#something something the horror of going through something and it physically changing you
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we won.
the bathroom trap 《i》 pipe bomb test 《x》 save as i save (spike test) 《iv》 water cube trap 《v》 pints of sacrifice 《v》 pound of flesh 《vi》 || text from saw vi
#all my favorite traps#which- sawcondeez helped me realize -also happen to all be traps woth survivors#something something the horror of going through something and it physically changing you#you'll always feel the scar there#chewing on this#shaking my head violently like a dog with a toy#frothing at the mouth#blood#my beloved <3 🩸#let's see#lawrence gordon#diego cortez#morgan saw iv#peter strahm#brit stevenson#mallick scott#simone saw vi#my darlings#saw 2004#saw x#saw iv#saw v#saw vi#saw movies#saw trap
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just going about my day idly contemplating how some of the ways hawke can interact with a romanced anders are not at all unlike how they interact with leandra (and a bit of carver too, especially with a purple hawke), and then thought about my hawke in the timeline where he romances anders and was hit straight in the face with 'was he ever actually in love, or was he just desperately trying to renegotiate with his mother's ghost in any way he could' and now i need to lie down. this is the power of dragon age 2
#'you don't know my mother' haunting me through the years#dragon age#dragon age 2#hawke#On second thought let's not go to Kirkwall; it is a silly place#there are of course as many ways to do/read that relationship as there are players to interact with it haha and all valid!#but my personal version of handers is sooo fucked up and bad times for everyone involved and I love it haha.#this is a relationship neither of them should have been in and that made everything worse and everyone unhappy in the end#locked tomb levels of the horrors of love. i ship it but in the way that I want to make it sadder and more gutwrenching each time#to be clear this is a very mutual two-way kind of fucked up but I think varric in his loyalty and love would downplay hawke's side of it#for huge swathes of their relationship anders is not in a mental place to be a good partner and the emotional blackmail is Not Okay#(but it's just like how mother used to make it! hawke's soul cries sadly as it reaches for it hungrily)#which is in some ways fair enough no one could accuse him of not warning you ahead of time fjskda#but hawke is messy about it in a way only available to a covert people pleaser who has never had a millisecond of therapy#with some added stuff that my hawke is always acespec in some form and when he gets together with anders...#is the sex something he doesn't particularly care to have or not have but it 'makes anders happy'/he longs to feel wanted *and* needed#and also a way he gets out of ever being *actually* vulnerable (which I think he'd had to be with varric for example if he Went There )#'you want the hawke who's in your head so badly and I kind of wish I were that hawke too. so let's be collaborateurs with that fantasy'#(and then maybe if I do it right every time you'll finally be happy hawke says in his heart looking at this leandra-anders phantom form)#(and echoing stuff in varric's relationship to hawke but I think the important distinction there is that varric -- is a craftsman haha#he KNOWS when he's lying/making up a story he KNOWS the difference between what is and what he wishes the world was#(I think there's some deep longing there to not know; for it to blend together or have the power to change things. but he always knows)#which ironically leaves him in a better position to actually see and understand hawke the person#even as he is creating hawke the literary figure. almost to protect him in some ways? god da2 is so full of STUFF!!! I adore it)#and of course anders gets so disillusioned with hawke's inertia and lack of action (you all but married this man anders!#you should know this about him he's already carrying the whole family and city on his shoulders if you add a gram more he'll collapse!)#and hawke feels so desperately hurt that the promise anders seemed to make that he'd be enough -- that he could fix things for him --#('I'm the one bright light in kirkwall and that apparently doesn't count for shit so I'm just slowly turning to ash for you')#turned out to be untrue. anyway. sad now. imagine them meeting like twenty years on what the fuck could you even say to each other then#(I can't imagine Hawke ever physically hurting anyone he loves so he just tells Anders to leave at the end of DA2. they COULD meet again
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Physical Touch...
↪ ft. argenti. arlan. aventurine. blade. boothill. caelus. dan heng & imbibitor lunae. dr ratio. gallagher. gepard. jing yuan. luka. luocha. sampo. sunday. welt.
Argenti brushing your hair, making sure to gently undo any knots found in it. He would help you clean up any dirt from your skin and clothes, making sure you looked even more beautiful than you already were. You were his beloved, and he'd make sure to make you feel like it was so all the time through soft moments just like these.
Being in the infirmary with Arlan, who bandages up any wounds you got. He places soft kisses over small band-aids or bigger scars, making sure to help you feel better. He wouldn't want to let you hurt any longer than you already did. He promises that it'll be all better with him by your side.
Aventurine would hold you close to himself as you both roam the casino. Winning every single game he played, as always. Letting every other patron there know that you were the only one allowed to be so close to the luckiest man in the building. No one would be able to catch his heart just as you have with him as he places a kiss on your forehead, silently reminding you with a smile.
In between missions, Blade would hold you close to his chest, wrapping his arms around you and rubbing soothing patterns into your back. Elio hadn't assigned him to the next thing in the script yet, so he still had time to be with you, to give you some attention before he has to set off for whatever dangers he'd be going through next.
Despite not being able to feel much, Boothill gives you so much love. An arm wrapped around your waist, tight hugs which brings you closer to himself. Whenever he feels like he wants to feel your touch, he just nuzzles his face into you, chuckling gently with a smirk on his face. Knowing you're too good for someone like him.
Caelus clinging onto you while the Crew watches a horror movie together in the Astral Express. He yelps at the smallest thing, holding you close to himself for dear life. Despite going through life-threatening things, he still was a little scaredy-cat underneath all of that, your little raccoon boyfriend would never change, not like you'd want him to.
Laying your head on Dan Heng's shoulder as he types out something on the Data Bank after your last mission. All of you were tired from what you had experienced, but he diligently writes more information for everybody. Also, gently caressing Imbibitor Lunae's horns, placing soft kisses on them as his tail wraps around your hips, silently trying to pull you closer to himself.
Bathing with Dr. Ratio, he thoroughly washes your body, touching you in places only he can. The bubbly sensation relaxing the two of you as you clean up together. Enjoying the soft, alone time, just for the both of you. With no other people to pry or disturb either of you.
Gallagher guiding your hands as you two work at the Dreamjolt Hostelry. Making sure to help you find the correct ingredients to serve to your different customers. Handing you something he was previously using, your fingers grazing over one another's and feeling the small and short touches that you two share every now and then.
Sitting in the Silvermane Restricted Zone with Gepard, as he lets you bandage his wounds he got from the battles with the Fragmentum. He wasn't fully invincible, and him getting hurt would be inevitable. He knew that his job was dangerous, but letting you at least know he was okay, and that you can make him feel better would make himself feel better.
Jing Yuan letting you sit on his lap as he works. His work was usually boring most of the time, but when you were there with him, it made it so much more interesting. He nuzzled into your neck every now and then, smirking against your skin as he inhaled your scent. He could never get sick of these times with you, and no one could take you away from him, not even the Master Diviner.
Cuddles with Luka after he wins his last match at the Fight Club. It's his little reward from you that he always looked forward to. Even if he did lose, which we all know would barely actually happen, he would always be spoiled like this. He would always love having your warmth and comfort after hard work put into his fights.
Luocha's fingers intertwined with yours as the two of you go through the Luofu together. He wasn't anyone else other than your lover when he was with you, and he'd make sure you know it. Kisses on the back of your hand or playing with your hair when the two of you were alone, or even when there was a man secretly watching from behind the scenes.
Holding Sampo's face in your hands as you gently scold him for conning another person. He just wanted to get money for you, but that didn't mean he had to get it through means like this. You remind him not to do that again, though we both know that he would do it again, all for you.
You were the only one who was loved enough by Sunday to be able to touch his soft wings, other than his own sister. He would let you clean them up, touch them up and even preen any loose feathers that stuck out from the rest. Normally, he'd do it himself, but if it made you happy to help, then he'd let you do what you want.
Laying down with Welt on the couch in the Astral Express' Parlor Car, cuddling with him after a long day of missions at your current stop. He would brush his fingers through your hair. Your head on his chest, his other arm wrapped loosely around your body. Resting for the next day that would be full of exciting adventures for the two of you.
Masterlist || Do not repost nor feed to AI. Reblogs & Comments are much appreciated.
#005. writings.#hsr x reader#hsr#honkai star rail#argenti x reader#argenti#arlan x reader#aventurine x reader#aventurine hsr#blade x reader#blade hsr#boothill x reader#boothill hsr#caelus x reader#dan heng x reader#dan heng#dan heng imbibitor lunae#dr ratio x reader#dr ratio#gallagher x reader#gallagher hsr#gepard x reader#jing yuan x reader#luka x reader#luka hsr#luocha x reader#sampo x reader#sunday x reader#welt x reader
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Just, man. Whenever I think about Holly I just get sad. Marmor have destroyed Holly’s planet. Kidnapped and mutilated their sister. Holly then also got captured trying to save her, just to find out she’s beyond saving while at the same time somehow not even granted the peace of death.
Holly gets experimented on mercilessly and every honest explanation they can give about their powers is met with contempt because “God did it” isn’t a good enough answer. The kid they helped raise abuses Holly physically and mentally just because they can. Holly was presumably also forced to help the Marmor hunt their own people. Holly can’t even change back to normal because the Marmor took that from them along with every single other form familiar to them! Going from a whole animal kingdom whittled down to an alien creature they can’t even name and a fucking Marmor.
Holly didn’t even have fucking eyes for god knows how long before Ward shows up! The first other being Holly’s ever met that doesn’t want to hurt them and he’s scared of them. And even then, after aaaall of the horrible shit Holly’s been through, they see Ward breaking down and asks “How do humans help?”. And fuck man. Holly is still kind somehow. Trying desperately to connect and to help because that’s what you’re supposed to do, right?
And Ward tells him to stay away. So Holly does. Things actually start looking up actually. Oscar has somehow charmed Ecliptica of all people, and Holly gets to move into a room that’s slightly less of a prison. And Holly isn’t totally isolated anymore! Are they?
Even if they’re nice to Holly, Ward and Oscar really don’t seem to understand Holly’s culture. And every time Holly learns something about humanity they get a little more horrified. Sure, Oscar thinks Holly’s gift is cool, but didn’t Ecliptica say the same thing to Iris?
I��m sure more horrors await them, but I’m glad Holly at least has Oscar and Ward around now. Even if they also count as some of the “Horrors” Holly has to come to terms with.
Shit man, Holly deserves a goddamn hug
You are. So so right.
Holly's whole life is a sandwich of horrors
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might be a bit odd or a stretch and written poorly by me (sorry if its rambly basically) but mithrun has such interesting but devastating symbolism and importance for a message in dunmeshi.
(TW SA/ABUSE MENTIONS)
the goat (demon) being an abusive relationship that to you who is in it only sees a nice perfect person doing anything for you, only for things to slowly get worse and worse… leading to SA (it’s not actual SA but the imagery has subtle implications of it) and other forms of physical and psychological abuse.
this leaving mithrun in an intense state of depression, ptsd and other issues like getting mana sickness really easily, which is also connected to the physical disabilities he got from said abuse. and due to these states he finds he can not desire anything anymore, he can only feel empty, not even a desire to get help and only feels a strong anger to the person and tries to prevent anyone else from going through the same.
but he’s not a lost cause.
“so.. even vegetable scraps have their uses, huh?”
he blames himself for his trauma, he sees himself as worthless and not one to be desired anymore because of what he went through. and realizing this, realizing that he actually has grown a desire to BE desired even just in a simple way to be needed (helping with falin) he finally can crack through that depression. the ptsd is still there, the physical disabilities are still there, but through surrounding himself with community of people with different views and trauma has helped him realize he is not broken and shouldn’t be blaming himself for something that was out of his control.
he wants to do new things, he wants to live now and it’s so beautiful to see.
plus, as kabru says here how the desires being eaten is not what it seems like is such an interesting fact. sure the demon ate his desires he had in that moment, making him believe he could never desire again but in fact he could get new desires (change/grow/heal) plus, traveling with kabru, he did show desires whether they be small or not.
in this moment he showed full horror about this memory. now if he was loss of desire, then he shouldn’t even desire to feel fear about this right? shouldn’t he only feel anger due to the revenge? which once again, shows his whole healing journey.
he’s such a great character with so much representation, and in turn is also a character that can show hope for someone like thistle who now is going through similar things and is practically hospitalized.
there is hope, you will heal, you are gonna be okay and your trauma is real but it does not shape you as a person, you are safe now.
dunmeshi is such a great depiction of that
#sorry if this makes no sense#please share your thoughts#dungeon meshi spoilers#delicious in dungeon#dungeon meshi#dunmeshi#mithrun dungeon meshi#mithrun#thistle dungeon meshi#dungeon meshi senshi#senshi#anime and manga#kui ryoko#ryoko kui#bladie blog
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You tell the Old Men you're Pregnant + Extra
Shanks, Buggy, Mihawk
Just Fluffy Fluff!
Also to those who are saying "They aren't even old!" Blah Blah- I know. I'm using Old Ironically cause it's funny. Middle Aged just don't have the same ring to it and I would/could sub in DILF but I was trying to be good.
Anywho! Enjoy!!
Shanks
So drinking and unprotected sex can lead to pregnancy- who knew... Panicking yoh decide its best to just rip that bandage off.
"Shanks- I'm pregnant"
Shanks will stare at you for a while, before starting to laugh- Hard. He will bend over laughing as his panic response sets in-
"Shanks this isn't funny! I-"
He grabs your hand and pulls you close as he held you still laughing now much softer.
"You're the best things that has ever happened to me-" He will whisper in your ear and hold you close.
This man acts like he can shit gold and piss roses when he finds out your pregnant. Nothing can get him down or damper his mood.
Even though you are miserable and sick most of this pregnancy- for almost the whole length of your pregnancy you are vomiting or nauseous so Shanks has to make you eat and buys things to help you.
"Shanks I'm not hungry..." You grumble as you sit on the bed. Shanks hanging you a cup of tea and some soft bread.
"I know love- But you haven't had anything solid in 3 days. Let's get this bread a try?" He says softly, You nodding and eating what you could and sipping of the flowery tea.
He will eventually find something that you can eat without getting sick and buy as much of it as possible. He may grow tired of the smell but will never complain.
When you go into labor he is still a little too excited at the prospect of his child being brought into the world. Will comfort you the whole way through but is more interested in seeing his child.
Buggy
It was a complete accident- You blamed the trip to the hot springs two months previously.. being pregnant with Buggy's child was definitely not what you had planned for yourself or him.
"Buggy I'm pretty sure I'm um.. pregnant"
You beeak it to him after a good day and even set out his favorite sweets to try and make this as soft as possible. Buggy just stares at you, His face completely unreadable as he just stares at you.
"Buggy?..." You are now anxious as he stays silent and stone faced- However he walks over to you lightly and just wraps his arms around you. Not saying a word but you can feel how tense his body is- He's scared?...
"We will be fine.. All of us. How do you feel about it?..." He will mumbled- This being so different to how he normally is as he is feeling scared in a new way.
After the initial shock of it all he will be so over the top its not even funny. You might as well be made out of glass and carrying a paper child cause that's how he treats you. Infront of the crew while he is less likely to be as openly affectionate he is still just as protective.
Understands physical insecurities so will never insult or even bring up your appearance as your body goes through changes. Hell have mercy on the person who even accidently hints at your bigger weight since he will go ape-shit and throw the biggest tantrum of all temper tantrums before brutally killing whoever said it.
He is very Very touchy- his hand has to always be on you at all times and so his detached hand has been known to stay either on your lower back, or on your arm like some horror themed arm band.
In private he is very thoughtful especially as you get near the due date.
"Sorry pressure" You hissed in discomfort rolling to your side to receive some pressure from your back. Buggy getting up calmly and moving you to stand on your feet. Which was definently not something you wanted-
That was till Buggy stood behind you as his hand detached and went under your large belly gently listing it up which relived the pressure from your back. You sigh and lean against him as he does this. Will hold you stomach up for a solid hour ignoring the sorness in his hands for you-
Will feed you constantly any food he can find, Anything you want he has made for you. If a food makes you sick magically the plate seems to be thrown out to open sea.
Will also be an emotional wreck when his children are born- If you are angry at him or scream while in labor he will take it- if not give a few quips back. However all is forgotten once the kids arrive.
Mihawk
While you believe it was an accident- It was not by Mihawks standards. He has been planning this for months since you are the only one he sees worthy of officially carrying his children.
"Mihawk I'm pregnant" You say bracing for at least a level of irritation but instead he looked pleased. Reaching a hand out to caress your belly and stare at you fondly.
"I am happy to hear that"
Will take blame in saying he must have not been careful and that its too late now and will be happy to take full and total responsibility.
Is a textbook kind of man so will have book pages memorized on what you should be doing. How many more calories needed for the baby, stretches, the healthiest food. Aka he's fucking annoying-
You will be in the kitchen with a fork in a cake eating, feeling the wave of low blood sugar that has clouded your mind and tired of the veggies or fresh fruit that Mihawk had shoved down your throat- Mid bite the cake was pulled away by Mihawk.
"It is bad for you to have-" Will pause at your glare as you step very close to him, Grabbing his beard with iron clasp hands and yank him down to your level which make his eyes go wide.
