#the middle ground feels like lava

[primordialchoice]

The more I work with irl icons, the more I learn about Photoshop! It's a frustrating journey because I'm not much of an artist... 😮‍💨

[flowersforbucky]

delirium

bucky barnes x reader (sex pollen trope)

word count: 4.1k

summary: stranded in the middle of the alaskan wilderness with no means of communication after being exposed to a foreign drug, you're reluctant to accept help from the one person who has a shot at saving you.

warnings/tags: sex pollen, dub con, unprotected sex, oral, masturbation, angst, descriptions of physical pain, language, friends to lovers, avenger!reader, no use of y/n, reader is afab, 18+ only

flashbacks are in italics

Sometime in the near future, there would be a case study conducted on how long a human being could burn from the inside without dying.

They would refer to you as exhibit a.

Doctors and scientists would lay your cold corpse on a colder table and use a scalpel to cut you from your thorax to your belly button. They would scribble notes about how your lungs had turned to ash and your esophagus to molten lava.

They wouldn't say it, but they would think it's a shame, because your driver's license states that you were an organ donor.

A harsh gust of wind snaps you out of the twisted fantasy and back to your reality - standing barefoot on the rickety front porch steps of a small cabin in Sitka, Alaska. You've only been outside for a few minutes but the snow is pouring down at a brutal pace, already covering the tops of your exposed feet.

The razor sharp chill of the ground below you and the air that surrounds you are the only things tethering you to what little remains of your sanity.

You never thought that you would be so thankful for your feet to be going numb, but after feeling like every fiber of your being is getting melted with a hot branding iron for - what? Ten? Twelve hours now? You had to resist the temptation to submerge your entire body in the multiple feet of snow that had accumulated since nightfall.

You hear the front door of the cabin creak open from behind you. You don't have to turn around to know that he's standing in the doorway with the same look of pleading desperation that he's been giving you since the two of you had realized what was happening.

“You need to come back inside,” he says delicately. His voice is muffled by the roar of the snowstorm, but right now with heightened senses, you hear him just fine. “You're going to get hypothermia.”

You don't respond. The mere sound of his voice makes you grit your teeth together so hard that you're surprised the tiny bones don't shatter.

He keeps to the doorway, scared that if he takes one step closer, you'll flee into the miles of thick woods that surrounds you in only a pair of old sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt. He murmurs your name in a tone that begs you to come in from the below freezing temperatures.

“What time is it now?” You barely recognize your own voice - low and strained, it sounds like you haven't had anything to drink in days.

You clear your throat, though you doubt it'll make any difference.

“Just after four o'clock.”

Eleven hours into this hell, then. Best case scenario, another half a day of this. Worst case scenario, close to two.

Either way, you knew that these symptoms had yet to hit their peak. This would undoubtedly get worse before it gets better.

You stare out into the endless thicket of snow covered hemlocks and spruces. The illumination from the full moon makes the white powder on the branches glisten in the darkness.

Daylight was still hours away, and with it, hope for some means of communication with the rest of your team back in New York. The snowstorm had brought a widespread power outage across the city. Cell phone signal was nonexistent right now.

“Go on back to your room,” you tell him. “I'll come back inside in just a moment.” You continue to watch the blizzard before you, knowing that he's still just a few feet away from you. “I promise,” you add, hoping that he’ll believe you and return to the bedroom you'd been forcing him to keep to.

The drug coursing through your veins had amplified every one of your five senses. Even with him behind the closed door of the bedroom, you could still smell faint traces of the earthy musk of his deodorant and something warm that is uniquely him.

You wouldn't chance coming back into the house until his scent has dissipated from the entrance - not unless you want to feel as though all air is being stripped from your lungs.

Even simply standing here, with him behind you and the wind blowing his scent in the opposite direction, is nearly intolerable.

You hear footsteps retreat into the house, growing quieter and quieter as he makes his way back down the hallway, until you finally hear the click of his bedroom door. You exhale a breath that you weren't aware you had been holding in.

You have no doubt that he'll try to drag you back inside by the ankles if he has to, so you make good on your promise and return to the sweltering interior of the six hundred square foot log cabin.

A sharp, stabbing pain radiates from the center of your body at that thought - the exact kind of thoughts you were actively trying to avoid having. Thoughts of his hands digging into your thighs, his wet mouth on your throat, his bare chest pressed against yours as he fucks you into the likely thirty-something year old couch - those thoughts. Dangerous territory thoughts - the kind you didn't trust yourself not to act on if dwelled upon for too long.

Apparently, the thought of him putting his hands around your ankles and dragging you kicking and screaming falls into that category.

You settle onto the couch, pulling your knees up to your chest in an effort to alleviate the ache in your lower belly. You notice that Bucky has crammed more wood into the fireplace, which currently serves as the main source of light for the cabin, save for a few candles that have been placed sporadically throughout the small space.

Sweat begins to bead across your skin within seconds of sitting down in front of the fire. You know that Bucky is just trying to keep the temperature of the house from dropping below zero while also providing enough light to see during the middle of the night while you are in too much discomfort to sleep, but you feel like you are locked in a sauna after running five miles.

You think back to all of the times that you've given Sam shit for taking ice baths after his workouts. Now nothing sounds better than an ice bath.

Almost nothing, anyway. The only thing that could possibly feel even better is laying down behind a closed door less than twenty feet away.

And he'd offered - begged, actually, to take this pain away from you.

“Please,” he whispers, kneeling on the ground next to the couch, where you sit hunched over in pain. He's so close to you and it's fucking suffocating. He places his hand on your knee and you have to dig your nails into the suede upholstery to keep from whimpering. He notices the reaction and retracts his touch.

“Sweetheart, look at me,” he says louder, the pet name finally getting you to meet his gaze for the first time since you dropped the glass jar of the firetruck red powder in the former HYDRA warehouse two hours ago.

Big mistake. Looking at him is a big fucking mistake. From the way his blue eyes bore into yours with sincere concern to the way that his plump, pink lips are slightly chapped from the cold weather -

“No,” you say firmly, shaking your head into your hands. “I can't ask that of you. I can't make you do that. I would never forgive my–”

“You wouldn't be asking or making me do anything,” he tries to reason with you. There's sincerity in his voice but you're too delirius to hear the truth of his words. “I'm offering. Because I care about you. Because I don't want to see you in any kind of pain if there's anything I can do about it. Because I think you'd do the same for me if the situation were–”

“Bucky,” you cut him off in a strained gasp. “Your voice is making this so much worse right now.”

“Then let me help you. Let me make you feel good.”

His words alone are enough to have you clenching your thighs around nothing but the thick material of your sweatpants. You can feel your cotton panties becoming more drenched with each word he speaks.

“Not like this.” You're on the verge of tears - from pain, from anger at the entire situation, from how goddamn badly you need to feel him inside you. “It can't happen like this. I never wanted it to happen like this.”

His features soften, a look of understanding spreading across his face.

“When we fuck, I want it to be because we want to fuck,” you say as you jump up from your position on the couch, desperately needing to distance yourself from him before you do something you can't take back. “I don't want it to be because we feel like neither of us have a choice in the matter.”

“But we do have a choice,” he murmurs from where he's still kneeling on the floor next to the couch. “And I'd choose to go back to that HYDRA facility and infect myself with this shit, too, if it means you'd feel a little less guilty about saying yes.”

Your answer to that was, of course, a big, giant absolutely fucking not. The snow started pouring down shortly after, making his irrational proclamation an impossibility, anyway.

Almost half a day later, here you are. Surrounded by miles and miles of snow and ice in a town with no power or semi-functioning cell phone towers, just trying to endure the fire coursing through your veins until the effects of the HYDRA made drug have worked through your system.

You're coming up on the twelve hour mark now, and there's no denying that you're desperate for relief in one way or another.

Worth a fucking shot, you think.

You prop your feet up on the glass coffee table in front where you sit on the couch, spreading your thighs apart by a few inches.

You hesitate for a moment, listening for any kind of indication that Bucky's no longer in the confines of the cabin’s singular bedroom.

Dead silent, except for the crackling of the wood burning in the fireplace.

You snake your hand down the front of your pants, past the waistband of your underwear and to your center that's been aching for hours now.

You stroke your fingers up and down your folds, stopping at the apex of your core to massage your clit in circular motions.

Your head rolls back on the couch at the sensation, immediately feeling the slightest sense of relief. You dig your teeth into your lower lip to keep from moaning - hard enough to draw blood, the taste of iron flooding your mouth.

You slip two fingers past your entrance, not requiring any foreplay to plunge them to the hilt. It feels good - the way you're working yourself with rapid scissoring motions. Really fucking good, actually. Better than fingering yourself has ever felt.

But only a mere minute into the ministrations, you fear that it won't be enough to satiate you in the way that the drug requires.

Still, you try. You yank your t-shirt above your tits, bringing your free hand to paw at your breast as you continue working your pussy with your fingers, the heel of your palm putting pressure against your clit.

“That's not going to work, you know.”

You yank your hand out of your pants, snapping your head to the side to see him leaning against the frame of the small hallway. You had been so immersed in attempting to find some amount of relief that you hadn't heard him exit the bedroom. He's looking at you with sympathy and concern, not judgment - you don't think you'd be able to find it within yourself to feel embarrassed even if he were. Not in your current state of discomfort.

“How do you know that?” Frustration is evident in your voice. You look away from him, back to the fire in front of you as you pull your shirt back down. The floor creaks as he steps out of the hallway and makes his way over to the opposite end of the small couch. He sits a foot away from you, close enough so that his scent and warmth invades your senses, sending a fresh wave of arousal to your core.

“Because I've been through what you're going through right now.”

Your eyes break away from the ember that you've been staring at, your gaze snapping to him. You don't know why this comes as a surprise to you. It shouldn't, not with every other form of torment that HYDRA had inflicted upon him for over half a century.

“Why didn't you tell me?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I was embarrassed,” he answers with a small half-shrug, breaking your stare. “I didn't.. handle it as well as you are,” he continues, shame in his voice and cheeks rosy. “You’re doing everything you can to fight something that you didn't ask for. That's more than I can say for myself.”

“You were brainwashed, Bucky,” you remind him delicately. It's a risky move that makes your skin burn and belly clench, but you scoot closer to him on the couch - your outermost thigh brushing against his knee. If the two of you weren't both wearing sweatpants, the minimal touch might even aid in bringing you some relief. Instead, you’re left feeling desperate for more of him.

But you push the feeling down, wanting to do what little you can to comfort him - wanting him to know that you don't think poorly of him for what was forced onto him, and what is now being forced onto you, too.

“I would never judge you for anything they made you do,” you assure him.

“I know you wouldn't,” he murmurs, turning to face you again. His blue eyes glow in the low lighting of the fire. The closeness between the two of you is dizzying, and electrifying, and -

“And I want you to know that I would never judge you for giving into this torture,” he adds.

You snort a laugh. “I'm starting to think you want me to give into this.” You mean for the statement to sound light-hearted, but a sharp pang in your gut makes you wince in pain and your voice goes shrill. You clutch your lower belly, hunching over at the pain.

He leans in closer, putting one hand on your lower back and one on your thigh. You whimper at the pressure of his fingers against your spine and inner thigh. Even through your clothes, the contact feels like heaven compared to hell you've been enduring for the last twelve hours.

You lean into his touch - you don't even think about it, you just do it. You rest your head in the crook of his neck, your forehead nuzzling the warm skin of his throat.

You take a deep inhale, attempting to steady your breathing, and you realize quickly that is a mistake - his scent is so euphoric, it feels like inhaling flames.

“Would it make it easier for you if I said that I do want you to give in?” His voice is low, his breath fanning across your face from his position above you.

“Fuck, Bucky, you can't say that to me right now,” you whine. You fist your hands into the fabric of his t-shirt, your eyes squint shut.

“Look at me,” he commands. You force your eyes open, pulling your head back enough to look up at him through your eyelashes.

“I want it to be your choice.” He brings a hand up to cup your jawline. His thumb skims the outline of your bottom lip. “But I would be lying if I said that I'm not relieved that I'm the one here with you, or that I wouldn't enjoy every second of helping you feel better.”

He brings his hands to yours, pulling them away from where they still clutch his shirt. You release your grip, allowing him to hold you by your wrists. He pulls your right hand up to his face, stopping just under his nose. Your brows furrow in confusion, until it dawns on you what it is he's doing.

He inhales deeply, then lowers your hand to his parted mouth. He slips the tips of your index and middle fingers past his lips, and then swirls his tongue around the two digits.

The exact two that had been inside your pussy not even five minutes ago.

Right now, you think you could come from him sucking on your fingers and nothing else.

You don't even try to stop the groan that slips past your lips as you shove your fingers deeper into his mouth. He moans around them as he finishes cleaning them off, the sound sending vibrations up your arm and throughout your body.

You pull your fingers from between his lips and immediately crush your own lips to his in their place. You feel the drug surging through your veins, but this time it's less excruciating - it now feels like pure adrenaline bubbling under your skin, spurring you on.

He opens his mouth to you, your lips and tongue moving with his in synchronicity. It's hurried and messy, and maybe not as romantic as you had imagined it in your head before this night - but it's exactly what you need right now.

He maneuvers you so that you're laying down on the couch, and nestles himself between your thighs. You can feel the hard outline of his erection through the thin material of his sweatpants. He ruts against you, dragging the bulge across your clothed center as he yanks your t-shirt up and over your head. He tosses it somewhere behind the couch before attaching his mouth to one of your nipples and palming the other with the cool metal of his left hand.

You wrap your arms around him, pulling the full weight of his body down against you. You stick your hands up the back of his t-shirt, scratching your nails down the skin of his back.

“I need more,” you gasp out as he pinches your nipple between his teeth, rolling it in his lips. The clothing that separates the two of you feels like a prison. “I need to feel you.”

He pulls away, leaning back to perch on his knees between your legs. Your eyes roam down the chiseled planes of his chest until they land on the defined “V” shape that disappears into the waistband of his low-hanging pants.

He hooks his fingers into your sweatpants and underwear and tugging them both down past your ankles, then throwing them somewhere across the room with both of your long-forgotten shirts.

His eyes trail your body from your breasts to your thighs, his pupils dilating in the firelight. He splays his hands across the meat of your inner thighs, pinning your legs open wide for him. He lowers himself back down on the couch, belly down so his face hovers just above your pussy.

“Bucky, I swear if you don't put your mouth–”

He laughs, a deep, throaty chuckle before his tongue slips between his lips. It darts to your hole, licking a soft strip up to your clit. You exhale a sharp hiss of pleasure, your hands shooting to lace your fingers through tendrils of his hair. You arch into his touch, meeting the thrusts of his tongue with thrusts of your hips. He eats like you're the best thing he's ever tasted - like he's wanted this for way longer than this drug has been in your system.

You're coming on his face in an embarrassing amount of time, really. Thanks to the influence of the pollen, you currently have the stamina and endurance of a teenager losing their virginity. Your thighs are clenched around either side of his head, writhing above him as you ride out your orgasm on his face.

The relief that you feel as you come down from your high feels like years of pent up frustration leaving your body all at once.

You don't quite feel entirely like yourself - there's still a dull ache in your core, and your skin’s still feverish - though that could be due to the fire that the two of you are just feet away from. But you're now able to see the light at the end of the tunnel.

“Come here,” you whisper, your voice low and honeyed. He crawls over you, his chest brushing against yours as he centers himself above you. His skin shines with a thin layer of sweat that mingles with your own. You reach a hand between your two bodies, palming his erection through the sweatpants that he has yet to shed. You keep your eyes locked on his face, watching as his eyes roll back into his head and his teeth clamp down on his bottom lip as you massage him through the fabric. Your other hand juts down to the waistband of his pants and you tug them downwards, far enough to help him shimmy them down to his knees.

His cock springs forward and he takes himself in his flesh hand, pumping his length several times before teasing your folds with his tip. He collects your slick along his length, lubricating himself before nudging his head just past your entrance.

You're more than ready for him - hours of desperation in addition to already having come on his face leaves you needing no further preparation before he's filling you up with his impressive length and girth. There's a slight burn at the sheer fullness of it, but there's also a wave of relief that your body has been craving for hours.

He pulls out halfway, then rocks back into you. He starts slow - trying to hold back for his own sake or for yours, you're unsure. Gradually, he increases his speed, hitting your cervix at that sweet angle that not everyone knows how to work. You lean forward, raising your head enough to capture his lips in yours once more.

You taste yourself on him - a dichotomy of sweet and salty mixed with something entirely unique. He brings his flesh hand in between your bodies, lowering his fingers to your clit where he begins rubbing pressured circles. You moan his name into his mouth and he responds by biting your lip between his teeth, his movements becoming messier.

“You gonna come on my cock?” he asks in a low growl when he feels your pussy clenching around him. “Gonna fill you up and make you feel all better.”

His words send you tumbling over the edge for the second time - that telltale warm coil in your belly bursting at the same time that he begins spilling his warmth into you.

He collapses, pinning you between his body and the couch beneath you. Starting at your shoulder, he peppers kisses along your collarbones and up your neck until he’s finally eye-level with you.

“We can do that again,” he says in a breathy voice, still inside you. “If you need to, that is. Or if you just want you.” There's a mischievous grin spread across his face and a twinkle in his eyes. It's the most carefree you've seen him since the two of you left New York to come here for this mission. You put your hands on his chest, jokingly attempting to shove him away from you.

“Oh, I don't think I need to,” you jab at him. “I'm feeling pretty great now, but thank you for your services.” He laughs, pulling out of you and sitting back against the couch. He pulls you up with him, wrapping his flesh arm around your waist and tucking you into his side. “But I think I might want to again. You know, now that I'm no longer in excruciating pain.” He hums in agreement, stroking his flesh fingers across the side of your stomach.

“I'm glad you were the one here with me too, Bucky."

thank you for reading! i know sooo many people have done this trope, especially for bucky, but it's truly one of my all time favorites and i just needed to get this out of my system so i hope you all enjoyed

comments and reblogs are always appreciated!!

other works by me: oil & water • down bad • acquainted •

[starry-bi-sky]

Stillborn danyal al ghul au incorrect quotes - dpxdc au

Vlad and Danny, fighting for the nth time this month: Danyal, exhausted: hey if i call you dad will you like. Stop. I have a test tomorrow. Vlad, has a parental bone in EVERY part of his body: *immediately stopping* Vlad: What do you mEAN YOU HAVE A TEST. WHY DIDN'T YOU LEAD WITH THAT-- Danny: BECAUSE YOU'RE TRYING TO KILL DR. FENTON AGAIN, VLADIMIR.

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Danny, flopping into bed facefirst: i need sleep or rehab. again Tucker (maybe?? I haven't decided yet who he's friends with): i thought you were clean Danny, into a pillow: not if this keeps up.

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Tucker: favorite superhero go Sam: Wonder Woman Danny: the Flash Tucker: Okay Sam's is obvious but, Danny I would've thought you'd say like, Martian Manhunter or Superman or Starfire. But Flash?? Danny: i had a foster in Central City for a few years and met him, he's a really nice guy. He made me promise to invite him to my high school graduation and is part of the reason I made it to rehab and ended up getting rehomed and picked up by the Fentons. Danny: I have a hoodie with his logo on it in my closet, i saved up to buy it and its the first thing I got with the allowance the Fentons got me

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Danny wearing three layers and a scarf in the middle of summer: *shivering* Sam: how are you cold you're literally made of lava Danny, hissing: lava cools at contact with the air and I'm trying to keep my body temperature at a reasonable level, SAM. Tucker, touching Danny: you feel warm to me Danny: to YOU

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Danny:...i could eat lava Tucker: Sam: Danny: Tucker: do it. no balls Danny, getting up: bET--

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Danny: Dash: The Both Of Them: *under the bleachers to smoke/vape* Danny, smokes: I wont tell if you won't tell Dash, vapes: ....deal

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Danny, breaking into Vlad's lab: YOU FUCKER QUIT-- what the hell is that Vlad, working on his newest invention: Language. ....And it's something I'm working on, go away Danny: what? no, fuck you. You're trying to kill Jack again and this looks interesting. I was gonna come beat you but now I'm curious what the hell this is (Vlad spends a good hour explaining what he's doing before they start arguing and Danny starts a fight)

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Danny laying on the ground staring the ceiling, feeling like shit: Jazz, popping by his room: ,,,what'cha doing, Danny? Danny: Danny, internally: 'Jazz says i should be more open' Danny: considering the benefits of relapsing Jazz, immediately stepping into the room: oh okay so lets talk.

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Danny, meeting Robin as Phantom for the first time unaware of his identity and his own birthright: Robin: Phantom: Phantom: fuck you Robin, a 12 year old: fUCK YOU

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Vlad: Jack Fenton iced me out of my early adulthood and got you, his foster son, killed by his own invention. He is a danger to society and I personally want him dead. Danny: okay, cool motive still murder. Danny, louder: I DONT NEED YOU TO TAKE REVENGE ON MY BEHALF

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Vlad, grabbing Danny's shoulders: aren't you tired of being nice Danny: Vlad: don't you want to go apeshit Danny, in the american foster system since infancy, was in rehab at 11 years old, has been fucked over metaphorically, emotionally, physically, ten times over: Danny: i feel like we need to have a talk

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DP/Regular DPDC Vlad: *gripping by the shoulders* DPDC Vlad: how Stillborn Vlad: what DP/DC Vlad: how are you getting him to like you. Stillborn Vlad:,,, well first off i don't torture him so jot that down Stillborn Vlad: second of all, like is a strong word. Stillborn Vlad: Daniel only likes me on tuesdays and when i show him how to make fireballs

[elikajinnie]

I Love You To The Moon And Back - S.J

P: Lycan!Jake X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, Suggestive Content, Minor Angst, Possessive Behaviour, Feral Behaviour, Minor Injuries, Falling In Love.

Synopsis: You and Jake have been best friends since childhood, but as you grow feelings for him, you notice changes in his behavior, leaving you to wonder what happened to him. And you’re determined to uncover the truth

a/n: idk, i honestly dont know. i have been digging the horror au tbh.

𓃦

The swing creaked beneath you, your legs dangling, feet brushing lightly against the woodchips beneath. It was your first day at this new school, and you didn’t know anyone yet. The other kids seemed to already have friends, running around the playground, laughing in groups. You had wandered over to the swings to avoid feeling completely out of place, gently kicking your feet to push yourself higher, but not too high. You didn’t want to stand out too much, after all.

Then, out of nowhere, you felt the swing jerk forward, a gentle push. Startled, you gripped the chains tighter, turning your head to see a boy standing behind you, his small hands still on the swing. He was smiling, a carefree grin, his messy brown hair falling slightly over his eyes.

“What are you doing?” you asked, trying to sound braver than you felt.

“Playing,” he said simply, giving you another push.

You blinked, unsure what to say at first, but his easygoing smile made you feel less nervous. As the swing gained a bit of height, you found yourself smiling too, the butterflies in your stomach slowly settling. After a few more pushes, he ran around to the front, his hands stuffed into his pockets. “I’m Jake,” he said, squinting slightly in the sunlight.

You told him your name, and without missing a beat, he asked, “Wanna play?”

It wasn’t long before the two of you were running across the playground, chasing each other, laughing. You climbed on the jungle gym, played tag, and pretended the ground was lava, hopping from one safe island to the next.

By the time the bell rang, calling everyone back inside, you had a new friend. And as you walked back to class together, you knew that somehow, this day didn’t feel quite so scary anymore.

𓃦

Years passed, and you and Jake stayed inseparable. Even as you both grew up and started exploring different interests, nothing ever seemed to drive a wedge between you. While other childhood friendships faded, lost in the chaos of school, new hobbies, and changing social circles, you and Jake never drifted apart.

Middle school came, and with it, new groups of friends. Jake found his way into the soccer team, while you got into art, spending hours after school in the art room. You both made new friends along the way, but no matter how busy life got, there was always time for each other.

After practice, Jake would wait for you outside the art room, kicking a soccer ball against the wall while you finished up a drawing. Some days, you'd sit together, your sketchbook on your lap as he tried—and often failed—to draw something that wasn’t a stick figure. You’d laugh, telling him it looked like a "weird, sad robot," but he’d always insist it was "modern art." He would tease you endlessly about your doodles, and you’d remind him how bad his drawings were—but you’d still show up for his games, cheering him on from the stands.

High school brought even more changes. Jake became more popular, his team winning matches, and he started hanging out with the soccer crowd. You found your own little circle with the art club and theater kids. At times, it seemed like your lives were taking different directions. But it didn’t matter. After every win, after every school event, after every late-night study session, the two of you would find each other.

