#i react like a rabid dog the their fics

[k4nd1-c0rn]

ME WHEN @sewerkingcharlie RELEASED A NEW FIC!!!!

(i don’t feel like finding a picture but imagine me curled on my bed in the fetal position frothing at the mouth)

[muzzlemouths]

ok for like the past week(s) i've been checking your blog to see if a new chapter has been released so i could read and participate in poll as soon as possible. and uh. GOD i just wanna say. the new chapter. RRRRRRRRRRRR BITING AND RIPPING AND CHEWING LIKE A RABID DOG "run rabbit run" will forever be on my mind now. as well as the whole chapter and fic. the way you write and reveal all these things with subtle wording is immaculate! incredible! delicious! PLEASE I WANNA KNOW WHAT MOON WAS THINKING FOR THE MAJORITY OF EVERYTHING. ESPECIALLY if we agree. what would his reaction be. like "oh, so you can actually help us?... hmmm" or something like that idk BUT YALL. PLEASE VOTE REFUSE. i wanna help the counselors but also see how sun reacts. he would not be pleased lmao. but like. people change. and obviously sun wont. so like. yeah. but hey, i dont know! ;) Also. i bet you made heather die because no one was dying with our choices and you wanted to spice things up. but WHY HER? She was one of my favs!! ToT

Glad to hear you're enjoying it! :D

In regards to Heather, I would never kill off a character for shock value alone. Sun has an order of doing things and so do I. That said, Heather's death is different from the rest in that it breaks that order.

After all, you hardly had a say in the matter, didn't you?

[whxtedreams]

Chapter Three: Do you trust me?

The Depths we Devour, a gothic horror detective!joel fic

Summary

You struggle with new and overwheming emotions about The Detective while danger lurks around the corner.

Word Count: 3.3k

Tags: Reader POV, mentions of loss, reader is conflicted, blood, joel calls reader sweetheart/honey, anxiety, comfort, death, violence behind closed doors, joel shoots someone, joel comforts reader. // as always, if i miss any let me know

Series Masterlist - Main Masterlist

The Sweetheart

Day Two

5:16pm

The ghost of his hands is the first thing you feel as you slowly wake up alone in your bed. His touch, his skin, the way it felt as you wrapped yourself around him as you moulded seamlessly against his body. The way the heat of his touch and his body warmed your own and brought a sense of security, a sense of comfort. The way he would play with your hair, gently toying with the strands as you felt your fear melt away, your worries easing into nothingness as he stroked at your hair.

The fingers that had done all that, the same ones that pulled the trigger on your friend.

But was she really your friend if she tried to kill you?

The hands of your palms press and dig deeply into the closed eyes, trying to wipe away the image that haunts you, that torments you, and that keeps playing repeatedly in the deepest parts of your mind. The gurgles and screeches of Mia as she attempted to hurt you, kill you, haunt your mind as you slowly wake up.

You can’t wrap your head around why she would ever want to hurt you. Had you upset her?

Your mind travels back to her skin, once so smooth, now almost rotten and sunken in, the color of life replaced by a sickly tone that looks more appropriate for death. Of those sharp and long nails that scratched and clawed at your skin as she tried to hurt you with every bit of energy and life that she had left.

The detective was not the first to show up, the first to hear you. That honour went to Alex, screaming at her to stop, pleading with her to calm down as she had become a rabid dog, a vicious beast that would not stop attempting to tear you to pieces. But nothing could have stopped her, nothing until the detective stormed into the room. Until he fired three shots at her and she fell to the ground, her body limp and lifeless.

You don't know why you reacted the way that you did, the screams stuck in your throat, trapped as though you were in a nightmare, a horrible dream that wouldn't stop unless you gave in to the fear that had overtaken you. How you felt so small and frail under the detective's embrace, held firmly and safely in his strong arms, his warmth providing strength and protection. How you felt so broken as he carried you back to your room, your safety net.

How your bones felt so heavy as he dressed you.

He was gentle with you, oh so gentle, as if you were a porcelain sculpture that would crack or shatter at one touch too tough, that could crumble into a thousand pieces with one wrong move. It made your heart skip just remembering the care, the softness of his touch and how safe you felt. Knowing that he was taking care of you, watching over you like a guardian angel. Making sure that you were okay, safe.

The late afternoon sun breaks through the window and the sheer curtains sway in the soft breeze of the wind that flows through the open window. The rays of light pierce through the air and cast a warm glow on the room, the light reflecting off the wall and the floor.

You look across at where he had laid beside you and you frown, feeling an emotion sink within you. The feelings within you twisted and confusing. You hardly knew the man and you shouldn’t want him to be beside you in bed as you woke and saw the world once again, but you found yourself wishing it anyway. Hoping that he would be there beside you when you awoke, his presence a warm safety net for you to latch on to when you felt the world spinning around you.

The movement of his hands last night, the gentle touch and the way his fingers swirled over the curve of your body, was something that sent a tingling sensation up your spine. A tingle that started in your stomach and ended in your heart, a feeling that made your body shiver.

You had left from his room so quickly, as it was all so new, so scary, the way he made you feel things you had never felt before. Emotions you’ve only ever written about. His eyes were transfixed on you, a look you had never seen before as he touched your bare skin. Your eyes too, wide and locked on his hands as he moved your shirt.

And then there was this morning as he dressed you, the look in his eyes that was softer, kinder. No longer with that slight edge of lust, but with something that spoke to you in a different way. Something that made you feel something more, that made your heart ache in a different way. All you wanted then was to crawl into his arms and never let go. To find a safe place where the madness of the world couldn't touch you and to feel the warmth of his embrace. His arms around you as he held you tight to protect you. 

He is so much older than you but you don’t find the will to care, not when he looked at you like you were the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

You reach for a note, one that has been left on your bedside table that you hadn't noticed until now. You sit up against the pillows and stuffed animals scattered around you, grabbing the letter and reading it with eager eyes, hoping or imagining that it was from him, that it had his name signed at the bottom.

I didn’t want to wake you or leave you alone after what happened to Mia, but I have to get back to work finding your father. I’m heading into the forest but should be back before dinner. I’ve asked Alexander to make your favourite comfort meal, so if you need anything, you’ll find him in the kitchen. Stay safe. Joel

Your heart sinks when you realise he's not in the house anymore, that he’s out in the dark forest that surrounds the manor. You feel a tinge of fear at the thought of him being so distant, alone, out there in the vast forest. But you comfort yourself with the fact that he is strong, that he can handle himself out there and that he will come back safely unlike your father.

You want him here, close. So close that you could reach out a hand to him and know that he would catch you if you were to fall. Even so, you understand the silliness of your own emotions, how you're feeling this way about someone that you barely know after all, and yet, you can't help but feel these feelings. With a soft groan, you get out of bed, shaking your head at yourself before heading over to your computer on your desk, turning it on and opening a document to write.

If you can’t have him here, you’ll write a version that is.

And oh, are you inspired to write.

6:13pm.

"I'm sure he's fine," Alex attempts to assure you as he takes a seat beside you at the dining table. His voice soft and gentle, full of reassurance, trying his best to soothe your worries and calm the storm of emotion that threatens to overtake you.

You shake your head, shrugging off his gentle touch on your shoulder as he reaches out to comfort you. You feel your stomach churn as anxiety starts to settle in once more, a wave of unease and worry washing over you as your body tenses up in response to your inner emotions.

“You don’t know that. He said he would be back before dinner. What if something happened to him out there, like my father?” 

“I’m sure your father is fine-”

The words of reassurance are lost on you as you hear the front door open and then close with a loud slam, echoing off the walls of the manor. It must be Joel, you think to yourself, it has to be. Eliza is upstairs and has been cleaning the floor for at least two hours now, even though the floor was already clean after the police left. Alex is with you and Mia is, well not here anymore.

Your stomach knots and tenses up as you wait, hoping that it really is him who has come back, who will come through those doors, his presence providing you with relief from your anxiety.

You rise from the table as the dining room door opens, and the room goes silent as he slowly walks in, the smile that had crept onto your face when you heard the door opening disappearing when you see the ghastly sight of him. There's no joy in his face as he enters the room, no warm smile, no hint of mirth. Instead, there's nothing but a deadly stare, the look of someone who has been through hell and back.

Joel shrugs his backpack off his shoulder, letting it drop to the ground with a grunt, the stain of blood trickling down his white sleeve, his face bruised and his knuckles bloody. The sight of him like this sends a chill through you, the sight of his wounds making you worry and your heart sink as you see that he's hurt, his body bruised.

Your feet move without conscious thought, moving you in front of him before you even have a chance to process the action. Your hands hover above him, hesitant to touch him, afraid that you might just hurt him even more than he already is. You ask him what had happened, your voice gentle and concerned, genuine worry evident in your tone.

The detective takes your hovering hands in his own, his thumb rubbing gentle circles on the back of your hands, a comforting touch that almost makes you feel as if it's you who needs the reassurance and comfort. The detective's touch is gentle, his eyes filled with concern and empathy as he seems to try to comfort you even though he's the one who is wounded.

"Pack your things, it's not safe here." The detective's voice is not as soft and gentle as it has been, now a gruff, harsh tone that makes you pause for a moment as you look back up at him, confusion taking root in your expression. This was a side of him that you hadn't seen before, this darker side that has now made an appearance.

You shake your head in confusion as Alex stands from the table behind you, his chair scraping on the floor.

“What the hell happened to you?” Alex suddenly pipes up, his voice just as confused and bewildered as your own.

The detective drops your hands and runs his bloody hand over his bruised face, a simple but visible gesture that speaks volumes by itself. A quiet sigh escapes his mouth, one of exhaustion, one of resignation, his shoulders slumping ever so slightly as he speaks.

"Just go pack a bag." The detective says, his voice a low rumble, full of a certain authority that you had not heard before. His hands rest on his hip as he straightens back up to his full height, his eyes softening as he looks down at you.

You quickly nod in response as Alex takes hold of your hand and pulls you from the room, a gentle but firm grip that doesn't allow for any sort of hesitation or protest from your part. You go along with him as a look of concern settles on your face, your thoughts filled with questions and concerns for the detective.

You go into your room and immediately start packing some clothes and essentials into your overnight bag, not wanting to waste any time as an overwhelming feeling of concern starts to fill you. Your emotions get the better of you as your eyes grow damp and tears start to run down your face. You rub your eyes and wipe away the evidence of your emotions, trying to seem as though nothing is wrong at all. Once you've got your bag over your shoulder, you move to go back out of your room.

The hallway is quiet as you walk back down to Alex's room, the footsteps of your shoes on the floor the only noise that fills the space. You try to call out for him, wondering where he might have gone, but there's no response, no answer to your call. You push open the door to his room but find it empty, completely vacant, silent, and deserted as the door hangs open.

He must have already gone back downstairs, you decide.

The hallway lights flicker as you walk back towards the stairs, the sudden change in lighting throwing you off, as though it's just another thing to add to the confusion and worry that is filling you. Your hands grip onto your bag straps, and your eyes are glued to your shoes, and you don't dare look up.

You just want your father back, Mia back.

But one is missing, the other dead.

Your feet stop in their tracks and your head snaps back up as you hear a grunt from the room to your left.

Eliza’s room.

You wonder if anyone has told her that it's not safe here, that the detective has demanded that everyone leave at once. And with that, you open her door, the hinges creaking a bit as you push the door open. The air inside the room feeling a bit stale and cold as it hasn't been used in a while.

Eliza stands hunched over in the middle of her room, seemingly frozen in place and a bit like a statue. Soft grunts echo in the room and you tilt your head. Your eyes move away from her and glance around the room, taking it in as you notice that it's destroyed, as though there had been some sort of struggle or fight that had taken place here. Your eyes widen at the sight, your mind racing with questions.

A hand slams over your mouth, stopping you before you can call out to Eliza and making you jump with surprise. You suddenly feel the warm touch of another body pressed against your back, a strong arm that makes you gasp and pulls you back as you try to steady yourself by gripping onto his arm when you feel the blood-stained white sleeves.

Joel.

He slowly pulls you backwards, away from the room, almost silently hushing you in your ear. His voice low and calm as he guides you backwards out of the room. You can barely keep balanced as your heart beats out of control, struggling to calm at the fright of his sudden movements. His stubble scratches the side of your face making it itch, your skin suddenly prickling with heat at the close proximity of his body against yours, his arms still holding you firmly in place.

He detaches himself from you once you are out of the room, turning you around. He bends down so that he's at eye level with you. He raises up his finger to his lips as he stares into your eyes, his eyes searching yours just as heavily as your wide ones are searching his, making sure that you understand his gesture. You nod in response, knowing that he is trying to keep you quiet for whatever reason.

He enters the room you were just in and silently closes the door behind him.

You stand there in the hallway, still as a statue as you stare at the closed door in front of you. You listen to the silence around you and feeling the stillness of the air, suddenly disrupted by the screeches that erupt and the gunshots that follow.

You flinch at the noise, but despite the sudden outburst of sound, your feet don't move. Your eyes still glued to the door in front of you, listening and focusing on the noises and sounds coming from behind the closed door.

You feel like you should move, that you should run, and yet you're stuck. Unable to move, unable to react, unable to do anything but stand there in one place.

The room falls silent once more as you stand there, your breathing becoming uneven as you wait and watch the door, waiting for it to open. Joel steps out of the room, his face and chest splattered with blood. He closes the door behind him once more before you're able to see what you know happened. Your throat is dry and you can barely catch your breath as your mind races with the thought of what had occurred in that room.

Your eyes remain stuck on the door as Joel steps back in front of you, his hand gently holding the side of your face. He urges you to look up at him, and you finally do. Your eyes are watery as you look up into his eyes, the tears threatening to fall from your cheeks as you stare up at him.

“Why-” Your voice breaks as you stare up at him.

He shoves his gun back into his holster, his gaze steady and intense as he stares at you. His other hand comes to hold your face, taking it in both of his hands, a gentle grip that's almost comforting in its softness.

“I need you to listen to me now, okay sweetheart? We need to get outta here. Whatever business your father was dealing in, is bad news.”

You shake your head in his grip, not understanding the words that are coming out of his mouth. Your father isn’t someone who wouldn't deal with shady people, wouldn't hurt people, would never be involved in anything defined as bad news.

You frown, your hands rising to grip onto his bloody shirt, your mind working overtime to deny and contradict what he's saying. "No. You're wrong." You say forcefully, your voice filled with certainty as you insist that he's wrong.

“You killed Mia, Eliza-”

“I know I did honey, but they would have torn you apart. They weren’t themselves anymore. I’ll explain what I know in the car, alright? But we have to go now. Please.”

He's almost begging now, his eyes pleading as they stare at you. You look at his blood-stained face and clothes, the wounds on his body bringing you pain and conflicting feelings as your heart wants to believe him. Your mind wants to trust him. Your doubts and the events of the last few hours are tearing you apart, leaving you unable to make sense of anything or come to any conclusions about what you should do or believe.

“Do you trust me?”

But something about his eyes, the look of desperation and the firm and gentle grip of his fingers against the side of your face makes you nod your head. The uncertainty is still there but diminished, your mind slowly starting to lean towards belief and trust as you accept his words. “Yeah.” 

He nods, his hand reaching down to your hands and gripping it in a vice-like hold as he tugs you towards him. He holds onto your hand with a tight grip, as though he's terrified of losing your trust and belief, as if any moment you might reconsider and let go. But you know that you won't now, you don't think that you can. Your hand remains firmly gripped by his as he pulls you close to him, holding you tight. As if he cannot bear to let go, as if he needs you as close as possible.

Joel Miller has a death grip on you, and you don’t seem to mind it one bit.

Chapter four - coming soon

Notes

First Reader POV. a shorter chapter, just introducing your own feelings and emotions. Next chapter will have what happened to Joel in the forest, I won't skip over that DW!

If you want to be tagged, please comment on the masterlist for this series and I will add you. If you want to be taken off, please DM so i don't miss your request.

Every comment, like and reblog means the world to me. please let me know your thoughts about this, i want to ramble about this story so much.

tags: @jupiter-soups @lollabear @withasideofmeg

[mrsgreenworld]

I know that I'm supposed to be working on my other fic but there's an idea that just won't leave my head. In the ideal world and maybe on Netflix this is how I'd like Aslaz bathroom scene to go in the next episode.

I don't own the show or the characters, they all belong to the Yabani writers, producers and the production company. This is only fanfiction.

The Matter Of Friendship

Asi pulls away all too soon, muttering:

"No, stop".

She tugs at his hands that are framing her face, forcing him to let go and when he doesn't, she takes a few steps away from him. Alaz is left frozen in place, with the hands holding onto thin air.

"You can't do that. I promised you that I'd be by your side, I'd help you get through everything. And I'll keep my promise. I'll be there for you but only as a friend".