"Mihawk... If you don't hand over that cake- I'm going to take your sword and shove it so far up your ass that the handle will be in your mouth" You all but hiss, Making Mihawk lower the cake down and hand it to you silently.
Will learn that maybe not everything has to go to textbook. Despite being a bit of a hardass for your safety he will give you massages, rub your feet help decorate to your liking. If you're sick will help you the entire time in getting better.
Rubs lotion on any tender spots or stretch marks and hums a tune you've never heard before.
Will be there with every step of the way during the labor. Supportive and comforting the whole time his child is being brought into the world, If complications will be a rock for you and will pick you if it came down to it.
#x reader#one peice x reader#one piece#one peice live action#buggy one piece#buggy the clown x reader#buggy x reader#one piece mihawk#hawkeye mihawk#mihawk x reader#one piece shanks#shanks one piece#red haired shanks#shanks x reader
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Monsters: Manjiro "Mikey" Sano x Reader x Izana Kurokawa
“He ate my heart”
Pairings: Manjiro ‘Mikey’ Sano x female reader, Izana Kurokawa x female reader
Series summary: Your grievous sin was Emma standing up for you to her brothers. And now you’re going to pay the heavy price for destroying their perfect family dynamic.
Content warning generally: DARK CONTENT, Tokyo revengers AU, female reader, virgin reader, heavy smut, polyamory, Dark Impulse Mikey, Manipulative Izana, inaccurate/inconsistent university terminology, heavy angst with little comfort, betrayal, misogyny and sexism, emotional, physical and mental abuse, mental break, manipulation, gaslighting, sexual harrassment, dubious consent, noncon, drug, alcohol and substance misuse/abuse, extreme violence, use of weapons, Torture, criminal activities, PTSD, paranoia, emotional incest, power imbalance, character death(s) (not reader), anal penetration, mention of self-harm, religious guilt and trauma, religious themes, Vouyeurism, gangbang, masochism, sadism, hard kinks, strangulation (non sexual), psychological horror (more warnings to be added soon)
main masterlist||taglist link||playlist [available on a03 + extra chapters and wattpad]
Chapter 1: Warning Signals
chapter summary: Being friends with Emma Sano is nice, until you get on the wrong side of the Sano brothers.
cw: DARK CONTENT, NSFW, misogyny, alcohol/drug use, brief mention of violence, religious and purity culture themes, classism, slutshaming, p*rn mention, sexual assault, noncon, public initimacy, fingering (fem recieving), dacryphilia, gaslighting, manipulation, mention of vomitting, victim blaming.
wc: 10.1k
Chapter 2: Shots Fired
chapter summary: Izana Kurokawa demands your attention and he doesn’t take no for an answer. Not even when his demands are outrageous.
cw: DARK CONTENT, MISOGYNY, NSFW, r*pe mention, religious guilt, depictions of PTSD and CPTSD, emotional incest, abandoment issues, violence, revenge porn, depression, filming without consent, drugging, victim blaming, blackmailing, manipulation, gaslighting, mind break, psychological torture, use of firearms
wc: 11.6k
Chapter 3: The Lesser of Two Devils
chapter summary: Emma has a suspicion that both her brothers are into you when you all go shopping. She couldn’t be farther from the truth.
cw: DARK CONTENT, MISOGYNY, NSFW, smut (character x character), dubcon, noncon, depressive thoughts, victim blaming, sucidial ideation, religious guilt & discussion (very brief), gaslighting, power imbalance, manipulation, abuse (domestic, verbal, sexual, finanical), love bombing, violence (physical, mental, sexual), slut shaming, peer pressure, dry humping, attempted rape, nonconsensual filming.
wc: 13.3k
Chapter 4: The Calm
chapter summary: After your college professor tries to harass you for grades, you turn to the oldest Sano for help. But nothing comes for free, not even for Emma’s sweet friend.
cw: coming soon
wc:
Chapter 5: Act on Dark Impulses
chapter summary: You knew better than to trust Mikey and Izana. Yet you fall for their plan hook, line and sinker and live through the worst night of your life.
cw: coming soon
wc:
Chapter 6: The Closest you’ll ever get to being in Love
chapter summary: Things get sicker and twisted with the two brothers and Emma is none the wiser.
cw: coming soon
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Chapter 7: Trials and Tribulations
chapter summary: You learn the hard way what happens when you refuse to be their stress relief because of your important exams.
cw: coming soon
wc:
Chapter 8: Divine Intervention
chapter summary: You are called home to bury your mother and learn that nothing has changed since you left.
cw: coming soon
wc:
Chapter 9: Lead me not into Temptation
chapter summary: Emma notices that something isn’t right with you when you come visit her in the Sano residence.
cw: coming soon
wc:
Chapter 10: Deliver Me from All Evil
chapter summary: You’ve finally broken the cycle, but at what cost?
cw: coming soon
wc:
authors notes: updates are irregular, depending on when i have time. some chapters have been re-written to fit the original storyline. don't pressure me to update and please don't be rude to me. I do not condone any negative actions done on this fic. comments, reblogs and asks are very much appreciated. if you are a minor, please refrain from interracting with this series.
taglist (please turn on your mentions in 'settings' before filling the form.): @officiallyjaehyuns @haikyuusboringassmanager @ilybbg @merrymerrykiss @cockonoi @Rindou24689 @short-cxke @kokoch4n3l @GenAwi @ryuguji-sana @nuyoo @getonite @anxious-chick @reiners-milkbiddies @kiwixpi @gh0stgirl333 @brisssaaa009 @fushiqruo @kawaiikoalagarden @damidamimongalam @raven-nevra
#tokyo revengers masterlist#tokyo revemgers series#mikey sano#izana kurokawa#manjiro sano#manjiro sano x reader#izana kurokawa x reader#tw. dark content#read the labels
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[5.6k] an attack in the winter break leaves max reeling as he tries to cope with a new and furrier version of himself. the world seems to think mad max is returning to them but your presence says otherwise.
[find other fright night specials here]
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It had been a completely normal day when Max Verstappen had his whole life changed.
Or as normal as it could be on a cold, wet January day in England during the winter break.
The run up to the season had been weighing down on everyone’s shoulders, last minute tweaks and changes and updates being made in hopes of making a car that will continue to dominate the grid. The factory has been busy, day in and day out. With less than a month until the car launch, it felt like everyone was working themselves to the bone to get the car ready.
Max was no different. Though, it was less about data sheets and car parts for him, and more about practising on the sim until he was beating the previous laps he set. He liked having feedback to give to the team, he liked feeling like he was contributing to the early mornings and late nights. He liked feeling useful to the team.
He ignored most of GP’s warnings about running himself down on the late nights, waving the older man off with a smile and a promise he wouldn’t stay much later. And it was partially true, he didn’t stay too late.
No later than you did.
Because if there was someone equally as determined and dead-set on giving this car everything they had like he was, it was you.
It had become a routine between the two of you on those late nights where you were the only ones left in the factory. Max would finish up at the sim, make his way towards your office on the other side of the factory where he would walk you to your car, chatting your ear off about anything other than engineering and cars and data to help get your mind off work. Even if it was for a few short minutes.
There were some days where the two of you would sit in one of your cars for a bit, to just talk. Other days, one of you was too tired to drag the night out further. It varied but it all fit the norm.
Just like that day.
The flickering street lights accompanied you both as you made your way towards the car park, with Max nodding and laughing along to some story you had been telling him about one of the other engineers. At first, he thought he had imagined the growl—one of those instances that could be brushed off with wind and bushes and the darkness around them that made everything look a bit scarier.
But then he heard it again. And he saw a flash in his peripheral vision. And next thing he knew, a large beast appeared out of thin air and was heading straight towards you and Max’s body reacted with pure instinct and quick reflexes to shove you out of the way before the beast tackled him to the floor.
It was a blur after that.
Hot, searing pain exploding through his body. Blood roaring in his ears. His heart pounding so fast in his chest. The white dots blurring his vision as he tried to turn his head away from the beast. The glimpses of fear and horror on your face before his vision had gone black.
The biggest concern at that moment was whether or not Max would be okay. If he would be able to compete at the start of the season. If he would be able to continue at all. If the public would somehow find out and expose the story before Red Bull could even prepare a statement.
The beast was the last thing on either one of your mind’s that night.
But when Max woke up the next morning, completely unscathed with only his bloody, ripped clothes as a reminder of the previous night. The two of you knew there was more to that beast than a normal animal attack, that you were dealing with something beyond your imagination.
Max Verstappen didn’t expect to go into the next season worrying how in loving fuck he was going to balance being a Formula One driver and being a werewolf.
Despite what critics and idiots behind a phone screen like to think, Formula One was a very physically taxing sport. Max had spent the better part of his whole life giving his body to training and endurance so he could compete at the level he does. Most athletes are more in tune to their bodies and their wants and needs than the average person, and Max was one of them. He knew his body. He knew his limits. He knew strengths. He knew his weaknesses.
That knowledge was completely useless when he became a werewolf.
One attempt at a workout and a dented metal bar later told Max that this whole werewolf thing came with a lot more setbacks than he realised. He understood pretty quickly that this wasn’t something he wanted to get out to the general public. He didn’t know how it would be perceived—hell, he wasn’t even sure how he perceived it.
But someone had to know. He couldn’t hide it for the rest of the season.
In the end, a few select people in his team knew about his lycanthropy and they worked together to keep it hidden from everyone else.
It was a mindfuck working with Rupert to sort out a whole new workout plan, to evaluate his newfound strength and other abilities, to learn his body all over again at the age of twenty-seven. It was weird having to explain to GP, a man who he considered his brother, that he was no longer the man he was before the winter break—that he was hardly a man at all, anymore. It was fucking weird having to look you in the eye and see the conflict of emotions on your face whenever you saw him, whenever you replayed the way he saved you from the same beast that created him.
It was fucking weird.
But he could learn. Resilience and perseverance were two traits Max learnt at a very young age. He didn’t give his whole life to this sport just to throw it away because of his newfound—and unwanted—lifestyle. He refused to let it ruin more than it had. He was a werewolf but that didn’t mean he was going to give everything else up. He would deal with his lycanthropy like he did with other problems in his life—privately and out of the spotlight.
He just failed to realise that something could risk that privacy.
And he failed to realise it would be his own short temper that could possibly expose him.
…
Preseason testing taught the team a lot about the car.
Yet, all Max was learning was that the car was shit, the media were nosy and his patience was nonexistent with every human interaction he had outside of the team garage. He could feel his skin prickle whenever a camera was pointed at him or a microphone was shoved in front of him or his name was called out.
He thought the glare on his face would be enough to keep people away but it was wishful thinking. He was the reigning world champion and he was driving, what was seeming to be, a hopeless car. It was a journalist’s wet dream.
“Your eyes.”
Max clenched his jaw, ripping the balaclava over his head. “I’m not glaring.”
“Not that,” GP hissed, trying to pull Max to the side, away from the cameras peering into the garage. “Your eyes.”
Max huffed. “Stop talking in fucking riddles, mate.”
“They are yellow,” GP whispered frantically. “Like your—“
“Fuck,” Max groaned, snapping his eyes shut as he let out a deep breath. “Fuck, what? Why? It’s not a full moon. It shouldn’t—”
“There’s a lot that shouldn’t happen with you that does,” GP pointed out, feeling the glare from Max behind his closed eyelids. “We need to get you out of here.”
“They will see,” Max replied.
“Put your helmet on.”
“Yeah,” Max snorted. “Because that won’t be fucking obvious.”
GP sighed. “Well—”
“What’s happening?”
Despite not being able to see you, Max still turned his head towards you, almost instinctively. He could feel your hand on his arm, warm and comforting and—
“His eyes look like glow sticks,” GP muttered.
“So he says,” Max bit back, because he was annoyed and pissed off and GP was the easiest target.
“He’s trying to help,” you scolded lightly, your thumb swiping back and forth, almost passively like you didn’t realise what you were doing. “Let me see.”
GP straightened. “That’s risky—”
“Let me see.”
Max let out a shaky breath, slowly blinking his eyes open until you came into focus.
“Blue,” you said with a soft, reassuring smile. “They are blue now.”
Max’s shoulders dropped with relief.
“Get him back to his driver’s room before it happens again,” GP murmured.
Max bristled, a looming realisation that he was essentially being grounded by his race engineer making his skin feel prickly. But he couldn’t disagree, it was already a close call with his eyes flashing in the garage. He didn’t need the cameras catching it either.
“If anyone asks, we will say Helmut lost his mind and made you wear contacts whilst you drive,” you teased, keeping your hand on his arm as you waited for him to grab his things.
Max huffed out a laugh. “I’m sure he will like that.”
“You’ll protect me,” you grinned back at him.
And yeah, Max would.
…
The next close call happened after the season had started.
The car had been improved since the shit show that was the preseason testing weekend, but it wasn’t all that great either. Max knew it was a process, knew the team were reaching the point of getting the car to a truly competitive and dominant state. It just took time and he just needed to be patient.
But patience wasn’t something Max had a lot of these days.
All in all, a podium wasn’t bad with the state of the car currently. However, Max knew that the media would be ready to push back, to insist the reigning world champion should be on the top step and not the third, that he should have all the answers to his own failures.
He could feel it.
He could feel the shift in his gums as his canines pushed through, pushed against the confinement of his helmet. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest. He could hear the crowd booing over the blood roaring in his ears. He felt like the whole world had been dialled up to a hundred the second he stepped out the car after pulling up behind the number three sign.
He could feel it.
He could feel the way his team reached out for him. He could feel their hands patting his back like it didn’t make his whole body tense. He could feel their hands patting his helmet like it didn’t make his head feel like it was spinning. He could feel their hands reaching to hold his neck, to bring him closer, to suffocate him more.
He could feel it. He could feel it. He could—-
“Another trophy to add to the shelf?”
Max’s head snapped around to see you on the other side of the barrier, headset still around your neck and a smile on your face that made the third place feel a little less pathetic.
“Probably hidden in the back,” Max managed to mutter out, somewhat muffled by his helmet and the chaos around you both.
“Surprised you have enough space,” you joked, teasing and lighthearted and so distracting that Max almost didn’t feel the way your hand covered his gloved hands, the way your thumb swiped over the tips of his fingers.
He hadn’t even noticed his claws retracting, hadn’t even noticed them ripping through the material of the gloves in the first place.
“Oh,” was all he could say.
“I’ll take care of it,” you assured him, not risking any more with so many people and cameras and microphones. “Go enjoy the podium.”
“You’re gonna stay here?” Max asked, something in his chest twisting at the idea you would have to run off back to the garage, to the screens and data sheets and computers and away from him.
“I always do.”
…
It took a few months into the season before a race weekend aligned with a full moon.
Truthfully, it hadn’t even been a risk that Max considered which, in hindsight, was probably pretty stupid. It should have been one of the first things on his mind the second he realised what he was. It should have been a top priority after his first full moon, somewhere in late January—a night full of pain and discomfort, an experience Max didn’t want to repeat but knew he would have to.
Ignorance was bliss and all that jazz.
Yet, it was the Canadian Grand Prix where Max found himself battling more than just the championship that weekend.
He was lucky enough that it wasn’t a night race but that didn’t change the fact he was snappy all weekend, more so than usual. He was irritant and annoyed and perpetually fighting the growing pain through the weekend as it got closer to the full moon on Sunday night.
GP asked if it was safe for him to even race in this state.
Max, honest to god, snapped his teeth at the older man in response.
It was tense and suffocating in the Red Bull garage.
No one seemed to question Max’s awful mood any more than it was expected. A few people poked and prodded but the gritted, sharpy responses they received in response was enough to make most people back off. It was being played off as jet lag, a bad quali session and a grid penalty that didn’t feel all that deserved.
Max was adamant he could race and deal with the full moon. He wasn’t going to let it ruin his career, the sport that he loved and adored and had given his life to. He wasn’t going to let it get the better of him, even if that meant just being snappier than usual to the media.
And despite GP and Rupert’s concerns, Max was coping well.
Until lap 57 happened.
“WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH HIM?!”
“Max, stay calm.”
“I’M FUCKING LAPPING HIM! IS HE FUCKING STUPID?”
“Max,” GP tried again but his voice was a muffled buzzing in his ears, hardly coherent over the anger and adrenaline and rage rushing through him. His body was acting on muscle memory alone as his car dragged on, as it crawled into the pits before he rushed back out.
He refused to listen to GP telling him to retire the car.
He refused to let that fucker in the Alpine think he could fuck his race and get away with it.
He refused—
“He’s growling,” GP hissed, hand covering the microphone and his voice dropping as he leaned over to where you sat on the pit wall beside him. His lips barely moved, not with the way the cameras were laser-focused on him and his reaction to Max disobeying the orders that were broadcasted to everyone watching.
“Fuck,” you muttered, pulling your headset off and reaching for his. “Hand it over.”
GP frowned. “I don’t think this is going to work—”
“Trust me,” you insisted.
Conflicting emotions swirled in his eyes before he ripped his headset off, muttering something under his breath before he handed it to you.
“—FUCKING DICKHEAD JUST—”
“Max?”
There were a few moments of silence and, for a brief moment, you wondered if the connection had cut. You wondered if he had somehow disconnected the radio from his side, you almost turned to ask GP if it was possible to do before you heard his heavy breathing.