Sometimes, you'd meet at the old playground, the same swings still there, creaky but familiar. It became your spot, a place to talk about everything. Jake would tell you about his latest soccer game, the pressure he felt from his team and coach. You'd talk about your art, about the projects you were working on and the ideas you had.

When things got hard, when life felt overwhelming, it was Jake who’d be there. He’d show up at your door after a tough day, throwing pebbles at your window just like in the movies. And when he needed a break from the noise of everyone else, you’d sit together in quiet understanding, whether it was in your room or out by the swings, finding comfort in each other’s presence.

Even with different interests, different friends, and different paths, one thing never changed—you always had time for each other. It didn’t matter how busy life got, or how much things changed around you. You both made the effort, the little moments adding up over the years, a constant reminder that some friendships are just meant to last.

Because at the end of the day, Jake wasn’t just your best friend. He was home.

𓃦

It was one of those quiet afternoons, the kind where the world felt just a bit slower, perfect for getting lost in a book. You were sitting on the bleachers, absorbed in the romance novel you’d been devouring for the past few days. The plot had you hooked—an unlikely love story full of tension, banter, and those heart-fluttering moments that made you wonder if such things actually happened in real life.

As you flipped a page, you heard the familiar sound of sneakers scuffing the pavement. Jake came strolling up beside you, twirling a football between his hands, a mischievous grin already spreading across his face. “What’s this?” he asked, peeking over your shoulder. “Another one of those sappy romance novels?”

You shot him a playful glare. “It’s not sappy! And it’s not cliché like you think.”

“Oh yeah?” He raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. “Prove it.”

Without thinking, you flipped to a scene you’d just read, your finger hovering over the paragraph. It was a moment where the main character, after teasing the heroine endlessly, finally leans in close, says something flirty that catches her off guard, and leaves her completely speechless.

You handed him the book. “Here. Read this.”

Jake skimmed the passage quickly, his grin widening as he realized what it was about. "This? Really?" He set the book down on the bleacher and leaned toward you, his face only inches from yours, just like the scene. You could see the amusement dancing in his eyes as he lowered his voice, mimicking the character. “You know,” he said, his voice smooth and teasing, “if you wanted me to flirt with you, you could’ve just asked.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and your face instantly flushed. You hadn’t expected him to actually do it. Jake, noticing your reaction, let out a soft chuckle, his smile widening even more. He lightly nudged your shoulder with his own, that boyish charm never far from his teasing. “Wow, didn’t think I’d get you all flustered,” he laughed, clearly enjoying himself. “Guess the book’s rubbing off on you.”

Before you could recover, he gave you a playful wave and jogged off toward the field, calling over his shoulder, “Catch you later, romance expert!” He had no idea how those simple words left you sitting there, your heart racing, your mind swirling with thoughts you didn’t quite understand.

In the days that followed, things began to shift ever so slightly between you two. Jake seemed to take notice of how easily he could make you blush, and he started teasing you even more. He’d drop little flirty comments when you least expected it, his tone always playful, but there was something in the way he’d look at you that made your stomach flip. Whether it was during lunch, on the walk home, or just hanging out after school, he’d find ways to make your heart race.

Like when he’d lean close to you in the hall, his breath warm against your ear, and whisper something like, “Careful, someone might think you’ve got a crush on me,” before laughing and leaving you speechless. Or how he’d casually drape an arm over your shoulder, his touch light but lingering just enough to make you feel flustered. You tried to brush it off as just Jake being Jake, but something inside you was starting to shift.

One afternoon, sitting with your friend Wonyoung during study hall, you finally let it slip. “I don’t know what’s happening,” you admitted, staring down at your notebook but not really seeing it. “Lately, Jake’s been teasing me more, like… flirting teasing. And it’s different. Every time he does it, I get these… butterflies. It’s confusing.”

Wonyoung looked at you for a long moment, her smile widening like she had been waiting for this. “Girl, you’re not confused. You’ve got a crush on him.”

Your heart dropped at the realization. “What? No, I mean… we've been best friends forever. It’s just Jake.”

But as soon as Wonyung said it, you couldn’t stop thinking about it. The butterflies, the way your heart would race when he teased you, the sudden flush of heat whenever he got close. You were starting to see him differently. Maybe, somewhere along the way, between the teasing, the years of friendship, and those moments where it felt like he was more than just your best friend… maybe you had started falling for him without even realizing it.

After Wonyoung’s words that day, something shifted inside you, even though you tried to ignore it. You didn’t say anything to Jake, of course. How could you? The idea of bringing it up felt terrifying, like crossing an invisible line between what you had always known and something completely new and uncertain.

Still, her words stuck with you. No matter how hard you tried to push them aside, they lingered, sneaking up on you at the most unexpected moments—when you were with Jake, especially. It didn’t matter if you were at his house playing video games, or on the football pitch, where he would call you over, grinning as he tried to teach you how to kick the ball properly. Even when he waited for you after art class, leaning against the wall with that easy smile of his, chatting about his day or teasing you about your latest drawing, you couldn’t help but feel it.

You couldn’t stop thinking about the flutter in your stomach whenever he looked at you a certain way, or the warmth that spread through your chest when he laughed at your jokes. The feelings were suffocating, growing with every interaction but always kept hidden behind the careful mask of friendship.

Even in the library, when you sat across from him at a table—him with his head buried in textbooks, you with your nose in a novel—you were painfully aware of how close he was. You could hear the scratch of his pen on paper, the occasional sigh as he concentrated on his work, and every now and then, his foot would brush against yours under the table, sending a shock of awareness through you. But you said nothing.

On the bus to and from school, when you sat together in your usual spot, Jake would always lean his shoulder against yours, sharing his earbuds or cracking jokes that made you smile despite the growing knot in your chest. His presence was comforting, as it had always been. And yet now, it felt like there was something between you that you couldn’t name, something that made the air feel thicker, harder to breathe. Still, you kept it to yourself.

Science class was no better. You were partners, as always, sitting side by side during experiments, laughing at Jake’s terrible attempts to handle the beakers and test tubes. His hand would brush against yours accidentally as you worked, and every time it happened, you’d tense up, hoping he wouldn’t notice how flustered you were becoming. But he never seemed to, or if he did, he didn’t say anything. He’d just continue on, the same way he always had, making you laugh like it was the easiest thing in the world.

The worst was the mornings, though. Jake had always shown up at your door to walk with you to the bus stop, like clockwork. He’d stand there with his backpack slung over one shoulder, grinning as you made your way outside. You’d talk about everything and nothing as you walked, your footsteps in sync, and it felt like you were both stuck in this perfect little bubble, where nothing had changed. But inside, you felt like you were suffocating. The unspoken feelings weighed on you, heavy and constant, and every time Jake smiled at you, it made it harder to keep pretending everything was the same.

And then there were the swings. The old playground had always been your special place, the spot where everything began, where the world had felt simpler. You’d sit there together after school sometimes, talking about your days, your dreams, your lives. But now, even the swings felt different. You’d sit beside him, your feet barely touching the ground, and all you could think about was how close he was, how easy it would be to lean just a little closer. But you didn’t. You couldn’t.

So you stayed quiet, never saying a word, not even when the tension inside you became too much to bear. The feelings built up, day by day, moment by moment, until it felt like they were choking you. You wanted to tell him, to ask him if he felt it too, but the fear of ruining everything—the friendship you cherished so much—kept you silent.

And so, you kept pretending. Kept playing along, even though it was slowly suffocating you.

𓃦

You were sprawled across your bed, the soft glow of the TV casting shadows on the walls as you watched your latest obsession—a series about werewolves. The plot had taken a dramatic turn, and you were completely absorbed, leaning into the tension on the screen when you heard your door creak open.

Without tearing your eyes away from the show, you huffed, “Mom, I’m not hungry right now.”

But instead of your mom’s voice, you heard a familiar chuckle. “Good thing I’m not your mom.”

Your head snapped up, and there he was—Jake, standing in the doorway with that ever-present grin. He walked in like he owned the place, barely giving you time to react before he plopped down right next to you on the bed, making the mattress bounce beneath you. “Werewolves, huh?” he asked, glancing at the TV with mock seriousness. “And you said my interests were crazy.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the warmth that spread through your chest the moment he settled beside you. “It’s not crazy. This show’s actually really good.”

Jake smirked and raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? What’s next? Vampires? Maybe some shirtless brooding guy who’s half-wolf, half-whatever?”

“Shut up, it’s not like that,” you muttered, but before you could say anything more, Jake’s fingers found your side, poking you playfully.

“Oh, really?” he teased, continuing to poke you until you squirmed away, trying to bat his hands off. “C’mon, what is it? Secret romance between the werewolf and the girl? Or does she turn out to be a werewolf, too?”

“Stop!” you laughed, trying to shield yourself from his jabs. But he didn’t stop—he never did. His pokes turned into full-blown tickling, and you were soon in fits of laughter, squirming on the bed as you tried to push him away. Jake, of course, was relentless, his fingers digging into your sides as he grinned down at you.

“Jake!” you gasped between breaths, your laughter uncontrollable as you twisted and turned, trying to escape his attack. “I swear—stop!”

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he stopped, flopping down beside you with a triumphant grin. You caught your breath, glaring at him, and landed a light punch on his arm. “You’re the worst.”

He laughed, rubbing his arm dramatically like you’d actually hurt him. “Hey, just keeping you entertained.”

You both lay there for a moment, the sounds of the werewolf series filling the room, the earlier tension from his teasing melting away. Without thinking too much about it, you shifted a little closer, and Jake, ever comfortable, wrapped an arm around you, pulling you into his side. It felt natural, familiar—like you’d done it a hundred times before.

You settled into the warmth of his embrace, your head resting on his chest as his fingers absently traced circles on your arm. The weight of his arm around you was comforting, grounding, and for a second, it felt like nothing had changed between you two. Just like it always had been—best friends, close as ever.

“Alright, I’ll give this show a chance,” he said after a beat, his voice softer now, more relaxed. “But if there’s some cheesy love triangle, I’m out.”

You couldn’t help but smile, even though your heart was still racing a bit from the tickling—and from the way you were curled up against him. “Deal,” you murmured, your eyes drifting back to the screen, though your thoughts were far from the drama playing out in front of you.

As the episodes continued, the two of you lay there, cuddled together, and for a while, it felt like everything was normal. Like nothing had changed. Like it was just another day with Jake, watching TV, laughing, and being wrapped up in each other’s company.

But beneath the surface, the feelings you had been pushing down—the butterflies, the warmth, the way your heart fluttered whenever he touched you—were impossible to ignore. You told yourself it was just the comfort of your friendship, the way it had always been. Just like friends do… right?

But deep down, you knew things weren’t as simple as that anymore.

𓃦

Graduation day came quicker than you expected. You stood in the sea of caps and gowns, clutching your diploma, feeling a mixture of pride and dread. While everyone else seemed thrilled about what was next—about new beginnings and new places—your heart was stuck in the in-between, not ready to let go of the familiar. Jake found you after the ceremony, that wide grin on his face, as he pulled you into a tight hug.

“I can’t believe we’re going to the same uni!”

You smiled back, trying to match his enthusiasm. He looked so happy, and of course you were glad—relieved, even—that he’d be there. But deep down, something felt off. Maybe it was the weight of everything that had been building over the past few years, the growing feelings you still hadn’t found the courage to face. Being with Jake every day, pretending like things hadn’t changed between you, felt both comforting and terrifying. You nodded and said, “I know Jake! I’m so happy.”

The smile you gave him was genuine, but the anxiety underneath it was real too. You weren’t ready to unpack it, so you buried it deeper, pretending everything was just like it always had been.

Summer vacation arrived, and for a little while, everything went back to normal. The usual hangouts, lazy afternoons, and spontaneous adventures. But then one afternoon, while you were at Jake’s house, he broke some unexpected news.

“Hey, so… I’ve got something to tell you,” Jake said casually, tossing a soccer ball up and catching it as you both lounged on the couch.

You looked at him curiously. “What’s up?”

“I’m going away for a few weeks,” he said, grinning like a kid with a secret. “Family trip. We’re flying out in a few days.”

Your stomach dropped, but you tried not to let it show. “Oh… wow, that’s amazing,” you said, forcing a smile. “You’ll have the best time.”

Jake seemed oblivious to the little hitch in your voice. “Yeah, I’m really excited. But don’t worry,” he added, his smile softening, “I’ll text you every day. I’ll send you a million pictures, and we can still video call, okay?”

You nodded, your chest tightening. “Of course. Every day,” you agreed, giving him a playful nudge to keep the mood light.

The day he left came too quickly. You stood in front of his house, the early morning sun casting long shadows on the driveway as Jake loaded his suitcase into the car. You knew you’d see him again in a few weeks, but the thought of not having him around for even that short time felt strange.

When he finally walked over to say goodbye, you couldn’t help but throw your arms around him, hugging him tightly. You felt him hug you back just as firmly, his chin resting on the top of your head for a moment. “I’ll miss you,” he said softly, and you could hear the smile in his voice.

You didn’t trust yourself to speak right away, so you just nodded into his chest, squeezing him a little tighter. “Miss you too,” you finally murmured.

As he pulled back and grabbed his bags, you forced yourself to smile again, waving as he got into the car. “Text me when you land!” you called, your voice a little too cheerful.

“I will!” he shouted back with a grin, giving you one last wave before the car pulled away, taking him to the airport. You stood there long after the car disappeared, feeling like something was tugging at your heart, pulling you in two different directions.

𓃦

For the first week, things went exactly as Jake promised. Every day, without fail, your phone would buzz with messages from him—pictures of the cobblestone streets, snapshots of old buildings, random selfies where he’d make some goofy face just to make you laugh. He’d text about everything he saw, about how much fun he was having, but how he still missed home. How he missed you.

You’d text back just as eagerly, sometimes staying up late to video call when he found a quiet moment between exploring and family dinners. Seeing his face on the screen, hearing his laugh, made the distance feel smaller, like he wasn’t halfway across the world. Even though your feelings for him were still swirling in that confusing, unspoken space, you were content.

But then, something changed.

At first, it was small. Messages taking a little longer to be delivered. You didn’t think much of it; after all, he was traveling and probably busy. You told yourself it was fine. Normal, even.

Then the delays became longer. His texts would come hours late, and when you’d reply, your messages would sit there, marked as "Delivered," but no response would come. You’d send a couple more, asking if everything was okay, but still—nothing.

The video calls stopped altogether. You’d sit there with your phone, waiting for that familiar ringtone, hoping for the notification that never came. You started calling him, hoping to catch him during a break, but every time it went straight to voicemail. You listened to the same generic message over and over until you stopped trying altogether.

Days passed, then a week. The silence was gnawing at you, growing heavier with every unanswered text, every missed call. You told yourself it was just because he was busy, that maybe his phone wasn’t working properly. But deep down, you knew something felt wrong.

Sitting on your bed one evening, your phone in hand, you stared at the last message you’d sent him. It had been two days. Two days of nothing but silence from the person you talked to every single day for as long as you could remember. You scrolled up through the chat, rereading the messages you’d exchanged—the jokes, the casual “I miss you,” the pictures of his trip. But now, everything felt distant, as if the closeness between you was slipping away.

With a sigh, you sent one last message, a simple, “Are you okay? I miss hearing from you.”

You watched the message shift to "Delivered" once again. And just like the others, it sat there, unanswered, as your chest tightened with the weight of the silence.

You couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off, and after days of silence, you decided you had to reach out to someone who might know what was going on.

With a deep breath, you dialed Jake’s mom, your heart racing as the phone rang. You felt a wave of relief wash over you when she finally answered, her warm voice a comforting sound amidst your anxiety.

“Hello?” she said, and you could hear the faint sounds of life around her—distant chatter, the clinking of dishes.

“Hi, Mrs. Sim, it’s me. I was just checking in on Jake,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady despite the nervous flutter in your stomach.

“Oh, hello, dear! I’m glad you called,” she replied, her tone brightening. But then, you noticed a shift, a slight hesitance in her voice. “Um, Jake hasn’t been feeling very well. He’s been locked in his hotel room for a few days now.”

Your heart dropped at the news. “Oh no, I—I didn’t know. Is he okay?”

“He’s just been a bit under the weather. Nothing serious, but he’s been resting and trying to recover,” she explained, her voice laced with concern. “I think he might just be feeling overwhelmed. Traveling can be a lot, especially for someone like Jake who hates missing out on anything.”

You felt a mixture of relief and worry. At least he hadn’t decided to cut you out of his life completely, but the thought of him feeling unwell and isolated made your chest ache. “Is there anything I can do? I’d love to talk to him or help in any way.”

“I appreciate that. I’ll let him know you called, and maybe it’ll lift his spirits a bit,” she said kindly. “He loves talking to you. You’re a good friend to him.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Sim” you replied, your heart warming at her words. “Just let him know I’m thinking of him, okay?”

“Of course. I’ll keep you updated. Take care, sweetheart,” she said before ending the call.

You set your phone down, a whirlwind of emotions flooding your mind. You felt better knowing he wasn’t purposely ignoring you, but the worry still gnawed at you.

For the next few days, you kept your phone close, hoping for a message or a call from him. You tried to focus on other things—hanging out with friends, reading, and enjoying the last of your summer—but your thoughts kept drifting back to Jake. You wondered how he was doing, if he was feeling any better, and if he’d return to you once he was back in the groove of life.

That night, as you lay in bed, you found it hard to sleep, thoughts of him swirling in your mind. You wished you could be there, to comfort him and remind him that he wasn’t alone, even if he was miles away.

𓃦

One afternoon, your phone rang, jolting you out of your thoughts. The screen lit up with Jake’s name, and you felt a rush of relief and excitement. You answered quickly, your heart racing.

“Jake! How are you?” you asked, the words tumbling out before you could even think.

“Hey! I’m… I’m okay,” he replied, his voice slightly strained but attempting to sound casual. “Just had a bit of a stomach flu, that’s all.”

Your heart sank at his words. “A stomach flu? Is that really all? You sounded… rushed.”

He hesitated for a moment, and you could practically hear the gears turning in his mind. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just needed a few days to rest and get better. You know how it is.”

“Are you sure? You don’t sound fine,” you pressed gently, trying to keep your voice calm. “Have you seen a doctor? I’m really worried about you.”

“Really, I’m okay! Just a little weak, but nothing I can’t handle,” he insisted, though the slight quiver in his voice gave away that he wasn’t as reassured as he wanted you to be.

You could hear faint noises in the background, muffled voices and the sound of footsteps. It made your stomach churn. “Where are you right now?”

“In the hotel,” he replied quickly. “Just had to step out for a second. It’s not a big deal; I’ll be fine, I promise.”

Your heart ached at how much he was trying to downplay it. “Jake, if you need anything… I mean, I wish I could be there with you. Just tell me the truth. You don’t have to act tough for me.”

A pause stretched between you, filled only with the sound of his shallow breaths. “I know, and I appreciate that. But really, I’ll be okay. I just need to take it easy for a bit, and I’ll be back home before you know it.”

You sighed, feeling a mix of relief and lingering concern. “Alright, but if it gets worse, promise me you’ll see a doctor. I don’t want you to push yourself too hard.”

“Deal,” he said, a hint of a smile in his voice, though it didn’t quite reach his tone. “I’ll keep you posted, okay? Thanks for worrying about me.”

“Of course I worry about you! You’re my best friend,” you said, your voice softening. “I just want you to be healthy and happy.”

“Trust me, I’ll get back to being my usual self soon,” he reassured you, though you could hear the weariness beneath his words. “And then, we’ll catch up like crazy. I’ve got stories to tell you, and you’ll be sick of hearing me.”

You laughed softly, trying to lighten the mood. “I could never get sick of you. Just focus on getting better.”

“Will do. I’ll text you later, alright? I might need a distraction from all this hotel room boredom,” he said, and you could almost picture him leaning back against the wall, trying to play it cool even while you knew he was still feeling unwell.

“Okay, I’ll be here,” you replied, hoping to convey your support through the screen.

“Talk soon!” he said before hanging up, leaving you with a lingering worry in your heart. You stared at your phone, feeling a mix of relief and concern. While you were grateful to hear his voice, you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was still holding back.

In the days that followed, you couldn’t help but check your phone constantly, hoping for another call or message from him.

After all, that’s what friends were for, right?

After what felt like an eternity, Jake finally returned home. You could hardly contain your excitement as you made your way to his house, your heart racing at the thought of seeing him again. You knocked on the door, and when it swung open, you were greeted by a familiar face that felt both comforting and disheartening all at once.

Jake stood there, looking a little rough around the edges. His hair was messier than usual, longer than it had been when he left, and he wore a faded t-shirt that hung loosely on his frame. Dark circles under his eyes hinted at the exhaustion he must have felt after his ordeal, and your heart ached for him.

“Hey!” he said, a tired smile breaking through as he stepped aside to let you in.

“Hey,” you replied, trying to keep your voice light. But you couldn’t hide the concern in your eyes as you took in his appearance. “Wow, you look… different.”

He chuckled softly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, I guess I’ve been through a lot these past few weeks. Just trying to catch up on sleep and everything.”

You stepped inside and closed the door behind you, your eyes never leaving him. “Are you good? Really?”

He paused for a moment, meeting your gaze. “I’m okay,” he reassured you, though the way he said it made you wonder just how much of that was true. “Just a little tired. Traveling takes a lot out of you.”

You raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. “It’s more than just traveling, isn’t it?”

Jake sighed, glancing away for a moment. “Yeah, it was tough over there. I didn’t expect to get sick, and then I just… I don’t know. It kind of hit me hard.”

You took a step closer, feeling the urge to comfort him. “You should have let me know. I worried about you, you know.”

“I know, and I’m sorry for the radio silence,” he said, his voice softening. “I didn’t want to worry you more than I already had. I thought I’d bounce back quicker, but… it just took longer than I expected.”

You nodded, biting your lip as you fought back a wave of emotion. “I’m just glad you’re back now. That you’re okay,” you said quietly.

He smiled, a genuine warmth spreading across his face, even as it faded quickly. “Yeah, it feels good to be home. And to see you.”'

You glanced around the living room, taking in the familiar space. “Can I get you anything? Water? Snacks?”

He shook his head. “I’m good for now. I just want to hang out and catch up. It’s been too long.”

With a small smile, you settled onto the couch, and he joined you, sinking into the cushions.

𓃦

As you both settled into university life, the first few weeks flew by in a whirlwind of classes, social events, and late-night study sessions. Everything felt exciting and new, but as the days passed, you began to notice small changes in Jake that made you raise an eyebrow.

For starters, there was his appetite. You had always known he liked to eat, but now, he seemed to be craving meat more than ever. He'd pile on burgers and chicken during lunch, his eyes lighting up at the sight of a plate full of food. “Are you trying to bulk up or something?” you teased one day as he loaded up his plate again.

“Just hungry, okay?” he replied with a laugh, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to it.

Then there was football practice. Watching him on the field, you noticed how he had an intensity that was different. He was stronger, more aggressive, effortlessly sending other players flying with just a slight push. You had seen him play before, but now it felt like he was operating on another level. It was impressive, but a part of you felt uneasy—he seemed to have tapped into some hidden reserve of energy and strength that wasn’t there before.

And then there were the crowds. You had always known Jake wasn’t a huge fan of loud places, but it was as if his sensitivity had amplified. You could see him tense up during busy events, his eyes darting around as he tried to find a way to escape the noise. The first time you noticed it was during orientation week, when the crowd of students became too overwhelming for him. He started to look pale, and you instinctively reached out to take his hand, leading him to a quieter corner.

After that, you decided to get him a pair of noise-canceling headphones, and the smile that lit up his face when you handed them to him was one of the best moments of your week. “You really didn’t have to do this,” he said, beaming. “But thank you. This will help a lot.”

You also started to see how protective he was of his belongings, especially around others. If someone asked to borrow his jacket or a book, he would hesitate, giving them a wary look before declining. But when it came to you, it was a different story. He’d drape his jacket around your shoulders without a second thought, his expression softening as he did so. “You need it more than I do,” he’d insist, a playful smirk on his lips.

But then there were the moments that made your heart race. Jake seemed to have developed a stealthy ability to sneak up on you. Whether you were in the library, waiting for a class to start, or hanging out with friends, he would appear out of nowhere, catching you off guard. One day, he crept up while you were reading, and before you knew it, he had his arms around your waist, pulling you into a quick embrace.

“Gotcha!” he whispered, his breath warm against your ear.

Yet, there were also those times when Jake would go quiet at night, his responses to your texts dwindling to a halt. It worried you, but every morning, he would greet you with a bright smile, as if the late-night silence never happened. “Sorry, I fell asleep,” he would say with an easy laugh, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was hiding something deeper.