Alaz feels completely dumbfounded and thinks that if she headbutted him it wouldn't hurt as much as her uttering the word "friend". Is she for real?

"Are you kidding me right now?"

"Do I look like I'm kidding?"

"You must be kidding because there's no way you've just called yourself my friend".

Alaz puts a special stress on the word, spitting it out like it's an insult. And it actually is. Her thinking they could be friends is so damn insulting. It's worse than her hating him. Let them be enemies but not friends.

"Why? What's wrong with us being friends? We couldn't be more, maybe we can at least have this".

Oh god ... She is serious.

Alaz squeezes his eyes shut and runs his fingers through his hair.

"No, you most definitely are losing your goddamn mind and want me to completely lose what's left of mine" he mutters with the eyes still closed, pulling at his hair.

And then she drops a nonchalant comment:

"I don't understand why you're being so dramatic. What the hell is the problem?"

That makes him open his eyes and freaking yell, making her jump:

"You wanna know the problem with your genius idea??? I FUCKING LOVE YOU!!! And you love me!!!"

He feels - and probably looks as well - like a rabid dog but he doesn't care. He eats up all the space between them in one step and doesn't give her a chance to take an instinctive step back. He sneaks his right arm possessively around her middle and pulls their bodies together, hard. Then he puts his left hand on her neck, only to feel the mad staccato of her pulse under his fingers. He doesn't give her time to react, to think or even breathe, he just attacks her mouth. It's so different from a tender and timid kiss they'd shared just before she dropped the friendship bomb on him. This kiss is primal and pulls a surprised moan from her, giving him the access inside her mouth. He wants to make this so dirty that by the time he's done with her, the freaking "friendship" and "friends" vanish from her vocabulary entirely.

He turns and walks them blindly, only stopping to hoist her up on the granite countertop at the sinks. Then steps between her legs that part for him reflectively. Alaz pulls her roughly to the edge, smacking his hips right into her. He stops his assault on Asi's mouth only to whisper into her used lips:

"Do you feel that, friend?"

He thrusts shallowly to make his point, earning a whimper from Asi. Alaz's hands slide up her bare thighs, leaving trails of goosebumps, and dive under the ridiculously short dress. Just when Alaz's fingers brush Asi's underwear, she catches his wrists and yanks his hands from under her dress. But Alaz has felt everything he needed to feel.

"As long as you're like this for me and I'm like this for you, there's no universe where we can be friends".

Asi looks ready to murder him when she pushes at his chest and jumps from the granite counter. She tugs at her dress and hisses at him:

"The only thing you proved is that you're an animal".

Alaz just smirks.

"Okay, fine, I'm an animal. I'd rather be an animal than your friend".

Asi lets out a noisy breath and suddenly just looks tired.

"Why do you have to make this hard?"

"Because we love each other".

Asi throws up her hands in frustration.

"And what difference does it make?"

"All the difference in the world".

Alaz tries to get closer again but she won't allow it, pushing him and taking a few steps back, to the only escape route - the door.

"If it made all the difference in the world, it wouldn't be this hard, don't you think?"

With these words she pulls the door and slips out, leaving Alaz in the charged little room alone.

[axolotlwrites]

"Built to be Worshiped and Loved"

Maru x M!reader

"Sometimes it's just the thought that maybe those pants don't fit as well as they used to, or maybe that shirt feels tighter than the last time you wore it, for it to make you look far too hard at the person in the mirror. "

CW: Maru has body image issues, lil angsty, reader worships Maru's body, cunnilingus, no penetrative sex, reader does have a penis

This one took a bit, but I'm glad I'm finally finished with it. Possibly my most emotionally invested fic so far, because hating my own body go brrrr. As usual, feedback is requested and encouraged, and I hope you enjoy.

It wasn't often that Maru was self-conscious to the point that it affected her mood. She was far too invested in her own work to focus on it, and often far too confident in herself to care. But you understood all too well, that all it takes is a glance and a single thought to send someone spiraling.

Sometimes it's just the thought that maybe those pants don't fit as well as they used to, or maybe that shirt feels tighter than the last time you wore it, for it to make you look far too hard at the person in the mirror.

Today was one of those days for Maru. She was playing it off to you, telling you that she was fine, but it nipped at the back of her brain like a rabid dog without a leash. But you knew her tells.

She'd been avoiding looking at the mirror in the bedroom, like looking at it would turn her to stone. She'd been quiet, only ever speaking when you said something first, and not once ranting to you about sciency stuff that you couldn't really comprehend, but listened intently for anyways. You knew what was wrong, but you needed a way to fix it.

"Maru? Are you… alright?" You questioned, the words more akin to a courtesy, an invitation to talk about it, rather than an actual question. She was slumped over papers, schematics for a machine that you didn't recognize. A new machine, born of her mind trying to distract itself from its anguish and self-loathing.

She started to talk, the words coming out slow and without the usual fire. "I'm fine, I'm just…" She stutters, mouth moving faster than the words themselves. "I don't want you to worry." She finally finishes, moving to turn to you, a sad little smile on her face.

You lean down closer to her face, looking down into her eyes. "I'm already worried." You whisper, voice pleading for her to let you help her.

Maru stands up slowly, legs unsteady. She'd been sitting at the desk, staring at those blueprints for what felt like hours now. She walks over to the mirror, her hands crossed against her chest as she glares into it. You follow close behind her, sliding up to her side and wrapping an arm around her shoulder.

She looks like she's trying to destroy it with her mind, smash the woman in the mirror into a thousand little slices of reflective glass. Her hand trembles a little as you grasp hers, rubbing your thumb against the back of her hand. You try to find the words to comfort her, desperately try to come up with all the magic words to make her forget how much she hates that mirror right now, and make Maru smile again.

But you can't. So you do the next best thing. You walk around in front of her, blocking the mirror, and looking back into her eyes. Slowly, you wrap your arms around Maru, pulling her into a hug that she practically falls into. You kiss the top of her scalp as she trembles in your arms, tears staining your shirt as you hold her close.

"I love you, Maru." You say, gathering her attention as she looks back up at you. Your hand moves to her cheek, wiping a tear from it as you hold her face in your hand. The words were simple, nothing you wouldn't say a thousand times over any other day.

But as she was now?

The weight of your words was almost crushing. You loved her. Loved her body. Her mind. You loved HER.

Maru pulls you down to kiss her faster than you can react, lips clashing together with teeth and tongue. It's rough, primal, even.

It's perfect. Your lips lock together, your hand still on her cheek as your other pulls her closer by her waist. You loved her body, her curves and soft skin. You couldn't bear to see her hate herself so much.

You pulled back from the kiss, breaths quick and shallow, "I love your body, and I love you. And I will do anything to make you love it just as much as I do."

You don't give her any time to respond as you lean back in to kiss her cheek, then her jaw, until you finally reach your target: her neck. You don't spare her then either, attacking it with the most passion you can muster.

Maru gasps and holds back a small moan as you begin to kiss her neck, sucking on them to leave little hickies on her skin. "Please…" She moans, her hands resting in your hair as your mouth sends small shivers up her spine. Her skin feels even softer against your lips, even more delicate under your teeth as you nibble on the skin a little.

At this point she's sitting on the edge of the bed, hands still in your hair as you finally start to move on. You look up at her, eyes pleading as you whisper, "May I?"

Maru nods, a grin running across her face as she slips the overalls straps down her shoulders. However, as she went to pull up her shirt, her grin fell into a small frown, and she hesitated. But she looked at you, looked into your kind, loving eyes.

Right then, her resolve strengthened.

Maru grips the hem of her shirt again, pulling it up slowly over her body, letting you take in her glory. Yoba, it's like she's built to be worshiped and loved. She hasn't even taken her bra off yet, and you already want your lips on her again.

But you wait patiently. You don't want to ruin this for her.

She reaches behind her back, slowly slipping off the bra as her breasts relax against her skin.

You move slowly, placing kisses along her neckline again, slowly making your way to her chest as you kneel in front of her. Small things, planted against warm, soft skin. You reach her breasts, looking back up at her for approval as you lean ever closer.

Maru nods, waiting with bated breaths as she feels your warm breath on her tits.

Tentatively, softly, and more than a little gently, you take her left nipple into your mouth and start to lick and suck on it, while moving a hand to caress and grope her right boob. Her hands run through your hair as her breaths quicken, her heartbeat quickening under your ministrations.

She doesn't even realize that this isn't even the main event. Doesn't realize it as you press your clothed body against hers, pleasuring her tits with sloppy kisses and just a little bit of teeth. "Keep… fuck…" She moans out, stuttery and heavy, like she's out of breath.

"Please keep going!" She praises, words spitting out of her mouth as another loud moan escapes with them. You chuckle slightly as you pop her titty out of your mouth, looking up at her as her hand runs across your cheek.

You palm your own crotch, your hard cock throbbing in your pants. You love making her feel good like this, even if you have to "neglect" yourself a little. You grope at yourself a little, looking up at Maru, eyes half lidded with lust and need. "Let me make you feel good, love. Get the rest of these pesky clothes out of the way, and let me make you feel good."

To her credit, she doesn't fumble over her words or stumble over herself trying to get the overalls and the pants underneath off. However, she is doing it remarkably slowly. She peels off the overalls slowly, almost teasingly, leaning over as she- oh Yoba, she IS teasing you! You didn't expect it, not with how seemingly nervous she's been, but it's a nice change of pace. What is even better, however, is when she finally gets her pants off, leaving her only in a beautiful pair of black panties.

You don't waste any time, moving back in to lay kisses on her stomach. You take your time with each kiss, emphasizing your love for every part of her, even when you eventually move on. You do so slowly, taking in the sight of the thin piece of cloth covering her pussy, and the glossy sheen that covered it. All of this was doing something exhilarating to her, having you worshiping her body made Maru feel divine.

Looking back up one more time for approval, of which she gives, you dive in. Slowly, you start to pull the panties down her legs, taking in the sight and scent of her cunt. Her scent was heady, heavy, but not unpleasant at all. There was just a bit of curly hair above it, but it wouldn't have bothered you either way. She was perfect, and all she had to be was herself.

There was only one thing to do now. As you leaned in to plant your mouth on Maru's pussy, her hand glided through your hair once more, beckoning you to the main event.

She tasted like heaven. Your tongue was assaulted with the sweet tang of her juices, your moans rippling through her cunt. She tasted like strawberries, in an odd way, and you needed more of it. Her pubes tickled your nose as you delved deeper with your tongue, her moans sending shockwaves through your bodies as her thighs wrapped around your skull.

Your face and hair were a mess, but you didn't even care. You wrapped your hand around your cock, the organ trembling and throbbing, her moans and the feeling of giving her pleasure driving you wild in turn. You could only imagine how you would look, head between her thighs as you delved into her cunt with your tongue, rubbing her clit slowly with your hand.

You looked so focused on her, barely even thinking of anything but making her feel worshiped and loved, even as you violently stroked your own dick. Her legs were shaking, moans going from long, drawn out symphonies to short, gasping, and breathy. She sounds close, feels close, and with how she is humping your face, it seems like she's chasing the orgasm that you plan on bringing.

Honestly, you weren't doing much better. Your cock was engorged, covered in pre-cum, throbbing almost painfully as you desperately tried to stave off your orgasm as you thrust into your own hand. You wouldn't let yourself cum before Maru, but you were so close…

You wouldn't need to wait long. Your ministrations on her clit, your tongue deep inside her, and your moans tearing through her cunt drove her over the edge. Maru's legs kicked out quickly as she screamed out, "Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!", before clamping around your head. Her body shuddered violently, shivering as her hand painfully gripped your hair and held your face in her cunt. With her own orgasm flying high, yours had started, cum pouring out onto your hand and onto the floor in spurts. As you moved away from her cunt, you took a look at yourselves.

Maru was laying on the bed now, her legs still dangling off the bed. She was breathing heavily, hand on her forehead as she rested off the aftershock. You were kneeling, your hair and face covered in sweat and juices, breathing for air like a man underwater. You could barely stand, your legs unsteady as you got up and flopped on the bed next to her.

"Hug me," was all Maru said, moving fully onto the bed, "please." You obliged, bringing your naked bodies together as you held her in your arms from behind. Her hand snaked into yours, holding it as she drifted off into sleep. You weren't too far off, your vision dulling as you murmur out one last "Love you…" before passing out completely.

[hollywoodxwhore]

Ours | Chapter Six

Colson x Presley (Original Female Character)

Synopsis: Presley and Colson fell in love accidentally, but they were meant to be. Now that all the obstacles have been removed, they're moving in together in LA. Now, they have all the time in the world for Colson to teach Presley all of the things he knows. This fic is the sequel to Mine, which can be found in my masterlist!

Warnings/Content: angry Col, swearing, M*gan F*x but she goes away soon, emotional Col, Presley being an angel, golden retriever/zero brain cell having Cash, a mushy surprise ending

There's a lot going on in this one, y'all, so buckle up. Hope you enjoy! The smut is returning soon, I promise!

Colson

As I drive, I can’t for the life of me figure out why Cash would ever give Megan Presley’s number.

I was originally planning on going home, but I change my mind and take the exit to Cash’s place instead. I pull up and search for his car, parking when I spot it. I hop out quickly and storm up to the door. Whereas last night I waited until I was calmer to reach out to Megan, there’s not a patient bone in my body.

I pound on the door and when Cash opens it, he flashes that goofy smile of his. But when he sees me, the smile falls. “Kells?”

“I’m coming in,” I tell him, and push my way inside.

Cash shuts the door behind himself and cautiously approaches me. “What’s going on?” he asks worriedly.

“Why are you giving people your sister’s number?” I snap. I’m breathing hard and seeing red. I’m furious.

Cash’s brow furrows, his eyes filling with confusion. “Huh?”

I stare at him like he’s dumb. “Megan Fox?”

Cash looks confused and then realization washes over his face. “Ohhh,” he says with a slow nod. “Yeah. Ran into her at a restaurant and she was chatting with me. Said she likes my sister’s look and wanted to reach out to her about some modeling.”

I go still for a long few moments. Then, I let out a breathless laugh. Fucking Megan. Always the lying manipulator. The fight goes out of me and I completely deflate, going to sit on Cash’s couch. I drop my head into my hands and rub my eyes. He follows me, keeping his distance like I’m a rabid dog.

“Why…why is that bad?” he asks slowly.

I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose. I totally forgot: he doesn’t know about me and Megan. Our relationship began and ended before he joined us on tour. 

“Cash, I’m sorry,” I say, full of remorse. “I’m an asshole.”

Cash frowns and sits on the other leg of the couch. “I’m so confused,” he says.

“Megan is my ex,” I say. 

Cash blinks and then nods. “Oh. Got it.”

“She isn’t actually interested in Presley’s modeling skills,” I say.

Cash slumps. “She was trying to get to you. Fuck. I’m so sorry, Kells,” he says, brown eyes filled with guilt.

I shake my head. “Don’t be,” I say. “If I had been in your shoes, I would've done the same thing.”

“So what did she want?” he asks.

I roll my eyes. “She texted Pres some bullshit trying to convince me to talk to her. It worked,” I mutter. “She wants me back. Obviously I turned her ass down.”

Cash winces. “I’m sorry, man, I didn’t know.”

“Exactly, so there’s no need to be sorry,” I assure him. “I’m sorry for barging in here making accusations.”

“You’re all good, brother,” Cash says cheerfully, and just like that, all is well again.

“I gotta go talk to Presley,” I sigh, and Cash nods, walking me to the door. “Love you, man. Sorry again.”

“It’s all good,” Cash assures me. “You and my sister doing okay?”

I can’t help but smile. “Yeah,” I reply. “We’re great.”

There are many reasons that I love Presley Carver. 

Her sense of humor and her laugh. Her compassion. Her creativity. Her gentleness. The way she listens and understands me. The way she just gets me. 

But I fall in love with her even more when instead of reacting to my confession with anger, she gets up and hugs me. 

I’m completely shocked when her arms slide around my neck, but I’m not going to fight it. I wrap my arms around her waist in a fierce hug, holding her to me so tightly that my arms tremble a little. Suddenly, I’m overcome with emotion. I can’t even really process it right now.

“Are you okay?” she asks, playing gently with the hair at the nape of my neck.

“I…I’m not sure,” I admit, closing my eyes, comforted by her touch.

Presley sighs and snuggles me closer. “Do you want to talk about it?” she asks.

“You’re not mad?” I ask.

“No,” she says, rubbing my back. “You did what you had to do to figure out who betrayed you. It makes sense. Do you feel better knowing no one actually did?”

“Much better,” I say. “I should’ve never believed a word Megan said.”

“It’s okay. It’s over now,” Presley soothes. “How can I make you feel better?”