“I know you’re upset,” you continued, taking the chance and hoping he was listening. “It was a bad move. But you’re a good driver, a great one even. You can save this race. I know you can. Focus on the racing, not the rest.”
Your words were careful and precise, painfully aware that the radio messages were probably being broadcasted. You knew whatever you said would be picked apart by the media and public, dissected under a microscope. But despite your caution, your only focus was making sure Max was okay.
“Breathe and win,” you said, your eyes watching the racing feed on the screen in front of you. “I know you can.”
It was completely silent beyond the sounds of the car until—
“I can. I will.”
You bit back your smile. “Good. I want to see you on the top step, Verstappen.”
He did, in fact, go on to win the race. The celebration with the team was postponed as he spent the night in aggravating, uncomfortable pain—alone, suffering, excruciating. He refused to let any of you stay with him, to see him in that state, just like he did every full moon since the attack.
But he still won and that was something nobody could take away from him.
...
Despite his success in Canada, it was clear the outbursts and frequent accidental exposures of his wolf were becoming a problem.
It was something he needed to get better at controlling if he wanted to continue the way he was, if he wanted to keep his lycanthropy away from the greedy hands of the journalists. This was his life now, it was something he had to accept and learn and grow with.
It was just a little hard to do when he didn’t know how.
“This is stupid.”
Rupert sighed, ignoring the glare Max was currently staring into the side of his head as he continued to hook the heart monitor onto him. “It is no different to when we do this for your training.”
“Except this time you are purposefully pissing me off instead of torturing me,” Max bit back.
“We want to help,” GP corrected, leaning against the wall opposite of him. “You need to learn how to control the wolf side of you.”
Max scoffed. “Maybe people should stop being stupid then.”
“Yeah, good luck with that,” GP snorted before getting a nod of confirmation from Rupert that they were ready to go. “Okay. We are going to start easy, alright?”
Max nodded.
GP glanced down at the laptop in front of Rupert that had Max’s current heart rate showing before looking back at the driver. “Following the incident with Pierre Gasly in the Canadian Grand Prix, do you think you should be more careful when lapping cars?”
Max let out a noise of disagreement. “What the fuck? Why should I be careful? It’s not my fault he is slow!”
“I’m sure the PR team will love that response,” GP deadpanned, watching as Max’s heart rate started to speed up. “The stewards deemed it a racing incident.”
“And the stewards are fucking stupid,” Max snapped back. “I was lapping him. I had priority. Everyone knows that. It’s their job to know that too.”
The heart rate continued to increase and GP could have sworn he saw a flash of yellow in Max’s eyes.
“Max, control it,” Rupert reminded him.
“I’m trying,” he gritted out.
“They are going to keep poking, Max,” GP continued. “They did it before and they will do it again. They will push and push and push until they get the reaction they want, the one that fits their agenda.”
Max growled in response.
“I know you’ve seen it already,” GP said, listening to the beeps of the heart monitor get faster and faster. “Mad Max is back. He is unpredictable. Unhinged. That’s the story they want and that’s the one you are giving them.”
Max’s breaths were getting heavier. “They don’t know—”
“Exactly, they don’t know,” GP pointed out. “And we don’t want them to know so you have to learn how to control it before you wolf out on them. Before you let them win.”
His eyes were bright and glowing and yellow, a flash of sharp teeth under his curling lip as he growled and snarled and—
“I’m here! I’m here! Sorry, I’m late, I was getting coffee. Did we start yet?”
It was like a flip had switched.
GP and Rupert watched the scene in front of them like it happened in slow motion. The way Max seemed to perk up at the sound of your voice. The way the glowing eyes and sharp teeth seemed to slowly morph back to the Max they knew. The way the rage and anger and frustration was nowhere to be seen by the time you walked into the room, a tray of coffee and a bag of pastries in each hand.
You stood there, watching the three of them stare at you with mixed expressions. “What? What did I miss?”
“Interesting,” GP commented. “Very, very interesting.”
…
“You like her.”
Max let out a string of curse words, almost knocking the mugs of hot water over before he put the kettle down and turned to face his race engineer with wide eyes. Heightened senses aside, he didn’t hear GP sneaking into the kitchen. Or even realise he had been watching Max mutter away to himself for the last five minutes.
“Fucking hell, mate,” Max grumbled, placing a hand on his chest. “Don’t sneak up on me like that.”
“And don’t change the topic,” GP retorted with a knowing look. “You like her, don’t you?”
Max hated the way he could feel the tips of his ears start to burn. “Like who?”
GP raised his brows in response.
Max deflated, his shoulders dropping. “Look, I know what you’re going to say—”
“I think she’s good for you,” GP interrupted.
Max blinked. “Okay, maybe I didn’t know what you were going to say.”
“She’s your anchor,” GP noted, his lips twitching upwards. “I had my suspicions but today confirmed it.”
“Anchor?” Max repeated with a frown. “Mate, is that not a news thing? She’s an engineer—”
“No, I—” GP let out a deep sigh, muttering something under his breath. “God give me strength. I mean that she helps ground you, helps you differentiate Human Max and Wolf Max.”
“Oh,” was all Max managed to mutter out.
“She’s good for you,” GP repeated with a soft smile. “And she understands you. Maybe if you tell her, we can work something out and—”
“No.”
He frowned. “No?”
“No,” Max repeated, blunt as ever. “I’m not telling her anything and neither will you.”
GP’s frown deepened. “Max—”
“No, you don’t get it. She…” The boy trailed off, swallowing harshly as he tried to voice his thoughts. “You didn’t see what happened that night.”
“Max—”
“I saved her,” Max stated. “I saved her and she’s only here because she probably feels guilty. I…I don’t want to tell her and make her feel like she has to feel the same because I almost died or something.”
“You liked her before,” GP pointed out. “Is it so hard to believe that maybe she felt the same? That she cared about you way before you jumped in front of a werewolf for her?”
Max clenched his jaw. “Drop it. I’m not telling her and neither are you.”
GP sighed but he knew it was pointless to fight the stubborn boy over it.
“And she doesn’t find out about this anchor nonsense,” Max added, turning around and busying himself with the mugs on the counter. “We’ll find another way.”
…
GP’s words about you being his anchor rung on a loop inside his head as the next race weekend approached.
The Spanish Grand Prix was always quite a hectic one on the schedule. The fans were wild and passionate. There was usually more of a buzz around the world championship by this point, an insight into a real fight after nine races. And it brought back good memories, wanted memories of his first ever race win.
It was a reminder why he was here, why he kept coming back every weekend. He wanted to race and he wanted to win and he wanted to be successful. He wasn’t going to let the lycanthropy stop him.
And even if he would never admit it, GP was right.
You were his anchor, you calmed the angry, rapid wolf inside him. It was like everything he felt around you when he was human was amplified. He felt seen, accepted. You took him for how he was, not how you wanted or expected him to be.
You saw Max—not the racing driver or the face of F1’s current dominance.
You just saw him.
It was hard to feel anything but relaxed and calm around you, to know that his words weren’t going to be overanalysed or thrown back in his face.
“You ready for this race?”
Max gripped his helmet a little tighter, fighting the urge to lean back against your touch as he felt your palm between his shoulder blades. He turned to look at you, smiling a little at the clear concern on your face. Like you were prepared to find a way to postpone the whole race if he said no.
“The car’s been good all weekend,” Max replied, biting back his laugh when you rolled your eyes.
“I wasn’t talking about the car,” you grumbled, scoffing. “Obviously the car is good. I was working on it.”
He beamed. “I’m good. Promise.”
“You gonna win?”
“For you? Always.”
Max took deep satisfaction in the way your heart skipped a beat at his words.
“I’ll be happy whatever you end up,” you told him earnestly, your hand squeezing his shoulder and he had the oddest urge to keep your hand there, to place his own over yours.
Max swallowed harshly. “But you deserve a podium so that’s what I’m gonna get you.”
You laughed, the sound easing something in his chest. “You’re cute when you’re cocky.”
He barely got a chance to process your response as you headed towards the pitwall, prepared for the race ahead and leaving the boy glued to his spot, blushing like mad.
For what it’s worth, he did win the race.
…
Things were going smoothly until the British Grand Prix.
Max had been able to keep the wolf inside him subdued and relaxed through the first two races of the triple header. He was racing well, he was being polite to the media, he was acting like the Max before the accident.
And despite his history and previous experiences at Silverstone and the ever loyal British fans, he didn’t think things would be all that different this year. He would maybe get booed, maybe have a few more probing questions. But nothing more than that.
Nothing quite like this.
It was Friday when it happened.
Max thought the worst of the weekend—media day—had been put behind him. He was ready to get back in the car, he was ready to make the triple header a three-for-three and win Silverstone. He was ready for a somewhat normal race weekend, one where the focus would be on the five Brits on the grid rather than him (especially with it being Ollie’s rookie season).
Sometimes, he forgot just how passionate fans could be. He forgot just how insane they could be too.
The whole thing felt like it happened in slow motion.
He was a few steps behind you and GP and Rupert, taking a moment to sign merch and take pictures with fans who had been waiting for hours. He assumed the group of you had made your way into the paddock, already heading towards the Red Bull motorhome.
He hadn’t expected for the hair on the back of his neck to stand up, to feel his whole body react before his brain had. His head whipped around at the exact moment he saw the crazed fan reaching towards you. His body was moving as he watched the scene unfold, as they reached for the collar of your shirt and pulled, as their lips moved to mutter something about Red Bull and whatever nonsense they thought justified their attack.
And before anyone could even react, Max was already shoving himself between you and the fan and ripping their hand away from you. He could feel his heart pounding, his body shaking, the telltale pain in his gums of his canines begging to push through. He could feel himself lose control as the anger and fear of seeing you hurt took over him.
“Back. The. Fuck. Off.”
The fan’s eyes widened, something quite like surprise and terror written across their face as they staggered back. Max had half the mind to wonder if his eyes were glowing yellow, if his face was starting to transform, if the crazed fan was starting to see the monster Max truly was.
“Max.”
An honest to god growl escaped his lips until he felt warm hands wrapping around his biceps, until he felt someone pulling his body away from the fan and away from the crowd.
“We need to get him out of here.”
It felt like he had blacked out. One moment he was staring at the crazy fan, contemplating letting his wolf take over, to give into the anger and rage coursing through him. And the next he was in his driver room, his name being called on repeat and warm hands cupping his face as he slowly blinked back into reality.
“There he is,” you smiled, your voice a soft whisper as you kneeled in front of him.
“I–” Max started but he couldn’t get his words out. He couldn’t say what he wanted to say, not with his heart still pounding, not with the wolf inside him howling and whining and begging to check that you weren’t hurt.
“I’m okay, I’m okay,” you repeated like you could see inside his head, like you could hear the panic in his wolf’s howl. “Max, look at me. I promise I’m okay. You stopped anything from happening.”
He tried to take a deep breath but it was staggered and wheezy.
“I’m okay,” you continued to repeat, dropping one hand from his face to take his hand in yours and intertwine your fingers together.
Max’s eyes flashed yellow once more before he clenched them shut, urging himself to calm down, to relax, to control his wolf again. And after weeks of being on top of his lycanthropy, it felt a bit pathetic that he sat there for god-knows how long, not trusting himself to lift his head and look at you until he felt human again.
“M’sorry,” he managed to rasp out.
“Don’t apologise,” you murmured, quick to give his hand a reassuring squeeze. “Please never apologise for being you.”
Max let out a bitter laugh. “That wasn’t me—”
“Max,” you started but he shook his head.
“Did anyone see?”
You took a few moments before responding. “No. Other than the fan but I don’t think they really knew what was happening. I don’t think any of the camera angles caught it either but GP is making sure the media team are ahead of that.”
“Good,” he managed to mutter, swallowing harshly. “We don’t need anyone else seeing what a monster I am.”
“Max,” and the way you said his name sounded absolutely broken. “You’re not a monster.”
His lips twitched upwards, almost self-deprecatingly. “You don’t have to lie—”
“I’m not lying,” you said, a little more insistent this time as you lifted his head up to meet your gaze. “You’re not a monster, Max.”
His chest tightened. “You’re just saying that because I saved you.”
“No,” you shook your head. “I’m saying that because it’s what I truly believe. You are the furthest thing from a monster I have ever met.”
Max could feel his voice waver as he spoke. “Not anymore. What I am now is—”
“Beautiful,” you whispered, smiling softly as your thumb swiped over the apple of his cheek. “Just as you’ve always been. Just as I’ve always thought you were.”
Max couldn’t quite find the words to respond.
“You saved me. And despite having every right to blame me for what you are now, what you’re having to suffer through every full moon, you don’t,” you continued. “Where most people would give up, you fought back. You took your life back. You’ve made it work, Max. Do you realise how fucking brilliant you are? You had to learn your whole body again and you’re still winning races like nothing changed.”
Max let out a shaky breath. “I’d do it again.”
“What?”
“Even knowing what happened, knowing what was going to happen to me,” Max spoke, keeping his eyes on you, keeping his ears focused on your heartbeat. “I would push you out the way. I would jump in front of that wolf all over again.”
Max wasn’t sure how you would respond but he hadn’t expected you to grab his face in your hands and kiss him. The tight feeling in his chest melted away the second he felt your lips on his, the second he was able to get his hands on you and pull you closer. He would’ve been embarrassed at the pleased rumble in his chest if it weren’t for the fact he was too happy to care.
“I’ll make you see how beautiful that ‘monster’ in you really is,” you whispered against his lips, your nose lightly nudging against his. “No matter how long it takes.”
Max was sure that he still had a long way to go and a lot more to learn before he could ever say he felt fully normal again. But the idea of facing the road ahead with you by his side felt easier than tackling it alone.
He may still be Mad Max to everyone else but he was just Max to you.
And if he was being honest, the opinion of his anchor was the only one he really cared about.
.
#cece's halloween fright nights#max verstappen#formula one#f1#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen x you#max verstappen x y/n#max verstappen fic#max verstappen one shot#formula one x reader#formula one x you#formula one x y/n#formula one fic#formula one one shot#f1 x reader#f1 x you#f1 x y/n#f1 fic#f1 one shot
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OH MY GOOOOOOOOOOOODDDD THE NEW TGS PAGE IS MAKING MY BRAIN GO SO FAST I LOVE IT SO MUCH!!
First off, I love how violent it is. Obviously it's tonally appropriate, but it also seems like a logical escalation from the other instances of the transformation we've seen. I'm gonna rant about it for a minute so body horror warning I guess? I don't know what other category a guy vomiting green science goop would fall into.
Exhibit A:
From the very first change, it's always been very intense.
He describes it as deeply unpleasant and painful, because his bones are literally changing, and by the end of it he's fallen to the floor.
Pretty expected for your first time through an extremely physically traumatic event. But he never seems to get used to it.
Exhibit B:
This transformation takes place two years after the first one. I'm sure a lot of this is the way it is because this moment is very dramatic and it needs to land that way, but the in-world logic is far more interesting to me. His dropping the flask and collapsing implies that even after this whole thing has become routine, his body still isn't used to it. Obviously your bones changing on a dime is never gonna be easy to go through, but even after two years there seems to be almost no acclimation. He probably can't even accurately predict when the pain will start, otherwise he would've set the flask down earlier.
But both of these transformations seem somewhat predictable. It starts inside of his mouth and eyes and spills out, working from the inside outward. My guess is that that is the stabilizing effect of the portion. Because once he starts to transform without it as a catalyst...
Exhibits C, D, and E:
The process starts to break down. It starts the same way it always did, but by the third or fourth switch he starts producing a lot more science goop (Goop? Slime? Bile? Some kinda.... Green shit. What the fuck is this shit), but with less physical change. It starts getting onto his clothes, and it seems a lot more all- encompassing than it did before. Early on the goop seems incidental. The goop and the pain are both byproducts of the potion. But at this point he's practically choking on the stuff, it's not just an ambient effect, it's something being violently purged from his system. Until we get to this point- the first self-inflicted shift without the use of the potion.
Exhibit F:
It's completely out of control. Not only is it full-force Exorcist style exploding from his mouth, it looks like it's coming out of his skin. These two panels, to me, imply that the stuff is sweating out of his skin in quantities that are heavy enough to soak through his hair. His expression can be interpreted a few different ways- general agony, screaming, ect. - but when I imagine what this scene would sound like I think there's too much blockage for him to be screaming. The way he folds over, his wide eyes, the amount of goop, I'm willing to bet that his expression is him desperately trying to breathe.
Anyways. I genuinely love this stuff. This is exactly my type of horror. The kind that doesn't seem like straight up horror until you give it a bit of thought. Chef's kiss. Delicious. Finally some good fucking food
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250 Years of Longing
Pairing: Vampire! Hobie Brown x Fem! Vampire! Reader
Word count: 5.8k
Synopsis: A brief misunderstanding leads to years of heartache. You mourn 250 years of love while his heart remains to you and only you.
Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, vampire AU, divorced! Vampire! AU, established relationship, CW blood, talks of marriage, hurt/comfort, some fluff.