And during lunch or class, you discovered a new side of him when you absentmindedly played with his hair while chatting about your day. His cheeks would flush, and he’d lean into your touch, practically melting under your fingers. The sight of him so relaxed, so vulnerable, made your heart race.

But the most puzzling change was his protectiveness whenever he saw you talking to other guys. It would start with a small frown, then a quick, almost possessive stride toward you. “Hey, what’s going on here?” he’d say, slinging an arm around your shoulders or wrapping his hands around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

“Just chatting!” you’d laugh, but there was something deeper in his eyes, a flicker of jealousy that made your stomach twist with both excitement and confusion.

As the weeks progressed, you found yourself caught in a whirlwind of emotions, trying to decipher the layers of Jake that were unfolding before you. Each small change, each interaction seemed to pull you deeper into a storm of feelings you weren’t sure how to navigate.

𓃦

As the semester rolled on, more instances of Jake's behavior began to pile up, each one both endearing and perplexing. You often found yourself caught off guard by the small things he did, but they all hinted at a change in your relationship dynamics.

One chilly afternoon, you were waiting outside your art class when you spotted a group of guys laughing and joking nearby. You knew them from a few classes, and they were friendly enough, so you struck up a conversation with them while you waited for Jake. As you laughed at one of their jokes, you suddenly felt a presence behind you. You turned to see Jake standing there, arms crossed, a frown etched across his face.

“Everything okay?” he asked, his tone slightly guarded.

“Yeah, we were just talking,” you replied, a little confused by his sudden seriousness.

“Right,” he said, but you could tell he wasn’t entirely convinced. He shifted closer, placing himself between you and the other guys, a protective wall. It felt both amusing and oddly comforting, like he was silently claiming his territory.

Then there was the day you decided to join a study group for a particularly challenging class. You were excited to meet new people and tackle the material together. When Jake found out, he raised an eyebrow. “You’re sure you want to do that? What if they’re not nice?”

“Jake, they’re just a group of classmates. It’s fine,” you reassured him, but there was a flicker of concern in his eyes. “I’ll be okay.”

“Okay, but if they give you any trouble, you let me know,” he said firmly, his expression softening as he added, “I don’t want anyone messing with you.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at how protective he had become. “I promise, I’ll call you if there’s a problem.”

During one of your late-night study sessions at the library, you noticed a few guys at the table across from you trying to get your attention, making silly faces and cracking jokes. You rolled your eyes and focused on your work, but it didn’t go unnoticed by Jake, who was sitting beside you.

He had been quiet for most of the evening, but as the teasing escalated, you felt him tense beside you. Suddenly, he stood up, stretching out as if he were getting ready to leave. “Hey, I need to grab something from my bag,” he said, but you could see the determination in his eyes.

As he walked over to the other table, you felt a wave of confusion wash over you. You watched him lean over and say something to the guys, who immediately straightened up, looking taken aback. You couldn’t hear what he said, but you could see their faces drop, and they quickly turned their attention back to their own work.

When he returned to you, he sat down with a satisfied smile, as if he had just completed some important mission. “You okay?” you asked, trying to keep the laughter out of your voice.

“Yeah, just thought I’d remind them to keep it down,” he said casually, but you could tell there was more behind it.

“Thanks, I guess?” you replied, shaking your head in disbelief. “But you didn’t have to do that.”

“I know,” he said, a hint of defensiveness creeping into his voice. “But I didn’t like the way they were looking at you.”

Another instance that stood out was during a group project for one of your classes. You were paired with a few other students, including a guy named Alex who seemed to take a particular interest in you. Jake, who had been working quietly at the other end of the table, suddenly cleared his throat, drawing attention back to himself.

“Hey, can you help me with this part of the project?” he called out, shooting you a look that practically screamed “rescue me.” You couldn’t help but smile, recognizing his attempt to reclaim your attention.

“Sure, what do you need?” you replied, eager to help him out.

As you leaned over to see his notes, you felt Jake’s knee bump against yours, and he shifted closer, as if to shield you from the rest of the group. You caught Alex’s curious gaze and felt a mix of amusement as Jake shot him a pointed look that said, “Back off.”

But it was during one of your routine coffee runs that his behavior really hit home. You had both decided to take a break between classes and popped into a nearby café. As you waited for your drinks, you noticed a girl from your sociology class come up to Jake, smiling brightly as she engaged him in conversation.

You watched as Jake’s demeanor shifted. He went from being relaxed to immediately on guard. He answered her questions politely, but you could see the way his shoulders tensed and how his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.

When she asked if he wanted to join her table, he glanced at you before shaking his head. “Nah, I’m good. I’m here with my friend,” he said, motioning towards you.

As soon as she left, he turned to you, an exasperated look on his face. “I don’t know what it is, but something about her just rubs me the wrong way.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his overprotectiveness. “Jake, she’s just being friendly!”

“Yeah, well, I don’t want to take any chances,” he said firmly, crossing his arms again.

Each of these instances piled on top of one another, weaving a complicated tapestry of feelings that left you questioning the nature of your friendship. Jake’s protective instincts made your heart race, igniting a spark of something deeper that you couldn’t quite define. The way he cared for you made you feel special, but the intensity of it all left you wondering where the lines between friendship and something more began to blur.

𓃦

One evening, as you were lounging in your room, scrolling through social media, a message from Hyerin popped up on your screen. “Hey, you need to check the news,” she wrote, and your curiosity was piqued. Clicking on the link she sent, you were met with a local news report that sent a shiver down your spine.

According to the report, several residents had reported hearing loud howls echoing from the nearby forest at night. Some claimed to have even spotted a large creature lurking at the outskirts of town—something that resembled a wolf, but much larger. The local authorities had dismissed the reports, attributing the sounds to normal wildlife, but the article featured alarming witness accounts that painted a more sinister picture.

You felt a rush of adrenaline mixed with unease. The thought of a creature prowling just outside your town was thrilling and terrifying at the same time. You quickly typed out a message to Jake, sharing what you had found.

“Did you see this? There are reports of howls coming from the forest, and people say they saw a giant wolf!”

His reply came almost instantly. “It’s probably just a normal wolf, nothing to worry about,” he typed back casually, as if the news was nothing more than a minor inconvenience.

But you weren’t convinced. The stories echoed in your mind, and a sense of adventure began to bubble up within you. You felt the urge to explore, to see for yourself what was going on in those woods. The idea sent your heart racing, but you hesitated. You knew Jake would be against it if he knew, and you didn’t want to worry him.

After a quick glance at the clock, you grabbed a flashlight, bundled up in a warm jacket, and slipped out of your dorm room. The night air was crisp, and the stars shone brightly overhead as you made your way toward the edge of the forest. With each step, the excitement mingled with a hint of fear, but you pushed it aside, determined to uncover the truth for yourself.

As you approached the tree line, you could hear the rustling leaves and the distant sounds of the night, but your resolve remained firm. The forest loomed before you, shadows dancing between the trees. You took a deep breath, reminding yourself that it was just a hike, just a bit of exploration.

You ventured deeper into the woods, the beam of your flashlight cutting through the darkness. You moved quietly, listening intently for any sounds that might confirm the rumors. As you walked, your imagination ran wild. What if there really was a creature lurking in the shadows? What if you stumbled upon something extraordinary?

But as the minutes passed, the forest seemed eerily still. You stopped occasionally to listen, straining to catch any sound, but all you heard was the faint rustling of leaves. After a while, doubt began to creep in. Was this a fool’s errand? Were you just chasing a ghost story?

Just when you were about to turn back, a loud howl pierced the night air, echoing through the trees. Your heart raced, and you froze in place, eyes wide as you turned toward the sound. It was unmistakable—a chilling howl that seemed to resonate from deep within the forest.

A rush of adrenaline coursed through you, and instinctively, you stepped further into the shadows, driven by curiosity. You followed the sound, drawn deeper into the woods. Each step felt like a leap into the unknown, but you couldn’t turn back now.

Just then, your phone buzzed in your pocket. It was a text from Jake: “Where are you? You’re not out there, are you?”

Your heart skipped a beat. The worry in his text was there. You hesitated, debating whether to respond. He wouldn’t understand your need to explore, your desire to see if the stories were true. But you didn’t want to worry him unnecessarily.

“Just out for a walk,” you typed back, keeping it vague. You silenced your phone and tucked it away, pushing on into the dark.

With every howl that echoed through the trees, your fear grew. What would you find in the heart of the forest? Would you encounter whatever creature was rumored to roam these woods?

But deep down, a small part of you wondered if you should have listened to Jake, if maybe it was better to stay safe at home instead of chasing shadows.

𓃦

Jake’s heart raced as he read your message, panic setting in. “Just out for a walk.” Those words echoed in his mind, mixing with the chilling howls that pierced the night air. He felt a wave of urgency wash over him, and without thinking twice, he leaped from his chair, pulling aside his curtains to reveal the moonlit night outside.

The silvery glow bathed him in light, and he clenched his fists in the fabric of the curtains, fighting against the instinct to leap into action. He could hear it clearly now—the haunting howls from the forest calling out to him, echoing through the stillness of the night. The sounds tugged at something deep inside him, a urge that he could no longer ignore.

With a final groan of frustration, he dashed out of his room. He sprinted down the stairs, adrenaline pumping through his veins as he burst through the front door and into the night. The air was cool against his skin, but he barely noticed, his focus zeroed in on the forest where you had ventured.

Something deep within him stirred, a deep-seated calling that urged him to heed the instinct to protect and defend. The weight of the moon hung heavy in the sky, and as he ran, he could feel the change beginning to take hold. His body was alive with energy, crackling under the moonlight as it beckoned him to transform.

As he neared the edge of the forest, he stumbled momentarily, the first wave of transformation coursing through him. Pain and exhilaration intertwined as his muscles began to stretch and contort beneath his skin. He gasped, the sensation overwhelming him as his bones shifted and restructured, the very essence of his being reshaping itself under the moon's watchful gaze.

The first change came to his face. His jaw elongated, teeth sharpening as a low growl escaped his lips, mixing with the howls echoing from the forest. The ground beneath him felt closer as his spine curved and reshaped, forcing him down onto all fours. He gritted his teeth against the pain, feeling his senses heighten further—each scent more vivid, every sound clearer.

His skin tingled as the transformation progressed, a strange sensation as he felt his human form shed like an old coat. Fur erupted across his body, dark and thick, a protective layer that replaced the skin he had known. He felt bigger, more powerful, muscles rippling under his new pelt, gaining strength with each passing moment. The world shifted around him as his vision sharpened, hues of colors blooming before him in vibrant clarity.

He could feel the ground beneath him, cool and firm, and the smell of the earth was intoxicating. The forest called to him, the trees whispering secrets only he could understand. As he dropped fully onto all fours, his new claws dug into the soil, grounding him in this new form. Jake howled into the night, a sound that reverberated through the forest.

With a final surge of power, he bounded forward into the woods, his senses alive and alert. Each footfall was lighter, quicker, as he raced through the trees, branches whipping past him in a blur.

The howls continued, a symphony of sound that guided him closer to you, his mind focused solely on your safety.

𓃦

At this point the thrill of exploration slowly began to ebb, replaced by an unsettling feeling in the pit of your stomach. The howls had become louder, echoing through the trees with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. You gripped the flashlight tightly, shining it around, desperately searching for anything out of the ordinary.

But then, in the distance, you spotted them—eyes gleaming in the dark, watching you intently. A chill ran through you as you realized you had wandered too far into their territory. Panic surged as you turned to flee, but the sound of rustling leaves behind you made it clear you were being pursued.

You stumbled into a small clearing, breathless, but the moment you looked back, dread washed over you. A pack of wolves emerged from the shadows, their eyes reflecting the moonlight like tiny stars. They circled you, growling low, their powerful forms tense and poised for action. You felt trapped, your heart racing as they advanced slowly, their jaws snapping in warning.

Desperation surged within you, and you quickly scanned your surroundings. In your panic, you spotted a long stick lying on the ground nearby. Grabbing it, you held it out in front of you, your hands shaking as you attempted to keep the snarling pack at bay.

“Stay back!” you shouted, your voice trembling as you brandished the stick, trying to appear more intimidating than you felt. The wolves paused momentarily, their heads tilting as if considering your resolve. You knew that bluffing wouldn’t hold them off for long; the pack was far more powerful than you could ever hope to be alone.

They growled again, a low rumble that vibrated in your chest, and as they lunged forward, you swung the stick wildly, desperate to fend them off. The closest wolf dodged your swing, its fur brushing against your arm as it darted past. Adrenaline coursed through your veins as you took a step back, trying to gauge their movements.

“Get away from me!” you yelled, your voice echoing in the stillness of the forest. But they were undeterred, their eyes locked on you, the alpha leading the charge as the others flanked it, their growls growing more intense.

You couldn’t let fear take over. You swung the stick again, aiming for the lead wolf. It snarled and snapped, but you managed to land a glancing blow against its shoulder, causing it to yelp and momentarily back off. But the other wolves seemed emboldened by its pain, their growls intensifying as they began to close in.

You backed away, your mind racing. You needed a way out. Just as the wolves lunged again, you heard a powerful howl pierce the night, echoing through the trees and causing the pack to hesitate.

Suddenly, a massive form leaped out from the shadows of the trees, a silhouette framed against the moonlight. The huge wolf landed gracefully in front of you. You stood frozen, your breath catching in your throat as you took in the size of the creature. Its fur was dark and sleek, rippling with muscle.

The wolves seemed to pause, studying the bigger wolf, their growls wavering as they assessed this new threat. Before you could fully process what was happening, one of the smaller wolves lunged at the big one, teeth bared and claws extended. But with a swift, graceful movement, the larger wolf sidestepped the attack and retaliated, raking its claws across the attacking wolf's side. The smaller wolf yelped in surprise and pain, tumbling backward into the underbrush.

More snarls erupted from the pack as they charged in tandem, but the massive wolf stood its ground, fighting valiantly. It was a whirlwind of fur and fangs, gracefully avoiding bites while delivering powerful blows to any wolf that dared to get too close. You watched in awe, feeling a mix of admiration and terror as the larger wolf defended you with ferocity, every growl reverberating in your chest.

Just as one of the wolves bit down on the big creature's front leg, you felt a surge of panic. It clawed and snapped, trying to gain the upper hand, but the larger wolf retaliated with a deep, rumbling growl, shaking off the smaller wolf like an annoyance. With each strike, the pack began to falter, sensing they were no match for the sheer power and tenacity of their adversary.

The battle raged for a few intense moments, the sounds of snarling and growling echoing around you, until, finally, the remaining wolves began to back off, realizing they were outmatched. With one last menacing snarl, the pack retreated into the shadows of the forest, leaving behind only the echoes of their howls and the fading rustle of leaves.

You stood there, your heart racing, watching as the larger wolf turned its attention to you. Its yellow eyes locked onto yours, and for a fleeting moment, you felt a connection that was both surreal and profound. You tilted your head, curiosity bubbling within you, and the wolf mirrored your gesture, tilting its head in return.

But then, your gaze shifted, and you spotted the blood trickling from a wound on the wolf’s front leg. Concern flooded through you, and without thinking, you reached out a hand, wanting to help this magnificent creature that had protected you so fiercely. But the wolf recoiled, stepping back from your outstretched fingers, its posture shifting to one of alertness.

With a powerful howl that shook your entire body, it filled the night with a resonant sound that seemed to resonate in your bones—a call to the wild, a statement of presence. And just like that, it turned and dashed back into the dark depths of the forest, vanishing into the shadows as swiftly as it had arrived.

You were left standing there, heart pounding, your breath coming in ragged gasps. The adrenaline of the encounter coursed through your veins, mingling with the confusion of what had just transpired.

What had just happened? Who—or what—was that wolf?

𓃦

The next day at university, the atmosphere buzzed with excitement and whispers. As you walked through the crowded halls, snippets of conversation floated around you, each more curious than the last.

“Did you hear the howls last night?” one student remarked, eyes wide with intrigue.

“I thought it was just a dog or something, but it sounded so… different,” another chimed in.

You felt a flutter of unease at the memory of your encounter in the forest, but you brushed it off, focusing on the bustling energy of campus life. Classes went by in a blur, your mind wandering back to the massive wolf and the bond you felt in that fleeting moment. You needed to talk to Jake about it, to share your thoughts and worries, to find some sense of normalcy again.

As you made your way to your usual meeting spot, you spotted him leaning against a wall, chatting with a couple of his friends. He looked as handsome as ever, his dark hair falling just above his eyes, a smile gracing his lips as he joked with them. But there was something else there, a tension that you couldn’t quite place.

You approached him, a smile breaking on your face. “Hey, Jake! Did you hear what everyone’s talking about?”

“Yeah,” he replied, a hint of amusement in his voice. “Seems like everyone’s a wolf expert now.”

You laughed, trying to keep the mood light. “Right?”

Before Jake could respond, one of his friends, Sam, came up and playfully hit him on the shoulder. “Hey, man! You up for some football practice after school?”

At the friendly jab, Jake flinched, a brief flash of pain crossing his face before he quickly masked it with a grin. “Yeah, sure. I’m in,” he replied, but you could see the tension in his shoulders, how his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.

You felt a twinge of concern but decided against bringing it up. Instead, you played along, joining in on the lighthearted banter, though your mind kept drifting back to the moment from the day before. Why had he reacted that way? Was he hurt?

As the conversation continued, you observed Jake closely, noting how he seemed to stiffen when Sam clapped him on the back and how he carefully shifted his weight as if trying to alleviate discomfort.

Concern gnawed at you, but you decided to give him some space, figuring he might need time to deal with whatever was bothering him on his own.

You left him with his friends, offering a quick smile and a wave before heading off to your next class. Throughout the day, you kept your distance, hoping he would take the opportunity to rest or confide in someone else if he needed to. But it seemed your efforts were in vain.

Jake sought you out during school, showing up in places he normally wouldn’t. During lunch, you had decided to sit outside in a secluded corner of the campus, enjoying the quiet and fresh air. Just as you were getting comfortable, you heard footsteps approaching. You looked up to see Jake walking toward you, a small smile playing on his lips.

“Hey,” he said, plopping down beside you. “What are you doing all the way out here?”

You couldn’t help but smile back, though your concern for him lingered. “Just wanted some fresh air. What about you?”

He shrugged, leaning back on his hands. “Wanted to see how you were doing.”

You nodded, deciding not to press him on.

The two of you chatted casually, the conversation flowing easily as it always did. Despite your intention to give him space, he seemed to seek out your company more than ever.

After school, you decided to stop by a small café on the edge of town, a place you rarely visited. You thought you’d have some time to yourself, to process everything that had been happening. But as you were sipping your coffee and flipping through a book, you felt a familiar presence. Looking up, you saw Jake standing in the doorway, scanning the room until his eyes landed on you.

“There you are,” he said, walking over and sliding into the seat across from you. “I was looking for you.”

You raised an eyebrow, surprised. “Here? How did you know I’d be here?”

He shrugged again, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. “Lucky guess, I guess.”

𓃦

The quiet hum of the evening filled the room as you and Jake worked on homework together at his house, papers and textbooks scattered around you. The familiar scent of his room, the soft music playing in the background, and the comfortable silence between you two felt like old times.

But then, as Jake reached out for his notebook, you caught a brief flash of pain in his expression. His jaw tightened, and his hand faltered just slightly before he pulled it back. The small moment didn’t escape you; you could see something was bothering him, more than just physical discomfort.

“Jake,” you said softly, breaking the silence, “are you… okay? You look like you’re hurting.”

He looked up, caught off guard, and quickly brushed it off, frowning. “It’s nothing. I’m fine.”

“Jake,” you pressed, feeling your worry bubble over. “I’ve known you long enough to tell when something’s wrong. Please… just talk to me.”

His eyes flashed with a hint of irritation. “I already told you, I’m fine. You don’t need to keep worrying about me.”

“I care about you, Jake,” you replied, frustration seeping into your tone. “It’s not like I can just turn that off when I can see you’re in pain.”

He clenched his jaw, looking away. “You always do this, you know? Acting like you’re supposed to fix everything for me.”

Your breath caught at the sharpness of his words, and you felt your heart crack just a little. “I’m just trying to be there for you, Jake. Isn’t that what friends do?”

His eyes met yours, but instead of softening, they grew colder. “Maybe that’s the problem,” he said quietly. “Maybe I don’t need you trying to solve all my problems.”

You sat back, stunned. His words felt like a punch to the chest, knocking the wind out of you. “I didn’t realize… that’s how you saw it,” you whispered, your voice wavering. Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes as you grabbed your books and notebooks, your heart pounding with hurt and anger. “Fine, Jake. I get it.”

“Wait—” His hand reached out for you, panic flashing in his eyes, but you pulled away before he could touch you. You didn’t want to hear his apologies, didn’t want him to see the tears that were already beginning to slip down your cheeks.

You bolted for the door, your vision blurry as you forced yourself not to look back. Jake called your name, his voice tinged with desperation, but you didn’t stop. You stepped out into the night, your heart breaking with each step. You didn’t want to see him, didn’t want to hear him apologize for something that had already cut too deep.

Lost in thought, you hadn’t realized where your feet had taken you until you looked up and found yourself standing at the edge of the forest. The sun had dipped lower in the sky, casting a warm, fading glow over the trees as the shadows lengthened, creeping out toward you.

You sighed, staring into the darkness that stretched ahead. Your day had been ruined—by Jake, of all people. Jake, your best friend. The one you trusted, the one you cared about… the one you loved, even if you hadn’t ever admitted it out loud. You knew he didn’t mean what he’d said, deep down. You’d seen the look of regret in his eyes as you’d left, and you could imagine he was probably beating himself up over it even now.

Still, the words stung, and the distance between you now felt unbearably real. Maybe, you thought, you’d just give him a few days to cool off, let things settle. And hopefully, like always, it would be okay again.

For now, though, you needed space—a place to clear your mind. You took a few steps into the forest, staying close to the edge but just far enough in to feel the peace of nature wrapping around you.

You kept your steps light, careful not to venture too deep; the last thing you wanted was to accidentally wander into wolf territory. Even the memory of last night’s encounter sent a shiver through you, though you pushed it aside. The forest was peaceful enough, and it wasn’t long before the tension in your shoulders began to ease, your breathing slowing as you took in the fresh air.

But, as you ventured just a little further, a strange feeling crept over you—a prickling awareness, like you were being watched. You turned slowly, peering back the way you came, but saw nothing beyond the dim light filtering through the trees.

"Probably just my imagination," you murmured to yourself, hugging your arms against the chill that had suddenly settled over you. The forest felt heavier now, somehow… like a place holding its breath, waiting.

As you took a deep breath to steady yourself, a low, menacing growl echoed from behind the trees. You froze, your heart racing as you slowly turned to find a lone wolf stalking toward you, its fur matted and eyes gleaming with a wild, hostile glint. The wolf’s coat was streaked with dirt, and you could see small wounds marring its side and face—scratches and cuts that looked fresh, as if it had recently fought for its life.

You held your breath, hoping it might lose interest if you stayed still, but it took a step closer, teeth bared and eyes locked onto you with a predatory intensity. The wounded creature seemed to be caught between fight and flight, each shallow breath a reminder of its pain and anger.

Your mind raced, frantically searching for what little you knew about wild animals. Don’t run. Stay calm. Don’t look it directly in the eyes. But it was hard to keep your gaze from the wolf as it crept forward, snarling, its muscles tensing as if ready to lunge.

You raised your hands slowly, trying to look as non-threatening as possible, your voice barely a whisper. “Hey… it’s okay. I’m not here to hurt you.”

The wolf didn’t seem to care. Its eyes narrowed, lips curling back further as it let out another snarl, the sound raw and desperate. You took a tentative step back, your heart pounding, the weight of the forest closing in around you.

The lone wolf’s snarl grew fiercer as it sized you up, its gaze fixed and threatening. You took another cautious step back, your pulse racing with fear and adrenaline, when, out of nowhere, a massive shadow streaked through the trees. The large wolf from last night leaped between you and the lone wolf, teeth bared in a fierce snarl.

What followed was a brutal clash—snarls and growls tore through the forest as the two wolves fought. They snapped and lunged, claws and teeth colliding in a flurry of movement. The lone wolf yelped, wounded and humiliated, and staggered back, casting a resentful glance at you before limping off into the trees, bloodied and beaten.

In the sudden silence, the larger wolf turned toward you, breath heaving, blood and saliva dripping from its bared teeth and maw. Its eyes were wild, gleaming yellow and intense, locked onto you. You froze, swallowing hard as it took a single step closer.

But something within you stopped you from backing away this time. You took a steady breath, raising your hand slightly. “Hey, it’s okay,” you whispered, your voice soft but steady. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

The wolf’s intense gaze softened, its body visibly relaxing as it crept closer. It lowered its head, breathing heavily, and your pulse quickened as its warm breath washed over you, its massive frame towering above. Just when you thought you might be out of luck, it gave a strange, almost playful yip, leaning forward and swiping its tongue from your stomach up to your chin in a single, sticky lick.