I can think of a few ways, but for now, I just need to be close to her. I bend to wrap her legs around my waist, scooping her into my arms. She clings to me as I carry us upstairs to our room and settle her on the bed. She reaches for me and I let her pull my head to her chest, her long nails gliding against my scalp in a way that makes me shiver with pleasure. 

“You know I would never go back to her, right?” I mumble into her chest.

“Of course.” Presley’s voice is quiet. Even and calm. It soothes me even more. “I know you love me, Col. You do a perfect job of showing it.”

I relax even more, most of the tension now gone from my body. I close my eyes and hold my girlfriend close. “How did I get so lucky?” I ask.

Presley’s fingers continue moving in my hair, slow and soothing. “I ask myself that same question every day,” she admits.

I look up at her. She smiles at me, those green eyes so beautiful and full of love, and I know all at once that I want to marry her. There’s no more fear or doubt. This girl is my future wife. I lift my face to hers and kiss her, trying to convey all my love with the gesture. My heart pounds at the thought of putting a ring on her finger, giving her my last name. I just hope I’m lucky enough for her to say yes. 

Presley

Colson has been weird ever since the Megan thing, and it’s making me sick.

He’s been at the studio way more often, sometimes leaving before I’m even awake. When he gets home, he avoids me. I have no idea what I did wrong, but my mind is moving a million miles a minute. Does he want Megan back? Is he regretting moving so fast with me? 

I’ve been an anxious mess all fucking day, so when Colson finally texts me, my hands tremble so hard that my phone clatters to the ground. When I pick it up, I curse. A huge crack runs right down the center of the screen. My lip trembles and I sink to the ground, taking deep breaths as my eyes burn. I will not cry right now. I won’t. 

After composing myself, I carefully open up Colson’s message. Sophie’s on her way over. I frown in confusion, liking the message. I don’t respond otherwise. His coldness is scaring me and I don’t want to reply in case it triggers a conversation about him ending things. I’m glad, at least, that I won’t have to be alone anymore. 

Sure enough, Sophie arrives quickly. I let her in and immediately, she can tell I’m upset. “Oh, pet,” she says, wrapping me in a hug. Her touch is what finally breaks me and the tears well over. “Shhh, you’re okay, love,” she soothes.

“I don’t know what’s going on,” I admit miserably. “Colson has been so distant. What did I do wrong?”

“Nothing, I’m sure,” Sophie says softly. She pulls back from the hug. “You know what? Let’s go out.”

I blink at her. “Yeah?”

Sophie nods. “Yeah. Can I borrow a dress?”

“Of course,” I say.

Upstairs, Sophie and I take our time getting dressed, doing our hair and makeup, and making ourselves look pretty. Sophie insists on going somewhere nice, so I decide on a blue satin dress that hugs my curves and makes my legs look even longer than they already are. I slide into a pair of heels and look at myself in the mirror. My long hair is swept up into a pretty updo and my makeup is flawless. It feels good to dress up again. It just sucks knowing this isn’t for Colson.

“You look amazing,” Sophie says, coming to stand beside me in front of the mirror. “Let’s go out. Forget about Colson being weird.”

I nod, determined to have a good night. “Let’s go.”

Sophie and I have dinner at one of the nicest restaurants in the city, and we end up having a great time. We each have a glass of wine and the food is incredible. Once we’re finished eating, I feel so much better. I don’t even care if Colson wants to act weird. He can do whatever he wants.

“Ready to go?” Sophie asks after we pay the bill. I nod and get to my feet.

“Let me just freshen up quickly,” I say. Sophie nods and I make a detour to the bathroom. I touch up my lipgloss and fluff my hair. When I get home, I want Colson to see what he’s been missing out on for days of weirdness. 

Sophie and I go to her car and take off towards home. I busy myself with checking notifications on my phone and I’m so distracted that I don’t notice we’ve gone a different way until Sophie is pulling the car to the side of the road. My brow furrows.

“Where are we?” I ask.

Sophie hands me an envelope that seems to have appeared out of nowhere. Her expression is a perfect poker face. “Hop out and open it, babe,” she says. I do as I’m told, tearing open the envelope while I wait for Sophie to join me, but instead, she speeds off. My eyes widen in shock.

“Hey!” I call after her, so confused. What the hell is going on? It’s then that I notice where I am. I look up in awe. 

It’s dark outside, so the twinkling lights are even more noticeable. I’m at some sort of greenhouse with plants and fairy lights twinkling everywhere. It’s stunning. I tear my eyes away to pull the card out of the envelope. I blink slowly before reading it.

Meet me in the middle of the greenhouse. Xo colson 

Startled, I tuck the note back into its envelope and step into the greenhouse. I swallow hard and wander towards the middle, looking around as I do. This place is absolutely stunning with all its greenery, flowers, and sparkling lights. It smells beautiful, too, like fragrant flowers. Finally, I look forward and that’s when I spot my boyfriend.

I think, for not the first time, that Colson is pure wonder.

He’s the most stunning person I’ve ever seen, of any gender. His cheekbones and eyelashes should be illegal. His lips are soft and his eyes are twinkling and warm. However he wears his hair he looks amazing, but I love it just like this, slightly shaggy and long. He’s wearing a suit that hugs his body perfectly, and fleetingly, I want to ask him to turn around so I can see his butt. An almost hysterical giggle bubbles out of me. 

“What the hell is going on?” I ask as I stop a few feet in front of him.

Colson’s eyes slowly wander my body. “You look stunning,” he says.

“Col,” I say, shaking my head. “What is happening here?”

Colson’s throat bobs and he steps a little closer to me. “Pres,” he says.

“Yeah?” I ask skeptically, taking in his nervous body language. 

“I’m sorry I’ve been weird the past couple of days,” he says, eyes meeting mine. “I didn’t mean to.”

“What’s going on?” I ask, my heart starting to race. I’m lost. 

Colson wets his lips and steps closer, taking my hands. His thumbs rub over my knuckles and just his touch is enough to soothe me slightly. “Presley.” His voice is a little croaky and he clears his throat. “We’ve been through a lot together. I still can’t believe I fell in love with my guitarist’s sister.”

I can’t help but smile, squeezing his hands. “Me neither.”

Colson grins and kisses my knuckles. “I’ve never been so happy,” he admits. “You make me better, baby. You make me want to be happy. You make me want to take care of myself. You inspire me every single day.”

My heart starts to race as I listen to him, and my ears start to ring. Oh my god. Is this really happening? Is he going to–

Colson drops onto a knee in front of me.

I gasp, bringing my hands to my mouth. “Colson,” I squeak.

He smiles and flicks his hair out of his eyes. He fishes into his pocket and comes out with a black box the size of a ring. My breath completely leaves me and my eyes start to sting. “Oh my god. Oh my god,” I whisper into my hands.

Colson laughs and meets my eyes. “Presley Maeve Carver,” he says. “I’ve never loved anything more than I love you. I don’t want to live without you, baby. Please don’t make me.” He bites his lip as he pops open the box and my eyes go huge. The ring is massive and stunning and so perfect. “Will you marry me?” he asks.

My tears spill over and my knees buckle, and I fall to my knees in front of him, grabbing his face. I can barely speak through my tears but I nod adamantly. “Yes,” I say tightly. Colson beams and hugs my waist, pulling me close. We kiss deeply and slowly, my hands glued to his face, unable to stop touching him and feeling him and breathing him in. Holy shit. Colson just proposed. 

When we finally pull back from the kiss, we’re both breathing hard and my heart is pounding so hard it’s making me a little dizzy. Colson takes my shaking left hand and slides the ring onto my finger. I gasp when it’s on my hand and I stare at it in awe. “Cols,” I say. “You just proposed.”

Colson laughs and holds my face, kissing me gently. “I did.”

“You just asked me to marry you.”

“Yes, that’s what proposing means,” he teases and I lean in to nip at his lip. He laughs, eyes twinkling. 

“Colson,” I say. “You’re my fiance.” 

Colson grins widely. “And you’re mine. I love you, Pres.”

“I love you, too, holy shit,” I say, lunging forward to kiss him again. Colson chuckles into the kiss and holds me close, and that’s when I hear the cheers. We pull apart and I look around. There’s Sam with his camera. The entire band is here and Cash’s eyes look wet as he holds up his phone, snapping pictures. 

“This is why you’ve been acting so weird!” I exclaim and Colson laughs, nodding. I turn to Sophie. “You knew!”

Sophie snickers. “I sure did. That’s why I insisted we dress up.”

“Oh my god,” I say. I’m so overwhelmed but I’ve never felt joy like this before. I’m shaking hard and I look down at my ring again. I can’t even believe this is real life. I’m marrying Colson. I’m going to be his wife. Presley Baker. I’m going to have a husband. Holy shit. 

Surrounded by the people I love, I kiss my fiance again. I can’t believe how quickly life went from feeling meaningless to this. I’m never, ever going to let this man go. I pour all my life into our kisses and hold him close, hoping he knows just how much I love him, knows that I’ll do anything for him. That I’ll be with him until our time on this earth is over. 

Taglist:@triplexdoublex@jaxbreaker@mgklove99xx@jinx-on-mars-19xx@iamnotanearthlingmotherfucker @anonymousme86 @whiteleoqueen @feroniakutenpuu @hxllywoodwhxree

[latetothegameds]

Idk if you still feel like chatting and getting ask but i want to say I just absolutely adore your fics so much. Like I have reread them so many time and yet I still can not get bored like HOW DO YOU DO IT. Be it the characterisation and interactions ( my fav part ngl) or the porn it's just great all around LIKE OMG I am a DOG and I am FEASTING upon your writing everytime you upload something and EVEN THE THINGS I THINK I WONT ENJOY I END UP ENJOYING. HOW DO YOU DO THAAT

My favorite fic of yours HAS to be "All I Refuse" but i love all your fics in general. Your interpretation of the characters is god tier and your maxwil is even higher than!

I love your maxwil so much, you portray them so fucking well and it makes me go rabid each and every time. ITS JUST SO PERFECT. You write them the perfect amount of always fighting but still knowing theres a moment to be serious and a moment to be arguing, you can actually make them have some real fights and yet still get back together, you manage to portray the deep trust they have in each other in a way that doesnt make them just immediatly fluffy 24/7 because they still struggle with so many things and its just so normal to them they stil manage to me enamoured in each other your maxwil is probably amongst the first things that got me to fall in love with the ship.

And it's not just how you write characters that is genius, the way you write in general is. I love how you can manage to make the characters still speak into other languages without throwing me out of the story, the way other characters will answer to what was said in english so that even if you dont know exactly what was said you still have enough of the idea to not need to go to google translate for each and every sentence, the way you manage to know exactly when to and when not to translate in brackets, your clever use of words! English is not my first language and S&M is clearly not the easiest to read at all times due to the complicated language used sometimes and yet your writing makes it so easy to read it without needing to go to google search up what each and every single word means ( be it thanks to the way other characters react to the word or willow or some other character asking what it means )

I love your writing so much I'm really happy you decided to do shaking off the rust because I don't need to wait months upon months to see more of your stories anymore LOL ( this is a joke, take your time with s&m because I know it will be amazing each time! (But not too long! I need to know what happens next LOL!) )

But yeah love your stuff, too bad s&m is too tangled up with tickle porn for me to share it with any of my friends lmao ( they're just cowards who can't accept fine porn smh )

-Clam ( Sorry no pun this time!)

-Coconuts Live And Mine inthecaves

IT'S CLAM IT'S CLAM IT'S CLAM

Thank you so much for all your kind words! Honestly, I just kind of. . .write and see where it goes, I have no idea what the fuck I'm doing. I'm truly grateful for everyone that likes my writing - I never imagined people would actually enjoy it!

All I Refuse is actually one of my favorite fics, and I'm really proud of it. Not gonna lie, I love a good sappy wedding fic (even though it's less sappy and more just Maxwil arguing the whole time).

I didn't realize you weren't a native English speaker - could've fooled me! I'm always impressed by the amount of international readers I have, it makes me wish I actually spoke more languages so I could better communicate with you all. All of you are so good at English! I could never be that fluent.

Yeeeeeah. . .Smoke and Mirrors was supposed to be a self-indulgent one-shot, hence why it's so raunchy. It's kind of embarrassing to be honest 😅 But people seem to like it, so I guess I'm doing something right? I hope?

Thank you again, Clam! Hope to keep seeing you around ❤

[quitesins]

Hair as Pink as his Cheeks

Masterlist

Bakugou x Fem!Reader

Tags: Sfw, fluff, drabble, early stages of the relationship tings, disgustingly sappy, Kirishima is there- at the start I mean, I’ll come back and edit dis later

A short drabble- that I’ll probably recycle for an actual fic I’m writing- where Bakugou accidentally dyes his hair pink!

“What the fuck shitty hair?!” Bakugou emerges from the bathroom, a bottle gripped tightly in his hands. And his hair. It’s pink.

“Holy shit.” Kirishima looks at him, wide eyed and evidently about to laugh. “What did you do man?”

Bakugou just dashes the bottle towards Kirishima- which the red head narrowly misses- and stomps over. “This is your doing, why the fuck is the shampoo full of dye.”

Kirishima just shrugs and pushes his hands through the wet hair, looking closely. Even at the roots, where his hair darkens, it’s pink.

“Wow, you really got it in there.” Kirishima notes, going to study another section of hair, before Bakugou pulls back and shoves at him lightly.

“Will this shit wash out,” Bakugou grumbles, glaring at his roommate. Kirishima looks sheepish and Bakugou already knows his answer. He groans.

“Hey, man, it looks good on you.” Kirishima tries to comfort. “Plus your hair grows fast, no? Give it a few weeks, you’ll be fine.”

Bakugou almost decks his- soon to be ex- best friend, best friend in question noticing and raising his hands in playful surrender.

“I need it gone now!” He huffs.

“Like now-now?” Kirishima inquires, looking at him suspiciously. “What for?”

“I have a fucking date with [Name]!” Bakugou finally shouts, sighing heavily as the words leave him.

The relationship is new. Still soft and stuttered. In its early stages of romance. It’s warm with the need to take the love in his hands, hold it gentle and nurture it. There’s a pressure to keep it close, nerves that force perfection. But most of all, it’s a simple childish urge. He wants to impress you. He wants you to like him.

Kirishima nods his head, looking solemn as he thinks. Then he finally speaks.

“Maybe a hat will do-” But before he can finish, Bakugou is on him like a rabid dog…

He’s nervous. Hat tucked over his hair and hoodie atop that for good measure. The air is hot and it only serves to make him dizzy. He dislikes the stickiness of his own skin and how his quirk threatens to go off. He waits for you in the shade but doesn’t spot you in the crowd.

“Kats’?” Your voice comes from behind, startling him, and he whips around quickly.

There you stand, in a flowing, summery dress, looking pretty in the sun.

“Yeah.” He turns, letting you greet him with a hug. The smell of your perfume is familiar and settles his nerves a little.

“What’s with the disguise,” you joke, and his nerves return.

“It’s not a fuckin’- it’s not a disguise.” He pulls off the hoodie but keeps the hat on. The pink of his hair does not stay hidden.

When he sees you and the way your eyes go wide, he groans, wanting the ground to swallow him whole.

“Wow,” you speak, almost like a question. “You’re pink?”

He isn’t quite sure how to respond, instead shoving the hood back on and grabbing your hand. He ignores your light protests and pulls you along with him to take seat at a cafe nearby.

With orders placed, he finally lets the hood and cap fall off, showing off the entirety of his now pink mane. He mumbles out a quick explanation, something about stupid roommates and ex best friends, and waits for you to react. You don’t respond immediately, so he prompts you, wanting to get it over with.

“So? What do you think?”

Your face shows you’re thinking, and after a moment you speak, “Well, it’s not quite Dynamight-”

He cuts you off. “I fucking know.” It’s like his walls draw up without his order. Ready to fight rejection before it arrives.

You bend over the table slightly, to sift your hands through his hair. You words are light, soft, and hold a sincerity even he can’t deny. “But I like it.”

That’s unexpected.

That’s really unexpected. So unexpected that his walls drop with a sudden thud and his face heats instantly.

“You’re as pink as your hair, Kats’” You laugh, moving back to you seat. He almost instinctively reaches out to keep your hands in his hair, but stops himself at the last second.

“Fuck off.” He rolls his eyes, trying hard to keep his lips from tugging. He knows he probably looks a little insane, the way his teeth are bared, but he’s too embarrassed to let the smile free.

“Like candy floss.” You look at him dreamily. And God, he wants to squish the expression off your face.

“Are you just hungry.” He retorts, with an even more dramatic eye roll.

“A little bit.” You smile cheekily and he regrets his tease for he can see your next words coming clearly. “Maybe I should just eat you up.”

You’re unbelievable.

“Shut the fuck uppp.” He groans with his head turned. This time the he can’t keep the smile to himself, so he doesn’t.

