby tree rattled against his weight.

The hunter laughed.

"Don't struggle too much now, you'll ruin your pelt." 

Axel snarled again. He’d rip the whole leg off if it meant he didn’t die to some cocky son of a bitch in the woods behind his own home.

He had a pack to return to damn it.

With all three of his free limbs under him, Axel lurched forward, snapping at the hunter just out of reach of his tether. The bark of the tree sliced off with his efforts, blood pouring from his wound and over the cold metal holding him there.

"Sonofa-" The hunter gasped, stumbling back a few feet from their prey. "They said you'd be a hard catch, mutt." 

Already an oversized wolf, Axel’s hair bristled as the hunter reached for their gun giving even more mass to an already intimidating form. 

Fuck you, he growled and lunged again. Wood splintered behind him and a bullet grazed his flank.

Another lurch and his leg slipped free of its binding, stripping fur and flesh and sending him tumbling forward. Axel was up again in a moment, fueled by adrenaline and spite alone.

The second bullet barely missed his head.

The third buried itself in the meat of his shoulder, silver sizzling in the dense muscle and bringing him to the ground as both his right legs crumpled under his weight. Still snarling, he tried to stand only to catch a solid thwack to the face, fur burning away where the stun baton connected dropping his head to the dirt.

Axel’s vision blurred as a growled at the hunter. Two? No, he was sure it was only the one. 

The air sizzled as they recharged the baton, preparing for another swing.

Dried leaves cluttered his mouth where he lay on the forest floor, anything the hunter said drowned out by the beat of his own heart in his head. 

Quiet and warbled, Axel howled. He howled a familiar tune, or as close as he could. The same whistle as the one Roxas used to call for him across campus when he wanted lunch, across town late at night when he’d been thinking too hard. 

Another hit knocked him out, the hunter quieting his pitiful sounds.

✩ || Axel woke with a whimper, teeth clenched to the point of aching.

He remembered the bear trap, the hunter. A brief glimpse of muted blond? Blood. Pain.

It could well have all been a dream if it wasn’t for the ache that had become his entire being.

His leg hurt most he thought first; it throbbed relentlessly with each beat of his heart. But the more he woke, the worse the rest of him felt. In the end though, his stomach must have been the worst of it all, empty and churning like it would eat him alive itself…

“You moved him.”

It took longer than it should to place Vincent’s voice in his head. What was his father doing here?

"I couldn't just leave him out there in the cold!" Oh, Roxas was there too! The soft smell of orchids made more sense then, faint under the metallic smell of blood that made his stomach growl.

Or maybe that was him.

With effort, Axel cracked open a single eye. The other seemed to be pressed against Roxas’ thigh and judging from the muted colors, Axel was pretty sure he was still a wolf. It was probably for the best, Roxas humored him more when he was shifted anyway.

"Did you do this?" A needle pressed into his shoulder, Vincent crouched just outside of his sight. Axel would have blanched at the feeling of his skin tugging back together under the tight sutures if he’d been human.

"Yes. It was-" A pitiful whine left the large canine when Roxas choked on his words, "It was silver, Vincent. He was in so much pain..."

"You did good, Little One," Vincent praised and Axel took comfort in the familiar name. His father wasn’t particularly big on emotion but there was quiet gratitude in his voice.

The wolf blinked up at Roxas. The blond’s gaze was trained off to the right but his eyes… Axel had never seen them so bright. He didn’t get much of a chance to admire them though, his own eye squeezing tight as diligent hands lifted his hind leg gently. A small hand flew to pet comfortingly at the back of his head when Axel growled, low and involuntary, as Vincent examined his wound.

Axel could feel those eyes on his face.

"Why isn't he healing?" He didn’t understand, Roxas’ words suddenly foreign to his ears.

"Wolfsbane." Axel’s chest rumbled with another growl under his father’s answer. It sounded French but.. older. Before his time. He hated when Vincent did that. “And I’m sure he hasn’t fed recently.”

A warm cloth dabbed at his raw skin and Axel was certain the two could hear his teeth grind as his leg was bandaged in tight dressing.