You cringed, wiping your face. “Ew, oh my god.” The wolf leapt back, its eyes seeming almost… amused, as if it had understood your reaction. It started to bounce around in a way that almost looked like playfulness, pawing at the ground and glancing back up at you, the wildness in its gaze replaced by a warmth, an odd spark of familiarity. You stared, studying its eyes—they looked so human, so gentle.

You tilted your head as the big wolf came around, its presence both powerful and strangely comforting. It nudged your hand, its head pressing softly against your palm, and you hesitated before slowly reaching out, letting your fingers sink into its thick fur. The wolf let out a low rumble, leaning into your touch, its eyes closing as it nuzzled closer.

Then, with a quiet huff, the wolf rolled over, exposing its stomach. You couldn’t help but smile, realizing it wanted you to rub its belly like some kind of overgrown dog. As your fingers brushed through its fur, something caught your attention—a small scrap of fabric caught near its shoulder. You reached over, fingers tugging it free, only to stare in shock at the familiar material between your fingers.

It was a piece of Jake’s jacket.

You froze, your eyes darting from the scrap of fabric to the wolf’s face. The wolf’s gaze met yours, and you saw something there, a flicker of emotion that wasn’t just animal instinct.

“Jake?” you whispered, voice barely audible.

The wolf let out a soft, almost pitiful whine, its ears flattening as it looked down, its expression suddenly filled with shame. Your heart raced as the realization sunk in fully. This creature, this powerful wolf who had saved you—it was Jake.

You knelt beside him, reaching out slowly, your hand hovering before you let it rest gently on his head. “It really is you, isn’t it?” you murmured, the shock of it all making your voice tremble. The wolf closed his eyes, leaning into your hand, the shame melting away for a moment as he accepted your touch.

You stayed there, your hand resting on his head, letting the surreal reality sink in. Jake—the Jake who’d grown up beside you, who teased you endlessly and made you laugh, who’d been distant and guarded since his trip abroad—was here in front of you as a massive, powerful wolf. A whirlwind of emotions washed over you: shock, worry, relief, even an odd sense of awe. But above all, there was something oddly comforting in the way he leaned into your hand, his massive frame somehow still familiar despite his transformation.

The wolf let out another low whine, his eyes searching yours, as if trying to communicate what words could never convey. Gently, you moved your hand from his head, resting it against his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath thick fur. He was still Jake. Somewhere beneath the wild exterior was your best friend, the person you cared about deeply.

Without saying a word, you sank down beside him, and he curled around you protectively, his body a warm, solid presence in the cool forest.

After a while, Jake moved, his head nudging your hand again, almost in a comforting gesture. And then, with a soft huff, he pressed his nose to your cheek, his eyes softer than you’d ever seen them.

“Jake…” you whispered again, feeling a lump form in your throat. “You don’t have to hide this from me. I’m here. I’ll help you, no matter what.”

The wolf met your gaze, his eyes shining with an emotion so raw and vulnerable it made your heart ache. He stepped closer, his gaze steady and intent, before letting his head rest on your shoulder, leaning into you as if accepting that promise.

As you stayed there, holding onto the warmth and strength he offered, you understood: whatever had changed Jake, whatever he had gone through, it hadn’t taken away the person he was. And you’d be there with him, every step of the way.

𓃦

The quiet of the house felt almost fragile as you tiptoed your way to your room, Jake trailing closely behind. Sneaking a full-sized wolf inside wasn’t exactly easy, especially with a few close calls as you both bumped into things along the way. You held your breath every time something clattered, tensing and listening for any sounds of your family stirring. But, to your relief, the house remained silent.

Finally, you managed to usher Jake into your room, closing the door quietly and locking it for good measure. When you turned around, you found him standing by the window, his large frame silhouetted by the pale moonlight. His eyes were fixed on the full moon, an otherworldly shine glinting in them as he let out a low, almost trance-like whimper. His head tilted back, as if instinctively drawn to the sight, a soft howl rising in his throat.

You quickly slipped past him, tugging the curtains closed and pressing a finger to your lips. “Shhh,” you whispered, and Jake quieted, lowering his head, though his gaze remained on the closed curtains for a long moment as he reluctantly turned away.

“Stay here, okay? I’ll be right back,” you murmured, slipping into the bathroom to change. When you returned, you saw him sprawled out by your bed, his head and front paws resting on your mattress while his hind legs remained on the floor. He looked surprisingly at ease, a bit of his usual calm replacing the restless energy that had him fixated on the moon moments earlier.

You rolled your eyes and let out a small groan, clambering into bed beside him, his massive head just inches from yours. Even as a wolf, Jake managed to take up far more space than should’ve been possible.

As you lay there, his warm breath against your skin, you could feel your nerves beginning to settle. Slowly, you reached out, your hand moving to rest on his head, fingers tangling in the fur at his ears. His tail gave a slow, contented thump against the floor, a quiet thank-you in his own way.

When you drifted off, Jake stayed still, his eyes fixed on your peaceful form beside him. The soft rise and fall of your breath, the way your hand had relaxed against his fur, all held his gaze, grounding him in a way he hadn’t expected. Even with the strange pull of the moon, the wild energy simmering under his skin, being here beside you made him feel…normal. Like he could set aside the instincts and chaos, if only for a little while.

He watched the way a small smile played across your lips, almost as if even in sleep, you knew he was there. His head tilted slightly, and he let out a soft exhale, careful not to disturb you. In his wolf form, he couldn’t say what he felt, couldn’t explain the relief that flooded him at seeing you safe and sound after the danger in the woods.

His ears flicked toward the window, catching the distant sounds of the night, the rustle of branches, the faint whisper of the wind. Normally, his senses would pull him toward every little sound, every flicker of movement, but not tonight. Tonight, they all faded into the background as his gaze lingered on you, steady and unwavering.

Eventually, with a gentle rumble that sounded almost like a sigh, he lowered his head beside you, his eyes closing slowly, only allowing himself to rest once he was sure you were deeply asleep. Though he knew the morning would bring questions he wasn’t sure he could answer.

𓃦

You jolted awake, your eyes snapping open to the unexpected sensation of warm, familiar arms wrapped around you. The soft fabric of your sheets clung to your skin, but it was the figure beside you that made your heart race. Turning your head, you were met with the sight of Jake—human Jake—curled into your side, shirtless, his messy hair falling over his forehead. For a split second, your mind raced with confusion before realization hit.

“Jake!” you screamed, and before you could process the panic in your voice, he bolted upright, his eyes wide with shock. In his haste, he miscalculated his position and tumbled off the side of your bed, landing in an undignified heap on the floor with a loud thud. “Whoa!” he yelped, a look of sheer bewilderment on his face. You could barely contain your laughter at the sight—his expression, a mix of shock and embarrassment, made it all the more amusing.

“Oh my god, you should see your face!” you said, trying to catch your breath as you leaned over the side of the bed to see him sprawled out, looking both flustered and slightly embarrassed.

“Okay, okay! Not funny!” Jake huffed, shooting you a mock glare as he scrambled to his feet. The flush creeping across his cheeks only made you laugh harder.

As you got up and made your way to the bathroom, you heard him rummaging around in your closet. When you returned, he had managed to find some extra clothes—an oversized T-shirt that hung loosely on his frame and a pair of sweatpants that made him look even more comfortable. He glanced at you, a sheepish smile breaking through the earlier embarrassment. “Hope this is okay,” he said, his voice slightly shy.

“Looks good on you,” you replied, giving him a playful nudge as you both made your way downstairs.

To your relief, the house was quiet—your family members had left for the day. You went into the kitchen, and together, you began preparing breakfast. The morning sunlight streamed through the windows, casting a warm glow over everything as you and Jake worked side by side.

He cracked a few eggs into the pan while you sliced some fruit, and the comfortable silence between you both was laced with the occasional teasing remark about your culinary skills—or lack thereof.

After breakfast, you settled into the living room, the cozy couch inviting you both to sink into its cushions. Jake stretched out, leaning back with a relaxed sigh, while you curled up beside him, pulling a blanket over your legs.

“So,” you said, looking at him, “about last night…”

Jake turned his head toward you, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his features, but before he could respond, you continued, “I’m still trying to wrap my head around everything. You… you really are a wolf.”

He nodded, his expression serious now. “I know it sounds crazy, but there’s a lot more to it than just the transformation.”

You could sense the weight behind his words, the implications of what he was saying. It was clear that whatever had happened, he was still processing it himself. “You can tell me when you’re ready, Jake,” you said gently, offering him a reassuring smile. “I’m here for you.”

Jake took a deep breath, the weight of his confession hanging in the air. You could see the vulnerability in his eyes as he gathered his thoughts. “During my vacation,” he began, his voice steady yet tinged with the remnants of anxiety, “I went for a jog one night. I thought I saw a stray dog lurking in the shadows.” He paused, his expression darkening as if the memory was a physical burden.

“It wasn’t just any dog. It was a wolf,” he continued, shaking his head slightly as if trying to shake off the gravity of the moment. “I didn’t realize until it was too late. It lunged at me, and I felt this sharp pain. I didn’t think much of it at first; I just brushed it off. But then, I got really sick. I spent days locked in my hotel room, feeling like I was losing my mind.” He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands clasped together as he searched your eyes for understanding.

You remained silent, letting him speak, the pieces of the puzzle starting to fit together. “When the full moon came,” he went on, his voice dropping to a whisper, “that’s when everything changed. I transformed.” His eyes flicked to the floor, the weight of his words heavy. “When I woke up, I was in my hotel room, and I had no idea what had happened. I just knew I felt… different. My body was stronger, more aware, but I didn’t understand why. It was like I was… a stranger in my own body. I would feel a need to transform again, to run, to let out whatever this thing is inside me.”

“I called you because I needed to hear your voice,” he admitted, his eyes locking onto yours, filled with sincerity. “But when I got back, I realized something. The moment I saw you, all those instincts— the wild urges, the confusion— it all calmed down. Just being around you made it easier to breathe. But when you aren’t here, the need to transform is overwhelming. I don’t really remember much of what happens when I go under, just flashes of darkness. But when you’re with me… it’s like I come back to myself. I can control it.”

You swallowed hard, heart racing at the implications of his words.

He sat up a little straighter, “When I shouted at you… I didn’t mean it,” he began, sincerity in his voice. “I was confused. Everything I felt for you clashed with what was happening to me. This thing inside was overwhelming, and I was terrified. Terrified of losing control, of hurting you.” His voice trembled slightly, the raw honesty making your heart ache for him.

You opened your mouth to respond, shock flooding through you at his admission, but the words caught in your throat. Instead, you could only gaze at him, wide-eyed and taken aback. “Jake… I—”

He rushed on, misreading your shock as rejection. “I mean, it’s okay if you don’t feel the same way,” he stammered, panic rising in his voice. “You don’t have to like me back. I get it. I’m a mess right now, and it’s not fair to put that on you. I just—”

Before he could spiral further into his own uncertainty, you lunged forward, tackling him gently to the couch. Your lips found his in a swift, urgent kiss, silencing his rambling. The kiss was like a balm to both your hearts. Jake’s surprise quickly melted into warmth as he kissed you back, his hands finding their way to your waist, holding you close.

When you finally pulled back, breathless, you looked into his eyes, searching for something—assurance, maybe, or confirmation.

“Jake,” you breathed, your heart racing. “I love you too.”

His eyes widened in disbelief, a grin slowly breaking across his face. “You… you really mean it?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, as if he feared that saying it out loud might make it disappear.

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. “I’ve liked you for a long time, even before all this happened,” you admitted, feeling a wave of relief wash over you. “I was just too scared to say anything.”

“God, I thought I was going crazy,” he chuckled, the tension melting away as he pulled you in for another kiss. He held you close, as if you were the anchor he’d needed to find his way back to himself.

His hands rested firmly on your waist, grounding you in a way you hadn’t realized you desperately needed. You could feel the gentle roughness of his fingers, each touch sending a soft flutter through your heart.

You slipped your hands to his cheeks, your thumb brushing lightly over his skin, feeling the slight stubble that had begun to grow. It felt intimate and electric, as if every lingering doubt and worry from before melted away with each gentle caress.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and smiling, you both stayed close, your foreheads pressed together. Relief washed over you, like a wave sweeping away the remnants of confusion and fear. There were no more secrets, just the two of you, open and honest.

With a soft chuckle, you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into a warm embrace. Jake melted into the hug, his strong arms encircling you tightly. The moment felt right, like coming home after a long journey. You could feel his heartbeat steadying against yours, matching your own rhythm.

“I’m so glad we finally talked about this,” you murmured into his shoulder, inhaling the familiar scent of him that made you feel safe. “I was worried about how you felt.”

“Me too,” he confessed, his voice muffled against your hair. “I was scared I’d mess everything up. But now, it feels like… like I can breathe again.” He pulled back slightly, just enough to look into your eyes, his expression earnest. “You have no idea how much you mean to me.”

You smiled softly, your heart swelling at his words. “I do now,” you replied, warmth flooding through you.

As Jake pulled you in for another kiss, the world around you faded away once more, enveloping you in the warmth of his embrace. His lips moved against yours with a hunger that sent shivers down your spine, and you surrendered to the moment, feeling every worry slip away. Yet, beneath the sweet intimacy, you began to notice something different—deep, low rumbles emanating from his chest, vibrating against your body.

Curiosity tugged at you, and you tried to pull back slightly to gauge what was happening, to make sure he was okay. “Jake?” you murmured, but he didn’t let you go. Instead, he tightened his grip on your waist and pulled you back into the kiss, deepening it with an intensity that made your heart race.

But then you felt something sharp graze against your lip. You gasped and pulled back, eyes wide. His canines had elongated slightly, pressing against your skin. Your heart pounded as you looked at him, noticing how his form seemed to swell beneath you, muscles shifting and growing larger as he transformed.

“Jake!” you exclaimed, your voice filled with concern as you took in the sight before you. His hair had grown fluffier, tousled and wild, and his eyes glowed a striking yellow, reflecting the light with an otherworldly sheen, you could see the subtle signs of his transformation taking hold.

He looked at you, panting softly, his breaths coming in heavy, almost desperate gasps. You could feel the tension in his body, the way he fought to control the change happening within him. “Jake, you need to stop,” you urged, trying to maintain a calmness you didn’t entirely feel. “You’re—”

But before you could finish, he whined softly, his expression pleading as he pulled you back into a kiss, the warmth of his body overwhelming you. Despite the rush of emotions, you could sense the struggle in him—the way he wanted to hold onto you, to keep you close, even as the wolf inside threatened to take over.

Your heart raced, and panic bubbled within you. “Jake, please!” you gasped against his lips, desperately trying to catch your breath. “I don’t want to lose you to this.”

He paused, his eyes searching yours, filled with a mix of longing and confusion. For a moment, it felt as if the connection between you was all that tethered him to his human side. “You won’t lose me,” he promised, his voice barely a whisper, yet it carried a conviction that soothed the fear clawing at your chest.

You swallowed hard, your gaze steady on his. “We can face this together. Just… don’t let it take control, okay?”

Jake nodded, his gaze softening as he leaned in closer, the distance between you two disappearing. The rumble in his chest quieted, and you could see the flicker of the boy you loved shining through the fierce exterior. “I won’t,” he assured, his voice warm and earnest.

As you watched Jake begin to transform, every instinct in you urged you to step back, but you couldn’t tear your gaze away. His body, once solid beneath you, started to shift, muscles rippling under his skin as if they were being pulled by an unseen force. It was both mesmerizing and terrifying.

His back arched slightly, and you could see his spine subtly elongating, each vertebra shifting as his form adjusted to accommodate the changes. The sound of his bones cracking and reforming echoed in your ears, primal and raw, but you didn’t flinch. Instead, you felt a strange sense of awe at the beauty of it all—the way he seemed to be caught between two worlds, the boy you loved and the creature he was destined to become.

His hair thickened, the strands transforming into a soft, plush fur that shimmered in the dim light of your room. You reached out instinctively, fingers brushing against the silky fur, and Jake leaned into your touch, as if it anchored him to his humanity.

His face began to elongate, the jawline widening and reshaping into a more pronounced muzzle. His nose transformed, darkening and broadening, taking on a canine shape. You watched in fascination as his lips curled back, revealing those sharp canines that had grazed your lips moments before.

With each passing second, Jake grew larger, the muscles in his arms and legs expanding, powerful and sinewy. The way he filled out beneath you was a reminder of the strength he possessed. His fingers transformed into powerful paws, claws extending and retracting with a grace that seemed both dangerous and beautiful.

Finally, with a deep, rumbling growl, he shifted onto all fours, the final stage of his transformation complete. His body was now a magnificent wolf, towering and powerful, with a coat that glistened like the night sky. You could hardly believe this majestic creature had once been your best friend, the boy who had made you laugh and smile, who had always been by your side.

As he crouched before you, the wolf’s eyes softened, the wildness within them momentarily quelled by the bond you shared. You reached out again, fingers brushing along his fur, feeling the warmth radiate from his body. The wolf leaned into your touch, letting out a low, deep rumble.

“I love you, Jake,” you said softly, the words spilling out as easily as your breath.

Jake responded with a low whine, his eyes shimmering as he nuzzled closer to you. He licked your hand gently, the roughness of his tongue sending a thrill through you. It was a simple gesture, but it was clear that he understood you.

This was not how you had imagined your life would unfold at all, but it felt undeniably right.

[terapsina]

The Wheel of Time character types:

The Dumb Puppy - aka - Serial Imprinter - aka - Won't Get A Single Break From Now Until the Final Heat Death of the Universe... Or After.

Tiny and Angry - aka - The Sleeping Berserk Button - aka - The One They're Not Gonna See Coming Until She Rips Out All Their Throats.

'If my middle name wasn't Spite it would be Fuck You' - aka - The Duck Mother to the Very Dumb Baby Ducks - aka - Will Spend at Least an Episode a Season Inside a Tragic Romance B-Plot - aka - Had The Braincell, Temper Made Her Lose It (she contains multitudes).

The Violent Sunshine Character - aka - Would Sucker Punch a God for a Homie She Met Two Hours Ago.

If Evil, Why Hot?

The word 'Nap' isn't in her vocabulary but it should be - aka - Can't Have 'One Nice Thing' for More Than Two and a Half Minutes - aka - Allergic to Feelings.

'There's a big sign that says Don't Touch The Red Button... I'm gonna touch the Red Button.' - aka - Who is This... Self Esteem You Speak Of? Never Heard of Them.

Voted Most Likely to be Adopted by a Hundred Random Strangers - aka - The Wolves Would Like Him to Get the Braincell but it Fell on the Ground and the Ground is Lava.

Doesn't Get Paid Enough for this Shit - aka - Clinging to the Last Braincell With the Tips of His Fingernails - aka - 'I can't believe I of all people am willing to have a single goddamn conversation here.'

'Fine I'll Do the Babysitting But You Owe Me So Much Booze' - aka - The Aunt That Once Forgot You In the Mall - aka - The Aunt That Gave You All the Safe Sex Tips and Traumatized You For Life - aka - The Aunt That Would Absolutely Bury a Body No Questions Asked.

[invinciblerodent]

These days I kind of can't stop thinking about how much I enjoyed the possibility of being from Orzammar in Origins, specifically because just being who you are put so much of the early game in a wholly different context.

Like, a dwarf from Orzammar has, by definition, lived literally under a rock their whole lives!! They've never left the underground, and yes, while that also makes their ignorance of surface squabbles (the mage issue, the Ferelden/Orlais conflict, everything with the city elves and the Dalish, etc.) make a lot of sense, it also comes with so many interesting new angles that I'm honestly so surprised still that I've never really seen it mentioned very often, if at all. (Even though we even get an explicit moment to reflect on it, when leaving with Oghren.)

In Origins, the moment a dwarf first steps out through the gates of Orzammar and begins the game, is a profoundly life-altering experience. Dare I say, even more so than it is for an elf or a human. Because stepping out, for the first time, they are entering an entirely new world, and for the first time, in front of them is a vast expanse of nothing but air.

The end of the prologue, it's not just a fundamental personal change that awaits you, it's also a displacement so complete, that it's absolutely dizzying to even think about.

That first time a dwarf feels the sun on their skin, they are made sun-touched, a surfacer: stripped not only from caste and kin, of identity, but also faith and memory, any favor their ancestors may have still held for them, and any possibility of ever returning, as far as they know. (Aeducan may even have a bitter little chuckle over the irony of how they could very well have just one day before shrugged off the concerns of their surface brethren completely, only to be made one of them now.)

Their whole lives, they had always been able to see the opposite wall of the cave, or at least to know for sure that it's there, along with the miles and miles of unchanging, crystal-littered rock stretching protectively over their heads-- now all of that is gone. There's nothing between them, and the infinite and ever-changing blue, grey, orange, black of the open sky they've never seen, and in the distance, there's no wall-- just glorious, humongous mounds and spires of rock jutting up into the belly of the sky, the likes of which they've only ever seen from the inside.

Orzammar, despite no sunlight ever penetrating that far, is always lit bright, and it's heated by the lava streams and pools below. A dwarf has never known anything colder or warmer, brighter or darker, never seen seasons change... the biting winds and the frequent rains in Ferelden are completely new to them, not to mention the terrifying cracks of thunder that sound like the very Stone over them cracking in two, the bright flashes of lightning illuminating the night for but a moment, or waking in the middle of the night to what sounds like countless fingers pat-pat-patting the tarp of their tent, or the fact that animals -which are varied and plentiful and wholly alien- sometimes just randomly fall into the sky, like the rumors say! They might know academically that with birds, that just sort of tends to happen, but they've never seen one take off!!

Hell, all of surface flora and fauna are completely new to them-- it's likely they've only ever seen a tree or a dog in a picture book. Flowers, they've likely only ever seen as an expensive and frivolous luxury few can afford to have for a while, and even then, they are by necessity brought in removed from their roots, dead, wilting, taken from their natural place... while here, blooms just spring up underfoot willy-nilly, not entirely unlike mushrooms at the home which is not theirs anymore.

And... there must be something organic, something comfortingly animal to the scent of hundreds of warm bodies crammed into a sealed hole in the ground-- which is just gone now. The air is fresh, clean... empty, cold, lonely. No smell of spilled ale, piss, and vomit, no thick scent of the combined breaths and bodies of all their people... no scent of belonging, the air that moves their lungs now is no longer that which has moved those of all they've ever known, and every breath washes more, and more, and more of who they once were from inside their very body.

Being on the surface, it's like being thrust into an alien world, with which all just expects you to be intimately familiar. What do you mean the grass, the bugs, the birds, the leaves are strange? What do you mean you've never eaten leaves from this plant, fruit from this tree, the flesh of this creature you've only ever heard about? They laugh when you avert your eyes from the sky and try not to think about falling into it, or when you startle at the feeling of falling water suddenly hitting your skin, as if that was somehow funny, charming.

The night, which you've never before seen fall, is a comfort from all that endless, boundless seeing- but after the Joining, not even that is a relief.

Because if you're a dwarven Warden, all the dreams you've had in your life have been nightmares.

So you cope. You learn, and adapt, and endure.

Strong and immutable, like the Stone from which you were rent.

[ginnysgraffiti]

blood, violence, cannibalism, stalking.

&. LEE x yn.

"LEE, WE ALREADY TALKED ABOUT THIS!" you yelled at the top of your lungs, pissed off as blood dripped from his mouth and his hand shook from anger on the steering wheel.

"I KNOW, BUT I WAS HUNGRY! NO ONE WILL NOTICE, WHY ARE YOU WORRYING SO MUCH ALL OF A SUDDEN?!"

"HE HAD A FAMILY! HIS HOUSE IS OVER THERE, HIS FAMILY WILL SEE THE CAR SOON!"

"I ALREADY TOLD YOU I CLEANED IT!"

"THAT'S NOT THE POINT-"

you couldn't stand him anymore.

you weren't an eater but his needs and urges were now everyday things for you, and you were sick of fearing that you'd end up behind bars every single time.

lee's bloody hand was still maneuvering the steering wheel when you opened the door and jumped out. you were in the middle of the countryside, but the streetlights still allowed you a view.

"hey- what are you-" he complained.