A/N: Special thanks to @pleaktale !!! This au was born in our dms lol
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Vampire Hobie Masterlist
Hobie's words are muffled in your ears as you try to hide your trembling, lovelorn body. Your head is in your hands, wide eyes downturned towards the same scruffed floors you've lived in for thirty years with him. You still remember the day you moved in, the walls were in bright yellow back then, wooden floors hidden by some gaudy shag carpet from the 70s. You still remember that decade like it was yesterday, maybe it was just yesterday, being a vampire means that time has moved differently for you. Time is merely something you gloss over, years flying by in a wink. Barely a flutter in your immortal eyes.
Even technology is moving faster and innovating quicker than you could manage to keep up. The next thing you know, you've been alive for more than 250 years.
250 years of being with him, 250 years of wearing the same identical ring, 250 years of loving him. All those 250 years are going through your mind a thousand miles per hour, your first kiss with him, your confession. Or was it him who confessed to you? Were you the one who got sick and he had to find a vampire to turn you and in turn to change him? Or was it the other way around? Memory is a fickle thing when you're older than any living human on earth. You've forgotten a lot of things, memory hazy and foggy like a dream you don't quite remember the second you wake. You wish this was just a dream, a nightmare that you'll wake up from.
“I need to try— I need to go, love.” His words wake you up from the lucid nightmare. He stands in the middle of your shared room, eyes forlorn, brows pinched together like he's in agony. “I can't stay ‘ere like this.”
If his words could kill, you'd be staked through the heart by now. 250 years of being together, practically joined at the hip. A love beyond a simple marriage on paper. And he's just standing there, breaking your long dead heart.
You look up at him through bloody tears, nails digging into your scalp as you try to hide your wails. An impossible feat. “Was it me? Did I do something?” You've faced vampire hunters together, faced horrors beyond belief to survive and continue to live with him. But you were never terrified, until now.
He immediately shakes his head, moving closer to you to take your trembling hands. The identical rings on his and your finger clinks together as he clasps your hand. “No, it's not you, love.” Kneeling down, he gazes at you through wine red eyes, bloody tears threatening to spill over his cheeks that you would always caress in your shared coffin that's hidden beneath the canopy bed you're currently languishing in.
“That's what they all say.” You utter in a small voice that he hasn't heard in decades.
Grasping your hands, he rubs his thumbs over your pulse where your heart would beat. Something he still does even though your hearts haven't beat together in sync ever since that fateful day.
“You didn't do anythin' wrong. I jus’ need to find myself, go out and see the world in my own eyes.”
You nod bitterly. “Without the burden of me.”
“That's not true, you're not a burden.” His hands reach towards your cheeks, wiping the bloody tears cascading down them like rain drops on a cold autumn day. “There are people I could help out there—”
“And I can't? Why can't you just bring me with you?” You wrench yourself away from him, walking away from the bed to give him space lest you let him see you like this. “Just say you're tired of me.” Hugging yourself, you feel his arms wrap around your middle, face tucked in the crook of your neck right where your scar sits.
“‘m not tired of you.” He says against your skin.
Your twist in his arms to face him fully, palms resting on his chest, eyes dim and scared. “Then why leave? Why do you want to leave me?” His shirt is bunched around your fists, desperate to cling to him despite his wishes. “250 years, Hobie. I've known you for more than that, been with you through all of it. I deserve to know why.” You try to reign in your anger and frustration but your fangs suddenly appearing betrays you.
“I don't want to leave you— Time, love. I jus’ need time. That's all we've got.”
You're tired, tired of asking why, tired of clinging to him like a life raft. Tired of your chest aching and feeling heavy as he looks at you with pity— was it pity? Or something else? So you let him go. Fists unfurling, palms leaving his chest as you step away from him.
“Alright.” You sniff, expression falling stiff as you straighten up. “I won't stop you.” If your love for him keeps him from doing what he loves, then you'll let him go. You can still love him from afar, even if he doesn't want you anymore.
“Love.” Hobie reaches your hand, palm sliding up to your elbows as he pulls you closer to embrace you fully. “250 years, not once did I feel I didn't love you.”
You close your eyes as you find yourself hidden atop his throat, memorizing his scent and how he holds you. Feeling how his own tears drip down on you, how his skin feels against your own. Memory is a fickle thing, you'll soon forget, but you don't want to. So you'll cling to him, even if it's just a memory of him.
“I love you, y’know that right?” He whispers to you, and only to you.
“I—” you falter. If you say it back, it feels like goodbye. And you don't want to say goodbye to the one person you have loved for centuries. “—I know, Hobie.” You could only say, saying it back means that you're never going to see him again. Saying it back means it's the end.
He could only hold onto you tighter, lips pecking the crown of your head so gently that you barely felt it in your lovelorn state.
You've got time, but it won't be spent with him. Eternity would feel empty for you now.
—
It's been six months of being alone, six months since he moved out to find his purpose. He wanted to leave partly so you could also find yourself and be yourself without his presence. 250 years of being together would do that. He doesn't know where he ends and begins when your soul and his own are tangled together for eternity. And he wants that for you too— to be your own self and not just another vampire in the cursed flock.
To be a better eternal partner for you is one of his goals, he needed to leave so he could be better, so he could be good to you for another 250 years more.
And he's willing— wishing that he gets to spend eternity with you after he's satisfied with what he has done to help people. He just hopes that you'd be home to welcome him back once he does. He's sure that you're already making good progress in finding yourself. He already misses you. A lot.
He's already aching for home and your embrace.
So much has happened in those six months, he's excited to tell you everything he has encountered. And even more excited to hear your voice again, to hold you again and sleep in the same coffin with you again and not the shoddy temporary coffin he made out of planks to rest in. He can already see your ecstatic face when he enters the abode again.
Ned has told him that he won't last a year without you. He'd know, Hobie has been friends with him for almost a hundred years now. But he refuses to let him win, even though he really wants to see you right now, or even call you on one of those phones that people seem to be addicted to. But you haven't picked up his calls, or even answered his letters. He has sent one everyday since he left, he's starting to worry now. Even the crew who urged him to go on a worldwide mission with him has placed bets on when he'll run back to you. With the earliest being tomorrow, and the longest being a year. He intends to make them lose, but by god, he misses you so damn much that he's starting to see you in his dreams. And see glimpses of you in the corner of his eyes.
He doesn't regret his decision, but a part of him thinks that you were right— that he should've brought you with him on his journey. Without you his frozen heart feels like it's out of his own body. Walking around without him, living without him. But he knows that it's for the best. It's only temporary, he keeps repeating to himself every night. He'll be with you soon.
As he writes today's letter, he smiles, hands scribbling his day away on the fragrant paper that he knows you'd love especially when it's sprayed with his own perfume.
He can't wait to see you back home.
—
You were absolutely losing it in that house. You keep seeing him everywhere. With every clatter in the halls, you run towards it in hopes that it's him making a ruckus in the kitchen. With every shadow cast on the walls, you see him walking towards you, arms outstretched to hold you. And then for a moment, he's gone, like a whiff of smoke billowing from a lit cigar.
The house that has love built within its walls seems to tilt in your vision. Weighed down by your grief. You don't know where to place your feeling of abandonment, do you place it in the kitchen where you two used to feed together? Or do you put it right next to your withdrawal, your need to be with him once again?
You choke on your own need.
So you take a page from Hobie's book and left. After just two days of him being gone, you packed your bags and headed out to nowhere. You can't stay anywhere that you have stayed with him before, you're afraid that you'll burst into bloodied tears if you even get a whiff of the same place where you two met all those centuries ago.
You haven't felt this alone since you were nineteen, well, you haven't been nineteen in a long time. You could barely remember your days before you were turned— died. It's like looking into a window of a well lit house whose occupants you once knew well but couldn't talk to anymore. In that well lit house is you and him. Just you and him, him and you.
The lamp posts are hazy in your eyes, buildings whizzing by in a blur of crimson tears. You took the midnight bus, hand never leaving the ring on your finger, and just sat there until the route ended. Then you rode a train, then a boat. And again and again until you reached a little coastal town with a name you could barely remember on good days. And with bad days, the crying comes and goes. Chest still aching, claw marks left all over the tiny cottage you brought.
A dark cloud has settled on you, but with each day passes, with each interaction from the town’s people with their good nature and good intentions, the dark cloud slowly ebbs away. The sun shines on you once again after a year and a half without him, it doesn't burn you nor scorch your skin anymore, it lights your way. The people and the soft sea breeze helped you cope through the uncertainty of being alone.
250 years of togetherness, and not one day you've felt alone, or felt like you've wasted your time with him. 250 years of memories, not one you felt like it went all down the drain. It was worth it, all the calm days to the rough one, it was all worth it.
You still wish to see him, to talk to him, to taste his saccharin ichor on your tongue; to kiss him until you're both laughing against each other's kiss bitten lips. It's a normal feeling, a neighbour once told you after you told her your story (excluding the vampirism). It's alright to miss someone who might not miss you back.
There's a hole that he left in your chest, and you find that you can't fill it in no matter how much you try to fill it with friends and good moments. But it shrinks, it gets smaller with time. It gets better with each day that passes. It has gotten better.
No longer do you feel that time has passed in a blur of colours. It has slowed for you, time. You go outdoors and breathe in the salty air, you talk to people, people you would've ignored back then. You do things you haven't done in decades. And you find that time has barely passed. You live each day, savour it, conquer it with warmth akin to his palm atop your own.
You wish him nothing but the best, and as you promised yourself on that day, you'll continue to love him from afar. The moon gazing down on you reminds you of him, everything reminds you of him. And that's alright, love does that. And it will continue to do so for the rest of eternity.
You've got nothing but time to heal and fill the void with as much light as you can.
—
Hobie's gnawed with exhaustion, but happy, incredibly happy. After two years of being away, he has helped so many lives with his ‘abilities’. He has plucked away corrupt officials with his own clawed hands, fangs coated in a sheen of rubies, eyes bright and almost glowing in its pools of crimson. He's proud of what he has accomplished, he hopes that you would be too.
Two years went by without you, he may have won the bet by a long shot but he can't stay for another day more. He needs to go home to you or he feels like he'll combust into searing flames if he doesn't get to see you and hold you within the day. He longs for your warm ichor on his tongue, and how you always laugh at his antics after all these years. He smiles at his ring, excited to see its partner in your finger once again.
So he forgoes to write you a letter in an attempt to surprise you with his return. He packs his bags, waves goodbye to his old and new found friends, going home without wasting another second. You're his bright spot amidst the dark eternity, his sun that lights the way, and he finally feels that he's worthy of you. Worthy of your time.
He knows himself better than he did when he was just nineteen and lost in the threads of life. He feels as if he traveled back in time, back when he was a human who craved to leave his mark in the world. Only this time, he accomplished the latter. Now, as he promised himself that day, he's coming back home.
He's going back home to you.
—
A letter mysteriously arrives at your doorstep. Its pitch black envelope and red wax seal with the unmistakable seal of the vampiric council sends anxiety coursing through your frozen veins.
Is it Hobie? Has something happened to him? Did he fight a council member again? Did you unintentionally and unknowingly break a rule? Or perhaps it's just a newsletter? You could only hope that it's a newsletter.
You open it immediately to calm yourself. Sharp nails ripping the black envelope open. Reading the contents, you sigh in relief at the invitation. An invitation to a soiree, the kind you and Hobie were never invited to because it's well known that you two have been together for centuries. Hell, it's in their records to begin with.
Tamping down your yearning thoughts, you skim the invitation some more. You find that it's a masquerade, ‘to make it interesting in finding your eternal partner,’ it read in its fancy gold lettering. They need to find a better writer to write their invitations, you thought.
You feel like scoffing at the idea of you dressing up and looking pretty just to find a person who may or may not leave you after they feel the urge to change. As you flip the matte paper around, your mind changes with the words ‘goody bags will be given to those who don't find a partner by the end of the day.’ You can't resist a good party favour, especially when it's from the rich vampire council who once gave away mustangs and harleys to the vampires who made it to a hundred. You might hate their guts, but you can't deny how well they can plan a good soiree.
Leaving your cottage, you don your thick coat and take out your trustee umbrella to wade through the sun illuminated town in hopes of buying a somewhat presentable gown to wear. You might've skipped the part in the invitation that says, ‘satisfaction guaranteed!’
—
Hobie stands on the porch of your shared home with a big giddy smile on his face. He notices all the plants you loved so much have wilted, grass turned into a shade of murky brown, and the porch is littered with dust and grime. He ignores the state of his home in favour of the thought of you being too busy traveling and meeting friends or trying out different hobbies. He could only hope that you're well. That you feed whenever you're hungry, he knows how much you hate hunting, especially without him. He remembers that you always make it a night, basically a date night with him that ends with a dead asshole in an alleyway with four unmistakable pin pricks on the side of their neck.
He should've planned more before he left, made sure that you'd be prepared for anything while he's gone. He'd hate to be gone when a would be vampire hunter attacks your home. His fists clenches around his suitcase, now his fear of you being staked through the heart in his own house takes hold of his entire body. You can handle yourself in a fight, but he's afraid of losing you in such a violent way when he could've been there to save you.
With fear clawing at his chest up to his throat, he unlocks the front door with a creak. Then the door stops, as if something is blocking the way.
“Love?” He calls for you in the dark foyer. The vase you always kept filled with flowers that sits on a desk near the door has completely covered in dust, roses wilted. Flowers no longer blooming in its porcelain form. His iced heart shudders in his chest. “Love, it's me, don't attack, yeah?” Chuckling nervously, he pushes the door fully despite the resistance.
The sound of papers crinkling under the pressure of the door sends him into a tizzy. His eyes narrow downwards at the piles upon piles of envelopes next to his feet. Squeezing inside, he tosses his suitcase haphazardly further into the foyer. It thumps loudly on the wooden floorboards, contents tumbling out and spilling over the floors.
His frantic eyes scan the letters, kneeling down, he finds that the letterbox flaps on the door is practically bursting with the amount of envelopes that were shoved in.
Frowning, he takes one in his trembling fingers, thumbs running along your name that he wrote himself.
“What the fuck?” He asks breathlessly into the void. He finds that every single one of them remains unopened.
Standing upright as quick as lightning, he runs around the house like a headless chicken looking for its head. He checks the living room, none, except for spiderwebs clinging on his guitar perched on the wall. His anxiety eats him from the inside out with every door he flings open. The sounds of his thundering footsteps echo inside the shared home, oil paintings of you and him are threatening to fall from its fixtures as he sprints through every door, looks through every crevice for you. And opens every cabinet and even climbs up to the attic to no avail.
There's no blood nor sign of a fight or forced entry. At least he knows that you haven't been attacked. But his mind lingers on one question, ‘where are you?’
He heaves in the middle of the bedroom where he saw you last. The shared coffin was left revealed and out in the open, he can still smell your perfume lingering in the velvet walls of the coffin, fingers running along the sides as he desperately tries to feel you through the fabric.
You're not here. You haven't been here for a long time.
“Fuck,” he balls up the fabric in his fist. There's no sign of you anywhere, not even a letter for him to read. It's unlike you to not leave a note. You always leave one, even if you're just going to the garden. “Where the fuck are you, love?”
The sound of the deep sounding doorbell startles him in place. With his quick movements, he makes it to the door within a half second. That could be you outside.
Hobie practically rips the door open with both hands as he wretches it away in hopes that it could be you. With a grin, he only sees a bat flapping away, and a dark envelope left at his doorstep.
“Fuckin' council.” Quickly grabbing the letter, he closes the door behind him. He could only hope that the letter is for him, that they're chastising him for what he has done. It can't be a letter of condolence pertaining to you, it can't be.
—
Your champagne flute filled with blood is starting to coagulate. Crimson staining the sides of the fancy glass as you slosh it absentmindedly. You stand in the corner right next to the fountain of warm blood gushing out of a mermaid's vase. At least you get to drink your fill.
The party is in full swing, the grand hall is filled with single vampires mingling with each other. Their mindless chatter falls on deaf ears as you look up at the crystal chandeliers illuminating the event. Cigar smoke rises up from the bloodied lips of vampires, turning the air more acrid than the scent of sweat and drying blood from the feeding area just below the event hall.
You're starting to think that the goody bag isn't worth it anymore, even if it has the meaning of life tucked inside it.
The sound of tinkling glass and footsteps takes your attention from the foggy ceiling. The stranger smiles at you through his domino mask. Lips smirking as he makes his way towards you with two bloody cups.
“May I join you?” He asks in a low soothing voice. His suit is in velvet blue, golden charms hanging off him like fine gold threads weaved over him. You raise a brow at him, hopefully he can see it rise above your flowery mask. “Someone as pretty as you shouldn't be spending the night alone like this.”
You scoff quietly, refraining from rolling your eyes. “How would you know that I'm pretty under this mask?” He grins wider at your comment. “For all you know, I'm hideous under this.”
Chuckling, the platinum haired man shrugs. “I just know. You give off the aura of someone gorgeous.”
You scoff light-heartedly against the rim of your glass. “I bet you've said those exact words a dozen times tonight.”
He smirks, fang poking out from his lips. “No, just this once.” Plucking your coagulated drink from your hand, he swiftly and gracefully replaces it with a new one. The drink is still warm, fresh from the veins. “I only use my skills wisely lest it be wasted.”
You stare at him with a raised brow, the corner of your lips curl into an unsure smile. “Wasted on who?” Taking a step away from the man who clearly wants his fangs in your neck, you dawdle on drinking from the glass he gave you.