When he opened his eye again, Roxas was looking down at him with a look so distraught that he tried picking his head up to lick his face just to get the blond to groan and push him away like he always did.

“No, no he has not.” Axel wasn’t sure what he hadn’t done but he weakly nuzzled the hand that came to rest against his snout. A thumb stroked under his eye, mindful of where the baton had struck him, as Roxas watched him intently.

The hand soon slipped away but only far enough to let his wrist brush the side of the wolf’s muzzle and Axel didn’t understand why his shocked inhale against his pulse brought a small smile to his boyfriend’s lips.

Distantly he heard his father stand with a quiet warning, “Roxas…” but it was hard to care when all he could focus on was his stomach and the temptation of a fluttering beat just below soft skin.

Axel whimpered and Roxas pushed his wrist against his nose again with purpose. Promise. Bright blue eyes demanded he give in and Axel didn’t have enough functioning brain cells to deny him.

He heard a growl as the taste of iron hit his tongue, his teeth held pleasantly in the flesh it poured from, and belatedly realized that must be him making all the noise as he drank greedily from the blond. A hand was back on his neck again, stroking as Roxas shushed him almost fondly. 

Human. Human blood coursed through Roxas’ veins and he bit down harder just to feel it gush. It chased away some of the burn in his own and left a warmth in its wake that made his tail thump slowly against the couch he’d been placed on.

“That’s enough, Axel.” By the time the petting hand closed around the back of his neck - suggesting, warning - his stomach felt full, his own eyes bright and hooded with satisfaction and exhaustion in equal parts. His jaw unlatched lazily as Roxas went back to carding his fingers through his dense fur while his arm slowly knit itself closed.

☽ || The redhead wasn’t sure when he'd fallen asleep again, but this time he woke with a start. The room was dark and he recognized the soft sheets under him as those from the bed in Roxas’ apartment. He had hands this time to rub at his face as he sat up with a groan, pulling them away with a wince as the skin over his eye proved sensitive. 

The clock on the nightstand read 8:21AM in bold red letters and Axel almost let himself fall back into the mattress before he realized he wasn’t alone.

Roxas was there next to him, one arm still tucked beneath the pillow under his head as he watched him silently. 

Axel briefly wondered if the brightness of his eyes had only been a dream.

His boyfriend continued to watch him with that unreadable kind of stare, he couldn’t even hear him breathing for god’s sake which probably meant he’d just decided not to, until Axel began to squirm. Only then did he pat the bed beside him, beckoning the redhead back to the rare treat of cuddles.

Roxas pressed his face to his chest when he settled back down, right above his heart, careful of his bandaged shoulder, and brought Axel’s hand to the back of his own head himself. The tension left the blond’s shoulders when long fingers finally thread through his hair like he’d been daring Axel to question him.

He could hear the breath fill Roxas’ lungs again after that, feel it puff chilled against his covered skin. 

Of course Roxas had dressed him. He hoped it had been Roxas at least.

At length, the blond pushed back against his hand, demanding enough give to look up at him, “Don’t you ever do that again, Idiot.”

[lucydarkhive]

SoulmateTale Chapter 2

"Hm? What the-?!" Asriel sputtered, his eyes widened at the sight of something large quickly approaching down the river. How'd she even get in there in the first place?! "Ch-Chara! Come quick!" He shouted whilst he continued to check on the approaching figure.

"What is it, Asriel?" The brunette asked as she approached the panicked furry. He hastily pointed towards the river and spoke once again. "There's something big in the river! It kinda looks like a body..." The teen goat monster gave a worried glance to his human when she didn't say anything after a moment.

"Get the rope, Azzy." She replied calmly, pulling her hair up into a bun before pulling off her shoes. "C'mon! Don't drag your paws! Hurry up!" Her snappish words made the boy jolt into action, quickly scurrying over to the rope they used to play tug-o-war with a few of the other monsters that'd already headed back to the village. Soon he returned and handed Chara the rope, who in turn, began to tie it around her waist.