"leave, go away and leave me here, i'm tired of you!"

lee's eyes pierced your skin like cold needles, and for a moment you thought he was going to jump on you or run you over.

finally he left you there, and you heard the engine go wild as he drove away in the stolen pickup.

now there was only you and nature, if things were bad you would have asked for a ride to your house.

you walked under the dim light and the buzz of the street lamps, there were two or three houses lit up even though it was late in the evening. you didn't bother knocking, you wanted to stretch your legs for a bit.

you could still smell the acrid smell of lee's vehicle in your nostrils when you noticed that a still figure had been contemplating you for quite some time while your mind was elsewhere.

you approached carefully, but you stopped when you noticed some wrinkles illuminated by the street lamp.

you got a little closer, albeit at a safe distance, and recognized the strange man who had been chasing you around supermarkets or inhabited neighborhoods for weeks.

it was creepy, really, but you didn't tell lee.

you didn't want him to worry about something so small.

but maybe, just maybe, it was better if you did.

now you were the one staring at him, and you stared at his strange gray braid falling over his shoulders and his strange scout or fisherman uniform.

"long time no see, mademoiselle."

a smile moved his wrinkles, and you held back a retch.

"who are you...? why have you been following me?"

"haha, you're smart. it's that old sully just wanted to make friends. he feels so alone..."

why does he talk about himself as another person?

that guy needed to be taken to the mental hospital.

"i can give you a lift, you know. i saw that you and your lovebird argued, what a shame..."

"how long have you been stalking me?"

"no, don't treat old sully badly. i'm just protecting you, that's all."

now there were two options: run away...or run away.

you took a step back and felt the gravel slide against your sole, the old man raised a thick eyebrow and in an instant he was on you.

the view was foggy and the world spun around you like a top when your feet left the ground. the next moment he slammed the back of your head against the wall and the dull thud echoed in your head.

he had already restrained your wrists, and if you kicked or screamed it would be worse. he took his time to smell and imprint your scent into his nostrils, you closed your eyes until it hurt.

you understood.

you could already feel his sharp canines imprinting on the cool flesh of your neck and it made you sweat terribly.

a strong smell of mold and musk trapped you whole.

you tightened your fingers around the fabric of his uniform until you could see your hands shaking, but suddenly his teeth moved away and fell with him.

"DIE, BASTARD!!!"

lee was behind him with an iron pipe, the old man was reduced to a puddle of blood in front of your feet. you avoided touching it as if it was lava.

your boyfriend was still as dirty as before, shirtless and looking like a butcher, but now he was scratching his head with a strong itch and you held back a laugh.

"am i too late? did he hurt you?"

his eyes traveled over you frantically, as if to see if you were still in one piece.

"don't worry...i'm o-"

"i'm so fucking sorry about our argument...i should have listened and been more careful, sorry, i-..." his voice caught in his throat.

"shhh...i'm glad you're here."

your lips rested on his, you could feel the blood from his previous hunt running down your throat with a strong iron taste.

he didn't notice and pushed you against the wall, seeking your lips as his lifeline.

his fingers were quickly stroking your hair, now your shoulders and following your hips.

"i love you, i love you, i love you..."

the words slipped out of his mouth like his most precious mantra. you were so glad he had saved you...

luckily, his cannibal sixth sense never failed.

[mikimakiboo]

Time Travelers AU - The Box™

The idea of the TV comes from @ancha-aus and it was too funny to be left in a reblog, so I had to write it :D

First

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ALSO because I forgot to say it in the first drabble- Nightmare doesn't have his tentacles summoned because it's a waste of space and it makes his back hurt so he only summons them in very rare occasions

Dust woke up with the sound of metal kitchenware falling on the ground. He sighed.

- Please be a cat...

He pushed the covers aside, grabbed his jacket, put on his sweatpants, and walked to his bedroom door, stopping right before grabbing the handle. What if he went back to bed ? He heard metal clanking.

- Oh for God's sake.

He opened his door and was met with Cross holding Killer by his arm, the roman was sitting on the ground and holding a fork in his hand, the other kitchenware laying on the ground with the drawer they were previously in being opened. Dust stared at the two, and they both stared at him. It was nine am. Dust didn't want to deal with that at nine am. He turned to Nightmare to ask him if he could tell Killer to stop looking through his stuff but he stopped himself when he saw that the noble was still sleeping. Strange, he thought that nobles woke up early ? He was almost ready to see him judging him for sleeping in to be honest, but it seemed that instead he was the last one still asleep as Dust could see Horror looking at them from outside. Right, he should probably go open the door for him, not sure the viking knew how to open a sliding door.

He let Horror in and closed behind him, he saw Cross letting go of Killer who quickly assembled all the kitchenware to put them back in the drawer, because looking was a thing but making a mess was another, and Dust was his host, it wouldn't please the gods if he made a mess in his host's house. Dust was really wondering how Nightmare managed to sleep with all that noise.

- So, uh... ya'll slept well ?

As expected, none of them understood. Dust went to grab his phone that had finished charging overnight and went back on Google Translate, using the vocal command for French and Latin and letting Horror read the Old Norse as there wasn't any vocal sample for that. They all nodded.

- Good. Well.. I'll just make myself some coffee, and uh.. and we'll see from there, I need coffee first.

He declared as he went to the kitchen.

- Move.

He said to Killer, pointing at the livingroom. The roman looked at him for a minute before understanding and going back to his corner in which he apparently installed the lava lamp to make it more cozy. Dust sighed and turned the coffee machine on while he opened the cabinet above the sink, but before he could climb on the counter Horror grabbed a cup, by simply lifting his arm, and handed it to him. He didn't notice him following him.

- Oh, uh.. thanks ?

He said, quite confused, but took the cup to pour the coffee in it. Did Horror do that because he felt bad about last night ? He had made thumbs ups, he thought he would have understood it meant no hard feelings... well, at least he didn't have to climb his counter this time.

He looked through his cabinets as he sipped on his coffee, he was low on food, it was enough for him but he had five mouths to feed now, and what he had clearly wouldn't suffice. He'll need to go grocery shopping, which meant either take them with him or leave them alone in his apartment, and he didn't like neither options. He couldn't take them with him though, because monitoring them here was a thing, they couldn't go too far, didn't have much to do, didn't have to worry about people, but monitoring them outside ? In the middle of a crowded store ? When no-one spoke their language and they surely didn't even know what a store was ? Dust would die from stress before he could grab a cart. Plus he didn't have any clothes to lend them, the only ones being roughly his size being Killer and Nightmare, but he doubted Nightmare would agree to take off his fancy clothes and Killer didn't seem to know what pants were and Dust really didn't want to dress him up. He also didn't have the money to buy them all a new set of clothes, so he'll have to leave them here. Maybe he could put on a movie for them to watch ? That would keep them untertained.

He put his empty cup in the sink and went back to the living room to look through the drawers under the TV, searching for long movie so he would have time to shop in peace. He had a five hour long movie about the French Revolution but he doubted it would have been a good thing to show Nightmare, he didn't want to give him, well, nightmares, so he eventually settled on The Lord Of The Rings, which was three hours long, with the shop being fifteen minutes away, that left Dust with two hours and a half to shop, which was more than enough.

He got up to put the DVD box on the table and noticed that Nightmare had woken up and sat up straight. Saying that he looked disoriented would have been an understatement, his mind was clearly foggy. Dust checked the time, it was almost ten, Nightmare must have been exhausted to sleep that late. He went on Google again, just in time for Nightmare to speak, still sounding quite sleepy.

- Pourquoi ne pas m'avoir réveillé... ?

He asked. "Why didn't you wake me up ?" The translation said.

- Why would we ? You were tired, so you slept, 's as simple as that.

He answered, using the vocal command so Nightmare could hear it in French. He looked up at him confused, like he didn't understand that sleeping was made to rest when tired and not just to pass the night. That made Dust wonder at what time he usually woke up ? Surely around seven am, when the sun rises. Did they have alarm clocks at that time ? Or did his servants, because he surely had some, wake him up every morning ? Did he ever sleep enough by the way ? Maybe that would explain why he slept in and why he got so confused on why they didn't wake him up. Well, good for him, Dust thought, at least he got to rest.

Dust looked at the time again. If he went to the store now he would come back near one pm, so he would have time to cook and they could eat between one and two pm, which wouldn't be too late, and he would have the afternoon to make more researches.

- Okay everyone here !

He called, gesturing for the four to come closer or simply listen to him.

- I'm going to grab some food, so you will stay here and watch a movie on the TV while I'm gone, do not make a mess and do not fight.

He first translated in into French, then into Old Norse, which had some words missing because they didn't exist in that language, such as TV and movie, but Horror still understood that Dust would be out, probably hunting, and they had to stay here and be calm. Dust looked at Nightmare, waiting for him to translate for Killer, Cross having understood the general idea already. Nightmare rubbed his eye and focused for a bit before coming up with a translation, not knowing either what a movie was, but he figured the "TV" was this big flat black mirror behind Dust.

- Emit cibum et rogat nos ut hanc nigram cistam videamus dum abest.

Dust wanted to steal his knowledge, just open his head and take it, how was he so fluent in a language that had been dead for centuries ?!

He decided to leave it for now, having more important things to do, and just put the cd in the player before turning the movie on and going to put on his shoes to go outside. Cross looked at him for a few seconds before letting him get out of the apartment.

Dust sighed when outside, finally being alone. He grabbed his headphones and put on some music on his was to the store. French songs. To try and learn some words. Maybe choosing L'Assasymphonie as a starter song wasn't his best idea as it had quite a lot of complicated words, but the song slapped, so he kept it anyway.

It was the first time in his life that Dust had been happy to go grocery shopping, and also the first time it took more than two hours, he really wanted to appreciate some time away from everything, but he had to come back now, the movie was almost done and he didn't want them to make a mess the second they would be left without a distraction.

He opened the door with one hand, the bags in the other, and was surprised to see that Cross wasn't standing guard anymore. Well, surely he had joined the others to watch the TV. Dust came in, and just had the time to close the door before Killer litteraly jumped at his feet to hold onto his waist.

- Wh- ?!

- Quaeso ne nos in arca pone ! Bene erimus ! Promitto !

He begged as if his life depended on it. Okay what happened ? Dust looked up, inspecting his appartment, but everything was in order, the credits were rolling on the TV, Nightmare was on the couch, Cross was standing next to it, Horror was standing near the bay window, and, oh... they all looked at him frightened. Did he put a horror movie by accident ? He was pretty sure he grabbed the right box but the cds could have been mixed up. He recognized the names of the characters on the credits though, so he did put the right movie. But why did they look so scared then ?

- Killer, let go.

He pushed him, but Killer tightened his grip around him. He sighed, picking up his phone again to ask Nightmare what happened.

Nightmare flinched when Dust "talked" to him. Weird. He looked at him for a while before answering, seeming unsure.

- Allez-vous nous emprisonner dans cette boîte également... ?

Dust looked at the translation with incomprehension: was he going to lock them in the box too ? What box ? Why would he lock them in a box ? He looked up at them again, then at the TV.

Oh.

Oh fuck.

Of course they didn't know what a film was, of course they would think it was real people, hell even he thought that when he was a kid, before he learnt about special effects and cgi, he thought it was all real, that people were really dying, so of course these four would think that real people were trapped in there, the only thing they knew was theater ! What Dust just did was basically show them his collection of enslaved people in boxes who he forced to perform elaborated scenarios where they would get hurt and possibly die. That couldn't be more terrifying and if he had been in their place he would have felt very threatened.

He quickly typed an explanation and translated it in all three languages, praying that the translation would be correct, to tell them it wasn't real, that these people were actors and these were simply the images of what they played, that they weren't trapped here and they weren't really getting hurt. He saw them relax a little, but they still seemed quite chocked, which was understandable.

- I'm, uh... going to make food then.. ?

Dust said awkwardly as he managed to make Killer let go of him, but the roman still followed him in the kitchen to sit by his feet. He didn't chase him, thinking that chasing him now would just make him think that Dust would lock him in the TV, or the box as they seemed to call it, so he just prepared dinner with the skeleton waiting on the floor. He heard Cross go back to the door.

- You can take a break you know.

Cross looked at him.

- You know, break, how do you say... pause ? Arrêter ? You can stop ?

He tried to translate from memory. Cross frown.

- Eo ne poez mie. Eo doi monter la warde.

- Yeah you already said that, but that's okay, you did a very good job, uhhh.. un bon travail.. ? So you can.. you can pause ? You can stop, bon travail, take une pause.

He managed to blurt out in a broken French with a smile, so hopefully Cross would understand. The knight looked at him before quickly turning away. Dust could have sworn he saw a faint purple blush on his cheeks. He wanted to ask him but the timer went off at that moment. Food was ready.

Horror helped him set the table, putting spoons for himself, Killer and Cross, and forks for Nightmare and Dust.

Cross avoided Dust's gaze during all of dinner while Nightmare kept eying Horror who was sitting next to him, surely to make sure he wouldn't touch him, Dust thought, as the noble seemed quite cautious of the viking, even though for now Horror was clearly not the dangerous type. Whatever, as long as they didn't fight, Dust wasn't going to force them to become friends.

He had a good feeling about Horror though, he was helpful and didn't look at him weird when he came up with broken translations. He kinda liked him. If they ended up being stuck here for a while he wouldn't mind him as a roommate.

He still hoped they would be gone soon though. He really didn't have enough money for all of them.

His bank account was almost empty already, and it wasn't even past the first half of the month.

He'll need to save money. Like, really save money.

[aphroditesmoon]

lacrymosa [part 2]

clarisse la rue x fem!hecatecabin!reader [boarding school au]

PART 1

summary: you were sent to a prestigious boarding school to be rid from your father as a burden, but when strange things begins to happen upon your arrival, you wonder what truly lies behind the school walls. And as you attract attention from an infamous student, your plans to lie low is disrupted for the semester.

warnings: nightmares, a lil argument, enemies to lovers in a way.

a/n: under a special request, Olivia's name has been CHANGED to Tella, i hopenyou guys don't find the change too weird! And thank you for the love for this series so far, I hope u all can be patient with me writing every part in my own time🩷

wc: 6k

taglist: @bbybubbles @asvterias @kyuupidwrites @lyzsaphrodite @priyajoyy @yourmom-25s-blog

Something was not right. The thunderstorm outside felt unreal, the lightning struck again, and you only saw white slashing in front of you through the glass. 

“Get away from the window, sweetheart.” A female voice you’ve never heard of, advised you. You turn around at the same time you felt her hand grip your shoulder. 

“Mama?” You’ve seen her before. Of course you had. In pictures, and albums. But you’ve never heard her speak. She pulls you back onto the velvet chair that sat in the middle of the living room. Everything was unrecognizable. She and the place both was. 

“What did I tell you about standing too close to the window? It’s already cool enough here- Oh, see? Your fingers are freezing.” True to her words, your fingers were pruning up. 

Your mother’s hands loosened from your arm as she walked back into the kitchen. “I’m making some hot cocoa, do you want some?” 

You didn’t respond, too busy examining your surroundings. The structure of the building gave you a sense of deja vu. And the view outside, even through the rain and storms, brought out a sinking feeling in your chest. 

You walked back towards the window and saw a glimpse of yourself and flinched back. You’re a child. 

It registered to you then that it was all a dream. And more fear erupted from your chest. Were you supposed to be this aware in dreams? It’s never happened before. And yet as you eye the pavement outside being splashed with water whilst your mother called for you from the kitchen, you knew it couldn’t be real. 

This is a dream. This is a dream. This is a dream. 

You pinched yourself, and still found yourself unmoving. 

There is a statue outside on the grounds. A tall white something, you can't tell. But even in the fog and drizzle, it stands magnificent in all it's glory.

The third time your mother called for you, you turned towards her. 

Her face glitches as she nears you with a mug in hand. A colorless mug, changing colors the same way her face changes too. You took a step back, frightened. But as your mother cocks her head to the side in question, your feet halts in its place.

“What did I tell you about the window, darling?” 

“Mama?” you asked again, against your own resistance.  Your mother smiled and moved closer. She wore a necklace with a circular shaped object that laid on her chest. It had rubies on it’s edge, and a triangle cut out in the middle, like a button you could push. It stood out like your mothers dark black eyes that bore no reflection. 

“What did I tell you about standing too close to the window, sweetheart?” She asked again, stoically despite her toothy smile.

She glitched again, and for a moment, you thought her face had cracks all over it, filled with red burning glow that looked like lava. 

Your hand itched to touch her, to pull her by her collar and scream, you are not my mother. To hug her, to cry in her chest and ask her why she left you. 

But instead, you just stood there and hear her calling out for your name again.

The last call clashed with the sound of a thunder, and you felt yourself jump as your shooked out of your nightmare.

The earth below you felt like it had broken into two.

It was raining. It was actually fucking raining.

And for some reason, you looked up to the sky and felt rain water pouring down your whole entire body as lightning struck again from the clouds.

You were standing outside your school building at god knows what hour, in the rain.

“What the hell are you doing?” A thunderous voice shouted from behind you.

You twist your neck to look back, and found the last person you wanted to see in this kind of situation. “Clarisse.” You breathed out with tired eyes. 

She stands under the roof of the dorm building, far from you, but close enough to be able to hear her yelling.

Clarisse sprinted towards you from your left with an umbrella that wasn't really standing a chance with the heaviness of the wind and water. Immediately,  she pulled you under the pathetic excuse of a shelter and stared at you in disbelief, open mouthed and weirded out.

“Are you insane?” She bellowed out, somehow loud enough to hear.  “I- I don't know what happened.” You shouted back.

“What do you mean?” She was beginning to pull you by your arm towards your dorm building, the two of you skipping quickly until you're finally in safety. 

“I just woke up and I'm here.” Clarise took the umbrella and harshly flapped it to her side and tried wringing the water out from it. “You sleepwalked?” She asks as she's squeezing the umbrella.

“Yeah.” She then placed the umbrella against the walls of the ground floor, along with the other umbrellas placed there for emergency before taking you by the hand again towards the elevator. 

“This has got to be the craziest case of sleepwalking, you could've had hypothermia.” She says it like it's your fault. You almost snapped back at her to say that she shouldn't be awake at this time too, but had the sense to keep your mouth shut. “It's never happened before.” You say instead.

“What never happened? Sleepwalking, or sleepwalking out of a building?” 

“Both.” She nodded with an ‘ah’. 

The elevator dings open, and her hand slips away from yours as she enters it before you.

“What were you doing awake anyways?” You finally ask her.

“I went down to use the water dispenser to fill up my bottle, then I saw a crazy girl in short shorts in the middle of a storm.”

Your cheeks heated up when you remembered that you were still in a tank top and shorts. A city girl's definition of pajamas.

“Thanks.” You muttered awkwardly, she acknowledges it with another nod.

Once the elevator stops at her level, she exits it and stops in her tracks when she realizes you weren't following her. “Come on.”

“I'm on level 20.” You say dumbly.

“I know, I've seen your dorm. You should come change at my place, unless you want to have to explain to your roommates why you're soaked at 3am.” You considered her proposal quickly and steps out before the doors could close.

“What about your roommates?” You asks.

“Don't have any.” She responds, clicking her tongue. 

“Seriously?” She hums positively. “Legacy students have solo rooms.” 

The walk towards her room was silent. You let your eyes wander through the red coloured halls and the decorations hung on them. She was an Ares girl, that one is obvious. 

There are shields and trophies inside glass boxes along the way to the corridor, and you could assume that the Ares dorm kids are known for their competitiveness, alongside their ferocity. 

Once you reach the end of a corridor, she unlocks the singular door that exists in this corner of the level and shoos you inside, following you right after.

Her room was unexpectedly neat, not that you let yourself really look around. 

But it was difficult not to notice the air conditioner along with her much-larger-than-yours closet. 

She passes you a new and folded towel for you to dry your hair and body while she searches for something to wear. 

“Do you want to take a shower first?” She asks whilst rummaging through her closet. “No, it's fine.” It would be too suspicious if you skipped a shower a few hours after your friends woke up.

“Suit yourself.” She answers before handing over to you a thick Princeton sweater with long sleevss and cuffs with a pair of long cotton trousers.

Clarisse had the decency to turn around as you changed and only turned back around once you were done. “Just give me the towel.” She says. “It's laundry day tomorrow anyways.”

You stand near her bedside table after that, eyeing the small picture frame that sat there in solidarity. There was a picture of her, much younger than she is now, and an older woman with her hands around her shoulder.

“Is that your mom?” You asked. Clarisse walked over and shoved the frame down on the table, a CLACK noise following the action. “Someone's chatty.” She noted. But you thought you heard a slight tremble.

“Right, sorry. I should go now.” You feel whatever friendliness that managed to slip through the cracks ofnyour interaction with her, begin to dissolve. 

It was easy to be reminded of who Clarisse La Rue actually was.

“What's the rush, I'm sure the rain water have woken you up quite well.” She replies, sitting down on her bed. “Look, I appreciate the help. But if my roommates wake up and they see that I'm gone, they-” 

“They'll think you're using the bathroom.” She cuts you off. “For 20 minutes?” Clarisse shrugs. “Some people have issues.”

You sighed at her answer and felt your feet beginning to hurt from standing up for too long without shoes outside the school. You're tired and easily irritated after what just happened, and her push and pull behavior isn't helping.

“I don't know why you want me to stay, I'm tired, you're tired. And it's almost 4am.” You throw your arms up in exasperation. “I just wanna go back to sleep and act like this never happened.”

“You know, I'm just trying to make sure you're alright. Because despite your objection, that did happen. And that's not normal. So a thank you would suffice.” Her demeanor had changed into frustration, she was not someone who takes rejection well.

“I already thanked you. And I don't need a free counseling session from a bully- who by the way, ripped a drawing out of my sketchbook.” Clarisse's head jerked back at your words. She stood up to properly face you before you could run out of her room.

“Oh that's it, isn't it? I'm such a terrible person and your moral righteousness can't stand it, and yet you dedicated a whole page to my face.” You could no longer tell what she was feeling from her tone of voice. Was she amused or defensive?

“That book isn't yours to see, let alone to take.” You snapped back. 

“It has my face on it, of course it's mine to take.” she scoffed, folding her arms together.

“Oh wow, I wonder what else you assume is yours to take with that kind of pretentiousness.” You retorted, laughing dryly at her face. 

The smugness disappeared, and for a second, you felt proud.

“You know, for someone I can easily make life living hell for, you're starting to get way too daring. It's not cute anymore.” Clarisse's feet stepped closer to you, until your noses were inches away from each other. 

There is fear in crossing the point where you can never go back when it comes to her anger. But you have never been the kind of girl to lay back and take a kick from anyone else.

You're also not the type of girl to think that you owe anyone anything for some common decency.

“I’m so genuinely curious Clarisse, who do you think you are? You're just another girl in this place, like the rest of us. Legacy student or not.” 

An unhumourous smile paints her face as she shakes her head at you. “You have no idea who I am. And at this point, I'm starting to think that I should've just left you in the rain to freeze and die.” 

“I would've woken up and left anyway, even if you weren't there.” As upset as you are with her, that part specifically caused you guilt to say aloud. She was obnoxious, but she did help you. 

“Oh sure, miss tortured artist galloping in the thunderstorm-” 

“I wasn't gallop- you know what?” It felt like the 100th time you were telling her off. “I'm actually leaving this time. So, thank you, for helping me, and thank you for your narcissism.” 

You gripped the door handle tightly and spared her no glance as you pull it open and walked out away from her. You wanted to slam the door on her face but thought twice when you remembered that it's 4am and someone could've heard you.

You tiptoed your way back into the elevator and up to level 20. The dorm room was unlocked, unsurprisingly so.

The dark room's only source of light is the bright moon glowing numbly through the closed curtains behind Harper's bed. The rain have subsided, all the nightmarish lighting qnd thunder have stopped.

You gently climbed up onto your bed, eager to get under the covers. You could see the shadows of your friends from where you lay. Their silhouette giving you a peace of mind. 

If either of them had heard of what just happened to you, they would panic. It's been 2 days, and yet they care for you so easily.

You rub your feet together, trying to diffuse the coldness away.

Tonight, whatever that had happened, felt unreal. But tomorrow all will be well. It had to be. 

-

You had not slept a wink for the rest of the hours before your alarm went off.

There were times where you almost dozed off, but for some reason it felt like your tired body was unable to fully shut down and let go of the main control.

You know that sleepiness was evident in your face, but your roommates said nothing of it as they rose up, preparing to rush for the bathroom before the other girls could.

"Did you change clothes last night?" Harper asks absentmindedly. She pulls her hair up into a bun and grabbed her towel from the spinning chair by her table. 

You looked down at the sweatshirt and back up at her. "Oh-uh, yeah. I got cold last night, with the rain and all." 

"I figured. I just know the chill out there is gonna be crazy today." The both of them left after that for their shower and secured you a booth to get in to after they were done. Thankfully, there was a bit of hot water left for you to indulge in.

It was exactly what you needed after the horrifics you've experienced through a few hours before.