Chuckling, he glances at the vampires milling about the ballroom, their fancy clothes swishing from side to side as they try their best in recreating a moment in the past.
“The…unremarkable vampires.”
“And you think I'm remarkable enough for you…?”
The stranger takes your hand without another word, leaning down to press a cold kiss against your skin. “Just call me Count Tepes.”
You blink at his name, then you feel it, a recognizable warmth flooding your frozen veins akin to a gentle summer's breeze upon your cheek. A comfortable heat pressing against your throat, a familiar presence making its way towards you in haste.
“Who's this, love? You chattin’ up my wife?” Hobie's arm is suddenly around your waist, calloused hand pressing gently atop your bodice, fingers slithering under the ribbons on your hips in a comfortable and welcomed possessive nature. “Didn't know we were lookin' for a third. If we were, I wouldn't choose this bloke.”
As you crane your neck to stare at him, your expression morphs into a combination of pain and relief. “Hobie?”
“Yeah, lovie?” He pulls you closer against him, a pearlescent mask hiding half of his face but you could recognize him by mere touch alone, by his tone, by his warmth. You could lose him in the crowd and you'd know him from the sound of his footsteps. His smirk turns into a frown at your expression, hand squeezing your side once for comfort. “You alright?”
“Is he bothering you?” The count asks with an annoyed tone. Golden eyes narrowed to slits at the punk holding you close.
“I think you're the one bein' a bother ‘ere, mate.” Hobie sneers, tugging away at your glass to chug it in one gulp without leaving his glare at the fellow vampire. He licks at his bloodied lips, fangs bared, blood dripping down from the corner of his smirk.
Tepes raises a sharp brow at you, you, whose mind is running a thousand miles per hour. With a heavy inhale, you give him your best smile. “No need to worry, I'm with him.” Hobie puffs out his chest smugly.
The Count chuckles with a shake of his head in reply. “Not again, just my luck, hm?” Taking a swig, he swallows down the thick blood. “It's either couples looking for a third, a fourth, or even a fifth. Or someone who just went to the party to inspire jealousy in their husband.” Glancing at you, he sighs and nods curtly at you before leaving without another word.
“Really, love, him?” Hobie scoffs with a grin, ringed finger tapping on his— your glass. “You could do better—”
You whirl away from him, not having the heart to fully push him away. “What are you doing here?”
“What are you doin' ‘ere?” Hobie furrows his pierced brows, his identical ring still on his ring finger. The ruby glows under the chandeliers, the same shade as his immortal eyes.
You stare at him with bemused shock, “you left!”
“On a bloody soul searchin’ not leavin' you!”
“What?” You blink rapidly at his words. “You said you couldn't stay anymore—” a cough stops you in your tracks. An older vampire with the biggest beard you've ever seen taps his foot impatiently, thick brow raised in annoyance. “Sorry.” You murmur before leaving towards the closed balcony doors.
“Sorry, Santa.” Hobie waves him away, following right behind you as you struggle to open the double doors. “You have to—” he places the glass down to help you by putting his hands above your own. “— love, you have to push the bloody knob.”
His hands felt like how they used to, as if two years hadn't passed. With a click, the doors swing open. “Damnit, I had it.” You step into the cold air, trembling hands resting on the cool marble balcony.
The doors shut close as Hobie tentatively steps closer to you. “You look fit.” You scoff at him as his shoulders heave in an inhale. “I wouldn't leave you.”
“But you did.” You utter under your breath, you know he heard it above the breeze.
“Can I explain myself? I don't want to fight, love.” 250 years together and you've only fought a handful of times, and the serious ones are lesser than the nonsensical ones. With your apprehensive nod, he crosses the small distance, settling himself right next to you and at the same time giving you enough space. “I didn't break it off.” He takes off his mask, sighing heavily as he twirls his ring around his finger. “I should've explained it better.”
You finally meet with his eyes. The ring in your pocket seems to grow heavier. “You were gone for two years, Hobie.”
“For a good cause, I didn't feel like myself and I wanted to be better, not just for you but for myself.” He leans closer to you, the full moon bathing him in silver, the light caught by his piercings. “250 years together, do you think I'd leave you just like that?”
“You didn't have to be better for me. You're already great to me.” Your affectionate words echo in the breeze as his chest clenches, guilt stomping down on him. “I thought you didn't find me fascinating anymore. That you didn't need or want me anymore.” Your voice is small, almost broken. “250 years together could do that, Hobie.”
“I could never not find you fascinatin’, and I get to wake up next to everythin' I could ever need or want. You're anythin’ but.” With a brave hand, he reaches for your cheek, wiping a bloodied tear you didn't notice you've let out. “I thought you got hurt, or worse.”
He feels a tear run down his cheek. Gently taking your mask off of your face, he could finally see you in all your glory. He gazes into your shining eyes— he may not be able to see himself in the mirror, but he doesn't need to when your eyes are enough to reflect his own blissful face.
You lean further into his hold, palms reaching towards his chest like you used to. “D–did you do it? Did you get to do what you wanted to? Are you happy?”
Hobie nods before placing his forehead against yours to savour your close presence. “I did, all that and more. And I've always been happy with you.”
Smiling, you pat his cheek affectionatly. “Then I'm proud of you.” Leaning away, you wipe away a stray tear from his chiseled cheek. “So it was a misunderstanding? You didn't actually break off our…marriage?”
He smiles softly, knuckles gently running along your jaw. “Why’d you hesitate, hm? And yeah, I should've explained myself better. ‘m sorry.”
You thump your fists on his leather clad chest as he chuckles. “You could've saved me from a lot of fucking tears, Hobie.” You can now admire him fully, his outfit is a contrast to the other party goers with their silks and chiffon, but he makes it look good— he always looks this good.
Taking your wrists, placing it atop his still heart, he tilts his head with an affectionate smile. “You didn't answer my question. And you took off your ring.” He raises a questioning brow, fingers bracelets around your wrist as he moves your empty ring finger around. “Were you honestly tryin' to get with that wanker?”
“No,” you say immediately, “And if I remember correctly, we never technically married. I'm only here because they had nice things in the party favors. And I thought, ‘why not? The worst that could happen is that I get a bloody ipad instead of a mustang like I hoped.’” Your lips wobble as you tamp down a sob, eyes getting blurry. “I couldn't replace you just like that. It would take me a thousand years to get over you, you idiot.”
Hobie laughs wholeheartedly, a sound you dearly missed. He pauses then inhales, eyes warmly staring at you through the haze of affection. “Fuck, I missed you so goddamn much.” With a quick pull, he embraces you firmly with his face hidden on the crook of your neck, lips brushing along your throat. “You're right, ‘m an idiot for not explainin’ better, and for not takin’ you with me. ‘m sorry.”
You wrap your arms around him tighter, nose nuzzling his temple. “Could've just told me you were having a mid-life crisis.”
He laughs against your skin. “I sent you letters everyday, you didn't reply.” Subtly, he dances with you from side to side under the moonlight and the music of crickets chirping. “I went home and you weren't there. If I wasn't already dead, you would've given me a heart attack.”
“I couldn't stay there alone.” You hold him impossibly closer. “You weren't there.”
Hobie imagines you in that big house all alone waiting for him. “Fuck, ‘m sorry.”
“I know, I forgive you. Just bring me next time, okay?” He nods with a grin. You lean away, cradling his face in your careful hold, thumbs rubbing along his cheeks. “I'll read your letters, all of them once we get back home.”
“Why read ‘em when I can tell you?” He grins, temptation pushing him to meet with your waiting lips. “‘sides, ‘m a better storyteller than a writer.”
You chuckle softly as he pecks you once, twice then leaning away only to move back with another gentle kiss. “I've got stories to tell too.” You utter against his soft lips.
“Yeah?” He smiles proudly at you. “Can you tell me all about them while your lips are on mine?”
You beam at him. “I can, I have telepathy for a reason, Hobs.”
“Thank fuck for telepathy.” He says as he kisses you fervently just like he always had in 250 years of being together. “I should've married you, lovie.” His words are uttered in between kisses.
“We have time.” You whisper against his smiling lips whilst he picks your pockets and slips your ring in your finger once again.
As you kiss him, you can see that he's already planning the event in his giddy mind. You tell him the three words you've been aching to say back in his head. And in turn, he takes you further into his arms as dark wispy smoke envelopes you both in an embrace. In a blink, you're back home with him. The house feels warm again.
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animal
chapter 5
friendly reminder that i am not a writer, i'm just a girl who loves logan howlett and wanted to write something exploring his animalistic side since i so rarely see it done. my first language is also not english, so please do not be rude when giving me any feedback.
warnings: swearing, drinking/alcohol, smoking cigars, violence, angst
series masterlist │my masterlist
your relationship with logan is strained, breaking apart at the seams.
ever since your conversation the dynamic has shifted. you don’t want to lose logan, and so in the light of day you kiss and cuddle and he watches you complete your chores. he makes dry comments as you cook together and you talk and laugh over dinner. he carries you into the bedroom and kisses the insides of your thighs until you’re begging for him, clutching at his hair as he eats you out.
but in the dark, when night falls, so does the facade of your relationship. he still sleeps in the guest room, but you no longer go join him when he has nightmares. if he wants to pretend like everything is fine and doesn’t want to talk to you, you won’t pressure him to do so. you’re following his lead, and it’s making you both obviously miserable.
he hardly ever actually sleeps, and you know that - sometimes you still wake up to his screams of pain and horror. he spends most of his nights drinking, sitting outside on the porch with a bottle or two. you often find him there in the mornings, watching the sunrise, face pale and eyes lined with thick, dark bags.
he asks you to buy him cigars when you go into town and you do. he smokes them on the porch while you bring him coffee, grabbing the empty bottles of liquor to throw out. he mutters a “thanks” but says nothing else, and you return to the kitchen to eat your own breakfast alone, without him.
it always takes a few hours before he can shake off the lingering tensions and horrors that follow him at night, before he can really be a version of himself again.
he’s angry too, all the time. that feral, violent edge to logan that you’d noticed through his animal behaviours seems heightened now. his claws come out more, becoming a familiar sight. he never takes it out on you, he’ll walk away before he ever gets close to doing that, but he becomes destructive in his anger.
he punches the walls, claws piercing through the drywall along with his fist. but he always fixes it after, and he seems less tense when he’s using his hands like that. to fix and patch-up rather than destroy.
he takes to fixing things around the house, changing the shower head so it has better water pressure, repairing the old hinges on the doors to the cupboards that always creak. he builds you a new bookshelf as an apology - or at least you think it is, though he never says the words outright - after getting shitfaced and yelling at you one night.
and yet you feel so distant from him. there’s a painful ache in your chest every time you see his handsome face, a longing to touch him and kiss him and crawl into his skin. the physical proximity does nothing to alleviate your loneliness. you miss him, so much.
he’s laying under the kitchen sink, shirt off and tossed on the floor beside him, and you take a moment to admire him, the thin sheen of sweat covering his chest, the dark hair that you want to bury your face into.
you shake your head, snapping yourself out of your daze and proceed outside. you have things to do, and there’s no use getting distracted by logan when you know it won’t amount to any changes, won’t make this thing between you better.
honestly, you’re counting down the days until he tells you he wants to leave, find his own place, start his own life. or restart, you suppose. you expect it to happen any day now, when he runs out of things to fix around your house and can no longer keep himself busy and distracted.
and then one night he returns home drunk. he’d gone out without telling you, skipping dinner together to go to some bar or another. you ate alone, hardly picking at your plate, appetite gone.
you’ve never seen him like this and you wonder how much he must have drunk to get to this point, slurring his words and stumbling, a heavy weight that you struggle to hold onto, keeping him upright so he won’t collapse into nearby furniture. he has a half empty bottle in hand and you gently pry it out of his grip, placing it down on the nearest surface you can find, just to get it away from him.
he’s muttering words you can’t quite understand, talking to himself more than he’s talking to you, but it’s more words than you’ve heard him say in a while. you blink back the tears that threaten to rise on your waterline as he holds you against him, close your eyes to focus on the scent of him that surrounds you, the sharp tangy smell of alcohol lingering on him, cutting through his usual musk, cigar smoke and wood and him.
“i’m gonna put you to bed,” you say gently, because as angry as you are with him right now, as much as you’re trying to put distance between you, he’s still logan, and your heart beats for him regardless.
you lead him to the guest room, but he shakes his head and wrenches his hand out of your hold, stumbling towards the door to your room, to what was once yours and logans before he’d started fading away. breathless, you follow him, watching him collapse onto your bed, face buried in your pillow. he lets out a deep groan, wiggling around in your spot until he’s comfortable.
you’ve missed the sight of him in your room, missed falling asleep to his face and waking up in the warmth of his arms, the sound of his steady breathing surrounding you with a sense of peace, his hands tracing your face as if you were a work of art. you don’t even notice you’re crying until you feel warm tears rolling down your cheeks.
“don’t cry - hate when you cry,” logan slurs as he reaches out his arms towards you, beckoning you to come closer to him.
it makes you cry harder, and within moments he’s holding you. you’re straddling him, legs bent against the comforter at an odd angle but you don’t care. he presses his hot mouth to the top of your head, a barely-there brush of his lips that has you warming up from within.
“shh,” he tries to shush you, rocking the two of you back and forth in a horribly uncoordinated rhythm, “don’t cry. i love you.”
it’s the first time he’s said those three words to you, and you wish you could have heard them under any other circumstance. not when he’s drunk out of his mind, not when you’re barely holding yourself together, not after weeks of hardly speaking. it’s not the right time - hell, it’s probably the worst moment he could have picked.
“don’t say that,” you tell him, voice raw, “if you don’t want me to cry, please don’t say that.”
“but-” he protests, “do you love me?”
it’s bittersweet, this moment you’re sharing. you can’t remember the last time he’s been so honest with you, so forthright with his feelings, and yet you can’t be certain he’ll even remember this conversation in the morning. you can’t be certain this will change anything at all.
you sigh, and hope that logan’s mutation doesn’t involve him remembering everything that happens even when he’s shitfaced drunk. you don’t want your first admission of love to be a sad one, but he’s looking at you with the biggest puppy-dog eyes, your logan, and you can’t leave him hanging, can’t just not answer. and you can’t lie either, he’d be able to smell it in your scent, to read it in the way your heartbeat quickens.
“yes, logan, i do.” you whisper, pressing a hand against his cheek, the scruff of his beard.
“why are you mad at me?” he slurs, and you scoff.
“because you’re pretending everything’s fine and you’re pushing me away,” you reply, “you don’t talk to me anymore, and i can’t read you like i used to. you barely show any emotions, you just close everything away. i’m mad because yes, logan, i love you, and that means i want to know what’s going on with you.”
“but ‘s better now,” logan protests.
you frown. he sounds so sure of himself, and you wonder how he could possibly see the state of your current relationship and think of it as better. maybe you were right, maybe this is all ending.
“how?” you whisper, “how are things in any way better?”
he buries his face in your neck, warm breath forming condensation on your skin. when he speaks you can feel the words more than you hear them, muffled as they are. “i was an animal before. a monster with no control. ‘s better that i act human.”
you laugh but it’s unhappy, “it’s not better at all. i want the real you, whoever that is, more human or animal, i don’t care. but i want the version of you that spends time with me instead of a bottle, the version of you where we can talk through our issues. because i get that things are different logan, i hear your nightmares and i don’t expect you to be the same now that you remember all those awful things. you’re traumatised, i understand that. but i wish you could try to open up, let me love you. don’t push me away. and i want you to love me in the ways that are natural to you, that make you the happiest, whatever that means.”
you wake up to an empty bed, the spot beside you still warm but steadily growing colder. you blink open your eyes, blearily, making out the dent in the mattress where logan had slept, the smell of cinnamon and sugar invading your senses with each new breath you took.
you find logan in the kitchen, wearing one of your little aprons, far too small for him, the strings barely long enough to meet at the back. the sight makes you giggle, silly and domestic as it is. he’s pulling fresh cinnamon buns out of the oven, and you fight the urge to look around as if someone is about to pop out at you.
“want one?” logan asks. in your daze you hardly noticed him turning around to face you. “they’re uh- an apology. i used your recipe and i’m good at following the instructions so they should be okay.”
he refuses to meet your eyes, shifting on his feet, restless energy thrumming through him like he’s expecting to have to run away at any moment. before, you would have said that he doesn’t seem like the kind of guy to run and hide when things get hard, always fight and never flight. it seems right for him, with his gruff demeanour and the violent edge to him. but you’ve lived through him avoiding you, running from his problems. you refuse to let it happen again.
he’s skittish, nervous even, and you take a moment to appreciate the sight. it’s lovely, gorgeous even, compared to the anger and depression and irritation that you’ve gotten accustomed to from him. but you don’t let him linger in silence for too long.
“an apology?” you repeat his words, placing your chin in your hands, “for what?”
“pushing you away.”
so he remembers. you wonder if he recalls every word you spoke to him under the cover of darkness, made brave by the thought that he likely wouldn’t remember, that none of this would come back to you in any way, or if it’s more of a vague image that floats around in his mind, edges blurred and sections of the night skipping through.
does he remember the way you told him you loved him, the words tinged with sadness and desperation? you weren’t expecting the sudden change of heart, the way he so easily said the very thing he’s been avoiding admitting for so long.