Even you have a slight sickly grimace on your face. “Okay yeah, that was bad, even for me.”

The food arrives shortly, your half is mainly cakes and treats while he chooses something more nutritious. Doesn’t matter as he finds himself giving you half his meal anyways, liking the way you’re so free with how you express your delight. He frowns when you raise a cupcake with icing of an annoyingly familiar colour to him and snap a picture. He lets you keep the picture of course, playfully threatening that of it gets anywhere, that’d be your head. You reply with your own light hearted jabs, and the quick back and forth becomes something that could only be considered flirting.

“I really like it you know.” The sun sets on the two of you nicely. You speak to keep the day longer.

“I won’t keep it.” He establishes. “But I’m glad.”

“Aww not even for me.” You joke, smiling at him, like you’re trying to replace the sun. To him, you do.

If you asked seriously, he probably would. Anything even. He’d give it to you in a heartbeat.

“Nah.” To accept would have the discussion taper. So he lies, although he knows you know otherwise. “Not even you.”

Defo gonna snag bits and pieces of this for an actual fic. A pick n mix of my own writing with the sentences as sweets. Anyways I wasn’t sure how to end this at all and was tempted to simply go “the end” but i somewhat pulled through, hopefully… also also sorry for the random pacing and pov switching. Also also also, I used the word even too much. Okay long and drawn out authors note OVER! GOODBYE!

[seijorhi]

Reading Scion (AAAHH) made me want to reread through your seijoh fics and while I was reading Rabid (faaav) I experienced A Thought

I've always felt like Seijoh would be more of a business-like yakuza, they've taken control of the corporate districts and they've got the politicians in their pockets, while Bonten runs the seedier underground of the city, but their worlds cross for whatever reason and they're working on a deal. Bonten brought their girl out to the club that night and Kyoutani starts locking in on her and oikawa starts being such a pleasant asshole about it like 😌 why don't you let my mad dog have her for a night 😌 as a show of good faith 😌 and judging from how kakucho and mikey reacted to dock incident I'm inclined to think they'd be against it however a business arrangement is on the line 🧐

But anyways!! your fics live in my mind rent free rhi, amazing as always 💕

that....w ould not go down well

[lexosaurus]

Everything Was White Part 13

[see all chapters]

read on: [ffn] / [ao3]

General Warning: From this point on this fic is going to deal with reoccurring themes that may be triggering to some. Please check out the ao3 tags if you’re unsure.

---

Muffled voices pulled him from the comfort of unconsciousness, shaking his mind awake despite his feeble attempts to brush them off. For a moment, he thought about trying to tell the voices to keep it down, but that would have been too much effort, and he was so comfortable in this blanket and pillow…

…

…

...the voices rose in volume, this time gaining clarity, shape. Almost words. Close, but not quite. Not yet. Danny wasn’t ready. Five more minutes, he was so tired…

“...Danny…”

Wait.

What was that?

His eyes fluttered open, and he immediately took stock of his unfamiliar surroundings. He was...not in his bedroom. He was in his living room, on the couch where he must have fallen asleep after his almost mental breakdown over a glass of water.

How embarrassing. Danny hoped that no one spotted the water glass on the rug. Or, if they had, they hadn’t thought anything about it. Hadn’t figured out that it was on the floor because Danny tried to get water from the sink without using his wheelchair.

Maybe they wouldn’t connect the dots. Honestly, the thought of seeing that pitying expression on their faces as they watched him fail to do a stupidly simple task made him want to fall into a coma.

Oh well. He was awake now. Might as well go get something to eat to make his family and therapists proud.

Just as he was about to toss the blanket off his body, Jazz’s quiet voice sounded from the kitchen. “You can’t keep the truth from him forever.”

“We can, at least for now,” his dad said.

“It’s not going to work.”

Danny froze, the last of his fatigue zapped from his brain.

What truth? What were they talking about? What was going on in there?

He debated standing up and announcing his presence, but the blossoming sense of dread in his gut kept him still.

Whatever was going on, he had a sinking feeling that it was about him.

His mother spoke up. “We have to. It’s for his own safety.”

“It’s wrong,” Jazz countered. “It’s wrong to keep secrets like this.”

“I know, Jazz. But if we told Danny, he…”

His eyes widened, his breath catching in his throat.

Tell him what? 

“Jazz, you have to understand. With Danny in the position that he’s in right now, there are just certain limitations that we need in this house in order to stay on top of his recovery,” Jack explained.

“But cutting him off from his core?”

It was as if he were punched in the gut. He clenched the blanket, balling the edges in his fists. His instincts were screaming at him to jump up and demand the truth, but he buried that part of him back down inside his mind.

They would never tell him. They didn’t trust him enough. He wasn’t human enough.

But they always trusted Jazz. They favored her. She was the ideal child with her perfect grades, perfect ambitions, perfect brain.

Even if they wouldn’t tell him, of course they would tell her. 

“We have to do it, honey. We have no choice,” Maddie said.

“You see how he’s reacting to this though, right? He’s not himself.”

“We know, but it’s what needs to be done. He can’t be given access to his core, not right now.”

Why though, Dad? Tell me why...

“This is cruel,” Jazz said.

There was a brief pause, each second like a knife in Danny’s chest. He wanted so badly to snap, but he forced himself to stay still. To stay silent.

To listen.

There was a sigh, and Maddie broke the silence. “You have no idea how much it hurts us to see him like this. We know it isn’t right to keep a ghost from its core but...at the school that day. Jazz, I’ve never seen him like that. And it terrified me.”

Danny felt his blood drain from his face. His body turned ice cold.

He knew what they were talking about, and he assumed that that day was a distant memory in the past, something that would never be talked about again. And yet, here his parents were, digging up the most humiliating moment in Danny’s life, throwing it at his face like a weapon of why he couldn’t possibly be allowed his ghost half, why he needed to be shut off from himself.

“He’s come a long way since then.”

“Not long enough.”

They didn’t know. They didn’t understand what it was like. They weren’t there, they weren’t the ones who were cut open, who were beaten, who spent all day in and out looking at white walls, white floors, white suits, white ceilings, white equipment.

He hadn’t been himself that day at the school. He’d just come home from the hospital, he was coming off of a cocktail of heavy pain medication, he was physically exhausted from the PT and mentally exhausted from everything else. 

Okay, so he snapped in the locker room. He’d been pushed back into school, pushed into being around people, pushed into acting normal, like nothing was wrong, and the world was warping around him and he just fell apart. He freaked out, he broke a mirror, Dash and Kwan found him, and he paid the consequences for it.

“I don’t think he’d do that again.”

“You don’t know that, Jazz.”

“But his Obsession—”

“It’s protection. Phantom will make him do whatever it can in order to protect itself. Even if that means…”

It. 

The word echoed in Danny’s head.

You’re an it.

Something inside him cracked.

His vision glazed over, and suddenly the two students in Casper he’d hoped to never cross paths with again were standing over him, approaching cautiously, as if he were a wounded animal.

“Give me the glass, Danny,” Dash had said. “You don’t need it. Just give it to me, I’ll hang onto it for you. I’ll keep it safe.”

He looked down, and blood trickled through his fingers, splattering onto the white tile.

It was red. Why was it red?

Crack.

Maddie’s voice faded back into his consciousness. “We just can’t risk it.”

“So what, your genius idea is to keep lying to him about why you won’t take the chip out? Feed him some bullshit excuse about the lab? Danny’s a human but he’s also a ghost! You can’t keep him from his core and expect him to turn out okay!”

“We know that.”

“No, you clearly don’t!”

“Keep your voice down, hun. He’s asleep.”

“Then stop lying to him. Tell him the real reason why you won’t give him Phantom back.”

Danny couldn’t breathe.

His parents. The people who had gone to court for him, who fought so hard to get him home, who assured him that they’d go to the moon and back if it meant keeping him safe. 

He trusted them.

And they...they just…

Crack.

“You know we can’t do that,” his father said. “You said it yourself, Danny’s just as much human as he is ghost. Ghosts don’t have the capacity to think rationally about something like that.”

They just…

“Kwan, get Lancer.”

He didn’t understand. Why were those two here?

“Please, give me the mirror, Danny.”

No, they didn’t get it. He needed this. This was the only thing he could do, it was the only way out. He couldn’t let Operative O take his body again.

“Danny...”

They were afraid, he realized. They thought he was going to hurt them. He was a rabid animal, wasn’t he? And they thought he would attack them?

Another drop of blood splashed onto the tile.

Crack.

Jazz scoffed. “I cannot believe you would just—”

“He’s fragile, Jazz!” Maddie protested. “Whatever happened in the government facility changed him. He’s not the same boy he used to be, something inside him is fundamentally different now. Frankly, we have no idea how that has affected his Obsession.”

His head spun.

They lied to him.

“What, so the better option is to just cut him off from his core altogether and force him to play human all day? Great plan, Mom.”

“If that’s what we need to do to keep him safe, then yes, that is the better option.”

The mirror shattered, the pieces raining down, echoing as they bounced against the tiles. He watched with unfocused eyes as everything around him crumbled.

His heart pounded in his ears, drowning out the arguing voices in the kitchen. He fell to the floor and clutched a broken shard. 

He needed...he needed to...

Protect.

Danny saw red. 

His lips moved before he could stop them. “I thought you’d accepted me.”

The argument from the kitchen came to a screeching halt. 

“Danny! I didn’t—”

“No!” Danny pushed himself to a seated position. 

They kept him from his core on purpose. 

His parents, after all those painstaking hours in family therapy, all that talk about how they were a team and how they needed to work together, had lied to him.

They weren’t a team. They had never been a team. Danny was just…

He was just a ghost to them.

An irrational, stupid, ectoplasmic creature. 

They scrambled from the kitchen, moving into the living room with fear strewn across their faces. 

They hate ghosts. You know this, Fenturd. They hate you.

“We do accept you, Danno. We love you.”

They didn’t love him.

“We were just trying to protect you. Please understand, Danny,” Maddie begged.

They’re scared of you. They don’t know what it means to protect. They’re lying.

“Danny, you need to understand—”

“SHUT UP!” Danny gripped his hair with his hands, covering his ears to quiet the hurricane of emotions devastating his mind. “Shut up, shut up!” 

He didn’t know whether to laugh, scream, or cry. After all this talk, his parents had never accepted him as a ghost at all.

“I’m so sorry, son,” Jack said.

“I can’t—I can’t!” Danny spat out. He had a thousand different responses swirling through his brain, so many things he wanted to say, but he couldn’t. His brain wasn’t working, his voice wasn’t working, and everything he saw was painted in blood.

They lied to him.

“I—you—”

“Danny, you need to breathe,” Jazz said, but Danny could recognize that tone. That was the same voice she used when trying to calm down the neighbor’s hyperactive dog that had a bad habit of finding ways out of its fence.

Danny ripped his head out of his arms, swiveling up to meet the concerned gazes of his family. “Shut up! I’m not a fucking dog!”

“Danny, I never—”

“Stop treating me like a fucking animal! I’m not—I’m not!” Danny attempted to grip the coffee table to push himself up, but he only succeeded in falling back onto the couch. He cursed and blinked away the mist that clouded his vision because he was not crying right now. His parents did not get to see that.

Maddie jumped forward. “Careful!”

“No, shut the fuck up!” Danny yelled. “You don’t get to—to be concerned! You don’t get that!”

Maddie stepped back, looking as if someone slapped her across the face.

“Danny, please, calm down,” Jack tried.

If anything, the red lining in his vision only deepened. “No! I won’t, and you don’t—don’t—ah!” Danny hit his forehead with his hand, frustration clawing at his throat.

There was so much he wanted to say, but he physically couldn’t get it out. He couldn’t stand, he couldn’t talk, he could only sit here drowning in rage.

His body was betraying him.

His parents could fix this right now if they wanted to. They could take him down to the lab, remove the chip, give Danny any semblance of freedom back. They could do that.

But they stood there doing nothing. 

They like you like this. Helpless. Grounded. Easy to control.

“You lied to me! You knew—you fucking—my core isn’t even damaged, is it?”

Jack wrapped his arm around Maddie, who hadn’t even bothered to wipe away the tears that had spilled on her cheeks.

Because of him.

They hate you. 

“Is it?” Danny pressed, but he didn’t need a response. He knew the answer. He knew the truth.

It was written all over his parents' faces.

“Was my core ever damaged? At all?”

“It was, but—”

Danny shook his head in disbelief. “Cores are self-re—self-regenerating. I—I knew that. I knew that! It—it was healed before I left the hospital, right?”

His parents refused to meet his eyes.

“You lied to me. All this time, and—and you...you just…” Danny tried to stand up again, but failed. “I’m so fucking sick of this!”

“Danny, please understand. We only did it because we needed to protect you.”

“Protect me?” He let out a sardonic laugh. “You thought—you seriously thought you were—you were fucking protecting me? Do you not...even see? I can’t—I can’t even fucking stand up! I can’t stand! I can’t do anything! And you thought you were protecting me? Are you serious?”

Jack’s lips thinned. “Danny, do you not realize how close we were to losing you? And I don’t mean to the government. You blasted a school mirror and then tried to use one of the pieces to kill yourself! I mean, come on, son!”

Danny lurched back, stunned. “I wasn’t trying to kill myself!”

“Then what were you trying to do, huh?” Jack shouted back. “Because not even a few hours after we dropped you off back at school, we get a call from Mr. Lancer saying a few students found you in the locker room threatening suicide because you thought you were back with the government! What do you expect us to think, Danny? We’re your parents.”

“Shut up!” Danny squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the flashes of memory that threatened to surface.

“Jack—”

“No, Maddie—”

They hate you. 

His throat burned. “Shut up!” 

It wasn’t fair. His parents weren’t being fair. That incident—that was a fluke. An anomaly. And yet they were punishing Danny for something that happened weeks ago, before he went through the painstaking ordeal of inpatient and psychiatry and the PHP and the whole other host of therapies he’d been forced into.

“What was the point in sending me to—to inpatient then? If you were just going to keep treating me like a stupid animal?”

“Danny, we’re not treating you like an animal.”

“You sure as hell got me caged up like one!”

“Don’t talk to your mother that way!”

“Jack, honey—”

“Everyone, please calm down!”

“Stay out of this, Jazz!”

“Danny, I think—”

“I don’t care what you think!”

“Guys—”

“I NEED MY CORE!” Danny screamed, the sob finally tearing its way out of his throat.

His family fell into a deafening silence, and Danny could feel their stares as ugly sobs overtook him, ripping down any semblance of an emotional wall he’d managed to construct over these weeks.

His tears boiled on his skin, and he dug his hands in his hair in a desperate attempt to ground himself. But it didn’t matter, his body shook uncontrollably, his emotions burning through his throat leaving him gasping for air.

All while his parents stood there ten feet away from him. Frozen, unwilling to approach. Because he was a halfa, a monster, broken, unstable, trapped, feared. He was the demon that parents warned their children about, the thing that his parents had dedicated their careers to developing weapons against, a creature so dangerous that the government had funded an entire group to research and exterminate.

And up until two months ago, it was legal for him to be vivisected, to be experimented on, to be tortured to the point of paralysis.

He rocked back and forth, struggling to piece himself back together. And when he could make it through a shuddering breath without breaking down again, all he could do was croak out, “Why…”

His parents remained unmoving, faces pale, arms by their sides. Tears streaked his mother’s and sister’s cheeks, and his father’s unblinking gaze bore down on him.

But their silence wasn’t good enough, their sorrow and tears weren’t good enough. An invisible wall was growing between them with each passing second and they couldn’t even see it.

They know. They’re doing it on purpose. They don’t care about you.

“Why?” Danny insisted. “How could—how could you...how could you do this to me? I’m...I just…”

“We had to, son,” his father said. The moonlight cast a shadow over his face. “It was for your own safety.”

No. Danny was done with the lies. Done with the excuses. 

He was done.

Flaring his eyes, he bit back, “My safety, or yours?” 

His parents flinched, and Danny couldn’t find himself to care. They’d lied to him, they’d dug their hole, so now they had to live in it.

“Danny, please…” Jazz stepped forward. “Don’t do this.”

“No! You—don’t you get it?” Danny pleaded. “I can’t—Mom, Dad, I feel like a prisoner. I’m trapped in my body. I can’t—I can’t live like this anymore! I can’t fucking do it! You have no idea...and you don’t even care!”

“Of course we care, Danno.”

“Then why? Tell me the truth! Please, tell me why because—” His voice broke, and his head fell back into his hands. “Please...tell me why…”

Jack sighed. “It was just the decision we felt we needed to make. It wasn’t easy, it wasn’t something we did because we wanted to hurt you. We love you, son. And we just wanted to know that you were safe.”

“We love you so much, sweetie.”

But they were blind because he wasn’t safe. And he was never going to be safe again. There would always be someone out there who had power over him, who wanted to control and erase him.