You had spent the hours before getting up, going over the dream you had. It was rare for you to remember your nightmares, let alone be aware that you were dreaming while you're doing it.

You could also remember small details like the glass window with the giant statue, your mother's necklace and the way her face appeared and disappeared. You've never been a superstitious person, but was there a possibility that dreams like that meant something? Or was it just another lucid dream?

You'd thought that you'd feel comforted, seeing your mother that way, and the way she fussed over you. But all you felt was a strong distinction. An awareness that she was not real, and that she'd never be.

There were 2 other girls in the bathroom with you when you were done showering. One was using the sink on your left, and another was still cleaning themselves up.

You forced the freezing water all over your face, trying to refresh yourself and hopefully make your face look less beated. Looking into the mirror felt like a challenge. The dream still haunts you even now. You almost expect a child to stare back from the glass. And god, how you feel like a child right now, out of place and confused.

After a few more splashes, you wiped the droplets off with your towel and clenched your toes as you walked back to your dorm.

The girls were halfway done getting ready when you entered. Their bags were stacked by the door on the way out. "You're a bit slow today." Tella noted as she struggles to keep her hair up without the strands falling out.

"Couldn't really sleep last night." You told them as you began putting on your plaited skirt. The zip had completely fallen off as you tried to pull it up. You swore aloud and had to restrain yourself from banging your head on your table. Everything was going wrong today. From the 3am sleepwalking to your stupid skirt dysfunction.

"What? What is it?" Harper asked in response to your outburst.

"My zip fell off." You mumbled in annoyance. Her head tilted towards you in concern. "I have a safety pin, I think it'd work. Do you want it?"

"Yes please." You answer. She pulls out a tiny box of safety pins from her drawer and hands you one to use. "Thanks."

"Don't sweat it." Harper was the first to finish. She helped Tella fix her ponytail for the 5th time, slapping her hand away when she tried to tighten it herself. 

Once the three of you were all done, you left together, locking the dorm doors and going down through the full elevator.

You had stuffed Clarisse's still clean clothes inside your school bag when they were showering. You planned to return it to her owner, and let that be the last time you'll ever owe Clarisse La Rue anything. 

The girls had probably assumed your behavior had something to do with homesickness, as they went on without question. You were grateful for the lack of conversation. The last thing you wanted to do today was talk. 

You had questions bugging your mind and the need to isolate yourself. It's what you always do whenever you're feeling disturbed and overwhelmed, you black out from the rest of the world.

Carefully walking down the school halls to your locker, you half expected people to stare at you differently, afraid that someone else might've seen you from last night, but everyone minded their business, and so uou did too. 

You were pulling out your books from the locker when you hear Tella turning around to greet someone, taking a step further away from you and Harper. You twist your neck to meet the mystery man who's in conversation with your friend.

Sharing a look with Harper, she only shook her head nonchalantly before leaning closer to you. "That's Luke Castellan." She whispered.

The name was recognised quickly, old conversations with Tella being brought back in memory. "That's the guy she likes?"

Harper nodded. "Well, does he like her back?"

Harper shrugged. "They compared hand sizes, so I think so. But who knows with boys." You made a face at her and nodded warily. "As long as she's happy." You tell her. It wasn't that Luke was unattractive, it's that he sounded so much like a regular teenage boy that you have grown to have an automatic dislike for. 

It wasn't his fault that the species of his sex have failed in their entirety. 

Harper was about to say something else when Tella suddenly called for you and had gotten closer. "This is our new roommate I was talking about." She says to Luke, gesturing to you.

Up close, you could see that he has a scar on his cheek. He also had dark curls and brown eyes that seemed to fit the whole american sweetheart vibes that Tella was obviously into.

"Hey." You greeted him without any animosity. He smiled and returned the greeting, giving you a small wave. "How do you like it here so far?" He asks.

"Well, it's only been 2 days but I think it's alright." You answer dishonestly. Obviously you weren't going to tell him that this place has conjured some deeply problematic things from inside of you like sleepwalking and attracting assholes. 

His grin doesn't falter as he takes in your words. "Not exactly an exciting place, is it? At least you're in good company." You forced out a tight smile for him. God only knows just how exciting it's been for you, and it hasn't even been a week. 

You thought of cutting to the chase by telling him it's nice knowing him and walking off before your eyes landed on a girl walking past the lot of you.

Clarisse La Rue kept her eyes straight ahead as she headed for the classroom at the back. Her clothes are still in your bag that's sat on the floor. You picked it up and slung it over your shoulder and excused yourself from all three of them, making Luke and Tella move to the side to give you space. “I gotta go.”

"See you in recess." Tella called out. You raise your arm and give her a thumbs up and keep walking down the same path Clarisse did.

What a coincidence that you two are on the same class today? History is an interesting subject, one you're fully prepared to enjoy. But the thought of being anywhere close to the curly haired girl, makes your stomach feel like they're tied in knots.

You managed to chase after her before she was seated on her desk. And the class was thankfully still half empty since the bell hadn't rang yet. Your mind is racked on how you're supposed to just pass her a plastic of her clothes in the most subtle way possible. 

But of course, your mouth had a mind of its own when you impulsively shouted out her name.

Clarisse had just dropped her own bag down against her table when she heard your call. She instantly turned around to face you. "New girl." She addressed you. 

She widens her eyes in question. You push the plastic bag in your arms into her chest, and your fingers brush as she takes it from you to examine it. "Oh, this." 

"Thank you for the clothes." You say monotonously. Neither of you looked pleased to see each other, but what's unexpected still, is that she also didn't look like she wanted to kill you like she did last night. 

Clarisse waved it off and crouched down to keep the plastic inside her own bag.

You stood there waiting until she was gone and stood back up to see you. Something is supposed to be said in a moment like this, but none of you did.

And so with a small nod to enclose the interaction, you spun on your heels to egt to your table. Your feet was locked in place when you felt her hands on your shoulder. 

You looked at her with raised brows in expectation.

"This is yours." She says, passing you a folded A4 paper. Your first thought was that this was your drawing that she took. But you hadn't used the kind of paper she was giving. You took the paper suspiciously. “What's this?” You asked.

She only says: “You'll see,” with a shrug.

The moment her grip was lifted from your shoulder,  you walked and sat yourself at your desk, and tried your hardest not to turn around. 

The bell had just begun to ring outside of the class, and other students were filling into the small space. 

Whatever it was, you'd look at it later. For now, it's folded four times more and stuffed into your pencil case. 

-

When one grows up, constantly having to take care of themselves without adult supervision or emotional support, they are also forced to belittle and diminish their own fears in an attempt to rise over their struggles to survive in a hostile environment.

And so you’ve had to learn to do things such as walking home from school alone and risking unwanted attention from men and how to hide a knife under your knuckles for prevention purposes. 

And yet as you overcame these fears one by one, only two you had found impossible to fight. And that is your fear of moths and butterflies, and your fear of heights. 

And yet, standing up here on the roof, arms placed against the railing and looking down, all you could think of is how beautiful the view was from up here. You could see the closed area of the school from above here. Green grass filled the large space that is guarded behind white walls and a large sign that said ‘NO ENTRY.’ 

The railing shook slightly, making you jerk back. The cringing noise it made hurts your ear as it vibrates. Taking a few steps back, you figured it’s safer to watch from a distance. 

You cocked your head down again, taking one last glance down and tried to memorize the image of the flowery laced garden. Your friends would be looking for you now, you thought..

Your feet moved you to the closed door that awaits for your exits, and yet, as your hand wraps against the holder, the heaviness of it suddenly becomes unbearable. You wiped your hands on your skirt and tried to open the door again, but it wouldn’t budge. 

“Shit.” You muttered under your breath. There wasn’t even a lock on this thing. Or was there? You couldn’t remember. You completely let go of the door and sprinted back towards the railing. Was there anyone that could help you? 

No, of course not. The area was prohibited for anyone to cross. The same grasses and dying flowers watching you from underneath. 

The railing shook again as you scanned the place thoroughly. This time it jerks so harshly that the left side of it completely pulls away from its metal and threatens to fall off. You jumped back just in time to not fall off, but your heart drops so strongly that it feels like you’ve already fallen. 

You consider trying to pull back the railing and somehow pressing it back on it’s screw, but the damage was unfixable when you observed it in closer view. You think back to your main problem, escaping this place. 

There was no other choice than to simply try pulling the door harder, and to scream for help.

You give all of your strength into pulling. “Help!” You shouted. “I'm stuck on the roof! Hello?”

The door felt like it shook a little, your cramped fingers kept on pulling until you were sure it really was opening. You paused for a minute to squeeze your fingers inside your palms.

“One last try.” You breathed out. Your hands give your best tug while your feet stay on the ground, unmoving. You hear a creak and your heart almost bursts out of hope.

Consistently pulling still, you could actually see the edges of the door sliding through, opening slowly. One, two three- 

It opens widely with a slam, you're pushed back until your back hits the ground. Getting back up onto your knees, you rose up and aimed for the door. But the emptiness on the other side of the door held you back.

You gasped loudly. There was no staircase on your opposite. There was no concrete or flat ground for you to land your feet on. Only air and steepness. It was like a never ending hole to fall into, the kind of hole you imagined Alice had jumped inside of to arrive in wonderland.

Panic washed all over you. And as you're pacing around at the roof, you hear someone calling your name. It was help, somebody had arrived to help. The shouting was faint,  but you heard it clearly anyways. You returned to the railing and searched for any spot of people, but no one wasn't there.

You hear the voice again, calling your name. It's getting louder,  but you're not sure where it's coming from.  You yell back on the top of your lungs.  “I'm here!” And the response became more vivid.

“Miss?” You hear it like it's behind you.

You snapped your head to your back, nothing. 

“Wake up.” The voice insisted. “I'm not dreaming.” You pushed. “This isn't a dream.” 

“Wake up. Wake up. Wake up.” The shouting was shrilling, your ears could be bleeding and you'd believe it.

“Wake up.” It screamed into your ear as you knelt down on the ground, covering your ears with both hands.

“Wake up!” You felt hands shaking your back. Your head looks up in a state of disorientation. 

“Miss?” It was your biology teacher, bending down to meet your eyes,  skeptically watching you.

“Everyone left, sweetheart.” She says, pointing at all the empty tables in the classroom. You hate that pet name. It always sounds so mocking.

This was the last class you had for today, the lack of sleep must've caught up with you. You straightened your back and apologized to Ms. Rhodes for keeping her waiting. She only shook her head and tells you to take care before leaving the classroom.

You looked around the class and tried to remind yourself that whatever you had seen in your mind, was just a dream. It wasn't real. And yet it felt like it, just like the dream you had last night. And in both dreams, you had been aware of the surroundings in ways you shouldn't be.

You wiped your hands over your face and yawned quietly. The clock above the board shows that it's already past 6pm. You cracked your knuckles together and lifted your bag onto your shoulders. If you're quick, you could still make it to the dorm showers before 7.

You stopped by your locker to stack your books inside of it. The hallway is empty, you're not sure how long you fell asleep, but everyone else seems to dread being inside this building more than they needed to.

You think of the vividness of the school landscape from your dream. The place had a staircase that led to the rooftop by the janitor's closet at the back. A small voice encourages you to try and retrace the steps in your dream, just to see how different iit was compared to real life. 

But instead of going up the stairs, you notice the space behind it, and ducked your head down underneath instead. 

There is a closed door a few steps away from the roof entrance staircase. It was a glass door covered with black plastic and a No Entry sign plastered on it. Those words ring a bell in your head.

You pushed it open gently and was pleased to see that it wasn't even locked. Whoever's trying to guard this place from students obviously isn't very good at their job.

The door opened up just enough for you to slide yourself inside. You weren't surprised to see a room of forests hidden inside.

This must be the garden. It wasn't quite like you dreamed it, but it was accurate enough.  It's smaller than expected,  and it's much more empty than I envisioned. 

You circle the place, paying attention to the roots and veins that have crawled up the walls, stepping your feet on the overgrown weeds and leaves. 

You flinched when you hear the leaves ruffles and turn to see the invader. Your shock immediately subsided and morphed into irritation when you saw her.

“Are you following me?” You ask in disbelief. 

Clarisse frowned and denies it. “No? I was-?” She takes the time to think of an excuse until eventually she just sighs and shook her head. “Yes, okay maybe I did follow you here- but only because this is forbidden ground.”

“And you're so good at obeying rules?” You sarcastically question, earning an eye roll. “No, really though, what are you doing here?” 

“I had a dream about the garden.” Clarisse waved her hands in confusion and frowned deeper. “Okay…that’s great?” You gave up trying to explain to her and focused back on your surrounding.

You tilted your head up at the sky, almost expecting to see the roof and a broken railing, but there is tinted dark glass coves the school roof for the safety of the mids, you thought.}, so all you saw staring back down is a closed building.

“You know, there you used to be a weeping angel here.” Clarisse spoke suddenly. “Hm?”

“A statue. Right in the middle.” She clarifies.

“Did they remove it because of Samara?” You asked. Clarisse's eyes widen and she looks you up and down with her hands on her hips. “Who told you about Samara?” 

“My roommates.” 

“Of course they did. Can't keep their mouth shut for shit.” Clarise scoffed. You feel overprotective over your friends, knowing them to have good intentions. “Don't talk about them like that.” 

Clarisse ignores your warnings and instead moves like she's about to leave. “We should go. The teachers like to do a 360 before locking shit up.” She walks out without waiting. And despite your annoyance, you followed her still.

The two of you quietly walked side by side until you're out of school grounds and entered the dorm building together.  There were some girls hanging out on the water fountain and near the elevator, but they paid no mind to either of you.

Clarisse's head is aimed straight ahead, and you consider it the longest she's gone without saying something stupid to you. 

Once the elevator stops at her level, she gives you one last glance, her fierce eyes boring deep into yours for that split second. You thought you saw a shadow of a smile ghosting over her face, but before you could confirm, the door closes, and you're on your way to the Hecate level. 

After unlocking the door of your dorm, you threw your bag onto the ground and basically swung yourself on your bed, making Harper jump while she's putting on her skincare. “You look like shit.” She tells you.

You snorted and rolled over until you're facing the ceiling. “I feel like it.”

She hummed casually and went on with her business. 

You lifted your head up slightly to see Tella, but she's nowhere to be found.

“Where's Tella?” You asks Harper. “Showering.” She responds. “I don't know what's taking her so long, but you'll probably see her when you go to the bathroom.”

You nodded in understanding and began to undress yourself from the school clothes, putting them on the side for washing later. 

You then started pulling out your notebooks that had homework in it and stacked it on your desk. Only after you pulled your pencil case out, you remembered about the piece of paper Clarisse had given you.

Curiously, you basically snatched it from inside your case, and unfold the paper from its small size into a large white A4 again. 

Inside was the ugliest cartoonish image you’ve ever seen in your whole life.

It's a drawing. A badly drawn girl, half up only, with hair that supposedly, looks like yours. And a nose that didn't have the right proportions for the face size. 

You smiled at the image subconsciously. You're sure Clarissebhad given this to you as some sort of trade, her picture for her, and your picture for you. It could even mean a truce between you two. 

But instead of stressing over what deeper meaning does her doodles really have, you folded it back and kept it by your night lamp.

“Why are you smiling like that?” Harper asks, you meet her eyes through the mirror. “Nothing, I just remembered something funny.” You lied. She squints her eyes really hard as if she’s trying to read through you for any lies but then gives up after a few seconds of it.  

Your smile disappeared as soon as it came, you picked your towel up and acted as if nothing happened and made your way to the bathroom. 

What is your stance towards Clarisse? Inconclusive. She’s there behind every ostracizing event that has occurred to you so far. And you wonder just how big of a part does she really play into all of this. Her gaze still burns in the back of your mind, it’s almost impossible to escape her even when she’s not centered around any of the issues. 

Should you let things play out in her way or should you keep fighting her off, stubborn to break the cycle of a moth to a flame,

[bad-and-drawn-that-way]

First of all, very in love with the digital reader fic you put out <3

But since reader expressed not knowing why they were in hell I just couldn't help myself from thinking about this-

Reader: I don't even know why I'm here, the hell did I ever do?

Lucifer: Didn't you crash over half of all the systems on earth when you were alive?

Reader: That was an accident! I was only trying to crash like...ten!

Just a goofy thought that popped into my head- destructive characters that are chaotic on accident my beloved lmao-

Kisses darling <3

-📽

Sweet silly little Lucifer with his ducks. I feel like everyone thinks he's completely aware of everything happening in Hell at all times. Meanwhile, he's just making ducks and missing his daughter and can't remember the last time he ate.

Digital Pet [Vox x Reader, but this is a Lucifer interaction]

What Do You Mean You Don't Know

You'd been surfing through the digital plane like any other day. Vox had his schedule completely full, so you were on your own the pass the time. You hopped between windows that led into various devices all around Hell.

It was hard to tell where you were most of the time, but a part of you was convinced that you could slip into the devices of demons outside the Pride Ring. You'd once seen hellhounds and succubi at a party when you'd peeked into a large screen behind a DJ on stage. The large venue was covered in honeycombs and you saw some sort of lava lamp-looking furry doing shots in the middle of the energized crowd. While the aesthetic was similar enough to what you'd seen in the sinner's little slice of Hell, it felt... different.

It was precious information you decided to hold close to your chest. Maybe you'd tell Vox one day but from everything you'd seen about his power-hungry reputation, you decided it may be best not to play your card too soon. For all you know, it was just an exclusive club with different vibes. It wasn't unheard of for demons from the other rings to come to the clubs in Pride.

You were floating through an endless hall of screens and lights, looking between the different windows into the world you couldn't hope to touch when you saw a face that made you double-take.

"Is that..." You float back and gasp as you get a closer look that confirms your suspicions. "Oh, you motherfucker!"

Lucifer let out a startled yelp, dropping the duck he'd been painting as he fell out of his chair. He'd just been minding his own business, listening to some light jazz while he made duckie replicas of his daughter and all her little friends at the hotel when a loud voice suddenly blasted over the music on his laptop.

He frowned as he looked down and saw his white pants splatted with the fresh red paint of Alastor's duck. He was on his ninth attempt at replicating the cocky jerk and had finally been on the verge of getting his stupid grin right when you startled him.

"Oh great," Lucifer grumbled as he pulled himself off of the ground. "It's already bad enough I have a growing pile of ducks dedicated to this prick, now he's ruining my clothes too."

Lucifer leaned over his desk, trying to see what sort of pop-up advertisement or virus had gotten on his system when he suddenly saw you watching him with crossed arms. Your small form glared at him from where you sat atop of his video player.

"A sinner...?" Lucifer blinked slowly before looking at you in awe. He could see your soul and recognized you as a person immediately. "What on Earth are you doing in there?"

"You tell me!" you point at him angrily. "You're the guy in charge of this shit, aren't you? What did I ever do to you?! I didn't do anything to deserve a worse Hell than everyone else."

"How should I know?" Lucifer squawked as he threw up his arms in defense... "I haven't gone outside in... wait, what day is it?"

"How do you not know?" You ask, the two of you amping each other up in your confusion. "You're Lucifer! This is literally your entire thing!"

"Uh, excuse you," Lucifer tsked as he placed a hand on his chest. "I'll have you know I am a man of ducks and dadness. Not keeping track of every soul that drops into Hell. Do you have any idea just how many of you die a day? A lot. Too many. Just. Please get better at staying alive, I beg you."

You deadpan at him before shaking your head with a sigh. "Well, do you at least know how to get me out of the digital plane? I'd like to actually eat food or let my feet touch the ground o-or sleep in a bed!"

"Uhh," Lucifer laughed nervously. "Yeaaaah, no. Nope. Sorry uh, no. Technology isn't something I really know anything about. I'd love to help but uh, yeah... no."

You groan, obviously disappointed in his answer as you flop over to the side and let your frustration win in the moment. You run a hand down your face and look up at the great devil of Hell with a sigh.

"Do you at least have any idea why I'm in Hell and not Heaven?"

Lucifer hummed, squinting at you as he ran a history check on your soul. It took a lot longer to find a reason than he expected, but then he finally landed on it.

"Ah, there it is," he muttered. "Looks like you ate the last slice of birthday cake in the fridge back in your college days."

Your jaw drops, for a couple of reasons. The top reason should have been that such a little thing damned your soul for eternity. However, your priorities were a bit skewed. Which became transparently obvious as you exclaimed, "Excuse me?! It was MY birthday cake!"

"Yeah, but they called dibs," Lucifer shook his head with a sigh. "Heaven takes dibs very seriously. And as you should know by now, I don't make the rules."

The powerful demon grumbled like a child as you recovered from the absolute bullshit that was your afterlife. It wasn't until you'd sat back up that you looked past Lucifer and finally noticed his room.

"Why the fuck are there so many ducks?"

[novasintheroom]

101. Smile

♡ Pairing - Vash x Reader

♡ Word count - 0.7k

♡ Warnings - none

♡ Description: Vash notices your different smiles.

Part of the 150 Bullets drabble series on AO3

You have different smiles for different people.

Take now, for instance. Your polite smile to the barmaid – it’s subdued, meant to convey pleasantness, and wanting to cause no trouble. The girl gives back the same kind of smile. Business as usual. She takes your order and gives Vash a wink before sauntering off to place it.

Your smile morphs into a cheeky grin. You wiggle your eyebrows. “Oh, I think she likes you,” you say, taking a drink of your water. But he sees the way your lips twitch, wavers at the corners. You do that a lot; you play off what you’re feeling for a sense of nonchalance.

That won’t do. He leans forward, lowering his voice. “You think? Maybe we can get a free dessert out of her if I play my cards right.”

Your smile is fuller now. There’s a spark of playfulness in your eyes. “Just don’t do too much; we need a lava hot cake, not a broken heart.”

He sighs and clucks his tongue. “Well, there go my plans.” He grins, your foot kicking his leg in reprimand.

Vash watches you that evening. He’s always watching you, even when he tries not to. You’re just…you’re something. And watching your lips quirk up or down or to the side is…addicting. More than he’s ever experienced. You give dazzling smiles to the men who wander up and make small talk at the bar (so much for not leaving broken hearts). Sweet smiles to the staff. You give him smiles too, just as wonderful and varied.

But he’s waiting for it. The Smile.

He’s tried figuring out what makes it come out. His jokes aren’t it. Neither are his compliments to your outfit or hair, though he is rewarded with a lovely blush. No, it’s something he hasn’t put his finger on yet. A mystery he desperately wants to solve.

And it comes at the strangest time tonight.

You’re both walking back to your camp outside town, too broke to afford the inn for the night. It’s quiet. The two of you are exhausted, both from your traveling and social hour at the saloon. But you’re happy, and he’s a little tipsy.

“Ninety-eight bottles of beer on the wall, ninety-eight bottles of beer! Take one down, pass it around, ninety-seven bottles of beer on the wall!” He tries to skip along, stumbling this way and that. At one point he circles back to you and nearly bowls you over.

You laugh, curling an arm around his middle and helping him trip along. “You are too much sometimes.”

“I’d say I’m just the right amount, whaddya mean…” He pushes it, leaning into you heavily without making you fall. He grins when you grunt at his weight. “Ooooohhhh, ninety-seven bottles of beer on the wall, ninety-seven bottles of beer! Take one – uhp – “ He twirls too fast and feels his stomach heave.

You pat his back as he gags to the side. “This. This is what I mean.” You laugh. “I don’t know how you ever made it back to camp or an inn room before when you get like this.”

He spits on the ground and rubs his lips. “Well, I’ve got a pretty girl to help me out now, y’know? Can’t do much without you.”

And there it is.

The Smile.

It’s gentle, curling. Like a warm sunray that wakes you up in the morning. Vash suddenly feels very sober under its gaze. He straightens, watching in muted awe of it. What makes him so giddy? It’s only meant for him. He knows. He knows it’s his Smile, and his alone. You’ve never given it to anyone else. A small treasure only he gets to keep.

The Smile fades under his scrutiny. “What?”

He shakes his head and puts an arm around your shoulders, tugging you along back to camp. You fit snugly at his side, like you belong there. Maybe you do. “Nothing. You just have a great smile.”

[80ssuperstar]

Hey guys it's your Girl Samantha here again I know that it's been a long time since I've done a story but I finally got one and I've been thinking some ideas for another story but here's one for you and I hope you like it.

**Title: "Rescue from the Abyss"**

### Beginning:

It was a quiet night at the park. The usual group of friends had all gone their separate ways for the evening, leaving Mordecai feeling alone. He sat in his bed, staring out of the window, his heart heavy with sadness. A few hours ago, he had tried to get the others to hang out, but nobody seemed interested. Rigby was off playing video games, Benson was busy with paperwork, and even Pops was engrossed in some old-timey documentary. Everyone ignored him, and now Mordecai lay in bed, tears streaming down his face.