“you don’t have to apologise for that,” you say, though you appreciate it, “you were going through something. you still are.”
“i still need to apologise,” he argues, and you smile at the determination in his voice, “it’s- fuck- i’m not good with words. i messed up. i know that. but i’m almost two hundred years old, you know that? and i remember every single, shitty day of it. i haven’t had a good life, princess. i hurt and kill everyone that gets close to me. and i don’t wanna hurt you.”
you stride right up to him and he looks terrified when you raise your arms, but all you do is wrap them around his neck, standing on your tip-toes so you can press a kiss to his cheek, feeling his scratchy beard against your lips. his hands find a place on either side of your waist, the position so natural, so comfortable.
this is how you’re meant to be, in each other’s arms, not fighting or hiding away from one another.
“you did hurt me,” you say, watching the way his jaw tenses at the reminder, “but i’m tougher than i look. and i don’t believe that your past defines you. who you are right now, how you treat me, that’s what decides my opinion of you. although right now you’ve got some grovelling to do.”
he grunts in agreement, “i’ll make it up to you, darlin’. however you want.”
taglist: @mystiquesvendetta @raeinyourdreams @babey-fruit-bat @meetmypointlessaddiction @kneelforloki @deaky-with-a-c @hypermarvellove @littlepeanut03 @the-ruler-of-death @aliengutzstuff @misscrissfemmefatale @mynamesstevenwithav @teaganthemorningstar @blackkatzz @leryg0 @fries11 @forksloree @i5uckersblog @dragovegogrimborn @quillycrow @melday0105 @just-a-little-cellist @scorpiosaintt @akasha157-blog @insanesosciopath @eridektbh
if your name is in white it means i couldn’t tag you for some reason. i’m very sorry :(
#logan howlett#logan howlett x reader#logan howlett x you#logan howlett fanfiction#wolverine#wolverine x reader#wolverine x you#wolverine fanfiction#logan howlett x fem reader#logan howlett x fem!reader#wolverine x fem reader#wolverine x fem!reader#james logan howlett#feral!logan howlett#feral!logan howlett x reader#feral logan howlett x reader#feral logan howlett#animalistic!logan howlett#animalistic logan howlett#logan howlett headcanons#wolverine headcanons#the wolverine#x men origins wolverine#x men#deadpool and wolverine#logan howlett angst#wolverine logan howlett#feral logan#series: animal
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"I won't let anyone hurt you, you're safe with me" I imagine this as Sebastian saying it to Reader. But the thought of the reader saying it to Sebastian after he wakes from a night terror (in this scenario, they have escaped Urbanshade) is very sweet to me
True to their word, they got you out.
You and Sebastian were finally free from Urbanshade's horrors.
Innovation Inc. managed to extract enough data from all the loose assets you've given to him to formulate an escape plan.
Thank god you have connections to the labs, otherwise you would have been just as doomed as any other EXR-P.
But you were more relieved that Sebastian didn't have to stay trapped in that place anymore. He didn't have to move from place to place and fight to survive constantly.
Even better?
There was actually a way for him to become human again.
Urbanshade deemed him too far gone in his mutation to reverse the countless painful surgical processes they put him through....but they were nothing but liars who didn't see the point of investing in the resources needed.
They could have done it all along.
Innovation, on the other hand, got every bit of data on the experiments that they needed, going right to work on him as soon as you both arrived to the labs.
Obviously, he resisted at first...as all the trauma he experienced from before didn't go away instantly.
He was afraid of another surgery, being touched and injected with foreign substances and restrained. Not to mention the heavily potent anesthesia he needed since he's developed such a strong immunity to it.
But you convinced him that if he hoped to become human--he needed this.
It took a week or two, with him being in and out of the operating room and you trying to pass the time by chatting with your colleagues about exposing Urbanshade's secrets to the world..but eventually they did it.
They gave him legs again. HIs ear fins were now back to being human ears--and anything else that made him look like an anglerfish was removed and replaced with stitched flesh. His third arm was amputated but preserved for future study.
Somehow, they even got his size to shrink. No longer was he a gigantic beast, but instead an actual human-sized person who got to sleep on the bed beside you.
The only things left of his previous self were some of his sharp teeth (which he didn't mind keeping) and his skin still bearing a somewhat light blue tint to it, although it was not as pale.
It was incredible.
He cried the first time he saw himself.
He felt..human, again. And you were happy for him.
Although...
While he was getting better physically, no amount of surgeries would be able to get rid of the emotional pain Urbanshade and the criminal justice system had put him through.
From getting an unjust sentence for something he didn't even do to screaming in horror at his monstrous reflection for the first time...all of those events still like to replay in his mind.
Not to mention he conditioned himself into never letting his guard down for any reason.
He'd wake up if he heard somebody so much as cough in the next room or squeak their shoes a little too loudly.
While the hardest part was over, it was still going to be a long and agonizing recovery process for him.
Tonight, however, Sebastian was sound asleep, whereas you were sitting at the nearby desk, pencil scratching at the notebook in your hand. You were just trying to brainstorm ways to get Painter and Eyefestation out and away from the Blacksite.
Of course those two were nothing short of a nuisance during your many runs to escape with the Crystal...but Sebastian considered them friends, as they were the only ones who could communicate with him and never tried eating him. So you did feel a little bad for leaving them behind.
You were sure Eyefestation was put out of her misery, knowing that she couldn't swim very far up due to the pressure changes in the ocean--plus she wasn't willing to let go of her vendetta against humans.
Innovation could very easily turn her into a normal shark again who could still speak telepathically...but they couldn't cure her hatred.
For all you know, she could want to kill Sebastian now simply because he was (mostly) back to being human.
Painter, on the other hand, could have escaped with you if you had more time. He deserved a better life besides wasting away mining robux and being tethered to the IDS. He always talked about Sebastian's promise to get him out, too, so you wondered if he felt betrayed and lied to...
Until you recently learned that Innovation figured out a way to communicate with him and help throw more dirt on Urbanshade via an encrypted channel. So there was a chance his AI could be transferred over to this facility if his physical body was destroyed.
That gave you hope to see him again.
But until then, they told you to look after Sebastian, and that was fine by you. He was all you cared about right now.
"GAH!"
Snapping your head over, you could see the man jolt upright all of the sudden, eyes wide as he clutched at his chest, breathing hard. You noticed the sweat dampening the front of his shirt, and closed your book. "Seb?"
"Shit. I was...am I...a-am I still...?" He mumbled to himself, bringing a trembling hand to his forehead, before he squeezed his eyes shut. "Please don't be there..please, please, please, god.."
To his relief, he felt nothing but the tiny bumps that formed a stitch beneath his black bangs. But even so, his fingers kept grazing over his skin and ears, wanting to be certain those things weren't there anymore.
"It's okay. You're still at Innovation. My buddies got rid of them."
Feeling the mattress dip, Sebastian looked to see you sitting on the bed, too. You looked concerned, but not overly worried--as this has become a rather normal occurrence ever since he finished those rounds of surgeries.
"I know that, but..I've had them for a long time." He lightly scoffed, trying to calm himself down, but you could tell he was still shaking and very overwhelmed by his nightmare, tears stinging his eyes. "I..I-I can't just...forget about it like it never happened, you know. Like those bastards didn't.....gh.."
He got choked up, and you opened your arms to him, waiting to see if he was willing to accept your offer. Being a giant anglerfish, he never wanted anybody to touch him, and you understood perfectly why.
So for him to curl up into your embrace was a bit of a surprise, but you held him closely; not too tightly so he was uncomfortable, of course. "I won't let anyone hurt you. You're safe with me." You consoled, feeling him rest his head on your shoulder, sniffling quietly.
A few tears dampened your sleeve, but you didn't mind them.
It made you realize that he probably took his humanity for granted--now there was no longer a huge size difference between you two.
Ever since escaping the blacksite, he's become a bit more attached to you, wanting to constantly be near you. Even back then, he's been friendlier to you than most expendables.
He'd never outright say your presence comforts him. But you could tell through the small gestures and "exceptions" he makes for you that you're the only good thing to enter his life at Urbanshade.
"You're okay, Seb. We're both okay now."
"Y-Yeah, I know..I know.." He muttered, slowly trying to wriggle out of the hug, to which you let him go and allowed him to sit up. "Sorry you gotta put up with me being like this. Thought I would've been over it by now.."
Despite his words, he was still physically shaken up, the nightmares not so easily leaving his mind.
"There's no rush to "get over" any of this." You frowned a little, putting your hand on top of his as a comforting gesture. "I sure as hell haven't. Every time I think I can get some sleep, I find myself getting chased by those stupid mutant fish over and over again.."
Sebastian just scoffed. "You think being chased by one is bad? Try becoming one and having to live through-"
But he stopped himself after seeing the look on your face, as well as you removing your hand and getting up. "Sorry. I'll..get you some water-"
"No. Don't leave. Please."
You blinked in surprise as he grabbed at the hem of your shirt with lightning speed, although when he realized you were staring...he quickly let go and coughed awkwardly into his fist.
"I know I'm not the only one who went through some messed up shit. I don't know how you dealt with it."
"What?"
"..dying over and over again. I would've gone fucking insane if I had to live through that."
"Well, I almost did...but it was worth it. Because we're both free now." You offered him a reassuring smile. "And technically Painter, too. We'll have to talk to him sometime."
"Yeah? Think he'd wanna chat with me after I basically lied to him?" He muttered, sounding uncertain. "I promised him that we would get out. And he could paint all the landscapes he wanted to."
"My colleagues are still figuring out how to unhook him from the IDS without further corrupting him, but they're making good progress. He'll be on his own little computer in here in no time."
"That's good. I just hope he can forgive me. I really only asked him to stall.."
"I'm sure he'd understand, Seb." With a sigh, you picked up your book. "He knows we're safe and he's giving Innovation whatever they need. So I wouldn't worry."
Sebastian simply nodded, looking to his hands--specifically to the ring imprint that was still on one of his fingers, frowning a little as he stared at it.
Even though his humanity was restored, he had already been declared dead a long time. Everyone he knew and loved was convinced that he was a guilty man who deserved execution. It didn't matter if they caught the actual criminal or not.
He just couldn't return to normal life after all he's been through. After all he's seen.
No.
But he could start over with you.
It was funny to think that you were once an expendable prisoner he glossed over, assuming you just wanted to buy his wares and march onwards to your next death--to which he'd laugh in your face and show you the document you already had memorized.
Now, you were the only person he could trust. The only person he was willing to be vulnerable around.
Because you helped free him.
You were the reason he was able to become human again.
#clanask#roblox x reader#roblox pressure x reader#pressure x reader#sebastian solace#sebastian solace x reader#human sebastian x reader#angst/fluff prompt#hurt/comfort
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I havent seen a fic for bumblebee yet and I'm sure you have your own plans that I will love anyway but I thought id throw an idea out😳
So, bumblebee gets his human somehow but the catch is they're selectively mute. So they take a little while to get comfortable talking to him-but otherwise physically settle in pretty quickly because hes just so doting taking really good care towards the human, finding them cute and he doesnt really *seem* threatening, just over excited maybe(?) but their partial muteness could lead to some fun interaction possibilities💛🙏 but yeah you dont have to do anything with it if you dont vibe w it lol but I just thought it might be a sweet option for if you write for everyone's favourite gentle bee eventually💛
P.s. I absolutely love your work!!! You give off professional writer with a side obsession that the fandom is SO lucky to have💗
Thanks- I’ve been meaning to write Bee for a bit since y’all keep asking.
Last Night
Bumblebee x Reader
• Moving into the tree line, Bumblebee can feel the sun warming him, the subtle change in temperature as he enters the shade. Hear little birds chirping above him, catch glimpses of them flitting among the branches. Slowing and keeping low, because there they are. Ethereal little organics moving about under the trees, heads lifting and ears flicking as they graze. Some of them have arching growths like branches on their heads, their thin legs looking incapable of holding their weight. They remind him of the life he’d seen on the surface of Cybertron long ago. Things curiously like these, but metal like a Cybertronian, they make him homesick to watch, but he keeps coming back anyway.
• A cardinal, bright against the bone-stark branch of a sycamore. Inhaling, you lift the camera and click off a few shots, managing to catch it in flight when it takes off. Fingers tightening on your camera, you move deeper into the woods. Having to remind yourself to watch for snakes, to occasionally look down. Losing yourself in the world through the lens, it’s a faint rustle ahead of you that slows your steps. There. Deer grazing in a natural clearing in the trees. Smiling you lift the camera, finger flying to take as many pictures as you can, hearing one of them snort. Heads up and alert. To you? Zooming in on a buck, you inhale because there’s something there on the other side of the clearing. Big and yellow and- are those eyes staring at you?
• He freezes, staring at the human dappled in spots of sun and shadow. Missed you completely so transfixed in watching the animals. Frozen as you lift the little box in your trembling hands and do something with it. Human tech that does who knows what. And he’s standing suddenly in alarm sending the animals bounding off into the underbrush. “Hey, wait,” he says as your eyes widen, mouth falling open. Then you’re running, too.
• You can’t scream, can’t make a sound as you run through the trees feeling branches whip your skin and brambles claw at your hair and clothes. That big yellow, metal monster is right on your heels, huge feet crashing after you. It’s faster than you, your heart racing as you feel its fingers brush your backpack and you’re brought up short. Unable to breathe or cry out, too paralyzed with fear as your feet leave the ground. Kicking, you squirm your arms out of the backpack straps and fall into a bush.
• Scrap, you’re quick. Dropping the thing you abandoned, he makes another grab and his servos close on you. Upside down and making a funny hitching sound, the whites show all around your eyes. “It’s okay. You’re okay,” he croons, trying to turn you upright and you just go limp in his servos. And he freezes in horror. Had he broken you that easily? No, he can feel your heart beating still, but you’re unresponsive. “It’s okay.” He’s not sure if he’s talking to you or himself as he adjusts his hold. Ratchet. He can fix this, make it right.
Next
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Viral Transformation Stories
POLL HERE !
Here are the pieces written thus far! Terrific stories by equally terrific authors, (Displayed in alphabetical order and to be updated as the other pieces are posted!)
Though every piece is not for every taste; Every one of these stories is an excellent showcase of the talents and tastes of their authors as well as being excellent explorations of my prompt!
HairyJockTf - A Full Dose of Country
All-Star wrestler Cody finds himself enjoying the work of a ranch hand altogether too much after receiving an accidental dose of a bovine vaccine. (Ranchhand TF)
OneLittleSpiral - Attention: Health and Safety Alert
FRT-24 is wreaking havoc across college campuses. It’s an uphill battle against a virus so powerfully persuasive, and it’s beginning to seem like perhaps no one is safe.
YellowJesterTfs - Agents of Change
Whitman stands guard at the entrance to The Oval Office, never could he expect the horror that approaches in the form of a flawless figure. One surrounded by equally perfect men, men who want nothing more than to spread their perfection as far as they can. (Assimilation TF, MG and MC)
Warping-Realities - Beautiful Things
CW: Corruption- Exchange student Alois keeps hearing a regressive vaguely religious pop song. When his friends begin dropping like flies to be fans of Benson Boone it may be only a matter of time before he counts himself among them, moustasche muscles and all. (Corruption, MG CW: Lib to Con Mental Change)
Eilorow - Gym Selfie - Working Together
Livid with his study partner, Jacob waits for any explanation from the man. After receiving a steamy selfie he finds himself rapidly losing interest in their assignment as well (Jockification)
YourNewBody - Hotline For The Recently Infected*
Thank you for calling! Ovid Incorporated is happy to walk you through the changes taking over your body. We hope you are excited and prepared to be the horny priapic brute you are sure to become! (Himbofication)
AlphaJockLover - InstaJock: Going Viral
First person exploration of a man eager to explore the all too alluring world within the InstaJock App. Finally able to poke around himself without succumbing to transformation, he finds a ringleader lurking at the center of all these sinister changes. (Jockification)
MuscleJedi-Tameem - Millbrook University
Doting boyfriends, Jonny and Keegan, prefer to spend their time on pursuits of the mind. After accidentally contaminating themselves they are overcome by new passions and new power. (Himbofication)
MiscTf - Singing a New Tune
Jared is less than pleased about attending the concert of his girlfriend's favorite pop diva. As she gives a performance almost directly to his soul the jock finds more than his music tastes are beginning to change. (Straight to Gay Twink TF)
Sanzaibian - That Day No One Cared
In pursuit of world peace and human perfection an artificial intelligence finds the quickest route is one of hedonism. Here are two case studies on a man who learned to follow his repressed lusts and one who over comes his bigotries in pursuit of physical improvement. (Corruption/Mental Change)
CaptainMaleWriter - XY
In the small town of [redacted] there's a viral outbreak causing dormant genes and repressed urges to force their way to the forefront. Gym goers find themselves as people anew as their changes begin and the need to spread their condition stirs. (Various, TFs incl. RC and MG)
OccamsTfs - Start-Up
(Non-competing) Gabriel hates the start-up he works for. Though this morning it seems there are more immediate things he should be concerned with as men something strange begins to change men around the world.
Other authors:
Unfortunately these authors didn't have time to finish up their surely stellar stories but check out the other stuff on their blogs!