If they loved you, they would have listened.

They’re scared of you.

He glanced up to see Jack putting his arm around Maddie, pulling her in close. Jazz stood behind them, allowing their shadows to overtake her body.

Jazz said something, but Danny wasn’t listening. He didn’t care. He was trapped and completely alone. There would be no protests, no online petitions, and no jury on his side. No one to rescue him.

“Then give it—give me my core back.”

Jack shook his head. “I’m sorry son. We’ve made our decision.”

“I’ll find a way,” Danny insisted. “I know some ghosts. I’ll get them to—to take it out. You can’t...you—you can’t stop me.”

“Danny, I don’t think even Frostbite could—”

“You don’t know that, Jazz! He could—he could do it. He would figure it out if I asked.” 

His parents exchanged a look, one reminiscent of the exasperation when Danny would tell them that the detention hadn’t been his fault, that he did try to do the homework assignment, that he would try harder next time.

They didn’t believe him.

“He’ll do it,” he reiterated. 

“Danny, we’re not going to let any ghosts near you right now.”

“Like that ever worked before,” he retorted.

There was a pregnant pause, and Danny looked away. He felt nauseous, and anxiety speared through his chest.

“Please, I can’t—I can’t live like this. I can’t…” 

He knew how desperate he sounded, but for once he didn’t care. His parents were going to kill him by keeping his core locked up. 

Right now it was about self-preservation. If he couldn’t protect himself, it was over.

“Graduate from the PHP program first,” Maddie finally said. “Once you’re back in school, then we can talk, alright? We’ll talk about...about removing the chip.”

Danny whipped his head up, his eyes searching for any signs that she was lying, that she was going to pull the rug out from under him again.

But her face betrayed nothing.

“Graduate?” Danny breathed. “I just have to...graduate?”

“Yes. Show us that you’re okay enough to go back to school, and you can have your ghost half back.”

“I…” He tugged at his hair. “But that’s...that’s weeks…’

Maddie crossed her arms. “Those are my terms.”

Time slowed, and the distance between them only seemed to grow. He knew he was already behind leaving the PHP center that he was almost certain there was talk of shoving him back into inpatient.

But they didn’t get it. It wasn’t his fault, it was the government stalking him. It was Vlad. He had no choice, and he would never be able to graduate PHP. Not without his core.

“I—but—but, Mom. I need—”

“Son,” his dad said sharply. “I understand how difficult this is for you, but you’re not in a place where we can trust you right now. This is our compromise. Show us we can trust you, and you can have your freedom back.”

His eyes stung, and his throat was starting to squeeze shut.

No…

“Do we have a deal?”

This was impossible.

Even if Frostbite had a way of removing the chip, Danny had no way of finding him. Not without Clockwork’s interference, who didn’t seem to have any interest in contacting Danny as of late. 

The thought of Clockwork left a sour taste in Danny’s mouth. He hadn’t thought of the ancient ghost since his nights in the government compound, his body splayed out like a rag doll, shivering from shock. He remembered staring into the pitch black abyss around him begging for Clockwork to come help him.

But his calls were never answered.

Danny knew Clockwork could have freed him whenever he wanted, government ghost shields be damned. But he didn’t. And that made him just as guilty as everyone else.

And now Danny was alone, bound by his human physiology and his ghost hunter parents.

He had no choice.

“Okay. It’s—it’s a deal.”

---

His body was cold, dead, with waves of trembling coming in and out in spurts. Every breath hurt, and he wasn’t sure if it was because of the burning in his chest, the soreness in his throat, or the way the alien warmth in his core seemed more overbearing than ever. 

He could feel it, the hand reaching between his ribs, gripping his core with its warm, gloved fingers. It was revolting, violating, how the hands invaded his body, tearing off his skin and ribs as if he were nothing but a rotting carcass.

He felt dizzy. Lightheaded. He put a hand on his chest, crinkling his shirt in his fist. It was his core, he needed to protect it. 

But he was useless. Nothing. He was at the mercy of his parents who were all but holding a loaded gun to his head while telling him to trust them. Who lied to him that they accepted him, that they were there for him. 

That they loved him.

He was stupid, so stupid. After all the months of hearing them enthusiastically discuss the ways they’d love to rip him apart, what made him think they’d love him just like that? 

Their acceptance was conditional, and their conditions were impossible for him to meet. How the hell did they expect him to graduate from PHP and reenter society like a normal person while they were drowning his core like this? Did they not see how badly he was suffocating? How much he was screaming, thrashing in the ocean for air, desperately trying to fight the undertow pulling him further and further away from his sanity?

He wasn’t going to make it. He was going to fail, he was going to drown. He couldn’t do this.

But there’s one way, a small voice in his head whispered. You’ve done it before and you were fine. It helped you.

His eyes trailed over to his nightstand with his old model rocket sitting proudly on top. He had never flushed the oxycodone. 

Maybe…maybe…

It can help you again.

He just needed to graduate the PHP program and he would get his core back and then everything would be okay. He could work on his problems the right way later. The way he was supposed to be doing it, that he couldn’t do right now because he was still missing half of himself.

Two weeks. That was all he needed. Just two weeks worth of medication, and then he’d be on his way.

You need this.

He pushed himself up as if he were a puppet on strings. Everything was bleak, gray-washed and oppressive. Nausea rolled over him in waves and a hand gripped his throat, pulling the oxygen from his body.

The nightstand glowed in the moonlight, and like a moth Danny felt himself drawn closer to it. Tunnel vision took over, and the world morphed into a series of photos in a time lapse. Snapshot after snapshot flickered past his eyes until a hand—his hand—was pulling the drawer open to reveal an orange bottle inside.

You’re ready.

He couldn’t live like this anymore.

The fear, the anxiety, his core. It was all so much easier before, back in the hospital. Back when the only thing he had to worry about was what constellation he was going to draw that day. Back before he had to face the public, his family, or Vlad. Back before he knew that the government had his phone tapped and was watching his every move.

Back before he knew that his freedom was only temporary.

He was a sitting duck, a kid trapped in no man’s land with no weapon, no armor, nothing to keep him alive.

“Two weeks,” he whispered. Two weeks and then he would be okay. He would graduate from PHP, he would get to go back to school, he would become a regular person again. He just needed to get there first.

He opened the bottle and shook out a small white pill into the palm of his hand.

Two weeks.

Tilting his head back, he tossed the pill into his mouth, took a sip of water, and swallowed.

There. 

It was done.

---

Thank you @imekitty for beta-ing the fic as well as helping me organize my plot better!

Thanks for reading!

---

<previous chapter / next chapter>

[stillebesat]

Beneath the Moon -part 3

Sanders Sides: Logan, Roman Blurb: After all the research he’d done, after all the signs he’d been experiencing. Logan needed someone to tell him he wasn’t crazy. And Roman…Roman had always been the one most likely to believe in the fantastical, the impossible, the…supernatural. Fic Type: Werewolf!AU Overall Fic Warnings: Bite Wound -Semi-Detailed, Dog Attack Mention, Injuries, War Talk, Fighting Talk, Death/Dying Talk, Gun Mention, Shapeshifting/Transformation, Brief Sensory Overload,  Taglist in Reblog.

To Catch Up: Part 1  Part 2 

The one key detail that had been consistent in every source Logan had looked up about werewolves was the change. 

While the imagery used in each had varied, the descriptions overall had remained the same. Changing into a wolf would hurt. He would feel like he was on fire. Burning as his body was forcibly changed from one form to another.

Heat. 

Because everything became more malleable when it was warm. Ice would melt. Plastic would bend. Metal would pool. 

Heat was the source of change. 

So to become a wolf. He would have to burn.

And yet.

All Logan felt was cold. Frozen really. Like he was stuck in a glacier, his heart slowly pounding, fighting against the tidal wave of ice that threatened to engulf him. Pounding like the waves of the ocean beating against the shore. The pull of the cool tide dragging at him, beckoning him to fall into the moon. To get lost in the never ending white light as it filled his entire vision. Filled his vision despite him knowing that only the top sliver of it had appeared. That the whole moon shouldn’t be visible just yet. That there was no way for him to be able to reach the moon from here.

There was a roaring in his ears as his breath caught in his throat, his body going rigid even as his feet shifted to run away, to hide from this empty void of space that called to him as the moon rose higher, beckoning him to let go of the earth and float into the sky with it. To free himself from the restraints of gravity and just---

Accept it.

The faint thought echoed distantly in his head as a soft whimper left his throat.

You said you would accept it.

The moon filled his vision. Pulsating. Like a beacon, it called to him. Called to him in a way that it shouldn’t. The moon had never held such an allure before now and his mind frantically fought against the impossibility. How could an object in space hold such power? How could it force him to be anything than what he was. 

Human.

Accept it.

Werewolves shouldn’t exist!

But research had shown. The bite on his hand--he--he---

Like a lonely foghorn sounding over the misty shores at night, a single howl broke through his turbulent thoughts, echoing in the night, overtaking any other sound, demanding his attention. 

Demanding an answer.

That answer was wedged in his throat. The urge to--to--but--he--he couldn’t-- 

Accept it. 

The howl echoed again and Logan could have sworn he saw a shadowy form flit across the surface of the moon. 

A shadow that looked like a wolf.

Logan shuddered, the shadow growing bigger in his vision, the eyes within glowing bright like the sun as it turned to face him, staring him down, the ice in his body threatening to drown freeze him, feeling the need to cry out to--to--

Howl. 

You said--

Accept it.

He had to--there was no denying with how the moon was calling to him. He had to if he wanted any chance of keeping his human mind.

Shuddering from the ice that seemed to flow through his veins, Logan threw his head back and let out an answering howl, calling for--for--he didn’t know. For the wolf? For it to come to him?

His voice still echoing in his ears, the shadow on the moon pounced, despite the impossibility of it all, wrapping around him like a warm current, heating the frozen ache that held his muscles captive like a warm wind on a hot summer day.

He couldn’t help but melt into that warmth as it massaged the ice away, falling to his hands and knees as a soft lilting voice whispered in his ear.

Welcome brother. 

His heart skipped a beat at those two very simple words. 

Simple words that he hadn’t felt applied to him either singly or together in a very very long time.

“Logan?” 

A chill ran down his spine as the warmth vanished as quickly as it had engulfed him, leaving him to stagger in place, his body feeling--feeling--

Not human.

Definitely not human.

His eyes flashed open and he flinched back at the not--at the--his eyes---he wasn’t seeing how he was used to seeing! It was too...clear? He knew it was night. The colors--He shook his head, heart pounding painfully quick as a snarl left his lips before he could stop it, his other senses going into overdrive as everything began to twitch. His ears, his nose, his--his--

He whirled in a circle, paws slipping on the grass as he caught sight of a long black--A whimper of disbelief sounding in his ears as he stared at--at--

A Tail. 

He. Had. A. TAIL. 

It was nothing like the one he’d tried to create before. Of course he’d known that. But still. It was--it was moving and he wasn’t sure if he was controlling it or not and he couldn’t get it to stop moving and with his ears twitching at every sound demanding to know what that noise was and his nose twitching as it filled with smells that were both familiar and yet totally unfamiliar at the same time that demanded he needed to investigate so he could figure out just what he was sensing and--he--he---

It was too much.

All that preparation had been for nothing. It was like that nightmare of walking into a final and realizing you hadn’t studied for it at all. He couldn’t do this! This was--

“Whoa, Lo. It’s okay. Breathe, Buddy. You’re okay. You’re doing great.” 

Logan shuddered at how his ears flicked towards the voice and away, another soft whine leaving him as he looked up to Roman.

Roman, who’s eyes were glowing as bright gold as any wolf’s in the moonlight as he stood tall, head held high, staring him down, one hand outstretched in a pacifying gesture despite the display of dominance. “You’re okay, Lo.” He said in a low voice, maintaining eye contact, his breath steady despite how quickly Logan could hear his heart beating. 

Because he doesn’t know if you’re a threat. 

And Roman had been trained to kill threats.

Logan lowered his head, ears laying back as he found himself reacting to instinct, crouching down so that his belly brushed the ground, to appear as small as possible in this...this shape. 

The golden light in Roman’s eyes softened as he took a careful step closer.

It took all that he had to stay in place, to not retreat against Ro’s advancement. Not that Logan was confident he could run at this point. As uncoordinated and off kilter as he felt he’d probably end up face planting into the ground after two steps.

Another whine left his throat as Roman crouched within lunging distance, his hand still outstretched. 

“I know it’s a lot to take in.” He said with a faint smile. “A lot to get used to. But I know you can handle this, Brainiac. You’re gonna be just fine. I know you won’t hurt me.” 

Such Trust. 

Such trust for a high school enemy.

And yet---Logan found himself cautiously creeping forward, belly still to the ground as he stretched out his head, instinctively sniffing Roman’s proffered hand. 

His ears perked as he tried to place the multitude of scents he found there, far more than should have been on a human’s hands. It was intriguing. So much he could sense with a bare sniff and yet he couldn’t place those smells. It was--He licked Roman’s fingers to get a better idea of just what was on--

Wait. 

Logan recoiled, mouth feeling like it was on fire as he gagged, his tail twisting down to hide between his legs. Had he seriously just licked Roman’s hand?! 

Laughter rang through the air as Roman reached out, scratching Logan’s ears with warm fingers. “Do I taste that bad?” 

He stiffened under the touch, his chest rumbling with a suppressed growl of disagreement. No. He hadn’t tasted...unpleasant. Just the fact that Logan had licked him in the first place was...disquieting. 

He closed his eyes, leaning into Roman’s warm hand. He’d been so focused on having the tail that he’d overlooked all other canine behavior he could exhibit with these...extra senses in this unfamiliar shape. 

 Roman huffed, dragging his fingers down to scritch underneath Logan’s chin before pulling back. “You’re overthinking this.”

His ears laid back, eyes flashing open to glare at him. What did Roman expect? Him to be a crazy rabid feral--he flinched, remembering too late just why he had Roman bring a gun out here. 

Because he should be feral. Wild. Aggressive. He was a freaking wolf now. And while he was thankfully thinking more human at the moment, unlike the mindless beast he’d feared he’d become, he was still in a wolf’s body until the moon set and he had no idea how was he supposed to figure this out on his own--

Roman exhaled, shaking his head, his eyes glowing a brighter gold in the darkness as he slipped his gun, still in its holster, from around his waist, tossing it into a nearby bush before Logan could react. “Instinct, Lo.” 

Logan stiffened, looking between the bush and his childhood friend before taking a cautious step away from where the gun had fallen. What was he doing?! That was Ro’s only protection against--

Roman’s heart rate slowed as he pulled his own shirt over his head, tossing it to the side as he stared Logan down with a half smile. “The wolf won’t remain tethered beneath the human forever. They’re equals within you now. You just have to take a breath. Relax. And--” He rippled like a mirage on a hot summer day before a wolf with reddish brown fur stepped forward to rub his head against Logan’s. ~Trust yourself.~

To Be Continued

[theincompetentgenius]

Edgar Reacts to Lowborn Alice HCs

anon:  headcanons for how you think edgar bright would react to alice having a hard time with snobby nobles who make fun of her for being lowborn at those official parties Lancelot throws? edgar never comments on it (he's golden hearted) but he's technically a noble bloodline so alice might face some discrimination.

Hey anon, I really liked this ask (so much that it almost turned into a fic at the end yikes). I hope you enjoy it!

Edgar Bright

Edgar himself has never cared for one’s status. If he’s learned anything in his life, it’s that some of the highest-ranking officials can also be the most corrupt. So when he learns that dear Alice is a lowborn, it doesn’t matter to him. 

However, he does notice all the gossip around them. It’s not widespread in the Red Army Headquarters, but it does create a stir at the royal balls hosted by the King of Hearts. The worst had occurred during Alice’s first ball, where all the nobles had gathered to see them. They expected a direct descendant of Alice the First, hoping that the next Alice would be covered in gold and silver. But when they emerged in something more simple and true to themselves, many of them wrinkled their nose in disgust. Is that really Alice the Second? They must be from a poor family, What a waste.

The whispers grew louder and the bright smile on Alice’s face began to fade. They were trying so hard to keep a happy face, but no one knew how to detect a fake smile better than Edgar. While he didn’t comment on Alice’s heritage, he did make a point to throw a snide remark at the snotty nobles. If they were being extra bratty, he made it a point to verbally humiliate them while donning the prettiest smile.

From the corner of his eyes, he sees a heartbroken Alice rushing towards the balcony. Although their hands cover their face, the dazzling lights reflect a bright twinkle on their face streaking down their chin: a tear. The Jack of Hearts quickly finished his conversation and follows after them. “Ignore them. They have the mental capabilities of a rabid dog.”