**Mordecai:** "Why does it feel like no one cares about me anymore?"

He whispered to himself, as his sadness deepened.

Suddenly, the sky outside turned an ominous shade of red. The air felt thick, and an unnatural chill swept through the room. Mordecai sat up, heart racing, eyes wide with fear.

**Mordecai:** "What’s going on?!"

The ground trembled as a crack opened beneath the park. From the depths of the abyss, demons and spirits began to rise, their dark forms swirling like smoke. Before Mordecai could react, chains wrapped around his limbs, dragging him into the swirling darkness.

---

### Middle:

Meanwhile, Samantha stirred in her sleep. Something felt wrong. She opened her eyes and gasped as she saw the blood-red sky and heard the faint cry of Mordecai’s voice.

**Samantha:** "Mordecai?!"

Panicking, she raced to the window just in time to witness him being pulled into the abyss. Tears of fear welled up in her eyes. She didn’t know what was happening, but she had to act fast.

She rushed to get the others. Within minutes, Rigby, Benson, Pops, Muscle Man, Hi-Five Ghost, Skips, and Thomas gathered at the park. They all looked horrified as Samantha explained what she saw.

**Samantha:** "They took him…into some kind of…hellish abyss! We have to save him!"

**Benson:** "We can't just let him go. Mordecai is our friend! But how are we supposed to get to… wherever that is?"

**Skips:** "I've heard of this before. There’s a way to the Abyss of Hell, but it’s dangerous. Once we go in, there might not be a way back."

Despite the fear, everyone agreed. Mordecai needed them.

---

They descended into the abyss. The landscape shifted around them—lava rivers flowed, skies burned, and the stench of sulfur filled the air. They walked carefully, knowing that one misstep would mean certain death. As they approached the Demon Realm, they could hear distant chanting and saw Mordecai being dragged by demons to a dark chamber.

---

### Then:

At the center of the chamber stood Satan, the Prince of all Demons. His dark form loomed over the scene, as other demons like Lucifer, Lilith, Barbatos, Stolas, and Shaitan gathered around.

**Satan:** "Tonight, we shall gain eternal youth and strength by sacrificing this mortal’s pure soul and heart! The ritual begins at midnight sharp!"

Mordecai, chained to a stone altar, looked around helplessly. His face was marked with strange symbols, and his heart raced as the clock ticked closer to midnight. He knew his time was running out.

Back in the shadows, Samantha and the gang had finally arrived. They watched in horror as the demons painted Mordecai’s body with sacred symbols and chained him tighter to the altar.

**Rigby:** "What are we going to do?!"

**Skips:** "We have to wait for the right moment. If we attack too soon, we might all get captured."

---

Midnight struck. The demons began chanting, and Satan, with a dagger in hand, approached Mordecai. He placed his hand on Mordecai’s chest, pushing it deep inside to take his heart.

**Satan:** "The time has come! With this heart, we will live forever!"

Samantha, trembling with fear, saw Satan pull Mordecai’s heart from his chest. Mordecai’s eyes grew wide with pain and fear as his life force began to drain.

**Samantha:** "Nooooooo!!!"

---

### End:

Samantha’s scream echoed through the chamber, but it was too late. Mordecai’s body went limp as Satan held his still-beating heart aloft.

**Satan:** "Now, the final blow!"

He raised the dagger high, preparing to end Mordecai’s life forever. But in that instant, Samantha and the others sprang into action. Muscle Man and Hi-Five Ghost tackled demons, while Rigby and Thomas distracted Satan. Pops, despite his gentle nature, threw objects to confuse the demons.

**Benson:** "We need to get that heart back!"

Samantha, fueled by her love for Mordecai, charged toward Satan. Skips began chanting a spell, an ancient incantation that could banish demons. The chamber rumbled as Skips' words gained power. One by one, the demons started to vanish.

**Skips:** "Now! Get the heart!"

With a swift movement, Samantha grabbed Mordecai’s heart from Satan’s grasp. The room shook violently, and the lava began to rise. The entire realm started collapsing as the gang made a frantic escape.

---

Back in the park, Samantha cradled Mordecai’s heart in her hands. She placed it back into his chest and began chanting softly, a long spell filled with emotion. Tears streamed down her face as she leaned down and kissed him.

**Samantha:** "Please come back. I love you so much."

For a moment, nothing happened. Then, Mordecai’s body twitched. Slowly, his eyes fluttered open.

**Mordecai:** "S-Samantha?"

Everyone sighed in relief, especially Samantha, who hugged him tightly.

**Samantha:** "You’re back…you’re okay."

---

### Conclusion:

The nightmare had ended, and Mordecai was saved. The friends gathered around him, exhausted but relieved.

**Rigby:** "Man, don't ever do that again."

**Benson:** "We barely made it out of there."

Mordecai smiled weakly, his hand in Samantha’s.

**Mordecai:** "Thanks, guys. I…I thought I was gone for good."

**Samantha:** "I’d never let that happen."

As the night returned to normal, the friends sat together, knowing that despite the darkness they faced, their bond was unbreakable.

---

THE END

For: @fxe4596 , @nicomxm23 , @russthevampireboy , @quintuplets , @pinkcandycatmakesart , @anifaz , @isrrael120 , @notadumbdog , @martingeekermmd , @eeveepalooza , @apollothedeity , @sidoresca , @siinhorhy , @insomniacz , @rhyliethecaterfly , @yeetafry , @calledattherndoftime , @breekitty17 , @kiwithekool11437 , @kiko2032 , @orchestralauthor , @untitled14360 , @loudlyhappycupcake, @rigby123, @finn-pot, @konikat1, @moonlighteclipse17, @furrypandacollective, @dbd0812, @issacxjacob, @starwarspurgefan, @pokemonartextreme, @musclemanveryregular, @nastyablossomsworldxclover

I Hope you guys Enjoy it 😊🙏🔥💋💕

[denofbloodandlove]

DRAGONS PET

She was dreaming again, she knew she was. Or at least she had to be. It started out like any other night, falling asleep alone on the couch, alone, dreaming of some kind of far away land. A land filled with monsters and beasts that made her blood heat. But there was always one, at least in her dream that called to her, beckoned her. A great black and red dragon, he, at least in her dream, always seemed to find her every time she closed her eyes. Every time she fell into that deep sleep, his great black scales would envelop her, surround her like a giant coiling snake intent on wrapping around her, squeezing her, taking everything from her.

His heat would make her skin sizzle and her blood to turn into a molten lava, but always right when she would wake up. Tonight she thought it would be the exact same thing. A new dream but with the same outcome.

Her small frame curled up on her black leather couch. She had always been tiny, a small thing with too many curves and what she thought of as being too chunky. Short and stacked. Short hair, short legs and short patience. Snuggling on her couch, she began to watch some sci fi b rated horror flick, and soon her eyes were dropping, her lids too heavy as sleep pulled her under.

The dream started like every other one. She was wandering down a dark long tunnel, one that had a proverbial light at the end. But when she reached the end, a giant green forest greeted her, one with trees that were as big as the apartment she lived in. They were scarce but were so massive that enough of the canopies covered much of the ground. Farther in, this is where she began to see the dens or homes, the creatures, the beasts moving about. Walking, running, and talking amongst themselves. Living as humans did. Tonight, she walked further in, closer and closer to the village. She could smell cooking meats sizzling, the juicy bits of fat dripping, splattering into pans. The sounds of sizzling foods met her ears as she walked closer still. Her hands rose to touch everything, the feel of the thick bark under the tips of her fingers. The feel of soft debris under her toes tickled the soft pads of her feet. Staying hidden behind the trees as best as she could, she watched in awe.

Centaurs, minotaurs, elves, and other mythical creatures walked about. Some were fully clothed and some…..some were completely naked. Her eyes grew wide as she watched a centaur paw its way out of what she assumed was his home with a human strapped to his underbelly. Her eyes widened as she watched his hips move, a massive cock was inside of her!

The woman tied to the belly was being fucked, used as a warm place for his cock. Her dreams had always been borderlined sexual but this….this was new. Her breath caught in her throat as she looked around more and realized, that there were more. Much much more. Humans were in stockades, bent over at the waist and being bred by a line of creatures. There were more centaurs with others strapped to their bellies. Orcs walked around with the same. Some were screaming to be let go while they were stretched, used, fucked and others moaned and enjoyed their predicaments.

It was time to wake up. Wake up. Her eyes closed but when she opened them, she was still in the same market. Against the same tree.

“Like what you see little one?” She heard a low soft slither against her ear. Before she could really gasp, black scales took over her eyesight, thick claws grabbed her about her middle and she felt a hard yank, pulling her away from the tree and into nothingness.

Her eyes flickered open, her eyesight trying to focus, she looked about a room that was not hers, Stone walls greeted her, sconces were dug into the stone where a bright orange fire raged in an unnatural way. And she felt something. Something was in her……

Looking down, she realized her clothing had been removed, her legs open, splayed and a fucking tongue was inside of her. Lapping, licking, flicking. Screaming in surprise she watched as that same tongue recoiled and a giant black, scaled head lifted from between her feet, Its green eyes staring at her as the dragon of her dreams stared back.

“Welcome to your new home, pet. You finally wandered into town, your human body is never allowed back into the mortal realm and since I found you first. I claimed you. Now lay back so I can take my prize.”

His dark, raspy tone floated against her ears as he spoke into her, not out loud and she tried to scramble away. But one giant clawed hand grabbed her, pinning her down and she watched in terror as its forked tongue flicked out and slid into her exposed pussy. Lapping up it was so large, it engulfed her pelvis, covering her before actually sliding inside of her. Her gasp was natural, terror and horror at the thought of what was happening changed into pleasure mixed with her horror. But this was a dream right? Had to be. Her mind was always overactive and maybe she was just REALLY horny when she fell asleep. Swallowing her terror she looked down and………. Fuck she could see his tongue in her, slithering up her channel, coating her insides with his saliva. Her lungs began working as her body heated, her need rocketed from a low feeling to an absolute feral need. Her legs fell open as she began pumping her hips up and down, fucking herself onto his tongue. His saliva dripped down her ass in a pool beneath her.

She could feel the dragon pushing more into her, his thicker tongue stretching her, but the pain was nothing as it speared her, coiled into her womb and flicked, trembled as her body clamped down. Her orgasm hit her like a truck and she felt her pussy tighten around his tongue, clamping on her as she screamed and thrashed .

Her body collapsed as his tongue slid out of her pussy, and she barely registered her being moved. Her body was languid, her limbs numb as she felt as if she was flying. Blinking slow, she glanced down to see three giant claws holding her torso. A giant clawed hand was holding her, wrapped around her, moving her. Slowly she felt her legs being pried apart, a thick head was pushing into her core.

Her tiny hands wrapped around the claws as she glanced down, his giant body was massive. Twice the size of a van and his cock jutted out, large, what she thought was the size of her fucking body. Her eyes grew large as she tried to get away, but pleasure still coursed through her. The dragons saliva still dripping from her swollen cunt as he pushed further in, spreading her. Her back bowed as her head tilted back as a scream erupted from her. He fucked up, pushing himself further into her and she felt a loud pop as his head entered her. It felt like she has a tree trunk in her, using her too tight pussy as a cock sleeve.

“Don’t worry little pet, your body will take me, my magic will make it so. Take all of me, every thick inch into your body.”

The dragon whispered again against her mind as his clawed hand actually moved her tiny frame up and then down. She looked down as his claws moved, his cock pushing into her, fucking her like a fuck toy. He was using her body to jack off. With each downward thrust he moved more and more into her belly. She watched as her torso bulged out, her skin stretching, molding to his thick cock. Up and down, faster and faster he moved her, her body a sleeve for his cock.

With each thrust he moved further, into her belly, her chest and eventually her throat. Her hand moved from his claw to her own throat where she felt is bulge out. Expand and release as he moved her. His hips thrust as his dark growls took over her mind. Smoke flared from his nostrils, as he moved his jaws cracked open and his tongue slithered out, the tip trailing down his body to lap as her clit. Flickering and moving it hard, making her body seize.

“Thats it little pet, come for your new Master.”

His words flitted through her brain as she began to come on his cock, she felt her whole body being pushed down, her orgasm took over her body, her spine straightened and her head tipped back as a gargled scream came out her throat. A beastly roar sounded around her as the dragon began to come. She felt his thick ropes coat her insides, his hand pulled her up, his thick come pooled out of her,dripping down his cock as he pushed back in, deeper and deeper, with every thrust his cock spasmed in her body, pumping more and more into her expanding belly.

Swelling her, filling her, breeding her womb until it was too much and it began to rise, spouting out the corners of her mouth. Thick white rivers of come flowed out of her as he used her body as a breeding toy. He used her until she passed out, her body left bred and gaping, used and fucked raw.

When she opened her eyes, she expected to see her b rated movie. Smacking her lips, the lingering taste of something salty at the corner of her mouth she looked around at the sconces still lit.

“Good morning little pet, are you ready for your new life?”

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

We bleed tonight III

Previous chapter / Last chapter

a/n I know that it's been months and for that I am sorry. I really encourage you to reread the first couple of chapters and enjoy this. Not sure how many of you still were waiting for this but here we go. 🤍✨

warning: none...?

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"Remember what I told you?", the room smelled of pine and a midnight breeze. So familiar, yet in a way so forgotten. Mixed up, almost impossible to reach, yet inexplicably a part of you. You blinked your eyes a couple of times, looking at the male in front of you, desperation so strong in his eyes that you could practically see it dripping from him. The man was kneeling in front of you. His much larger hands were holding your tiny ones in his. You nodded your head, but the lordling shook his instead, saying, "I need you to say it, dearest". Biting your lip, you lowered your gaze before muttering, "If I start feeling weird, I'll come to you. If the sheets are stained, I burn them first, then go to you or Philipha". Your brother hooked a finger under your chin, making you look at him once again, "I want you safe. I will keep you safe". Your eyes, burning with tears, looked right up at Eris.

Your father had intended on selling you or trading you for some extra land. Well, he didn't have any requirements for the one who wanted to take you off his hands. Just pay up, and then you can do whatever you want. The ultimatum raised by Eris was that this was simply impossible to do until you were of age. Not that this helped the case in any way, but Eris was pulling at the last string that he had to keep you in Autumn for as long as possible. So the rule of the first bleed came to be. It pushed the inevitable back a couple of years, but now the days were ticking and everyone could feel it.

You flinched, stirring from the memories that still plagued your dreams. Leaving a bitter taste in your mouth. Not when Azriel was near, but… Azriel. Your heart ached even harder. There was nowhere else where you felt safer than in his arms. In his embrace that sheltered you from everything. That finally allowed you a moment of comfort and peace. Lucien instantly tightens his grip around you, saying, "Just a bad dream, dear". His warmth seeped through your thin dress, as he rubbed your arms slowly. You truly felt like a flame that was going out. Fading with every moment. You were convinced that, if not for Lucien's warmth, you would have frozen to death.

Then your surroundings hit you. Making you stage back, causing the horse to frighten slightly. You used that as an opportunity to push against Lucien's chest, staggering off the horse and hitting the ground with a little thud. The leaves beneath you are crushed, making your body freeze. It felt as if you were suddenly paralyzed. All the monsters in your head were running wild once more.

Your head wiped to the side, flickers of fire scarcely flashing around you. "I mean no harm", said Lucien. Well, you wouldn't expect anyone else in the middle of Autumn's forests. "I won't let you take me back", you said angrily, feeling the warmth like lava inside you start to bubble up. "Don't take me back", your voice now sounded much smaller as you pushed back. Twigs and pines dug into your skin as you crawled back toward the nearest tree. But it felt as if you were moving in slow motion, and it took little to no effort for Lucien to catch up to you.

"Look at me; you're overwhelmed", the male kneeled closer to you, showing you both of his hands that were free of weapons. As if there weren't plenty more ways that he could harm you. "No", you said, shaking your head, your back hitting the trunk of the tree. "He wants me dead. He will destroy me for everything that I've done", your voice broke towards the end, unable to hold back the tremble that started to shake your body. Lucien's muscles tensed. You could see the way his arms and jaw clenched. You would never imagine him selling you out to get back on Berons good side, but in this war, everyone pulled their lavage. You took what you could, and you didn't look back. Because if you weren't, then someone else would.

"I won't let him near you; do you hear me?", you could hear the hurt in his voice. The fact that you thought that of him hurt Lucien deeply because, even if the world was on fire and that was the only way out, he would still hold you behind his back to protect you from that manic. To Lucien, all the scars on your body felt a thousand times more painful now that he knew that you two were related. What kind of brother was he if he couldn't keep his baby sister safe? And Helion? Why didn't he step in?

Your body continued to shake. And Lucien knew straight away that your body was working against you. You drew a flicker of amped-up magic, and now all of it wanted to get out. "You have too much power running within you", he murmured, putting a hand on your boiling body. "You need to summon my, dear", "No…", you cried out through gritted teeth. The images of Azriel filled your mind. Summon, he roared, or I'll drag it out of you myself. Innocent. I'm innocent; you wanted to scream back at him even if he was only in your head. If only he knew that you were innocent. The pang made you cry out in pain, and Lucien scratched the distance between you.

"Let everything that feels too much flow through me", it was more of an order than a suggestion, yet it still felt soft and sweet. You shook your head, and hot tears slipped down your cheeks. "I'll anchor you, and I promise you won't see even a flick of fire", Lucien clasped your hands, giving them an encouraging squeeze. All the stories Eris had told you about Lucien ran through your mind. A heart of gold. He was able to love freely. He cared so much, Y/N. Story after story. Until something snapped. The sensation felt weird. You could feel the heat subside. Slowly simmering down as it poured into Lucien, who stood there as if nothing was happening. As if the fire from within you wasn't burning itself inside him. Maybe the same magic is called the same magic after all.

Your head lulled forward, hitting Lucien's chest. He firmly clasped one hand around your middle, making sure to still hold onto you, "Pour everything that feels too much but doesn't empty yourself", yet you wanted to. You wondered what would happen then. If you gave it all away. Would you be free? Would the stain leave you? Will you be free of the curse? Then the door that connected you two closed, and your magic hit the wall so hard that your whole body shivered. Lucien felt that what you were doing was no longer a way to take off the edge; it was a way to destroy yourself. He wrapped you up in his arms right away. Pressing you against his chest as he let it all sink in. A sob slipped past your lips as you too finally let it all set in. Of everything you had lost, all that you had found, and everything that shifted. Lucien was there, holding you so close to him that you couldn't move even if you tried. The feeling of familiarity hit you, washing over your tired body.

Azriel felt like he was on fire himself. Or maybe being on fire would have been better faith. Maybe you should have set him on fire. The spymaster was convinced that would be less painful than any of this. And he only had himself to blame. Azriel felt as if nothing made sense anymore. No matter where he went, it all reminded him of you. He did go back home to find some peace of mind but ended up trashing the whole apartment. Throwing things around and roaring with all that he had.

The bath was still full of the mercy water that he had dunked your head in. The walls had your nail scratches on them. Your scent still lingered in the air, but barely. Too overpowered by the smell of fear and panic that drenched every room. Azriel ripped the paintings off the wall, smashing the frames, knocking stuff off the shelves, and punching and shattering every single mirror in the place till his knuckles were bleeding raw.

"This will get you nowhere", the voice said, making the spymaster lift his head. Rhys stood there, with Feyre right behind him. What was this pity party? He didn't ask for it. "With all due respect, get lost", Azriel gritted his teeth as he spoke, bringing the almost empty bottle back to his lips. "Azriel", Feyre's soft voice filled the empty place, making Azriel grip the glass bottle tightly. "Don't speak my name. I'm a spymaster, a shadow singer to you all", he said, pointing a warning finger toward his high lady. All the titles were gone. They could banish him. Do whatever. Azriel didn't care.

"Y/N wouldn't have…", The bottle came into contact with the wall. Only about a hand away from where Rhys and Feyre stood, Azriel whined, dragging his hands through his hair in a frenzy. That, however, awoke something primal in the high lady as she pushed past her mate, who had been standing in front of her this whole time. "So this is what you will do? Rot here? Drink yourself dead?", Feyres's voice was so much higher as she stepped closer to the male. "You might hate me for this, Azriel, but if you go down this route, maybe you truly didn't deserve her".

"You think I don't know?", Azriel rose to his full height, his wings spreading out as the anger bubbled up inside him once more. "You think I don't think about that constantly?" The frustration quickly got replaced by crippling sadness, making Azriel's eyes gloss up with tears. "I was so close; I got so close to being happy. I got so close to my happy ever after. I held her and then destroyed it in a blink of an eye", pressing the corners of his eyes, Azriel tried to hold it all in. Because if he fully allowed himself to cry, this would get too real.

"Maybe it's not all lost…", Feyres's voice carried a slight hint of reassurance, yet Azriel let out a bitter chuckle before saying, "Would you forgive Rhys if he would have done what I did to her?" Feyre looked at Rhys. It was a sickening sight to see two people in love right in front of you. But the silence also spoke volumes. And if that didn't work, the situation with Tamlin did. So the bridges were burned, and Azriel wasn't able to spark even the tiniest flicker of hope. He sank to his knees, letting the painful sob escape from his chest. Feyre instantly knelt beside him, bringing the trembling soldier closer to her chest.

You had no recollection of falling asleep. No recollection of being tucked into a bed. Your head felt heavy. Definitely a mix of crying and using your powers. You wondered if Lucien had found a tavern or somewhere to spend the night. But then there was no way to escape the ever-watching eyes, ready to turn you in. So that would have been a false move, and Lucien was smart.

The voices outside the room seemed muffled. Voices. There was more than one. Your mind instantly painted the worst picture. Lucien was striking deals with Beron to sell you off. You quickly looked around the place, finding Lucien's shrugged-off jacket. The dagger was still neatly tucked into his inner pocket.

With a knife in your hand, you tipped out of the room. You needed to strike first. You were no longer a child. You won't let him control you. You're nothing. You're my subject. I'll make a woman out of you. I don't breed out weak links in this bloodline. The crippling voice rang out of your ears, making your knees almost buck. You rounded the corner, your heart beating so fast in your chest, and then you saw him. Someone you never thought you'd get to see again.

"Eris…", it came out as a cry, but you didn't care much. Lucien's dagger slipped out of your hands, and you instantly leaped forward. Eris opened up his embrace in a heartbeat. No words were needed as he pressed you closer to his chest. The familiar sense of him filled your heart. Making you feel safe once more. Making you feel as if you didn't have to threat. He was here, and he was holding you.

"Are you upset with me?", you muttered into his chest, knowing full well that you didn't carry out his requests the way that he asked you to. Eris cupped your face, looking over for any scratches or bruises. "No, dearest, not with you, never with you", he said, resting his forehead on yours. "I should have told him sooner…", you said once more, but Eris shook his head. "No, you did it on your own time, and you deserved that". A light smile tugged at your lips, and Eris was quick to do the same. Gone was the cunning lordling, the cocky bastard.

"I missed you, dearest", the fireling said as he brushed your messy hair out of your face, and your finger brushed the shape of his face. "I missed you too". "So…", Lucien trailed off, arms crossed over his chest as he watched you and Eris. It did seem like slight sibling jealousy. He too wanted a sister his whole life, and equally as much, he would have turned over the whole world for her. Now he wondered if you would ever love him the way you loved Eris. The oldest Vanssera let out a sigh, pressing a loving kiss to the crown of your head, before turning to Lucien and saying, "I know that I'm the one who has the most explaining to do".

With every day that went by, Azriel was sure that a tiny piece of him died more and more. There was no new information on where you could have fled to. No one knew anything. And Azriel's shadows could only do so much. He knew that you weren't in Velaris, and he would never expect you to linger here.

Azriel painted the scenario of meeting you once again over and over in his head. What would he say? What might you say? He had at least a couple of speeches prepared for every possible outcome. But most importantly, he missed you. Missed you to the point where his bones ached. To the point where his flesh was tingling. Holding onto your pillow, slowly losing every essence of you. His nightmare came back. Just now, it was you crying and screaming. You cursing him and spitting in his face.

Dragging himself out of bed, Azriel tried to get ready for the day. Rhys had finally stated that all the inner circle must attend the event in the Day Court. "There are no exceptions here. We need his allegiance, and we will do everything to stay in the good book, so we are going, you included", Rhys had stated during the meeting. With talk of yet another war brewing, the high lords needed to be sure of whose side they wanted to be on. And when duty called, you had to answer.

The evening was as boring as Azriel had imagined. Besides watching Nesta flirt with the Lord of the Day Court and looking at a snarling Cassian, nothing caught Azriel's attention. The glass he's been nursing since the night began was barely touched, and he was counting the moments when he would be free to go home. Even if it stopped feeling like one.