"What are you gonna do?" Asriel asked as he tilted his head, his floppy ears falling with gravity. She gave him an incredulous look before handing him the opposite end of the rope and heading over into the river. "That's a human in the river." She replied. It didn't take him long to piece together what she was doing and immediately followed her until he was just a few steps away from the bank. "Oh god, Chara be careful!" He shouted out to her, holding the rope firmly after giving it enough slack for her to be able to reach the person drifting with the current. "Careful is my middle name Azzy! I'll be fine." The brunette called back, waiting a bit for the body to float closer to grab her arm.

Though, once she did she hadn't expected the current to try and take her too. "Oomph! Shit! Fuck! Asriel pull!" She shouted, grip tightening on the body whilst she tried to regain her footing on the slippery, rocky bottom. But she didn't struggle for long, the goat monster holding the other end of the rope quickly reeled them in and helped them both out of the water with little struggle. Chara couldn't help the coughs that erupted from her throat as her lungs expelled the excess water that had trapped itself within. "D-damn that was close.." She chuckled softly once her coughing fit calmed. She caught her breath a few moments after, and turned to look over the human she pulled out the river. Upon closer inspection she could see that she'd pulled out a girl, and she had a nasty bite on her leg. "Go get mom, she probably swallowed too much water and passed out. Make it quick too!" The female spoke, her hands already pumping on the other girls chest, trying to make her cough up the water.

Asriel nodded and hopped to his feet, immediately heading back towards the village. His powerful legs carrying him hastily, thankfully they weren't too far away and he was able to be quick like Chara had asked him to be. "Mom! Mom!! Come quick!" The teenager called, bursting through the door nearly tracking the older woman down.

"Asriel?" She gave him a concerned yet confused look at his urgency only to be pulled back towards the door. "No time to explain! We've gotta get back to Chara!" At the mention of her other child her face paled. "Is she alright?! Did something happen while you all were out?!" She questioned, picking up her pace to hurry after the bounding teen monster. "No, that's not it." He called back, skidding to a halt in front of Chara and the other human girl.

Toriel furrowed her brows at her sons vagueness. "Asriel, what- oh. Oh dear.. is she alright?" She asked, kneeling down next to her other child. "I believe so, she woke up for a moment, but then she went back under...I think she might have a concussion. After I made sure she'd coughed up all the water on her lungs I noticed that she was bleeding from the back of her head." As she explained she carefully rolled the unconscious girl's head to the side to show her mother. The goat woman gasped quietly before immediately placing a hand to the wound pooling healing magic into it without a second thought. As she did so she scanned her for any more injuries, though unable to locate any other ones aside from the gash upon her left leg. She winced at the sight and applied a bit of magic to that wound too just to help it heal a bit better after they got her back home.

The next time she came to she nearly blacked out once again. Panic entered her veins like a wildfire as she struggled to grasp her surroundings, it took a moment for her to realize that the feeling of her being pulled off with the current of the river was just that. A feeling. Frantically, she gripped at the front of her jacket only to find out that she no longer had it on. Oh god, wh-where's my jacket?! A ragged breath left her and she gently closed her eyes, gathering her thoughts before she accidentally forced herself into another panic attack. Once she knew she'd fully calmed she reopened her eyes and sat up, wincing at the sharp throb that coursed through her skull. "Fuuuuuuuck...ugh my head.." Grabbing at the back of her head she curled into herself, bringing her knees up to cradle the thumping pain away. Yet, she felt another pain rocket through her leg as she brought them both to her chest. Was it bodily pain Wednesday? It wasn't until after the ache subsided did she notice that she was pretty much covered in bandages. Not only that, but she was in a bed..? Carefully she lifted her head to look around, examining her surroundings more. Exactly, how did she get here?

"Oh, you're awake! I'm so glad! We were beginning to grow worried you'd never wake up." A voice interrupted her gathering thoughts, and she couldn't help but to glance up in the direction of the voice.

A...goat..?

"Wh-what the hell?!" The monster must've been just as startled as she was at first, but then she, she giggled. What the heck! It was obvious by the way her back pressed into the headboard and hands gripped the covers that she was more than a bit on edge by all this.