Just-A-Jock - Brains4Brawn
Link to my usual Masterpost !
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Wildest Dreams
Pairings: Sam Carpenter x fem!reader
Summary: you are helplessly head over heels for Sam, even though she despises you. But your relationship with her changes when you get in a lightly physical altercation with her.
Warnings: light sweating, reader accidentally walks in on Sam changing, small violence
My Masterlist
AN: if you have the time, I highly recommend reading ‘The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo’ and watching ‘Carol’ <3
Word count: 6.3K
For the first time in what seemed a millennium, you finally had the house to yourself. Anika was out with Mindy for a date, and your other roommate, Luke, was doing god knows what, probably out fornicating with one of his many boyfriends, but you didn’t care. You only cared about relaxing on the couch and rewatching your comfort show, Game of Thrones.
You grabbed your phone and a bowl of popcorn and went to the couch. You curled up with the blanket hanging over the back of the sofa as you turned on your show.
Tarantula: you up? ;)
The ‘ding’ from the text pulled you away from the tv, and you smiled when you read the text from your best friend, Tara. The two of you had met on campus in the library and instantly became friends. You two bonded over your love for books and shared a passion for horror movies, even though your opinions drastically differ.
Sam lover: maybe, it depends on who’s asking
Tarantula: you’re best friend in the entire world?? Who else?
Sam lover: mhmmm, okay. What are we doing?
Tarantula: movie night, obviously
Sam lover: sure, I’ll be over in ten
Tarantula: just a heads up, you’ll have to come in through my window
You raised your eyebrows at Tara’s message, ‘Why would I have to do that? I’ve been over before,’ you thought to yourself.
Sam lover: why?
Tarantula: because Sam is watching a movie in the living room, and we are hanging out in my room
Sam lover: fuck, okay. why does she still hate me?
Tarantula: I don’t know, but don’t make any noise when you come over. Sam can’t know and don’t try and hit on her if you see her
To say that you and Sam were acquaintances would be an understatement; Sam despised you, while the woman completely enchanted you. Sam was so tall and handsome as hell. She’s bad for you, but she does it so well; you could see the end as it begins. You admired her strength, both physically and mentally, and you loved the way she cared so much about her sister. And that was also your downfall; Sam believed that you were no good for Tara, as every time Tara did something stupid, you were always at the scene of the crime. Of course, Sam didn’t know that you were always there because you tried your best to stop Tara out of respect for Sam (and a shitty attempt at winning her heart), but she never listened when you tried to explain yourself.
You scoffed at your best friend’s words. She knew of your infatuation with Sam and loved to tease you about it. At first, however, she thought it was a bit weird as you were her best friend and thought you were using her to get close to Sam, but after she saw you turn down an invite to go with Sam and Mindy to the movies just to stay at home and play Mario Kart with her, she knew that you were the real deal.
Tara found it a bit sad, though, because every time you would talk to Sam, you would either get silence, a death stare, or a one-word reply, but she would rather die than tell you that she felt pity for your shitty attempts to talk to her sister.
Sam lover: I will not be held responsible for my actions when I am around a beautiful woman with big brown eyes
Tarantula: yeah, yeah, whatever. just get over here soon and climb in through my window; I’ll leave it open
Sam lover: sounds good. I’m omw
With that, you shut your phone off, grabbed your backpack and put a spare change of clothes along with a cable to charge your phone in it, and went towards Tara’s apartment. You enjoyed walking by yourself as it allowed you to be with your thoughts, and you couldn’t help it when you started to think of Sam. The gravitational pull you felt towards the older woman was something you couldn’t explain even if you had to; you just knew that you couldn’t deny the attraction you felt. You longed to get lost in those dark eyes and don’t even get started on those muscular arms; to you, Sam was perfect, and you would count all the stars in the sky if you could call her yours for a moment.
When you reached the street Tara lived on, you sent Tara a quick message asking her which side her window would be on, and she responded with ‘the one that’s close to creepy ass alley,’ which was all of New York in your eyes.
Sam lover: that’s all of NY, Tarantula
Tarantula: It’s across from the McDonald’s, five stories up. And stop calling me ‘Tarantula.’ It’s offensive.
You laughed at your friend’s reply before sending back a quick ‘huh uh.’ You walked around the apartment until you saw the McDonald’s and then the creepy ass alleyway and looked up five stories. And true to her word, Tara had her window open for you. You climbed onto the fire escape and slowly made your way to Tara’s window before sending her a quick text telling her you were here, only you didn’t see the message she sent back telling you you weren’t at her window.
When you pushed Tara’s window the rest of the way and climbed halfway in, you nearly died; Sam was standing in a towel with her back facing you as she grabbed some clothes from her dresser. When she dropped her towel, your heart exploded, and it felt like you were in your wildest dream. You admired her perfect curves, and then the leg that you had in Sam’s room gave out, causing you to fall into Sam’s room with a loud thud.
Sam turned around with a shocked expression before she quickly turned back to her dresser and grabbed a knife. You could not seem to pry your eyes away from Sam’s chest, and you swore you could feel drool fall down your chin. You were too busy trying to engrave Sam’s naked figure into your brain that you didn’t feel the blade fly into your left thigh.
“Sam, I am so sorry,” you said as you tried to stand up on your legs, but one gave out and screamed in pain. The only thing on your mind was Sam’s breasts that you swore looked like the softest pillows ever.
“What the fuck is going-Oh my god! What happened to your leg?” Tara exclaimed after bursting into the room, disregarding her sister, who finally covered herself with a towel. At the mention of something wrong with your leg, you finally felt the sharp pain shoot through your entire leg as you stared at the blade in your thigh.
“You’re weird friend just broke into my room and stared at me while I was changing!” Sam stated as she grabbed her clothes and stormed off to the bathroom, clearly not caring about your wound. Tara quickly ran to your side and knelt beside you, “I am so sorry about this, Y/N. I didn’t know that she also had her window open.”
You shrugged off Tara’s comment as you tried to move, but the pain was too much. You watched as your crimson-red blood steeped onto the room’s flooring and stained your clothing. “Come on, we have to get you to a hospital,” Tara stated, pulling you up to the floor and leaning your weight onto her. By the time Tara had entered the living room and to the door, Sam was dressed and had her phone and keys in hand. “I’ll take you to the hospital; let’s go,” Sam stated as she moved Tara off you and took her place. It was pitiful how your face heated up when you felt Sam pull your left arm over her shoulders and hold it while her right arm was wrapped around your waist, allowing you to lean your weight onto her.
When you reached Sam’s car, Tara opened up the back row door and helped Sam lay you down on the seats before she got into the passenger door. “Do not die in my car, Y/N. I don’t need you to haunt my car,” Sam dryly stated as she closed the door and got in the driver’s side. You don’t remember much of the car ride to the hospital; the only thing on your mind was seeing Sam naked, and no matter how hard you tried, you would never be about to erase that beautiful image from your mind.
One moment you were daydreaming about the beautiful goddess that had just stabbed you, and then the next, you were in a hospital bed with stitches in your thigh. For the life of you, you couldn’t recall what had happened, just that you saw Sam naked, and then she stabbed you. You saw yourself, in hindsight, tangled up with her all night in your wildest dreams. Someday when your mind leaves you, you bet that the memory of Sam will follow you around.
“Oh, thank god, I thought I was going to have to murder Sam,” Tara said as she moved from the chair in the corner of the room and approached your bed. She sat on the edge of the bed and gently grabbed your hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “What happened? The last thing I remember was being in the back of Sam’s car,” you recalled as you looked around the room and saw Sam, who was standing creepily in the doorway with her arms crossed.
“You passed out on the drive here. You should have seen Sam, though; she was terrified you had actually died,” Tara said with a small laugh as she remembered her sister’s frantic attempts to make sure you were still alive, and she also wanted to let you know that Sam slightly cared about you.
Sam scoffed at her sister’s words as she uncrossed her arms and walked toward you. “I was worried you were going to ruin my seats and then haunt my car,” Sam stated coldly, but her eyes betrayed her icy stature. You could see the way her eyes darted across your body, subtly checking to see if you were actually okay, and how she had her hands shoved into the pockets on her bomber jacket, slightly ashamed that she had hurt you.
Within the first encounters you had with Sam, you noticed how she always hid her hands when she was ashamed of something, and right now, all you wanted to do was reach out and comfort the woman. “Eh, I’m fine,” you shrugged briefly.
You talked to Tara while Sam stood around the room, looking out of place as she watched you with her sister. When the doctor came in, she gave you painkillers and told you could leave in the morning. “Could one of us stay here with her?” Sam asked the doctor worriedly when she was close to the door. “The hospital rules say we can’t allow non-family members to stay overnight, but I’ll let you stay with your girlfriend,” the doctor replied with a smile as she looked between you and Sam, clearly reading into some tension in the air.
Sam didn’t even have time to deny the doctor’s words before she left the room and shut the door, so Sam turned around with a scoff and was met with your drugged-out smile and Tara’s knowing one. “Well, Sammy, I will leave you here with your ‘girlfriend,’” Tara joked as she stood from the bed and grabbed her things.
“No. Tara, there is no way you are leaving here this late at night,” Sam replied as she followed her sister to the doorway. “Well, I’m certainly not staying here; I hate hospitals. And besides, Mindy is here to pick me up,” Tara replied with a smile.
She hated to admit it, but Sam was at a crossroads. She didn’t want Tara to stay here after the last time her sister was left alone in a hospital, and she also didn’t want you to stay here alone. She worried about you for Tara’s sake and definitely not because she felt terrible for being the reason you were here.
With a defeated sigh, Sam nodded and spoke, “Alright. Just let me walk you out.”
You watched the two sisters open the door and smiled when Sam stopped and looked back at you, “Don’t do anything stupid until I get back.”
“Okay, girlfriend,” you replied with a dopey smile, clearly enjoying the effects of the painkillers.
When Sam returned, she said nothing as she brought two chairs together and made herself an awkward bed. “You know, you can join me,” you suggested as you scooted over to the side, allowing Sam some room if she chose to sleep with you.
“Yeah, that’s not happening,” Sam replied as she got out a blanket and a pillow from the wardrobe and got comfortable on the chairs.
“Why not? I’ve already seen you naked.”
Sam rolled her eyes and laid her head on the pillow, and covered up with the blanket, “Do not mention that ever again.”
“Okay. I want to let you know you have a beautiful body, Sam. Your boobs are perfect! I mean, my god, the things I would do-”
“Please stop talking,” Sam interrupted you as she tried her best to fight off the fluttering feeling in her stomach at your words. She knew the painkillers were talking, but she couldn’t help but believe there was some truth to your comments. “Goodnight, Y/N,” Sam said after a few awkward moments of silence.
“Goodnight, girlfriend,” you teased as you got as comfortable as you could you a hospital bed before sleep consumed you.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In the morning, you were discharged from the hospital but had to walk around with crutches for a while. And to put it short, you hated it. Yes, having to walk around with them constantly clanking every time you walked got annoying, and how your armpits ached at the end of each day. But the worst part was that you couldn’t impress Sam with them.
Naturally, you were angry at Sam for throwing a knife in your leg, but you also shouldn’t have been staring at her while she was changing.
“Who even changes with their window open anyways?” Mindy asked one night while over at Tara’s apartment for dinner. You and Mindy had been invited over for a girl dinner with the Carpenters as you four sat around the dining table. The table had a dish of lasagna along with a salad bowl prepared, and you could not wait to eat the delicious food Sam had prepared.
“My room was hot, and I was letting in fresh air; I didn’t think someone would try and break in,” Sam stated as she made herself a bowl of salad with her lasagna.
“I did not break in. Tara invited me over and told me to go through her open window,” you said once you finished a bite of your food, “so technically, it’s her fault.”
Tara scoffed at your words while throwing a crouton at you, earning herself a scolding look from Sam. “Do not try and blame this on me; I texted you and told you that wasn’t my room, but you didn’t see it,” Tara replied.
“Why did you even tell her to climb through your window?” Sam asked with a puzzled look.
“Because, Sam, you would have told her to leave or probably stabbed her, but you already did that,” Tara dryly said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Sam rolled her eyes at her sister's statement before focusing on her food.
“I was lightly stabbed, so it’s not that big of a deal,” you said.
“You were still stabbed, Y/N,” Tara replied annoyedly. She knew that you were weirdly happy about Sam stabbing you, but she tried her best to ignore it.
“Lightly stabbed.”
Mindy chuckled while looking at you, “Whatever. I still can’t believe she threw a knife at you; me personally, I would not let that slide.”
“It’s whatever; I didn’t even notice it until Tara came barging into the room,” you said while looking at Sam, who picked her food with her fork and refused to meet your gaze.
Mindy just laughed at your response before returning her attention to her food. The rest of dinner was filled with laughs and idle conversations, but you couldn’t help but notice how Sam didn’t participate in any of the conversations. You had tried to get her engaged, but she would either respond with a nod, a laugh, or a single word.
Sam felt bad for reacting the way she did, and she wanted to apologize to you, but she didn’t know how without bringing up the fact you slightly deserved it. So, when dinner was finished, and the rest of the group moved into the living room to watch a movie, Sam pulled you aside.
“What’s up?” You asked with a smile as you leaned on a crutch. It had been a couple of weeks since you were discharged from the hospital, so now you only walked around with one crutch.
That smile you gave her, Sam couldn’t find the correct words to describe it. It was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen, and she wanted to kiss it off your lips. “Just so you know, you’re insufferable and intolerable. And I hate you.”
“Oh, okay,” you said with that same smile, fully knowing Sam was lying. Sam, on the other hand, desperately needed to get away from you, or she might do something she would regret. “Is there anything else you need?” You asked.
With a sigh, Sam asked, “Yes, actually. What are some books I could read? I’ve been trying to get into reading because of Tara, and I wanted to discuss them with her, and I need to have a few books under my belt before I do that.”
Your smile grew ten times bigger at Sam’s question, and the older woman wanted to murder you for it. “I have been waiting for ages for you to ask me that. I actually have a copy of my favorite book with me if you want to give it a try?” You asked as you made your way over to your backpack.
Sam followed behind you and watched as you moved around your sleeping clothes and pulled out a weathered book. It had different colored sticky notes hanging from the pages, and the edges around the book looked like they had their share of bumps and drops.
Sam grabbed the book and read the cover with a scoff. “Look, Y/N; I’m not reading a book about a woman who had seven different husbands. That’s just absurd,” the Latina said with a dry tone.
“No,” you replied as you placed your hand on Sam’s wrist, holding the book, “trust me, Sam. Just try it; it’s not what you think it is.”
“Alright, fine. If this book is better than it sounds,” Sam said as she looked around the room with a huff, “I guess I’ll treat you with respect or something.”
Sam didn’t even have time to react before she felt the hand on her wrist pull away and pinch her cheek. “I know you’ll love it,” you said with a cheeky grin as Sam slapped your hand away from her face. “Do not ever do that again,” she warned as she pointed a finger in your face.
“Yes, ma’am,” you responded with a salute before walking back toward the living room, “is there anything else you need?”
‘I want to take you on a date and then put your head on a stick,’ Sam wanted to say but said, “I’ll let you know what I think of it.”
You gave Sam a soft smile as you returned to the living room. Sam didn’t know what she was feeling toward you, but she eventually sauntered off to her room after realizing she cared about you more than friends do.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Come on, Tara; The Babadook is easily one of the worst horror movies ever made!” You exclaimed with your hands as you stared down at the more petite girl. You had finally gotten your stitches out and were no longer walking around with a crutch, so that meant a celebration night over at the Carpenter’s apartment.
“No, it’s not! You just hate it so much because it scares you!” Tara retorted as she hit the leg closest to her, which happened to be the one Sam lightly stabbed.
You moved your legs up onto the loveseat you were sitting on after she hit you, “Yeah, and also because it scares me so much! And don’t hit me, you little shit.” Tara scoffed at your words and stood up and grabbed one of her shoes, and was getting ready to launch it at you when the door to the apartment opened. She quickly dropped the shoe and stood facing the door with her hands clasped behind her back and an innocent smile, as if she wasn’t just getting ready to throw a shoe as hard as she could at your face. “What’s going on?” Sam asked when she saw Tara standing with a creepy smile and your shocked expression.
“Tara was-”
“I was getting up to order some pizza!” Tara interrupted you and sent you a death glare when Sam turned her back to hang up her purse. Sam turned around and looked between you two and ignored the shoe she saw by Tara’s feet; whatever her sister was getting ready to do to you, you probably deserved it.
“Okay,” Sam replied as she exaggerated the word before walking to her room, but not before sending you a glare. “Nice to see you, Sam!” you said with a smile while Sam huffed before slamming her door. “You are such a charmer,” Tara joked as she shoved your legs off the couch so she could sit next to you.
You scoffed at Tara’s words while you reached for the remote and pushed Tara off you when she tried to take it from you. “No! Down girl, down!” You said when you finally pushed Tara off of you. She scoffed as you turned on the tv before leaning back on the couch and putting her feet in your lap. You pulled her feet more into your lap and let your hand rest on her leg while you looked for something to watch. Naturally, Tara made it hard for you to pick something out because she refused to watch anything you wanted to spite you, but eventually, you settled on watching ‘Carol.’ You loved this movie more than anything, even though you cried every time you watched it.