“Ignore them? How can I possibly ignore them? That’s all they’ve been talking about, that’s all I can hear when someone talks to me!” The tears begin to pour.  He places his hand on their back, reaching out to wipe the tear from their face.

But they pull back. “Don’t you dare touch me! You think that you’re any different from them? Sure you wear a pretty smile and give me your sweetest words, but I know better than that! You’re just like everyone else in this goddamn hellhole. You think wouldn't understand because you were born with a silver spoon in your mouth. You’re a noble.”

They didn’t mean it. They were just mad and hurt by everyone in the room and Edgar was their ragdoll. But even though he knew that, their words didn’t sting any less because it was true. He was born to one of the wealthiest families in the Cradle, but at what cost? He’d lost everything that made him human.

For a moment, his feet are made of stone. He wasn’t sure whether he should leave them alone or try to console them any further. It was clear they didn’t want to see him, but there’s no greater pain than suffering alone. So he stayed, leaning against the the balcony’s railing. 

“You’re right. My family had all the luxuries they could ask for. They could buy anything they wanted. Yet with all the money in the world, they couldn’t buy humanity. Just look at how I turned out.” Edgar gave a bitter laugh. And with that, he returned to the party.

[dessarious]

Broken Harmony Pt1

Shout out to @ozmav for the Maribat rabbit hole I’ve been completely sucked into.

 This is the first part of I don’t know how log of a fic. I’m hoping putting it up in parts will keep me writing.

Also shout out to the Maribat discord peeps for encouragement. 

  Master List 1   Master List 2   Prologue   Next

Broken Harmony

Ever since Damian’s soulmate song had changed he’d been traveling with his father on business. That song had always been the one bright spot in his life. Sure there were moments when it faltered with anxiety or a touch of sadness, but on the whole it was always a strong, positive, and happy tune. Then three months ago it changed. It almost felt like it had shattered and was replaced by worry, sadness, and despair. 

He’d been worried at first that his own song had finally gotten to be too much for her. He’d always felt sorry for whoever his soulmate was. His song had to be something akin to a dirge or funeral march. He had felt her worry for him on several occasions, which shouldn’t have been possible given the distance between them, and it always gave him hope. 

He quickly discounted that theory though. He’d felt the moment it changed. Like the old song came to a screeching halt only to be replaced with pain and suffering. If he had been the cause it likely would have been gradual. No something had happened. He didn’t know what, all he knew was that he would find her and destroy whatever had caused his bright spot to dim.

Damian was just getting used to the new song when it changed again. If the first time had felt like glass breaking this one felt more like being body slammed into a wall. It knocked the wind out of him and left him gasping for air as the tune turned even more heartbreaking than before. He hadn’t thought that was possible.

His family were all eyeing him like he was a rabid dog, just waiting for him to turn and attack them. He hadn’t explained what was going on but his mood obviously worried them. When they went on patrol he was paired with either his father or Grayson and both felt the need to reiterate the no kill policy almost hourly. To say it was grating on his nerves was an understatement. It was no surprise that his brothers let out a collective sigh of relief when two months later, Bruce announced that he’d be taking Damian to tour the European offices. 

That was how he ended up waking two weeks later as his plane touched down in Paris with only one thought cycling through his head. He felt a new resonance in the song. His soulmate was here.

Marinette’s entire world had fallen apart. She’d like to say it started and ended with Lila, but that was only in her civilian life. As Ladybug, Lila was annoying yes, but it was only a mild problem compared to her partner. And then there was the Guardian issue.

As if all that wasn’t enough, she felt her soulmate song shift. Whoever he was, wherever he was, his song had become enraged. The anger coming through the bond almost made her feel as though her body was on fire. She knew she shouldn’t feel that at a distance and it only worried her more. Her song must have changed. With everything that had happened there was no question about that. Was he mad at her for it? It was the only reason she could think of for why it was affecting her so much. 

She spent her days at school trying to act normal as her skin tingled from her own frustration mixed with her soulmates rage. It was difficult and she wasn’t always successful which just widened the rift between her and her former friends. The more she was isolated the worse the burning got.

When she was around Chat… it was so much worse. She had no clue what her own song sounded like but it had to be different around her partner for her soulmate to react so strongly. She was almost happy when Chat delivered his ultimatum: I won’t be there for Akuma attacks unless you date me. Granted there was a lot more to the discussion but that’s what it boiled down to. 

It was a relief to be able to focus on a fight completely rather than worry about what ridiculous stunt Chat might pull or the fire that ran through her veins whenever he was near her. Unfortunately Paris didn’t see it the same way. Everyone assumed that without Chat there the fights took longer causing more damage and time lost. Even though her cure fixed everything people started to resent the ‘extra hours’ they lost. Public opinion was slowly turning and it was just one more stressor she didn’t need.

So when she woke up late as usual one morning, Marinette was already near her breaking point when she felt the resonance. He was here and his rage burned brighter than ever.

Master List 1   Master List 2    Prologue   Next

[maxineswritingcenter]

Bray Road - Fox Mulder x reader

So I have definitely been binge watching the X-Files and season one Fox? Oh what a babe. Sarcastic and has a problem with authority, WOO! Let go, kids! Using they/them pronouns.

“Oh he can’t be that bad.” (Y/N) brushed off their coworker’s words. Agent Jamison was referring to Special Agent Fox Mulder. An Oxford graduate, graduate with honors from the academy, and an excellent profiler.

 "He’s so bad that he turned Dana Scully- The Dana Scully, top of our class Dana Scully into one of his followers.“ He said. 

(Y/N) rolled their eyes, "I wasn’t aware we were in the presence of Christ himself, Jamison.” Chief Blevins assigned Scully to watch over Mulder and shut the X Files down. However, that doesn’t seem to be the case. “Make’s you wonder.” They muttered to themselves.

 "Just don’t get spooky on me, alright?“ Jamison stopped just short of the annex that held the X Files and the agent inside. They knocked on the door. 

“Nobody’s home!” A voice called from inside. 

(Y/N) made their way inside, closing the door behind them. Sitting at a desk, piled high with files was a man with brown scruffy hair and bright green eyes. The next thing they noticed with the ufo poster on the wall with bold black letters saying I want to Believe. They weren't kidding about this guy.

"Special agent Mulder, my name is (Y/N)(Y/L/N). I'm your temporary partner while agent Scully undergoes treatment." They smiled. Agent Mulder looking up at them over his glasses, shook his head.

"I only work with Scully, so tell whoever sent you here that if they're trying to spy on me they should get a little more creative." He went back to reading his file.

They shook their head, "AD Skinner said you would react like this."

That seemed to get his attention, "Skinner sent you?" He said the name like he was recalling an old friend. It was no secret that Assistant director Skinner had favorites, whether he liked it or not.

"Yes, he said we would get along." They smiled.

"And why's that?" There was a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Because I believe I have a case that fits your criteria.” 

- 

After setting up the photo projector, They began their presentation. 

“In nineteen-thirty six on a rural road outside of Elkhorn, Wisconsin there were sightings of a creature that has been described as a bear or wolf-like creature that stood up to seven feet tall on its hindlegs, a brown or grey color. Similar sightings appear through the years and also into neighboring Michigan, calling it the Michigan Dog man. In Wisconsin, however, they refer to as the Beast of Bray Road, the namesake of the road where it was first sighted.” They took a deep breathe before continuing, “In nineteen-seventy four, a couple and their child were driving down the road after a late night movie when they hit something on the road. They stop, husband gets out and sees what it was. The wife watches him get dragged away. She gets out of the car, gets dragged away. The kid was found the next day a police cruiser passing through the area.The first kill associated with the beast.” 

“Alright, where’s this going?” Agent Mulder asked. (Y/N) clicked the remote of the projector showing photos of the crime scene photos from the most recent crime. 

“Yesterday evening, the beast seems to have attacked again except this time in broad daylight. A group of college students were drinking and trying to find the beast when it seems that the beast found them. In the pieces they could find, it appears that they were mauled by a very large animal. The local fish and wildlife is puzzeled and local PD has no idea how to handle the deaths. The populous is in a uproar.” 

“And rightfully so.” He said, standing from his chair where he had been reading the file that (Y/N) had put together. 

“Well, looks like we’re going to Wisconsin, Agent (Y/L/N).” He closed the file, “I’ll go get us travel papers.” When he left the room, they took a deep breathe. Filled with a new hope for the case and getting justice. 

- 

After a plane ride and renting a car, the agents began the long drive towards the crime scene. As they got closer, Mulder couldn’t help but notice that his partner was fiddling with their hands nervously and staring out the window like they were in their own little world. 

“Everything alright, (Y/L/N)?” This startled them out of their trace. 

“Oh! Uh, yeah. Fine.” They said, giving Mulder a soft smile. 

Mulder nodded, “Is this your first xfile?” 

They looked at him for a moment and then nodded, “Yeah.” They were relieved. 

“If it makes you feel better, I’ve been working these cases for years now, agent Scully as well, and everything turned out alright. We find the evidence, catch whatever this is.” 

(Y/N) laughed it off, “You’re right. It’s probably just a rabid bear anyway.” They reasoned. 

“I don’t know about that. Globally, there are only forty bear attacks per year, only eleven of those attacks happen in North America.” He paused, “If you’re so nervous about this case then why did you take the assignment. How did you even hear about it?” 

(Y/N) gulped, “Friend of mine works in wildlife service, he heard it through the grapevine. He told me about the deaths before it. I put it together and brought it to the attention of the Assistant Director and he told me to come to you. That’s all.” They knew that Mulder had reason to be suspect because of their behavior. But he only nodded and the rest of the drive was silent.

- 

They made it to the crime scene that afternoon, meeting with the sheriff outside the yellow crime scene tape. The agents made their way towards the cop. 

“Can I help you folks?” The sheriff asked. 

“Agents Mulder and (Y/L/N),” They brought out their badges. showing the cop. 

“No disrespect, agents, but we didn’t call in the feds.” The sheriff said. 

“Yes, sir, we were made aware of the situation by fish and wildlife.” (Y/N) spoke up. 

“Well, you can ask the kid at the hospital what he saw and he’ll tell you what it was.” The sheriff shrugged. 

“There was a survivor?” Mulder asked. 

“Yes, sir. We found him a little ways down the road. He was barely alive when we found him.” 

“Can you show me where?” (Y/N) asked, reaching into the file in their hand. The sheriff led the two agents to the scene where the boy had been found. It was also marked off with yellow tape. 

Mulder looked over their shoulder as (Y/N) held up a black and white photograph. 

“What is it?” he asked. It was a moment before they spoke. 

“This is the exact spot where the car was found.” A sense of dread passed over them. 

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

Alright! So I have found that there is a lack of Fox Mulder fics which is a damn shame. I’m adding to the few. Of these include some of the best fics I’ve ever read. I’m excited for this story, I hope you are too! 

Read part 2 here!

Reblogs, likes and comments are appreciated!

Please shoot me a message if you would like to be tagged in the series!

[cupidshootstokill]

the fire lord and the bloodbender

hey, first fic ever that i’m posting to tumblr! this for a cute lil activity we did on the zutara gc, it was based on the prompt ‘bloodbending’. tbh this is more of a first draft than the complete fic, but still, hope u guys enjoy!

Rated: T

Pairing: Zuko/Katara

Word count: 2.5k

Katara's earliest memory was cages. Trapped behind cold steel bars, shackled to the ground where the elephant rats gnawed at her bare feet. She kicked them away during the day, but she was powerless at night, waking up to little red bites where they broke through her skin. They were as hungry as she was, after all.

But one night, under a full moon, that changed. She was released from her cage, encased within the arms of a woman, a prisoner like her. Together they fled from the prison. And for Katara, a new life had began as an innkeeper's granddaughter in a quaint Fire Nation village.

Hama told her that she wasn't really her grandmother. Kanna had been her dearest friend before the Fire Nation had snatched them away and locked them up in their cold steel cages, full of elephant rats that gnawed at your skin. She told  Katara to never forget her true identity, a waterbender from the South Pole, one of its last.

But Katara didn't know what that meant, she knew nothing of snow or her mother's embrace. She accepted Granny's words without question. Granny, who fed her and clothed her in pretty skirts. Granny, who braided her hair and sent her to the village school. Granny, who taught her to waterbend and to play with puppets. Granny, who taught her so many terrible and wonderful things.

Katara knew what Granny did to the villagers, she knew who was behind the disappearances, the unnatural stirring of limbs, the uncanny movements like puppets on a string. She had seen it first hand, under a full moon. But she kept quiet, Granny had never hurt her. And even if she had felt sorry for the girl in her class whose father had vanished without a trace, she knew better than to speak of it.

Several summers had passed. Katara spent most of her time in school, or playing other children in the village square. Granny forbade her from working at the inn, a child like her should play, work was for women. So she played, chasing the village children, and hiding in and out of shadows. Like this, she could almost forget what Granny did to their fathers and mothers and older sisters and brothers.

One day, she was not longer a child, waking up with blood between her legs. There was a dull ache in her tummy, but she hadn't been cut anywhere. She wondered if she was sick, if this was an illness she could heal. Wordlessly, she cleaned herself up, removing what blood she could with her bending, and gingerly she brought one hand to her stomach, feeling for the chi inside of her.

Even when the ache went away, she continued to bleed. It grew heavier and messier as it soiled her clean white sheets, and she cried in frustration. She had no choice but to tell Granny, there's no way she could go to school in the state she was in.

Granny congratulated her, at last she was a woman. Katara no longer attended school, she stayed at home. She no longer played in the village square, she worked at the inn. She no longer learned how to heal and control the waves, she learned how control people and made them dance like puppets.

Every full moon, she would paint her face, conceal her identity in a wide brimmed head and hide behind a veil. It was no longer Granny snatching away the villages, locking them up as elephant rats gnawed at their bare feet, it was her.

Even still, she could never possess Granny's cruelness, as she twisted their limb back until they broke, as she lashed they skin with water whips until it tore, as she froze their fingers and toes until they fell off.

For Katara saw not the Fire Nation soldiers that stole her from her family, from her people and culture. She saw the grocer and the butcher's son, the merchant and her teacher at the village school. She couldn't free because then where would they be? Granny and her, locked up in another cage, sentenced to death by whatever means the Fire Lord could think of.

But Katara wasn't cruel, she told herself as much as she healed the captives, their bones snapping back to place, their skin sewed back together under her cooling touch. She expected punishment, but Hama only praised her before inflicting another round of torture. And the cycle repeated indefinitely, as the moon waxed and waned.

A boy arrived at the inn. He called himself Lee, and Katara winced at the sight of his burnt eye. If he noticed, he didn't take offence, asking about where one might find work. That's when Granny stepped in.

"Us women could do with strong young man around, if you chop me a pile of firewood, I will let you stay here for free."

Katara urged the boy to leave, to run far away from here, but the words never left her mouth. She watched, silent, as Granny led the boy up the stairs to his room. That night, the moon was a waxing gibbous.

He was an easy target, one that no one would miss, the lone boy with a scar that none of the villagers knew.

She snuck into his room on his second night, the full moon casting a shadow on his high brow, like a blindfold over his eyes. His limbs contorted and his eyes snapped open, luminescent gold. He cursed in a futile struggle as Katara marched the boy into the woods, and into the cave.

All the while, he hissed and screamed at her, struggling against her pull with a ferocity than no victim before had possessed. Granny chained him up and he thrashed like a rabid dog, even bending fire from his mouth.

"What an insolent creature you are. Livelier than the rest of your brethren." She looked around at the villagers, hanging limply from their chains, dejected souls.

"Although, I suppose this makes things a lot of more interesting." Granny turned towards Katara, a knowing look in her beady old eyes. "My dear, won't you come closer?"

She could feel a gaze as cold as steel and as brilliant as gold on her as she stepped forward. "Katara, I know you are a gentle soul, and I've tolerated your healing until now. It's is time you learnt that justice made be delivered upon wrongdoers."

Granny stepped away from the boy, and grabbed her by the shoulders, pulling her closer. "And who better to practice on but a firebender." With one emaciated wrinkled finger, she tilted up Katara's chin. She no longer any choice but to stare into the boy's eyes, wide with fear, and the scorched skin. This was a boy, not much older than her, who cruelty at already been inflicted upon by his own people. And Hama would have her torture and kill him.

She scarcely knows this boy, but she knows her guardian. Hama, a woman so wounded by war and twisted by her own suffering, that she would at nothing to bring it upon others. Until now, Katara had played a part in it, something that had filled her with shame every night of the full moon. But this cannot go on.

Drawing water, she froze the boy's shackles, slicing through them in a powerful blow to free him from the wall. She could feel a tugging on her veins, but fought back with her own influence. The boy, however, had no control, throwing  clumsy volleys of fire at Katara, which she deflected.