"Please my child, relax. I am not going to hurt you. My name is Toriel, my children fished you out of the river a few days ago. And I must say, you're quite the sturdy little human." She reassures, carefully setting a piece of pie at her bedside table. The scent filled her senses and she felt herself salivate until her words sink in. "Wait.. "A few days ago"?" Confusion built up in her as she attempted to grasp what she was saying, "Um, how long have I been asleep?" As Frisk awaited her answer she began to reach for the pie, her stomach growling rather loudly in turn making me blush crimson whilst I took small timid bites. "How long? Oh, around two days. Almost three." Embarrassed at the loudness of her growling stomach she ducked her head down until her answer sunk in. Th-three days?! Frisk hissed at the pain rocketing through her head at her being stupid and jolting upright. "Almost three whole days?!" She croaked reaching to grasp her dry throat, goodness that explained so much now.

"You alright in here mom?" Another voice was now added to the mix, along with a new face. One similar to the first, only, they looked far more masculine than the woman beside me. She looked over her shoulder at the boyish looking goat monster and nodded, her kind smile never leaving her face. "Oh, of course Asriel. Our guest was just surprised by how long she was sleep. Though, I don't think I can blame her for being so surprised." Toriel giggled, turning back to face me. "Oh, she's awake? Good! We all were getting pretty worried considering your wounds weren't really all that bad." He replied, allowing his eyes to rest on my hidden leg.

After a moment Frisk grew curious and pulled the cover away, wanting to examine the damage herself. When she got a good look her eyes widened, sure, it was lightly wrapped in bandages. But she could feel that there was a dull throb that now coursed through her bandages than when she first got the infliction. Slowly, she inched towards the edge of the bed placing the bandaged leg down first and pressing it into the floor, testing how much it'd healed. Upon glancing up she could tell that they both were watching to see if she was going to fall or anything. She didn't know why, but knowing that one of them showed the possibility of catching her if she were to topple over gave her a feeling of... DETERMINATION to try and get on up on my own. Once Frisk placed both feet against the ground she stood, wobbling only slightly due to the quick motions. It felt odd, standing after being immobile after practically three days but much like riding a bike, you can never fully forget how to walk. It seemed like her progress on healing was going far better than either of them expected. But like Toriel had said; she's a pretty sturdy little human. Carefully she bounced on the balls of her feet, easing the pain gradually until she knew she could most likely walk with little to no struggle at all.

"Ah, dear child, would you like to finish your pie?" Toriel offered, gently urging her to finish the abandoned pie. With a slight nod she picked the piece back up from its plate and slowly begin to eat once again, watching with keen interest as she carefully eyed the two monsters. They both were ginormous compared to her, then again she only stood at about 5'7-5'9" while they definitely stood at 6'10 or greater. They were for sure more than a foot or so taller than she was. White fur covered their bodies with clawed paws to match, but as threatening as they looked. She could tell that they both were, or rather, could be very sweet. They had fangs protruding from their muzzle of a mouth showing off their light airy smiles which gave her a sense of warmth. Toriel had a small but sharp pair of horns sticking out the top of her crown while Asriel had slightly longer ones that curved inward towards the end. In hind sight they looked kind of like twins, save for Asriel being the taller one and having bright green eyes to complement the shirt he was adorning compared to Toriel's soft brown ones.

In the wake of her finishing the treat, Toreil smiled and carefully took the plate from her hands. "Now, my dear. We have a few questions to ask of you. Just as I'm sure you have some for us." She wasn't wrong, Frisk did have some questions. But, that was common when a person woke up in a foreign environment. With a nod of confirmation Toriel smiled and rose from her seat by the bed and turned on her hind legs. "When you're ready please meet us downstairs my child." And with that she and Asriel left the teen alone.

Frisk took her time before she decided to go downstairs. She first located her regular clothes to put on instead of going down there in the long robe she currently adorned. As much as she didn't want to think about it she prayed that they hadn't removed her tank top in order to put this on. With a twinge of nervousness that shook her hands she unzipped the robe and let it fall to the floor beneath her. Relief filled her at the sight of the blue silk-like fabric of her thin tank top, it meant they hadn't seen what was underneath which was good. It meant there wouldn't be any questions on those things. She then took a bit more time to examine herself, taking notes on the small bandages that adorned her body, most likely from the scrapes and cuts she received on her way down the river thanks to its sharp rocky bottom at times. It really placed her at unease. What would've happened to her if they hadn't found her floating along? Would she have gotten lucky and washed up on a shore? Or would she have woke up in the middle of an even larger river, lost and out of energy to swim?