"I'm so glad you all could make it tonight", the chatter among the sea of people died immediately. Everyone's eyes were on Helion as he stood on the platform made for the dancers. "It warms my heart to see so many of my friends here, and for that I am grateful", Helion lifted his glass towards the lords, who nodded his way. Rhys was one of them. And Azriel didn't blame Rhys for wanting to keep the friendship going. Helion did a lot for Feyre when she was pregnant and when she needed protection from Tamlin.

"But I'm even more excited to share some news that I've kept for a while now", Gasps filled the space. How little did it take for people to start talking? Azriel just hoped that whatever happened next wouldn't impact Night Court's strategy too much. "I would like to introduce you…", the lord turned back, reaching his hand towards the big white doors that the servants were quick to open. The dash of light blinded everyone for a moment before two figures stepped out. Azriel blinked quickly.

"My daughter and son. Taken away from me by a cruel hand", Azriel braced himself on the wall behind him. No, there was no way. This can't be happening. But there you were. Standing next to Lucien, who held your hand. Both dressed in Day court colors. And your hair. Your deep ginger hair with black strands underneath that you no doubt inherited from Helion himself. If Lucien had only flickers of resemblance, you standing next to Helion left no doubta. You were his daughter.

"They will rule alongside me from now on. The decisions will be made by us, not just me alone", even more chatter erupted, but Azriel didn't care; his eyes were on you. He didn't even realize that he was walking until he was almost right by the platform, and the guards moved to block his way. "Move", Azriel blurted. Rhys was already knocking at his mental shields, no doubt making his way through the crowd as well. "I said move", Azriel told one of the guards, his eyes never leaving you. That's when your gaze fell on him. The man you once called yours, Lucien, quickly pushed you behind him, eyes blazing. "I just want to talk, Y/N, please", Azriel pleaded as the guards held onto him more firmly.

"I apologize", Rhys muttered as he looked up at Helion, pulling onto Azriel as well. "Just talk to me; I swear I can explain", the shadow singer said, trashing in their arms. Trying to get closer to you but failing. Helion turned to you; your empty eyes, as you gazed at the man beneath, said it all, yet he still asked, "Would you like to speak to him in private?". Azriel stilled as if he were saving his breath for you now. Your eyes gleamed with tears.

The room quieted. The anticipation was so high you could practically taste it, and then you turned away. Staggering for a moment before you moved to walk out, Lucien was right behind you. Azriel called out your name a couple of times. He tried to savor the look of you, but you quickly disappeared behind the closed doors, and then something deep within the shadow singer burst. Snapped. Making the pain a hundred times more painful now that you have chosen to walk away.

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All acotar writing taglist: @brekkershadowsinger @cityofidek @baebeepeach @lucyysthings @hideing @urfavbrunettebish @historygeekqueen @marina468 @courtofjurdan

[mlmvoreconfessionals]

Yo, ya think that we could possibly get some more l.egendary p.okemon prey with d.isposal and g.utcrush maybe?

Love your stuff dude!

Yeah, I can definitely do that!

A.rchie can’t help but grin as he reaches the bottom of the cavern. Team Magma thought they were sooo smart, hiding away in here, as if it wasn’t the most obvious place to be! But of course, A.rchie found it regardless, pounded some losers, and now he’s here! He won’t let Maxie have his way. G.roudon...is going to be a problem no more.

Using the Red Orb he swiped, A.rchie feels the ground rumble as the mighty P.okemon rises from the lava before him. It’s massive, towering over him. Its eyes flicker between the grinning man and the orb in his hand. G.roudon lets out a mighty roar and stomps forward, leaning its head in to try and knock the human away.

A.rchie meets it with a ‘roar’ of his own, opening his jaws as wide as he can. He lunges forward at the same time, meeting G.roudon’s head--or specifically, its nose--with his open jaws. It’s really warm, of course, but A.rchie doesn’t mind. He’s been practicing for this. So he takes a good, hard swallow that drags in more of G.roudon’s muzzle.

G.roudon’s eyes widen as his head is suddenly half swallowed by the human before him. He tries to pull away, but another swallow sounds out, dragging him deeper down instead. The next swallow seals his vision in darkness as his entire head is engulfed and a muffled whine escapes him. Each swallow drags more of his body down, forcing him to dive into the tight, slick space of the human’s digestive system. It’s used to the heat of the very Earth’s core, but the immense, stifling stink of a human’s gut along with how tight it is is thoroughly unpleasant. Even so, G.roudon is unable to resist the pull of A.rchie’s gullet, dragged deeper and deeper despite its efforts.

Finally, with enough effort, A.rchie is slurping down G.roudon’s tail. The last of the legendary P.okemon disappears inside of him, with the team leader letting out a deep, steaming sigh into the air. His gut is stretched tightly before him, the great beast curled up into a ball. A.rchie can see the angry expression on its face through his taut skin and he can’t help but flash a toothy grin over it. Now, for the real end of this...

A.rchie’s stomach rumbles harshly and G.roudon can feel the walls starting to close in. He starts to panic, letting out a loud, earth-shaking roar. And then...A.rchie belts out an equally loud belch as his abs flex down. G.roudon’s body crumbles, collapsing in on itself as the stomach walls force him to give way. The legendary P.okemon’s roar is reduced to a low, deep rumble from A.rchie’s middle as his stomach rapidly loses shape and size. G.roudon is reduced to pulp in a matter of seconds, and that pulp is being forced through A.rchie’s digestive systems just as fast.

A.rchie sighs out deeply after his belch tapers off. After a meal like that, he’s standing much taller and thicker all around, muscle added to muscle, his well as a soft, groaning gut hanging off his waist. His wetsuit is much tighter now, already form fitting but really showing him off now. He flexes a bit and grins wide. A much better use for that stupid P.okemon, if you ask him...

But his guts rumble again, reminding him it’s not all gone. So, tearing his suit a bit--he’ll need a new one anyway--A.rchie gets his ass exposed and squats down over the lava pit G.roudon emerged from. With a grunt, he starts to push, and dense, thick logs of crap start to slide out of him. They’re thicker than his limbs, with massive bones and red scales baked into them. They hit the lava with dull splashes, piling up on one another as they try to sink or blacken. But the crap is coming out faster than the lava can handle, and it’s piling up.

In the end, A.rchie feels something even bigger straining him. With some effort, G.roudon’s skull squeezes past his cheeks. It lands on the pile of crap with a thump, standing about level with him. Shit is overflowing out of the eye sockets, its jaws open wide in a silent roar. A.rchie gives the skull a big grin in return before walking off. No need to keep thinking about that shit heap. He’s got better things to do.

---

K.ukui licks over his lips with a big grin as he sees the majestic P.okemon before him. He’s real thankful that that trainer let him borrow S.olgaleo for this! Sure, he might not have mentioned what his intentions are, but it’s probably fine. That kid has tons of amazing P.okemon, what’s one going missing? A low rumble of agreement comes from K.ukui’s abs--this is his only chance to see how a P.okemon like this can hold up to his digestive system! It’s important research to K.ukui!

“Alright, cousin, lower your head like this…” K.ukui guides the S.olgaleo along, gently handling its head as he brings it down closer to his level. The legendary lets him, moreso wondering why it’s with the professor rather than its trainer. This train of thought gets interrupted when K.ukui’s jaws open up and clamp down on his muzzle.

K.ukui begins to gulp hard, working fast on his current meal. The S.olgaleo reacts naturally, a confused growl escaping it as its head is swallowed up while trying to pull itself back. It digs its paws into the ground for leverage, but despite its efforts, it pulls forward and deeper into K.ukui’s gullet with every swallow.

S.olgaleo’s front legs fold up as its chest is swallowed down. Then its stomach, and then its haunches are kicking in the air as K.ukui slurps them up. The professor’s gut bulges out before him, abs stretching and groaning as they contain the legendary with relative ease.

With a final swallow, S.olgaleo’s hind paws are sucked down, and K.ukui sighs contently. He gives his gut a few pats, watching the bulges shift around as the S.olgaleo tries to move inside. It lets out a confused roar, muffled by the professor’s stomach.

“Not bad in flavor,” K.ukui says. “Tried to resist but went down anyway. Mm…much bigger than my stomach but still trying to move. Doesn’t seem to…understand its…situation…” K.ukui starts to flex his abs, grunting and huffing slightly from the effort. “A bit…durable…but…”

S.olgaleo starts to squirm around harder, roaring out as it feels the stomach walls clenching down over it over and over. Its body is being compacted into a tighter ball, but eventually, it can’t withstand the tight space anymore. Its body folds with a wet crunching sound, and K.ukui belts out a deep belch into the air as his stomach suddenly rounds out into a more compact form.

“Aaah…still can’t resist digestion…” K.ukui rubs over his gut as it bubbles and churns wetly, working hard over all the new slurry filling it out. He flexes his gut a few more times, forcing the S.olgaleo deeper with wet chugging sounds as said slurry is forced through K.ukui’s bowels.

The professor drops his shorts and squats down. With a grunt, he starts to push out a dense log of crap. It slides out slowly and begins to coil up in the sand below. S.olgaleo comes out at a steady pace, requiring constant effort from K.ukui as he pushes it out. He can feel bones and bits of its tough hide stretch him occasionally. But they pass without issue.

Even the skull comes out, K.ukui groaning as it forces it out of him. It lands with a thump in the sand and K.ukui sighs deeply. He stands up again and yanks his pants back up with a grin. “Alright! Made for a dense shit, really gave me a run for my money there. But…” He flexes his body as he looks over himself. He’s grown bigger, more mass piled onto his body, all muscle. “…amazing protein boost!” He walks off, heading back to his lab to start recording data. Leaving S.olgaleo to cool on the beach.

---

M.orty ducks behind a rock as he spots the P.okemon he was hoping to see in the burned tower. S.uicune, E.ntei, and R.aikou are lingering around in the basement as if they were familiar with the place. M.orty wants to get a better look at them and shifts.

He kicks a piece of burnt wood and flinches. All three P.okemon look over in surprise. They immediately try to flee, making M.orty come out of his hiding spot on instinct to try and calm them. And what ends up happening is…one of them slams right into him.

M.orty cries out, though his voice winds up muffled as something is shoved into his jaws. He toppled back from the weight on him and hit the ground. The thing in his jaws is still there, filling his gullet, and he starts to swallow to get rid of it.

S.uicune starts to panic and pull on itself, finding his shoulders squeezing into the human’s gullet. It scrambles, trying to push away with its back legs as its front legs fold up. But each gulp drags it deeper, sucking it down to M.orty’s stomach.

M.orty finally sits up and opens his eyes, a pair of blue haunches hanging from his jaws. His eyes widen a bit and he slurps them down, sending the S.uicune sloshing into his stomach. A wet belch escapes him and he blinks in confusion. His gut is stretched out now, the water dog forced into an uncomfortable position with a whine.

M.orty looks around, finding the other two have run off. They might not have even noticed what happened to their brother, or perhaps they did and fled in fear. Either way, M.orty wobbles to his feet, gut sloshing and hanging low with the twitching S.uicune inside. He should try to find a way to get it out and—

M.orty’s gut rumbles hard and he belches deeply. S.uicune lets out a yelp before its body is suddenly crushed down into pulp, the defined bulge hanging off of M.orty’s stomach now much rounder and smaller. It gurgled wetly, already starting to pump the slurry along as M.orty blushes and rubs over it. Looks like his stomach had different ideas…

Pretty soon, M.orty is squatting down in the open space S.uicune and the others used to be in. He sighs as soft logs slop out of him, piling up with soft thumps and splats. Some bones stretch him out occasionally, getting him to grunt slightly. Bits of purple and blue fur speckle the brown waste, dulled and tarnished by a quick trip through the man’s digestive system.

The skull comes out last, taking a few pushes to get it to drop on top of the pile. It lands with a splat and sinks in slightly. The smell in the room is terrible now, the once majestic P.okemon no longer something worth looking at. M.orty walks off, frowning to himself as he rubs over his new pot belly.

It lets out a low grumble. M.orty finds himself thinking about R.aikou and E.ntei. He wonders if he can still catch up to them…

[dathomirdumpsterfire]

Something is hunting Darth Maul across the stars.

A presence he cannot touch, whispers that chase him from sleep. Answers seem to lay in a place he cannot go... at least, not alone. Before the Jedi and the Sith, before the Republic or the Empire, before the ancient Je'daii even, there were force users building temples and communing with the cosmic energies.

Somehow, even back then, there was a rule of two.

For Ben Kenobi, getting up each day is difficult enough, nevermind facing the past. He has one singular goal left to him: to be a guardian. A very distant guardian. Between the echoing emptiness of his cave and the war-torn memories that haunt him, he really just wants to be left alone.

Too bad for him that sleep-deprived sith lords aren't likely to take no for an answer.

[The long awaited sequel to Desertification is here!]

🔥🔥🔥 Read chapter 1 on Ao3, or scroll below the cut! Updates on Tuesdays.🔥🔥🔥

Bridges are a beautiful weakness. 

This one is massive. Natural stone that reaches across a wide span between stronghold and barren cliff. The architecture is sharp, angular, and modern, with little in the way of ornamentation. It is simply a functional pathway, the sole point of access for a utilitarian facility. The forces garrisoned here would have little trouble defending this chokepoint, under typical circumstances. 

A zygerrian guard rises off the ground, clawing at their neck, while the next shoots wildly, hollering for backup. Blaster bolts curve off unnaturally into empty air. The first alien loses consciousness and slumps, still airborne. Their rifle clatters to the stone. The second turns and manages to flee two steps before they are swept sideways off the bridge like a leaf in a storm. They plummet, screaming, twenty stories down and into the lava below. With a lazy gesture, Darth Maul sends their strangulated comrade tumbling after them. 

Lords of the Sith truly cannot qualify as ‘typical circumstances.’ 

He begins forward again as the next defenders rise to stop him. The formation they take is practiced, but he can see their quaking knees, feel their fear in the air. 

If these fools truly wished to challenge him, they would be far better served by calling their forces back and turning the compound’s anti-ship cannons on its own infrastructure. Burying him alive might actually slow him down… but the cannons remain fixed on the sky, and figures in golden armor pour out onto the wide, windy bridge. 

The price of such short sighted arrogance will be their lives. 

Maul finishes churning through the first of the stronghold’s defense forces. He scatters a forward line of pikemen, shielding himself from blaster fire using stones torn from the structure itself. The occasional bolt slips past these rocks, but he simply bats those away with his saber. 

The slaughter of their frontline gives the next group time to prepare. He is met with a more cohesive unit, backed by snipers. The cover fire does them little good. Maul ruins their formation by blitzing carelessly into the middle of it. His red blades lay into the panicking bodies around him and parry the long range shots back to their origins with impeccable soresu. 

While he picks off the remaining snipers in their nests with a few force-propelled rocks, a new line of troops with energy bows come forward, firing in rapid sequence. It is… quaint, he thinks. Few have the dedication to make such a weapon into a formidable challenge, and these guards could not have matched the skill or power of a dathomirian archer on their worst day. Perhaps it is because these soldiers lack an edge of desperation -for food or survival- whenever they practice their aim?

Regardless, their skill or lack thereof is ultimately irrelevant against a man who can predict where they will fire.

Maul reaches the halfway point unimpeded, and the zygerrians finally switch tactics to something more innovative. The remaining guards part, and a set of twins emerge to close with him instead.

Each wields a halberd tipped by shining blue energy blades. They fight together, resplendent in fanged grins and fine armor. Their movements, obfuscated by swirls of shimmering gold cloth, complement each other with the skill born of what must have been decades spent training in tandem. 

Facing such talent is the highlight of his efforts thus far, but even these warriors cannot match a sith. He tears their blades from them, and stabs each twin through the chest with their siblings' match. They die propped up on the hafts, slouching toward each other. 

Blaster fire starts back up, and Maul returns to working through the rest of the chaff. The air begins to reek of desperation so strong it can be smelt over the sulfur. Acetone-bright and cloyingly sweet. 

Quick as a lightning strike, an electro-whip cracks near his head with a sharp snap-fizz . A waft of ozone fills his nose, and the sith's forward momentum stutters to a halt. Resentful yellow eyes lock on the offender and he bares sharp, iron-stained teeth at them. The tall zygerrian only snarls in return.

Hatred rolls off Maul’s shoulders like heat waves in the force. That energy coalesces, and entropy descends on the whip-wielder. Their fur begins to dissolve as if they were being nibbled on by acid that simply does not stop, and the muscular form falls to the ground, writhing and screaming. They melt into naught but blackened ash under Maul’s baneful stare.

He turns to continue on, sunk too deep in the flow and lust of combat to examine the demise any further. 

Slaves are thrown at him next, driven out onto the bridge as his assault nears the stronghold's three-story double doors. An effort he hesitates to call a 'tactic'. Half of the scrawny chattel fall to their bellies before he has even reached them, quivering and silent as they choose the potential wrath of their masters over certain death upon his blades. 

Those who fight he kills as quickly as they come. Living and dead alike are left on the ground behind him, forgotten as soon as they pass out of sight. 

More guards, with flashier armor and even finer weapons are next. Insignia and marks of esteem decorate their shoulders; the royal guard, here to die for their liege. 

A sai cha strike with his saberstaff, and a head hits the ground before the body knows it is dead. Cho mok and cho mai, double-disarmed at the wrist. Their owner stumbles and falls off the bridge in shock, fixated on the remaining stumps. An angled shiak, down through the ribs just far enough to boil the blood in their lungs. Mou kei to the left leg, and another trips off the side to join the rest in immolation. Maul spins in a flourish of beautiful juyo at the gate.

Sai cha. Sai cha. Sai cha. 

Then there are no more guards. 

He pushes the double doors open with the force, and smiles to behold the reason he came here.

"Prince Trifenra," his croon echoes in the silence of the throne room, "I warned you not to cross me."

The lone zygerrian slams a button on the podium beside them, and the floor falls away with them on it. Maul gets to the edge in time to be stymied by a bulkhead closing the hole over. He sneers at it in annoyance, and starts cutting through with his lightsaber. 

Twenty seconds, and he completes a circle of molten metal. A kick with his cybernetic foot sends the cutout falling, revealing a web of catwalks over a field of lava. He jumps. 

The sith searches the platforms as he freefalls, but Trifenra is nowhere to be seen. 

Maul lands on a catwalk with a heave of force to lessen the impact. His eyes drift closed, chest expanding as he breathes in, swaying in whichever direction feels right, focusing… focusing…

The force whispers to him that his prey is that way .

Maul jumps the rail and bounces between causeways, reaching the correct one and pelting down it. The feeling ends at an arch built into the rough stone walls. Thick metal doors, locked tight.

He snarls and starts cutting again, a small circle just large enough to admit him. The sith punches this cutout, and somersaults through without touching the cherry-red edges. 

On the other side are holding cells. Row after row, multiple levels of hexagonal doors stretch out from the entry, each sealed by lambent red. Some are empty, some not. All the prisoners are exotic in some way. 

Maul glances over the occupants as he passes, walking deeper into the facility. Trifenra is here, he can sense it.

The chamber widens into a large, multilevel room around a center platform. A dead end. The prince's possible hiding places have multiplied yet become limited at the same time. Maul's mouth quirks at the corner.

"Come out, come out. Wherever you are~," he sings in a sardonic drawl, like this is a game of hunter and prey between younglings.

The airscrubbers hum through the walls, creating a deep resonance just on the edge of hearing. Despite what must be a robust air recycling system, this room remains steeped in the scents of the enslaved; bitterness and despondency, melancholia and hate. A multispecies cacophony of emotions that make his sinuses itch. 

He hears wheezing laughter, like the rattle of dry grass. 

"Ssssweet, ssssweet, ssssinger…" calls a hoarse voice from one of the cells. The force twinges, a plucked string.

The source is… across the room, on a higher level. Maul can sense the force warping in on itself somewhere nearby. Curious, he leaps closer to it, up a story and over.

The cell on the left is marked as 214, and it contains a nautolan in a rare carmine color. She is heavily pregnant, and pressed as far to the left side of her cage as she can be. 

The cell on the right is marked as 216. It holds a crab-like species he does not know, with a shell that looks like molten, living gold. It is quivering in the back of its container, in the rightmost corner.

In the center cell is a woman with wide pink eyes and an abundance of platinum hair. Her skin is white, like a palliduvan, but with an oily, iridescent sheen. She sits in the center of the room, naked, hugging her knees and shaking with that dry, rattling laugh. 

Her pink gaze zeroes in on him, and her smile grows…and grows… and- 

Lips spread like split meat as she grins from ear to ear, her teeth needle sharp. Conversely, her eyes are kind above the unnatural-looking maw. 

"Blesssssed sssssinger~" she croons sweetly, "the lit-tle king plays a trick  on you. Deceitful. Rude. Give him t-to me and I will blesss your path!" 

She shouldn’t be able to move her jaw like she is, with those facial muscles severed. The force perhaps, magic or alchemy of some sort. He considers her, and the offer, mildly. "I am not easily tricked.” 

She smiles still, and says nothing. Her presence feels like a tangle of razorwire, writhing and clingy. 

"Hm.”

Maul walks away, stalking the metal floors and surveying the open room with thoughtful eyes. The prince is here somewhere, but there are enough strange projections from the prison's myriad occupants that it feels… cloudy.

A mirialan glares at him as he walks past their cage. The man floats a foot above his bed, rail-thin and cross legged.

A dry-looking quarren ignores him in turn, crying weakly into their hands.

He laps the room, and finds himself at the center of this fusion of zygerrian and modern architecture. A control panel sits on a dias, with a map of the cell block and various monitoring systems running. 

"Hm!" he comments, "How convenient." 

He taps the icon for cell 216 and tells it to open. 

The sound of a ray shield powering down is shortly followed by more dry, wheezing laughter. He turns to see the woman step into freedom and launch herself across the room, trailing yards of platinum hair. 

She lands in front of 107, and presses herself as close to the ray shield as one could be without burning. 

"Knoc-kk knnnock!" she croaks. 

The cell's occupant shrieks, falling back in their terror, but then scrambles to the shield again to yell up at him. They appear to be a salenga, but something… something is off. Maul squints, trying to pinpoint-

"I will pay you whatever you want! Anything!"

He cocks his head. Curious. How would a slave pay- 

Oh. Interesting. 

"Put her back in her cell and I will make you royalty! I swear it!"

The unnaturally white creature hisses, no longer laughing.

It is Maul who chuckles, walking to the edge of the center platform and clasping his hands behind his back. "A marriage proposal is it, Prince Trifenra? Now that is a… curious bribe."

He waits for the hope to glimmer in their eyes, then waves a hand in a grand gesture. The console registers a command from a finger press that is not there, and obeys it.

All of the cells open. 

The salenga shrieks again, and melts into a clawdite changeling as they zip out and go streaking away. They make it all of three strides before disappearing under shimmering hair and vengeful pink eyes. 

The next few minutes involve teeth, tearing, and unhinged sobbing. Maul watches for a moment as dozens of aliens flee on either side of him for the exit, then grows bored and turns to his comm. Dryden's secretary answers for him, a softly spoken pantoran with a penchant for ancient art. 

"Hello sir. My apologies, Mr. Vos is in a meeting at the moment. Should I get him for you, or can I take a message?" Sochu asks.

Maul waves off the first. "Simply inform him that the treachery has been dealt with, and he has my permission to begin renegotiating with the other offer."

"Very good, sir. Anything else I can do for you?" 

"Mmno," Maul says and hangs up.

His timing is good. The room has cleared and the strange woman is levitating up to the central platform, slathered in blood all down her front. Something wet and purple is cupped in her palms. She lands daintily, and he raises a brow. 

"Ssssinger, c-c-clever son~ You figurrrred out the trick-k, denied the trick-ksster. Gave him to us ," she smiles sweetly, too many teeth in her mouth. 

Maul hums, watchful.

"A gift!" she declares, and holds out… it’s a liver, or part of one. 

He accepts it, amused, with the smallest of bows. “My thanks.” 

The woman giggles like rotten wind chimes and turns to leap off the platform. She lands below and goes padding toward the lava flows, leaving a trail of red footprints smeared by passing hair in her wake. 

Maul considers the slick bulk of the organ in his hand. Dense, warm, and evenly toned purple. He holds it up and gives it a sniff. It smells healthy- clean blooded and rich, and the fight did have him feeling peckish.

"Mm… waste not, I suppose.”

He chooses a corner and slides his teeth in. The woman’s sharp, clinging darkness in the force gives a final twist and melts away. Maul chews thoughtfully on his way out of the compound, disregarding the blood that drips off his chin. His robes are already too stained for a bit more to matter.