"Young lady, you are making a grave mistake," Hama said. "To think that one of my own, the child that I raised by hand, would turn against me. And all for a pathetic firebender!" She now dragged the forward, his limbs limp as she shook his body for emphasis.

"But unlike you, cruel girl, I will show mercy." The boy rose, now levitating under the influence of Hama's bending. "I will teach you how to kill painlessly, I will stop his heart."

Katara's body reacted before she could think, reaching out to bend her master. Immediately she felt resistance, but the thought of the boy dead, his lifeless body going colder and colder, spurred her on. With all her might, she pushed against Hama's bending. Her master arm's fell back, and the flopped onto the ground with a heavy thud.

Hama fought against her grip, her bony, old frame trembling in exertion. "You wretched girl, using my own powers against me! For this you will suffer, you will suffer indeed!"

Beside her, the boy was up on his feet, in a wide stance she had seen firebenders take before. His index and middle finger were pointed as the rest were tucked into a fist, and he began to draw circles, in and out. A brilliant pale blue light followed him, and Katara watched mesmerised until she realised.

It was lightning. The boy had created lightning, and he aimed it directly to Hama's withered heart.

Katara still held her master firm as the lightning coursed through her body, burning her from the inside out. She kept on holding on, feeling the old woman's lifeforce fade away. At last, she let go.

Granny was dead.

The realisation hit her hard, and Katara crumpled onto the ground as if someone had cut off her strings. She cried, choked up and struggling to breathe at the thought of what she had done. Someone put an arm around her, it was cautious yet warmth and she melted in the boy's side. The boy that hadn't left her as soon as he was free, the boy that had stayed to fight beside her, the boy with the scar and the most captivating golden eyes.

They soon realised they couldn't stay in the village. If they were to free the villagers themselves, any one of them could turn them in. So they returned to the inn and packed their bags. Before the crack of dawn, Katara left a map and keys to free the villagers in the square. It wouldn't be at least until sunrise until somebody would find it, and by then they'll be long gone.

Katara and the boy, Lee, spent the follow years travelling between Fire Nation towns, never staying too long in the fear of getting caught. They would pretend to be young lovers that had eloped together, after Katara's father had disapproved of their union and branded Lee with a scar. Many pitied the young couple, and offered them a bed to sleep on and food to eat. It wasn't much, but Katara and Lee vowed to help out wherever they could. They were both hardworkers, and never complained no matter how gruelling the work their host had set out for them.

They would also help at night. The Blue Spirit and the Painted Lady were famed heroes throughout the Fire Nation, ridding towns of vagrants and tyrannical oligarchs and healing the sick. Even still, Katara always had the feeling she was repenting for a great sin. The death of Hama haunted her dreams, and Lee had often woken her up, trying to shake off the fear that plagued her.

It happened when they were staying at a Fire Sages' sanctuary. By now they were in their early twenties, having spent the rest of their teenage years together. Time blurred the line between fact and fiction, and no longer did they have to lie about being lovers. To Katara, Lee remained a mystery, she had no idea what brought him to her village in the first place, no idea why he ran instead of settling down, no idea why he had that terrible scar. But if there was one thing she did know, it was that she trusted him and loved him with her whole heart.

And it would seem that Lee felt the same way.

Their stay at the sanctuary concluded with a small ceremony in the temple nearby. With Agni as their witness, they were now husband and wife.

Despite their marriage, Katara had learned nothing new about her husband's past. Lee continued to be elusive, dodging her questions and giving vague answers when he couldn't. She believed things would forever stay that way, and focused on envisioning a future with him instead, wondering how exactly they could raise a family on run.

They were in Harbour City, Lee was working for a merchant. After some serious talks, they had made plans to move to one of the Fire Nation colonies, hopefully there, they will be able to settle down and start a family. They were hoping that one of the merchant ships would allow them safe passage.

But instead, it was decreed that Fire Nation had lost the war. The Avatar had defeated Fire Lord Ozai and the Crown Princess, now imprisoned in the Capital City. The new Fire Lord had yet to be officially crowned, Ozai's brother, General Iroh was acting as regent until the true heir to the throne, Prince Zuko, was found.

The news ignited a profound change in Lee, her taciturn husband grew anxious in a manner that was deeply unfamiliar to Katara. At his insistence, they changed their course towards Caldera City. Katara supposed that, with the war over, the colonies would be long gone anyway.

This is journey was unlike their travels before, there was no idle zapping back and forth between coastal towns. There was constant movement, only resting for the night. They were driven by the strange spark of vigour that burned within Lee, and within a week's time, they had reached their destination, the Royal Palace.

However, it was not just them that had journeyed to the palace following the general's announcement. Lee was one man in a sea of faces, claiming to be the lost prince. Katara could only hope he was telling the truth.

Every morning, it is said that the great palace gates open, and General Iroh would step out followed by his procession of heavily armed guards. Every morning, it is said that the general's eyes scan the crowd for his beloved nephew. Every morning, it is said that he returns to the palace without the soon to be Fire Lord, his face crestfallen.

On that very morning, Lee stood among the crowd of would be princes, and Katara beside him. People waved for the general's attention, others called him "Uncle" with false familiarity, but Lee just stood there, waiting. When the general's eyes fell on Lee's face, Katara saw a pang of recognition. She gasped audibly, as General Iroh summoned his soldiers to his side. After exchanging a few words with the general, they marched over to where Katara and her husband stood.

The man she had married was none other than Fire Lord Zuko.

and it ends kind of mysteriously, but i’m sure you guys can imagine a happily ever after. like I said before, this is rlly the first draft. for the challenge, i kinda played around with a different fairytale/greek mythology inspired style of writing. and tbh I don’t know how much i like it? I still want to rewrite this one day and posted it properly to my ao3 account (i’ll reblog this post w new version when i do). anyway, thanks for reading and thanks for @randomfriends and @fandoms-are-part-of-me for doing the challenge with me, check them out guys!

[sailor-slam-dunk]

AU Ficlet Collection

Tagged: @noamsariya​, @kiwi-buzzkill​, @bastardnev​ [if you would like to be tagged in future fic uploads, please send me a message!]

Chapter 2: Vampire AU

Fandom: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Blood/gore, 18+

Relationships: Ariya Daivari/Noam Dar

Additional Tags: Vampire Bites, Vampire Sex, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood and Gore, does this count as, Blood Kink, ? maybe, Dry Humping, Vampire Turning, Happy Halloweeeeeen [belated]

Word Count: 5,350

Chapter Summary: A young man becomes ensnared by a mysterious stranger.

[ao3 link] [text below cut] 

18+ ONLY

How did this happen?

Noam stares down from the hilltop, the highest point of the cemetery. Tombstones cascade down to the base as if they’ve sprung from his own feet. The mare is calm even as Noam anxiously tugs her dark mane. No one has been buried in this plot of land for more than 15 years. No one has even come to this church to worship.

But the village prays tonight. Noam knows this, and that all their piety rests upon what he should discover out here.

There is fear that one of these long dead has risen.

A local man was found killed early one morning, laying facedown in his field with one hand still on the plow. In his neck, a wide gash, purple with congealed blood. Ice crystals formed along inside his exposed flesh—a murder done in the cold of an October night.

The coroner either could not explain it or didn’t care to. Nothing was said, yet, amongst villagers, except that this must have been the work of that damn rabid dog suspected to be lingering in the forest. But somehow they already knew. The farmer’s corpse was buried upside down, millet and wild rice strewn over his grave.

It was not until the next murder—some local drunk butchered in much the same way not fifteen meters from the bar—that the fear was spoken in low tones, the suspicion hard to ignore. A wax angel was affixed to the headstone of his grave. Around the village, bibles were carried in back pockets. After all, it was was whispered by old matrons over afternoon tea, you never knew when the demon would crawl up behind you.

At last came the third death, a scullery maid lying on the steps of her home flat on her face—a river of blood trailing down her neck. A sturdy man from town that went by the name of McIntyre came to check upon it himself. The onlookers gathered closely as though it were a medical lecture. They watched as he drew his hand down to lid her pale eyes, and turned up to face them. He stated its name plainly:

“Vampire.”

And it was McIntyre who directed the entire affair, calling all men and their sons into the back of the carpenter’s shop to meet. He didn’t hesitate as he stood before them and asked the stinging question.

“Who here is a virgin?”

It took a moment for Noam’s hand to rise, blood rushing to his face. But sitting in that room full of old men and too-young boys, it was all too obvious who it had to be. Thus the decision was made.

Noam was thrust upon a horse, her coat as deeply black as the sky at that time of night—nearly midnight, just before the start of the Sabbath. The Devil would be weaker then, they told him, as if it would offer some comfort. The village presented him with a number of gifts: a string of garlic; a corncob whittled quite crudely into something resembling a cross; a branch of hawthorn for one hand and a wild rose for the other. McIntyre came up to Noam last, presenting him with a sharp stake of aspen.

“Kill it when you see it,” was all he said.

And Noam was sent off into the graveyards, hardly certain of what he was looking for.

By now, he presumes, the last hour has come, the moon hanging in the sky like a berry from a branch, dead white and drained of its juices. The night is black, so deeply that Noam can barely see even the horse beneath him as they travel amongst tombstones—if there is anything Noam has actually discovered during this mission, it’s that this village seems to have more of the dead than the living in it.

Noam pauses to throw a handful of mustard and crushed garlic onto the ground, just as he’s been monotonously doing all night. Garlic in his pockets, an aspen stake slid into his belt. He can’t help but feel a pang of disappointment at—something. He pauses to wonder what. What was he expecting if he had come face-to-face with...?

Noam suddenly laughs to himself about the entire notion, of getting so caught up even for a moment in the hysteria. A vampire—how little it took for forgotten superstitions to return.

And yet, Noam’s grip remains tight on the mane of the horse as she trots slowly over the hill. He wonders at the thrill of his own heart, the blood rushing through his veins. He knows that there is nothing to be anxious about. And yet the feeling persists, and the more he thinks about it the more he can somehow trace his blood racing through his body, and...

Noam shouts with exasperation and hops off the horse, pacing in a circle. After a moment, he tries to shoo away her with a wave of his hand.

“Alright, bastard, off with you.”

The mare doesn’t budge. She stares off into the distance, hooves digging at the dirt. She sees something, and she, too, is frightened. Noam feels his own heart beat faster just watching her, so he swats at her rear and says, tersely, “I said git, you old nag...”

But the mare won’t move, eyes transfixed. Noam follows her gaze and falls upon a tombstone just ahead of them on the hill. It’s ancient, markedly more deteriorated than all surrounding graves, a chipped and crumbling model of a small obelisk. The name inscribed upon the base is long-faded and impossible to read.

The mare makes a sound that Noam has heard no animal make before, nearly a shriek. She rears back at the night sky, and Noam realizes that she is about to charge. His feet freeze to the ground.

For that moment, he’s certain that he’ll be joining the other bodies below—when, suddenly, he feels hands on his shoulders pulling him away. Noam stumbles backward just in time. The wind rushes past him as the horse flees, hooves striking the earth so loudly it’s as if she’s cracking it to the core.

Noam trembles as he watches the horse run down the hill and out of the gate, getting lost in the black forest below. He’s so frightened by the encounter, he doesn’t even notice the presence behind him until he suddenly hears it speak.

“God!” It exclaims, “are you alright?”

Noam jolts, still shaking from the shock, but turns his head.

The man he sees behind him is immediately disarming. He’s slender, just a bit taller than Noam himself, adorned in a golden chain and a silk shirt. His face is handsome with a regal nose, a dark beard and head of gently curled hair—yet there’s a strangeness to the ashen, plain color of his skin and even his lips.

But his eyes—his eyes, deep amber, are what’s most arresting. Noam flinches instinctively at the sight of them.

“Fine—” he gasps, and suddenly becomes aware that he’s out of breath, “I’m fine.”

The strange man’s pale lips turn up with a smile, oddly restrained. His eyes maintain a warm quality that doesn’t quite put Noam at ease, but at least lets his heart rate subside enough to speak. “Who are you? What are you doing out here?”

The man smiles again, showing just a bit of his teeth. “My name is Ariya Daivari. I was just out for a walk.”

Noam’s expression quirks. The name is unusual, downright exotic for these parts—but then again, probably fitting for the man before him. He feels even more keenly aware of the blood pulsing in his veins, and takes a slight step backward.

“You’ve had quite a fright, mister…” Ariya says, taking the same step forward that Noam took back, closing the distance.

Noam trembles as he comes closer, but swallows and responds, “Noam. N-Noam Dar.” Ariya nods.

“You really shouldn’t be out this late at night, Noam…”

Noam bristles, his spine going rigid. “Oh yeah? You’re out for a stroll, why can’t I be out too?”

Ariya lifts a hand to his lips, half-heartedly attempting to conceal a laugh. “You’re a bit young to be out here on your own, aren’t you?”

The blood rushes to Noam’s face. He clenches the branches of hawthorn and rose until they snap, falling to the ground.

“You—you—” Noam huffs and stammers, trembling with a flustered rage. “Wh—you—what’re you trying to say? I’m not a man? Is that it?”

Ariya doesn’t even look Noam in the face as he speaks. He kneels down to the grass, picking up the broken wild rose and sniffing the bloom at its tip.

“Are you a man?” He asks, tucking the rose gently into the breast of his shirt.

“I...” Noam swallows, then scoffs and turns away. “I shouldn’t have to tell you anything. I don’t want to waste my time with you.”

Ariya’s eyebrows rise curiously. “Busy?”

“Yup.”

“With what, might I ask?”

Noam’s lips flatten out into a straight line. “Mind your own business.”

The man’s eyes glisten with amusement. “Now, give me some credit,” he chides, “I can tell you’re clearly up to something.”

Noam feels his heartbeat grow erratic for reasons he can’t even begin to understand. It’s as if his body is reacting to a distress that his mind cannot see.

“You really should relax, young man...” Ariya says, voice oddly soothing. The words send a shiver throughout Noam’s body. For a moment he almost forgets what he’s talking about.

“W-what makes you think I’m not calm...?” Noam demands suspiciously. He  makes a point of avoiding looking right at this presumptuous stranger, internally debating what caused his anxiety—fear? Embarrassment? Or something else entirely? Noam’s mind drifts back to the pouch of leftover garlic and millet still sitting in his back pocket.

Ariya smirks again. “Isn’t it obvious? Your heart is racing...”

A trail of ice runs down Noam’s spine. His jaw opens and shuts without any words coming out. Ariya only lets out another laugh, and Noam can just notice the tips of his canines seem a bit too sharp. “See? Now you’ve run cold.”

“How did...you...” Noam’s question trails off. A notion begins to form in his mind, but he does his best to dismiss it.

Ariya, meanwhile, only leans against the black iron spokes of the graveyard fence, gazing out at the village.

“It’s a lovely night out, isn’t it?”

For a moment, the two stare at each other: Noam nervously fidgeting, Ariya just looking him over, waiting patiently. At last Noam timidly stands at the fence, keeping a few feet’s distance between the two of them.

The light of the moon is gentle, less cruel than that of the sun. Under it the many orange and red autumn leaves are washed with a soft blue, leaving them a spectrum of violet shades. In the distance sits the main village square, spires and sloped roofs standing up deeply black as ink against the night sky. The hour is dotted by low clouds, their long bellies lavender and blue as they stretch out along the horizon.

“You’re right,” Noam says. “It’s pretty.”

Ariya nods, his amber eyes fixed ahead of him. The feeling of danger in Noam’s heart begins to subside—but the notion in his mind continues to weigh heavily.

Abruptly, Ariya points out into the mass of black houses in the village.

“Look there. See that?”

Noam looks. He’s indicating the carpenter’s shop, its windows filled with an orange glow. It’s the only spot in the whole village with a light on. “What is that?”

A wave of nervous heat rolls over Noam’s body. “That...that’s the carpenter’s shop.”

“Well, of course. But it’s the only light on in the whole square.”

Noam tries to calmly shrug even as his mind wanders back to the crucifix in his pocket. “Maybe he’s working some late hours?”

Ariya raises a skeptical eyebrow. “Is that so?”

“I…” Noam swallows, feeling his heartbeat thudding in his chest and cursing it, cursing himself for being so overcome by nerves. Why was he so shaken? What about this man caused him to stir with fear? He knew that this mission was a pointless errand—that there’s no vampire haunting them.

So Noam forces himself to abandon his reservations.

“Alright, fine, you got me,” Noam admits. “The truth is…practically the whole village is congregated in there. They’re waiting for me to get back from a vampire hunt.”

Ariya’s eyebrows arch up in amusement. “You’re hunting vampires?”

Noam snorts derisively. He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out the crudely-shaped crucifix, examining it in thought. “Yes. They gave me all these things to try and deal with it. I got a whole pocket full of garlic, too…”

Ariya’s pale lips turn up in a smile as he extends his hand. “Might I see that?”