"Tsk..focus on the positives Frisk. They found you and you're safe now." The dark brown haired girl whispered to herself as she placed a hand on the full body mirror. God she looked a mess, hair all disheveled, bandages all over and it didn't exactly help that she adorned a straight look almost all the time. Plus she rarely opened her eyes and they were so pretty too; but alas, she needed to get dressed before they assumed she wasn't going to come down or something. Shimmying her leggings over her legs she let a small smile slip past at the stitching that mended the ripped leg together. Must've been Toriel, she's so nice.. Frisk let out a small laugh as she pulled on her shorts that clung snugly to her wide hips, afterwards she pulled on her pink sweater crop top then her black jacket that was still too big for her despite her rather curvy form. Looking at herself in the mirror the multiple long sleeved items almost seemed too much, but she loved being warm and with autumn approaching she most definitely would not risk being cold.

Satisfied with her appearance she slipped on her black lace up boots and headed out her bedroom door. What she was met without on the outside was not what she expected. The place was large. Far larger than she initially anticipated. Well okay then...how the hell do I get downstairs from here..? The dark haired female blinked, looking down both ends of the identical hallway. Both sides had two sets of stairs, one that led upwards and the other down. Now, she really just wanted to go back into her room and wait for someone to come get her. Surely they knew it was possible that she could get lost in a place like this?

Thankfully her silent prayer had been answered, another figure had exited from a room a few doors down. "E-excuse me! Could you tell me how to get downstairs?" She called out, causing the figure to turn and face her. At first she almost thought that the person was yet another monster, especially with their bright pretty blood colored eyes. To say that Frisk was surprised to know that it was another human that was coming to aid her would be an understatement.

It's rude to stare you know..

But she couldn't help it, she thought the place was all monsters. Even though she'd only see two. It was a horrible assumption on her part.

"Yes? You need help?" The other humans voice broke her inner thoughts and she blinked, jolting back at the full appearance of the girl. She hadn't been paying attention and she must've moved closer. Frisk couldn't help but to stare at the other girl, she almost thought that she was staring into a mirror with how similar they both looked. Both adorned brown hair that cascaded down to their waist, though Frisk's was darker by a shade or two, a medium caramel skin tone with a coke bottle figure to match. But there were differences as well, their eyes for instance, one pair was a ruby red while the other pair had been hidden well behind dark lashes. Another difference would be the other girl had a pink undertone to her cheeks giving her a natural look of blush permeating her skin contrary to Frisk's slightly paler looking cheeks.

"Um, hello? You're staring awfully hard y'know." She spoke again almost startling Frisk, she didn't mean to stare she was just a bit shocked to find that there was another human here. "Ah, right! S-sorry. I didn't mean to stare it's just..you look so famil- I mean, similar! Uh, um-! S-so can you help me get downstairs? Miss Toriel and Asriel are waiting for me.."

"But of course, hehe! I should've known that they were going to forget to give you directions to get down there. C'mon, I'll show you. My names Chara by the way." Chara replied, a calm smile upon her lips as she motioned for Frisk to follow. "Oh, my names Frisk! It's nice to meet you Chara." The journey downstairs wasn't as difficult as Frisk anticipated, she almost felt silly for being so intimidated by daunting looking passageways. Once they arrived Chara led Frisk to the living room, it was the largest room she'd ever seen! Not to mention lavish, but under all the fanciness there was a distinct warmth that soothed her nervousness as she eased into one of the purple cushions of one of the three couches that were expertly placed in the center of the room. They each had a different color, black, purple and white. All still looked as fresh as if they'd just been brought in.