For some unknown reason, Tara pulled her feet from your lap and left the couch roughly ten minutes into the movie. “I’ll be right back,” she said as she walked toward her room with her phone in hand. “Do you want me to pause it for you?” You asked as you reached for the remote but stopped when Tara told you not to wait up on her. You missed the devilish smirk she wore on her lips as she disappeared into her room.
You continued to watch the movie by yourself when you heard a door open up. “Finally! I was starting to think that you were leaving me here to hang out with Sam,” you said with a smile as you paused the movie and finally turned around to face Tara, but your smile faded once you saw Sam. “Oh, I’m sorry; I thought you were Tara,” you said with an embarrassed tone as your eyes refused to meet Sam’s piercing gaze.
The older woman huffed at your words before she went to the couch and sat at the opposite end while unlocking her phone, trying to keep as much space as possible between you two. “Tara texted me and told me that she felt sick and she didn’t want you to leave because it’s late at night and doesn’t want anything to happen to you, so she wants me to keep you company,” Sam read aloud her text messages between her and Tara before she closed her phone and set it on the coffee table in front of you guys.
“You don’t have to; I’m fine staying in here by myself,” you said with a polite smile while looking at Sam. The woman turned her head and looked at you before giving you the fakest smile you have ever seen while she lied through her teeth, “That’s alright, I’m good to stay in here with you.” The tension was so thick you could practically taste it on your tongue, but you held your breath and muttered a quiet ‘okay’ as you restarted the movie.
It’s not that she hated being around you after the incident; the only thing she wanted to do was kiss you and call you hers, but she was afraid you wouldn’t feel the same. Especially after she lightly stabbed you.
“Wait, why are you restarting it?” Sam questioned as she looked between you and the tv.
“Because you missed the opening scene, which is arguably one of the best scenes in the movie, and you also need to watch it to understand the ending better,” you reasoned with an honest smile while your gentle eyes danced across Sam’s face.
She didn’t know why, but after listening to your explanation of why the opening scene was essential and listening to your voice that was full of only love and admiration for this movie, Sam decided that she would actually pay attention to it, rather than send you hateful glances every once in a while.
So when the tv finally stopped the introduction, and it was Carol and Therese sitting together at a dinner table in a fancy restaurant, Sam picked up on the tension-riddled scene and couldn’t help but glance over at you. She noticed how your eyebrows furrowed, and your eyes danced between Carol and Therese as if you were getting ready to jump through the tv and become a part of the movie. Her eyes finally drifted down to your lips, and she noticed how your tongue was barely sticking out between your lips as you studied the screen, as if there was going to be something small in the background, and if you blinked, you would miss it.
“Are you even watching?” You questioned when you felt eyes burning into the side of your skull, but your own eyes never left the screen.
Sam awkwardly cleared her throat before speaking, “Sorry; you just seem really invested in this movie, and I thought it was funny.” You felt heat creep up the back of your neck at Sam’s words but shook it off as her being cautious of you. “It’s a great film, Sam. I think you’ll like it,” you replied with a gentle smile as you pried your eyes away from the screen to look at Sam before returning your attention to the tv.
When you said that she might like it, Sam took her eyes away from you and actually paid attention to the movie. When the sex scene came up, the air in the room became tense, as if both of you were holding your breath and holding back from one another. Sam tried her best to fight back the blush she felt, and she looked to you for help. You had your mouth agape, no matter how often you watched this scene, you were always enchanted by it, and you whispered, “I wish that were me.” Even though she tried to, Sam couldn’t come up with a retort for your comment; she also wishes she could do that with Cate Blanchett, but she also wishes that was her with you.
Sam then turned her attention back to the screen and had to fight any urges that she might have been feeling toward you. Her eyes never left the screen until the very end; only when she had to blink back the eyes that threatened to escape as she looked up at the ceiling. When the end credits rolled, you cleared your throat, tension still left over from the sex scene, “So, what did you think of it?”
“It was certainly something. It was a lot better than I expected, just based on your taste in things,” Sam joked as she subtly wiped the tears away in her eyes. You chuckled at her words, ‘if you only you knew,’ you thought as she stared at her with hearty eyes.
You quickly snapped out of your daze when you noticed Sam shuffling uncomfortably on the couch, “Well, I’m glad you enjoyed it. And just so you know,” you said as you stood up from the couch, “I have an exceptional taste in things.”
Sam laughed at your words before standing up, “I highly doubt that.” You smiled at the older woman before making your way to Tara’s room; you had plans to murder the little shit for leaving you alone with Sam. “Goodnight, Sam,” you said with a smile as you opened Tara’s door slightly. Sam gave you a genuine smile as she went to her room, “Goodnight, Y/N.”
This was the first time you had had a direct conversation with Sam since she pulled you aside and asked for a book recommendation, and you wished you could have more conversations with the woman. She was smarter than she gave herself credit for, and the way she expressed herself through body language while talking was something you found attractive, to put it lightly.
When you entered Tara’s room, you saw the girl lying toward the foot of her bed with her laptop open, and you could faintly hear Toni Collette giving her ‘I am your mother’ speech. “So, how did it go with Samantha?” Tara questioned with a smug grin as you sat on the bed with your back propped against the headboard. You threw your legs up onto the bed and dug the heel of your right foot into Tara’s back, causing the girl to let out a small yelp before shoving your leg off of her and scolding you.
“Whatever, you deserved it,” you said as you crossed your ankles and left them next to Tara, who was still facing the foot of the bed. “And for your information, it was fine. She didn’t try and kill me again,” you joked.
“A win is a win,” Tara replied as she moved to sit next to you and put the laptop on your lap while she cuddled up next to you. You put your arm around her waist and placed a platonic kiss on her head right when Sam walked in.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I can come back later,” Sam said as she looked down at the floor and turned her back to you two, embarrassed that she had just walked in on an intimate moment between you and her sister and ignored the pain she felt in her heart. “No, it’s okay, Sam,” Tara said while pulling away from you and silently encouraging you to go after Sam even though she was still in the doorway.
“I thought you were sick?” Sam asked with her back still facing you two. “Yeah, I can’t explain that one without unveiling my grand scheme of things plan,” Tara said while getting up from her bed and turning Sam to face her, “I’m serious, Sam. Nothing is going on between me and Y/N.”
Sam looked away from her sister and saw you sitting on Tara’s bed, smiling as you sent her a small wave. The woman scoffed at your actions before returning to her room.
Once Sam was gone, Tara closed the door, walked over to you, and hit you in the stomach. “The fuck was that, Y/N?” She whisper-shouted at you, “I basically admitted to having a plan of forcing you and Sam together, and you fucking wave at her?”
“I didn’t know what you wanted me to do!” You defended.
Tara sighed at your statement; she had laid the groundwork, and then just like clockwork, the dominos were supposed to cascade in a line because she’s a mastermind, but your dumbass messed it up. “Go talk to Sam. Right. Now. Or so help me God, I will violently murder you to death,” Tara commanded as she pulled you from her bed and pushed you toward the door. “And do not come back until you have talked to her,” and with that, Tara shut the door in your face and locked it.
You sighed before walking toward the living room. You thought about sleeping on the couch, but you knew Tara would probably draw a penis on your face while you slept, so you sucked in a deep breath before walking toward Sam’s door.
Sam heard a gentle knock of three intervals at her door, pulling her away from her note. “Just a minute,” she said as she finished her writing and slipped it into a preselected page in the book.
“What’s up?” She asked once when she opened her door and saw you.
“I just wanted to ask you about the book,” you replied with a smile that Sam wanted to kiss off your lips.
Instead of doing what she desired, she left her door open while grabbing the book and handed it back to you. “This is the saddest book I have ever read. Who would come up with such a thing?”
You chuckled at her words and accepted the book, “I know. I take it; you finished it?”
“Barely. But I finished it in one sitting,” Sam said while staring into your love-struck eyes. Sam swore she could feel herself getting lost in them, and she never wanted to leave your eyes.
“So, what did you think of it?” You asked.
“It was alright. Some pages were hard to read because of the tear-stained pages.”
You lightly laughed at Sam’s words, and the older woman felt her heart might explode if she heard that soft laugh again. “Yeah, I’m sorry about that. This book really gets to me, you know?” You said while your eyes quickly glanced down at Sam’s lips, wondering if they tasted as good as they looked.
Sam cleared her throat, and you knew you had been busted. “So, I guess I’ll have to treat you with respect now,” she admitted through a tightened jaw.
“Or whatever,” you said with a smile, hoping Sam picked up the double meaning, and she did.
“Yeah, or whatever.”
“Just so you know, nothing is going on between me and Tara,” you clarified after a few seconds, and you set the book down on the couch behind you.
Sam knew that there wasn’t anything between you and her sister, but hearing those words leave your lips gave Sam a feeling of comfort she didn’t know she needed. “I know, Y/N.”
“Okay. I just wanted to clarify that before I did this,” Sam didn’t even have time to react before she felt your hands grip her neck and pull her into a passionate kiss. The way your lips felt like they had been made for her lips amazed Sam, and she finally felt her heart explode when she matched your intensity.
Your lips danced together as Sam deepened the kiss and pulled you by your waist closer to her. You felt her tongue push past your lips, and an involuntary moan slipped out, causing Sam to laugh against your lips. When you felt Sam’s hands drift toward the bottom of your shirt, you lifted your arms, and Sam got halfway into taking it off before you two heard a voice behind you, “Goddamnit, Y/N! I told you to apologize, not swap spit with her!”
You pulled away from Sam and turned to face Tara, who smiled knowingly. “Sorry,” you mumbled while fixing your shirt.
An awkward beat of silence passed while Tara looked between you and her sister with a sly smirk on her lips before she finally said, “I’ll leave you two to it,” and walked away.
“I’m sorry about that,” Sam said once Tara was gone. You turned to look at Sam, and you smiled at her swollen lips and blown pupils. You said nothing as you placed a final kiss on Sam’s lips that the older woman happily reciprocated.
“I should probably leave,” you mumbled against Sam’s lips, and she kissed you once more before pulling away. “Don’t forget your book,” Sam said while grabbing it for you.
“Thank you,” you replied with a tint of blush on your cheeks. Sam walked you to the door with her hand on the lower of your back, and you only wanted to run back into her room and throw Sam on her bed, but you doubted Tara would appreciate that.
When you reached the door, you placed a chaste kiss on Sam’s lips before opening up the door. “I’ll see you around?” You asked, afraid that this was a one-time thing.
Sam leaned against the doorframe, and she couldn’t contain the smile that pulled at her cheeks. “Of course, Y/N.”
You smiled at her and began walking down the hallway when Sam called out, “It's me and you, true blue.”
You placed a kiss on your pointer and middle finger before holding them toward Sam with a smile on your face. The woman laughed at your action and pretended to catch the fake kiss and her fist to her heart.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
At home, you fall onto your couch and struggled to get your shoes off. Once they were off, you relaxed and pulled out the book and started reading it. When you ran your fingers over the pages, a small note fell out from the middle of the book and you moved to that page.
In the center of the page was a headline from Sub Rosa titled, ‘Evelyn Hugo and Celia St. James Slumber Parties,’ and you couldn’t help but laugh at the page.
When you opened up the note, written in the most beautiful penmanship said,
‘Want to go grab a milkshake with me sometime? I doubt we’ll find a place as good as Schwab’s, but we can try. We can also have ‘slumber parties’ of our own when Tara is away. ;)
All my love,
Samantha
Sam’
#sam carpenter#scream#melissa barrera#sam carpenter x reader#tara carpenter#sam carpenter x y/n#sam carpenter x female reader
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DEMO. ( TBD ) ✸ ROMANCES. ✸ PLAYLISTS.
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Step into the shadows of Day of Dusk, a mesmerizing blend of dark fantasy, horror, and romance. Drawing inspiration from the chilling folklore of the Brothers Grimm and the adrenaline-fueled film "Hansel & Gretel: Witch Hunters," this interactive novel beckons you into a world where mysteries lurk in every corner and romance dances with danger.
In Day of Dusk, the line between magic and malevolence blurs, and you, the main protagonist, hold the key to unraveling its secrets. Will you dare to navigate the twisted paths where witches, witch hunters, and supernatural entities collide?
The choice is yours, but be warned: in the shadows of dusk, nothing is as it seems.
In the heart of a medieval fantasy realm lies "Day of Dusk," a tale woven with threads of mystery and the macabre. Journey alongside a band of young mercenaries, masters of the dark art of witch hunting, as they navigate a world teeming with secrets and shadows.
Their journey begins in the tainted township of Ruel-Mizu, where whispers of many vanished children echo through the fog-choked streets. Tasked with unraveling this enigma, your group treads a path fraught with peril and the weight of history's darkest deeds.
As you delve deeper into the town's grim past, you'll confront not only witches of formidable power but also otherworldly entities lurking in the shadows. Along the way, unexpected allies may emerge, and the bonds of friendship may blossom into something more.
Yet every choice carries weight in this twisted tale of power and love. Betrayal lurks around every corner, and the line between ally and enemy blurs in the gloom. Will you sacrifice everything for the truth, side with who you least expect it, save the town for good or succumb to the allure of forbidden romance?
In "Day of Dusk," the fate of worlds hangs in the balance, and only you hold the key to unlocking its secrets.
How far will you go to uncover the truth?
This game is a work of fiction; content warnings include, but are not limited to, graphic death, depictions of blood and gore, medieval violence, body horror, explicit language, depression, suicide, references to assault, grooming, mental and physical abuse, sexually suggestive themes, and drug and alcohol use. This story is intended for mature +17 audiences; reader discretion is advised.
STORY FEATURES :
Step into the shoes of a diverse protagonist, embracing your identity as male, female, non-binary, or anywhere along the gender spectrum. Explore the rich tapestry of human sexuality, navigating relationships and attractions as a gay, straight, bisexual, asexual, or aromantic individual. Your journey is uniquely yours, shaped by your experiences and choices as you carve out your place in the world.
Embark on a journey of discovery and connection as you navigate the complex web of relationships in a world filled with intrigue and danger. In the end, it is through these connections—friendships forged in fire, love born from adversity—that you might find the true meaning of your existence and the strength to face whatever challenges lie ahead.
Have your name written in history tales to come, become a hero beacon of hope, or become a feared figure among the community.
Confide in the unrevealed troubles that settle the mysterious past of your royal company's path to break tradition—or steal the heir's power to the throne for your own.
Learn the dark truth about the horrors that lie concealing just how far some would go to great lengths in order to create life.
Forge the future of a community and companions lives with the supporting changes and challenges schemed upon you and all of those who you know or love.
THE RO CHARACTERS :
Each love interest will have their own route which you will get to choose from at the end of the common route. The four romance options in this game depend purely on the readers preference which include: a man, a woman, one you can choose between their presenting gender and a ç̸̤̞̟̏̀̄̔̚r̷̛̟͕͙̼͚̼̓̒̑͝͠ͅy̷̛͉̭͙̿̒̆̈́́͊͗̅̈̀p̶̟͎̩̩͕̭̀̍̅́͛̚ţ̵̺̬̭̪͂̊̑̋̽̚͝͝ì̴̠̪͊͐̿͊̽̍͘͜͝͠c̴̗͉̭̖͕͕̐̔̾̂͘͝ͅ ̴͓͉͚͔̬͓̩̜͒̂͋́b̶̘̽̔̃̀͂̒̕͝e̷̡̡̫̮̹̻̰̺̖͋̿͂̀͑̈́̌̕̚͝ì̵͚̤͗ͅn̸̫̎̋́ǧ̶̡̳̥̾̚ͅ.̵̧̛̩̯̹̦̊̎̈́̕͝
Silas/Sophia Amon — the needling best friend and a member of your witch hunting team. Forge a deeper friendship and uncover the true meaning of loyalty with your brash yet devoted childhood best friend, whose charming demeanor hides on top of another layer of emotion.
"I'll be the bad guy if it means keeping us alive. Someone has to make the tough calls around here."
Pavlos Norlenbourne — the neglected forsaken naive royal with a roaring secret. Draw close to a haunted prince, haunted by the shadows of his tragic upbringing, and unravel the mysteries that surround him as you delve into the depths of his troubled soul.
"In a world where power is everything, I'm just a pretty pawn in their game. But I'll make my own moves, carve my own path."
Annette Meadowcroft — the obsessive poet with a firing spirit who refuses to be tamed. Uncover the hidden depths of a secret poet, whose words hold the key to unlocking the secrets of the heart. Join her on a journey of self-discovery as she seeks to break free from the constraints of society and embrace the beauty of the world around her.
"The ink flows from my pen like a river of defiance, writing my own narrative in a world that seeks to silence women like me."
Rune — the callow knight who isn't very fond of small talk with a foreboding origin. Dare to tread the path of a cryptic made being, grappling with questions of identity and purpose as they navigate a world that sees them as little more than a weapon.
"If you have the audacity to think that I am some sorrowful god, then the pain of my fraud in human appearance will be all the more agonizing."
Depending on your play style, you have the ability to create, shape and destroy numerous familial, romantic, platonic, professional and community relationships with a full cast of characters whose genders and personalities vary.
✸ Dedicated to all the hopeless romance and fantasy fans who are too engrossed in their books to talk and too shy to write, to my momanager Kass, who always likes to keep things real.
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