Noam easily hands over the cross, noticing that there’s a strange glow to the man’s amber eyes as he holds it—but suddenly Noam is unafraid. Now he’s certain of how ridiculous the whole situation is, and how stupid he’d been for being frightened. “As far as I’m concerned you can keep it. It’s got no use for me.”

“Oh?” Ariya hums, twisting the little crucifix in his fingers. “And why is that?”

Noam looks at Ariya incredulously. “Why? Because vampires don’t exist, that’s why.”

There’s an unmistakable gleam in Ariya’s eye like the glow of an open flame. “Are you really sure about that?”

Noam stares at Ariya, waiting for him to smile and say he’s kidding. He never does. A cold wind arises from the west, rattling the dry leaves in the trees and sending a chill up through Noam’s spine. The loose shirt around Ariya’s waist quivers in the breeze, looking so ancient and fragile that it may tear. Slowly Ariya smiles fully, teeth long and sharp, eyes shimmering ominously.

Noam’s hand twitches toward the stake in his belt. He isn’t fast enough—the golden eyes seize upon him. In an instant Noam’s hand goes limp, his mind static. Thoughts are suddenly distant and difficult to grasp.

Time seems slow as Ariya steps closer, almost floating on the wind. “Take that stake and drop it to the ground.”

Noam pulls the stake out from his leather belt and drops it into the dirt, not thinking twice. His heart is rolling in his chest with peals of thunder, blood rushing hot and thick through his veins—but his body and mind are still and blank, drifting through a fog towards a shining light. Ariya looks him up and down, tongue running across his lips.

“So you’re a virgin, then.”

It’s not a question, but Noam responds in a whimper, beautiful eyes searing into his soul and brain. “Yes.”

A smile forms on Ariya’s face. “They sent me a nice one, this time, didn’t they?”

Noam’s lips tremble as darkness closes in around him. Ariya takes some pity on him, grabbing his jaw and tilting his head back, exposing his neck.

“Don’t talk,” he purrs, his voice more soothing than any sound Noam has ever heard before. “Just be good.”

Noam complies, his body slack—like waking sleep. He sees nothing but gold; hears nothing but blood rushing through his veins; feels nothing but the tips of Ariya’s sharp teeth feeling slowly across his skin for the jugular. It tickles, almost like a kiss. Noam wants more; every cell in his body cries out for it.

How did this happen? A faint thought from the back of his mind, buried in the static and warmth.

Then they sink in. Noam lets out a hoarse cry from the burst of pain, then drifts away into the darkness, helpless as the vampire takes what he wants.

When Noam opens his eyes again, the world is soft and smudged. His body rests on something thick, plush and warm—but his flesh is so cold; he runs his fingertips across his own arm and shivers as though he’s dipped them in snow.

His vision is blurred in the dim light, unable to make out shapes—he can see two long white forms wavering over his head like ghostly arms. Noam rubs at his eyes with the back of his wrists and blinks, and now sees that they’re linen curtains, flickering in the wind pouring in from the open window.

The window...?

Noam sits upright, looking about himself. He’s in a small bedroom, resting on a bed of heavy red quilts. Outside, Noam can see the moon hanging low in the sky, casting broken light over the thick treetops—this place is in a forest, perhaps many miles from the village.

Noam leaps from the bed and stumbles, knees weak. He makes his way to the mirror hanging on the wall and looks at himself. He’s pale and disheveled, and his eyes seem tinged with amber. A strip of gauze is taped to his neck. With fumbling fingers, Noam tears it away, revealing two perfect red spots lying side by side in his flesh. At first they’re nearly indistinguishable from freckles, but the twinge of pain Noam feels as he touches them tells it all.

“H…how…” Noam begins to ask nobody, but trails off, overwhelmed. It’s useless, anyway—he knows exactly how this happened.

What Noam doesn’t know is how he’s still alive.

Presently, the large door creaks open, and Noam panics, lunging back onto the soft bed. A head pokes in—it’s Ariya, looking noticeably less pale, his cheeks and lips softly pink.

“Oh, you’ve woken up,” he says with a blithe smile.

Noam reaches back instinctively for the garlic in his pocket when he finds no such pocket there. Noam looks down at himself and discovers that he’s wearing a rather antiquated silk dressing gown. At a loss, he looks up at Ariya, who chuckles.

“Your other clothes didn’t seem too comfortable to rest in, so I gave you these instead. Like ‘em?”

Noam doesn’t seem to absorb what Ariya has said, instead looking dazedly about the room. “Where...w-where am I?”

“Consider it my ancestral home,” Ariya says, leaning against the doorway. “You’re the first guest I’ve had in a long time.”

Noam’s head is swimming. He lies back in the bed and massages his temples as if it could provide some clarity. None comes, and he sighs.

“How...how did this happen?”

Ariya hums, sauntering easily into the room. “Well, I’m a vampire. Your village sent you, a handsome young virgin, to seek me out. And I made you mine.”

“No, no,” Noam says wearily, “I mean...”

He pauses, fingers gently circling the two puncture wounds in his flesh, still tender.

“How am I...alive?”

Ariya smiles as he sits on the edge of Noam’s bed. “I went ahead and patched you up. Figured I ought to give you a fighting chance, right?”

Noam stares into the mirror. The marks in his neck are deeply red, almost black, with the remnants of his blood. It’s as cold to the touch as the rest of his skin.

Ariya’s face appears in the mirror next to Noam’s, hands resting on his shoulders. “To be honest, though, I’d hardly call you alive. Just...not dead.”

Noam swallows. His amber eyes almost shine in the darkness. “I’m a vampire.”

Ariya nods. “I see you’re bright.”

Noam doesn’t even have the wherewithal to be offended by the remark. He’s touching his flesh, the wounds in his neck, the dark circles under his eyes, still in disbelief that this is all real.

“D-Daivari...?” He whispers. This time, Ariya’s smile is gentle.

“You can just call me Ariya, you know.”

“Why...why didn’t you kill me?”

Ariya’s eyes narrow slightly. “What do you mean, ‘why’?” He asks.

“W-why would you keep me around? What do you…” Noam pauses, realizing that there’s been a gaze held between himself and Ariya. He turns his head away uneasily. “What do you need me for?”

Ariya gives Noam a smile, taking his jaw gently in his hand. “To be completely honest, young man,” he says, guiding Noam to look into his eyes, “I don’t need you at all.”

Noam looks hurt. “You don’t?”

“No, I don’t…” Ariya smirks, drawing Noam’s face forward until they’re just scant inches apart, eyes glowing like embers in fire. “I took you because I want you.”

Noam blinks at Ariya through his dark eyelashes for several seconds. Ariya sighs as he realizes that he truly doesn’t understand.

“Come on, don’t look at me that way. You’ve felt desire before, haven’t you?”

There’s an immediate reaction in Noam’s veins, blood rushing in a torrent to his cheeks. Ariya smirks as he senses the warmth. “I can tell I’ve struck a nerve.”

Noam breathes out, looking down into his lap. “It…it doesn’t matter what I feel. People don’t notice me until they need me to do something.”

Ariya’s expression fades into something that may be concern. Noam is sure that he’s mistaken.

“I can’t believe that.”

“Believe it,” Noam scoffs. “Nobody has ever given a shit about me. They only sent me out as bait for you.”

Noam turns to gaze out the open window. The cold wind doesn’t even make him flinch as he focuses beyond the tops of the trees, as if just beyond lies the village for which a seed of hate grows heavier in his undead heart.

“They sent you out as bait for me,” Ariya repeats in a voice that’s calm and measured. “And then what happened?”

Noam’s hands clench into fists. The wounds in his neck irradiate a pain from deep within. “I became your prey.”

For a moment, they’re both silent, curtains billowing around Noam as he stares. At last he whispers, nearly to himself, “you made me like you...”

Noam at last faces Ariya again. His eyes are blown wide, as golden and bright as a sun at midnight. Something new is coming over his expression—something dark, surprising on the face of a man that had so far struck Ariya as wide-eyed and naïve.

“You...you made me yours.”

Ariya feels his own blood begin to rush as he nods. “Figuring it out, are you?”

Excitement builds in Noam’s chest. He had been taken by someone—with no favors in mind; no sacrifice needed; no conditions for their attention. He hadn’t been needed, but he had been wanted. It’s almost overwhelming.

“I...I’ve never been...’desired’,” Noam confesses, eyes trained on Ariya, who merely extends his hand.

“You’re beginning to understand, now.”

Noam reaches out and twines his fingers with Ariya’s. His gaze is burning.

“Show me. Show me how much you want me.”

Ariya’s eyebrows rise, and he chuckles. “I suppose immortality isn’t enough for you?”

Noam bites his lip, feeling the newly sharpened points of his teeth nearly pierce his own skin. In his whole body he senses a deep aching. At first he had thought it to be the pain of emerging from death, but now he knows that it’s yearning—yearning for Ariya, for the liberation that he presents, and for that look in his eyes. Desire.

So he grips tightly to Ariya’s hand and pulls him forward. Their foreheads nearly touch; the mutual glow in their eyes creates a light of its own.

“I never had enough before I met you,” Noam breathes. Ariya feels himself stir in a way that it hasn’t for so long.

“Please.” Noam moves Ariya’s hand to rest right over his chest. “Make me inhuman.”

That’s all it takes. Ariya grabs Noam roughly and throws him back into the mattress with enough force to make him bounce. When Noam reorients himself Ariya has already crawled up his body, glaring deeply into him with pupils narrowed to slits. Noam trembles and swallows—those eyes may not have a power over him anymore, but Ariya’s gaze still shocks him right to his core. It’s like being bitten again.

“Very well.”

Ariya’s voice is nearly a growl as he speaks, a cruel smile on his face. With one swift motion he grabs the front of Noam’s nightshirt in his fist and tears the fragile fabric to bits.

Ariya moans as he’s almost instantly overcome—even under flesh so cold, blood is rushing hot through Noam’s body. And it’s making every fiber of Ariya’s being burn, pleading to get closer.

His hands reach out for Noam, landing on his hips and pulling him up to meet him. Noam is all too willing, legs lacing around Ariya’s waist and closing whatever gap remains between them. Their chests press together as if one body needs the other, and Ariya finds himself slotting so easily into Noam’s shape, cocks pressing together through the fabric of Ariya’s clothes.

Ariya purrs, already grinding easily against Noam, sensing the hot, delicious blood straining between the two of them. But Noam is unsatisfied, reaching up and grasping Ariya’s shirt in his hands. He’s visibly trembling.

“O-off...need this off...” he gasps.

Ariya smirks. “Then take it off yourself.”

Noam looks dismayed for only a moment before growling, his eyes suddenly animal. He sharply yanks, and surely enough, Ariya’s shirt rips away just like Noam’s just a minute before.

There’s a pause for a mutual gasp between them—Ariya for Noam’s exhilarating fierceness; Noam for Ariya’s chest, strong and toned, flesh perfectly smooth and soft. The only blemish visible is by Ariya’s clavicle, where two perfect round scars sit side by side.

Something about Ariya’s bare skin drives Noam to the brink. He feels his mind spiraling as a scent washes over him, leaving his whole body buzzing. Something new and unfamiliar—something dangerous—now underscores the desire that’s still burning heavy down below, and it’s all too much for Noam to bear. He sobs as he lunges forward, fangs latching directly into Ariya’s neck.

Ariya gasps deeply, body jolting in shock as points like needles are driven into his throat. He trembles and laughs.

“O-oh, yes...y-you must b-be so hungry...”

Noam is too lost to answer. He’s growling and sucking, intoxicated by his first blood—and what blood it is. Ariya is perfect, hot and delicious in a way that Noam never wants to be full from. It sends all of his senses into a wild frenzy, as if every ounce that trickles over his tongue makes him more and more of a beast. His hands fly up and knot Ariya’s hair into his fists, leaving Ariya writhing and gasping as he tugs and tugs hard.

“Oh—oh, Noam—“ he sobs, already weak from bliss. He had forgotten over all these years how sweet pain could be. And Noam just keeps obliging him with it, sucking his neck until he’s numb and almost emptied.

Below Noam’s hips are rolling as fast as his body can stand, the taste of Ariya driving him into ecstatic fits. Ariya is left sputtering, struggling to keep up with the awakened Noam. The bloodlust feeds itself more and more until the bed is creaking beneath their bodies from their desperation for each other. Ariya is slowly losing his grip; the friction of Noam against him is driving him to the edge, and with every moan that comes from his lips, Noam tugs his hair harder, grinds his hips down faster, presses his teeth just a strained bit further into his flesh. He’s in total control—and Ariya, after all these years as the hunter, is now the loving prey.

“O-oh...ohfuck...” Ariya moans helplessly, his body weak to Noam’s power. Waves of pleasure crash over him in rapid succession, pulsing out from his cock up into his spine and every nerve in his body. His hips are so sore that they just relinquish and surrender, letting themselves be pressed flat into the mattress as Noam overpowers them. Every stroke makes Ariya’s cock throb in pain, the irresistible kind that he hasn’t felt for so long, begging for a final release but too much enjoying the torture.

And then, just as suddenly as he plunged in, Noam halts. Ariya winces with just a twinge of pain as Noam pulls back, teeth sliding free of his flesh. Blood trickles out, curling in ribbons down Ariya’s ribs. He feels Noam trembling in his arms for a moment before their eyes lock.

Noam—the Noam that Ariya ensnared earlier this evening—is gone, his golden eyes harsh, reflecting something so ancient and primal as Ariya falls captive to their stare. And then he spots the blood, heavy and rich like red wine, curling down Noam’s lips and chin as he sobs brokenly. He’s drunk from the feast—Ariya tingles with the sight of it, the blood of the prey, the blood that is his, trickling down the mouth of that wicked face with those entrancing eyes. For once, after so, so long, Ariya has been hunted.

And that’s enough. Ariya sobs breathlessly as his spine goes rigid, pressing his hips flat against Noam’s tireless body.

“N-NOAM—!”

His cry is almost pathetic, keening against Noam as he throbs and—at last—spills over hot in his own clothes. Noam twitches for another moment before gasping, joining Ariya, making himself filthy with his own cum.

They collapse in each other’s arms. For a while there’s only basking; Ariya feels  a peace like nothing before as he watches the moon drift across the sky through the open window. Noam rests panting in his arms, and Ariya listens as the blood cools off in their veins.

For a few minutes, Ariya drifts off into a light sleep, until he’s interrupted by a soft, cold hand tugging his arm. Ariya looks down to see Noam gazing up at him sullenly.

“I-I…” Noam whispers brokenly, “I…’ms-sorry…”

Ariya silences him with a finger to his lips—lips that are still coated with blood, now cooled and almost beginning to congeal. With a sigh, Ariya reaches to the bedside table to retrieve a handkerchief, which he proceeds to clean Noam’s face with.

“Don’t be sorry,” he says gently. “You just seemed like you were starved...”

Noam gives Ariya a meek smile. “I-I didn’t even know I was hungry...”

“Few do,” Ariya says, wiping the corners of Noam’s mouth carefully. “I remember how hungry I was when I first turned...I thought I was going to die all over again.”

Noam sighs softly as Ariya finishes cleaning his lips. He settles into Ariya’s arms, looking meek and placid, almost irreconcilable with the animal he was just minutes ago. “I’m so sleepy...”

“That’s common,” Ariya says, stroking Noam’s soft hair sweetly. “You’ve sated yourself pretty well. You should sleep...”

Noam moves to comply, nestling into Ariya’s arms and closing his eyes, resting his head in his chest. Ariya gazes down at him fondly, swearing for a moment that his own heart begins to beat.

This young man, once timid, virginal, is now all his, belonging to him in a way that’s much deeper than a thrall—and Ariya belongs to him just as completely.

Even he can hardly believe this has happened.

“Ariya...?” Noam murmurs sleepily.

“Yes?” Ariya hums.

“I never told you earlier...I...I have felt desire before.”

Now Ariya’s eyes creak open to see Noam shyly blushing.

“Oh? Whom for?”

“A...” Noam clears his throat, “a man from the village. He’s big, strong and demanding. Whenever he looked at me I got a little...flustered.”

“What’s his name?” Ariya asks pointedly. Noam swallows hard.

“M...McIntyre.”

Ariya’s lips twitch with a smirk. “Oh? And just as I was thinking I was special...”

“I don’t mean that!” Noam huffs. “But...I thought that perhaps you and I could...”

Ariya chuckles under his breath. “Well...I do think I may be hungry after I wake up...”

An expression of wicked excitement crosses Noam’s face. He purrs, arching back to nuzzle Ariya affectionately.

“Thank you....”

Ariya smiles, pulling Noam in close against his body, feeling a warmth from within. “Only for you...you are my closest...’companion’, now, after all.”

Noam just smirks

“Oh, Ariya...I think I’m going to like this new life.”