"Oh good! You two have made it down! Now we can get straight to business." A deep soft spoken voice boomed making her turn her head to follow the sound. Lash covered eyes were met with yet another goat monster, they were definitely male that much she couldn't deny. He had two long white horns sticking out the crown of his head, medium shoulder length blonde hair accompanied by a matching beard that looked freshly trimmed. Plus he was hulking, despite being dressed in a sweater and loose pants she could tell that there was muscle underneath. He also had a kind smile, much like Toriel's only with soft green eyes. He and Toriel had to be Asriel's parents, the younger goat monster looked just like them mixed together.

Soon after they all had gathered into the living room and the air began to grow thick with awkwardness, Toriel spoke first, breaking the ice.

"So, first things first. What's your name my child?"

"Frisk."

"Nice to meet you Frisk, my name is Asgore." Toriel gave him a side glance, but said nothing on his introduction. It was polite to do so after all.

"How'd you end up in the river, Frisk?"

Wow, no sugar coating anything from her, eh?

Frisk shifted against the cushion finding that subject a bit touchy. But she didn't have to tell her the whole truth, did she? She glanced over at the goat woman and bit the inside of her lip. No, lying to them would be pointless. It'd surface sooner or later. "I was being, um, chased and fell in.." Chara gave her a slightly disbelieving look, almost as if she knew that there was more to the story.

"Chased by what?" Asriel asked that question.

"Dogs."

"Is that how you received those injuries?" Toriel chimed in again.

"Yes and no, the gash on my leg was definitely from the dog, but the cuts and bruises including the one on my head were from the river. I'd hit my head on a boulder and blacked out." Soft gasps escaped both parents, and she couldn't help but to shift against the cushion once again.

"Oh you poor thing..you must've been so scared. But, how did you end up in the forest? Don't you have a family? They're probably worried sick about you." At that Frisk immediately knew that this would be a long next few hours of her explaining things. And as much as she wanted to she just couldn't bring herself to tell them certain things. They were just, too hurtful, and she wasn't ready to share that part of her life just yet.

Once Frisk finished her story she unconsciously pulled her knees up to herself, a small frown upon her usually stoic looking face whilst she reached up to dab at her unshed tears. Asgore was the first to move from his spot on the black couch moving to the purple one in order to pull the gently crying girl into a hug. "It's okay to cry, Frisk. We're not here to judge or hurt you..we're here to help dear." His deep compelling voice brought upon a heavy wave of sadness that she'd been holding in far too long, and she let out a sob latching onto the large monster comforting her. Crying into his fur whilst her body shook with the shocks of sobs that racked her form, goodness how long had it been since she'd cried like this? Much too long in any case.

It took the brunette all of 45 minutes for her sobs to die down into quiet sniffles, but she still refused to let go of Asgore. He was so warm, it comforted and relaxed her, making her sleepy but she knew she wouldn't go to sleep just yet. Her stomach growled for a second time that day, causing a chain reaction and after a moment of silence Frisk let out a small laugh triggering the rest to follow suit. "Oh my god, I'm sorry. I didn't mean for that to happen."

"Oh nonsense child! We're all hungry hee hee! It just means that it's time for dinner, you did nothing wrong." Toriel laughed, wiping a few tears from the corner of her eye before standing from her spot on the white couch. "How about I go make us all something and Chara, Asriel and you can get to know each other a bit more, hm? Go outside and get some fresh air. It'll do you some good." Frisk nodded, sitting up and leaning away from Asgore wiping away her she'd tears. "Oh yeah, I forgot to ask..exactly, where is here?" She looked up once she was finished and waited for an answer, carefully running a hand through a lock of her hair.

"This place? Oh, this is New Home. Terribly named by our King here." Toriel smirked at Asgore's pout, causing another quiet chuckle to leave the woman as she headed towards the kitchen.

Pfft, well, she isn't wrong. That is a pretty crappy name for a place.

"Well then, why don't you kids go out into the back and chat? Catch the ending rays of sunlight?" The three teenagers nodded and rose from their respective spots before following one another out to the backyard. It'd be a little while before dinner was ready.

Edit: Going back to read over your story then realizing you've got mistakes after posting it to the public... #oops

Edit: Edit: Going back and seeing that you have even more mistakes than you thought you had.... #cringe #fail #writingfail #shame