#this is part of the space au that weve been thinking about

[halfapersob]

Grian yawned, stretching his arms over his head. He looked out to the stars in front of him. “You ready Mumbo?”

Grian stood, walking towards his friend, nudging his foot when he didn't respond. “Mumbo?”

 Mumbo sat up, banging his head on a metal pipe. “Oww,”

“Pfft” grian held in a snort, covering his mouth with his hand.

“This is pants,” Mumbo muttered, sliding out from underneath the control panel. He rubbed his forehead. “We should be good to go, now”.

Grian held his hand out, helping mumbo up.

“Great, I don't think our guy would appreciate tardiness”. Grian powered on the ship, flicking switches, its muscle memory now. The ship hummed, the dim lights turned back on. Grian looked down at the planet they were approaching, blues and greens swirled together with the pinks and oranges. It was beautiful. Space would never not amaze him.

Mumbo took the controls and landed the ship, grian slipped his jacket on, pulling his arms though the sleeves. He grabbed his mask, securing it over his face. The ship relaxed as it shut down.

Grian went through his mental checklist before they went out to meet the person who hired them.

A meow interrupted his thoughts. He stopped where he was standing, staring at the small creature in front of him. “Uhh, Mumbo… do we have a cat?”

“What” his voice came muffled from the other room. Grian continued staring at the cat. It had 4 ears and 3 hazel eyes. 

Mumbo came up behind him. “Where, how? The door’s still closed.” he said bemused. Grian reached down to pet it but the cat hopped down from the chair, disappearing into a portal.

“Grian?”

“That, wasn't my fault.”

@ellalily @turnthefrigginfr0gsgay @totallynotagremlin

(@mumscarianweek )

[perlukafarinn]

Sunday Prompt! Dean/Cas: how about some oh-dear-god-weve-been-pining-for-years-finally-getting-together-action? AU, handyman!Dean helps photographer!Cas, (best friend and secret unrequited love) move into Cas' newly purchased condo by fixing little things and hanging pictures. Dean accidently drops one of Cas' nice frames only to discover lovingly taken candids of himself hidden behind generic scenery. Mutual pining quickly turns into mutual confessions of abject adoration! Kisses at the end??

Cas' new place is nice. The kitchen and bathroom are both newly renovated, the hardwood floors are impeccable, and even the window frames are freshly painted. By Dean's estimate, it'll be few years until the place needs any serious work. He still manages to put together a long list of minor yet urgent repairs. Some might say he was coming up with any excuse to spend time with Cas (Sam has said it, often and loudly, but Dean has thirty years of practice ignoring his little brother). Dean prefers to think of it as being a good friend. Cas asked him specifically for help, so he's gonna do whatever needs to be done as well and thoroughly as he can.

Cas is still in the process of moving in, with several piles of boxes around the apartment. While he's putting away the cutlery, Dean gets started on regrouting the tiles on the kitchen wall. He moves through his list of tasks, always coincidentally finding himself in the same room as Cas. It almost feels like they're moving in together, getting their new home ready. 

And that pathetic fantasy is Dean's cue for some distance. He leaves Cas in the bathroom, where he's been arranging and rearranging the items around the sink for the better part of thirty minutes, and heads for the living room. There's swathes of empty space on the wall above the couches, where Cas wants to hang his collection of award-winning photographs. They go all the way back to a shot of a seagull at sunset that he took when he was in high school (and is now painfully embarrassed by, although Dean still thinks it looks cool) to a picture he took in Norway last year that won him the National Geographic travel photo contest. Cas' talent is just one of the things that puts him several leagues out of Dean's reach. Sure, Dean is a good handyman and he's proud of the work he does, but that's nothing like being an internationally renowned photographer. He might have had a shot ten years ago, when he first fell in love with Cas, but it's been a long time since he missed it. Shaking himself from that depressing thought, Dean picks up the screw gun from his toolbox. The walls in the living room are solid concrete and he has to drill in the holes for the nails first. He starts by marking them with a pencil, standing on the couch in order to reach every spot he wants to mark. Once he's satisfied with his work, he steps down. And feels glass crack underneath his foot.Dean's stomach drops. He looks down, at a photograph of a waterfall in Yosemite Park, sitting in a cracked frame and surrounded by broken glass. The rest of the photos are propped innocently against the couch. This one must have fallen over while Dean wasn't paying attention.He picks the frame up, feeling mildly nauseous when he sees that the broken glass has already left scratches on the picture. He remembers when Cas took this one; they went camping right outside the park a few summers ago and spent the day hiking. It was one of the last proper trips they took together, before Cas starting flying to foreign countries to get his shots and leaving Dean behind.He brushes away the glass, gingerly removing the frame and putting it down on the table. Something falls then from behind it, landing on the floor. Dean picks it up, frowning. It's three smaller photographs that had been hidden behind the one of the waterfall.He turns them around in his hands, heart jumping when he realizes - that's him. All three of them are of Dean, taken during that trip to Yosemite. It's Dean laughing, holding up his hand to the camera as if trying to cover the lens, Dean with a bottle of beer poised against his lips as he leans against the Impala's trunk. Dean looking off in another direction, seeming unaware that the camera is even on him. He can't understand it. Cas has taken plenty of pictures of him, but Dean always figured they all ended up deleted. He certainly didn't think that Cas would print any of them out, or keep them like this - private, hidden. 

What can it even mean?

“Dean, is everything okay? I thought I heard something-”

Cas stops short. Dean looks up and sees him standing in the doorway. He’s staring at the pictures in Dean’s hands, eyes wide.

“What - why do you have these?” Dean asks. His brain is stuck on a loop - Cas has secret pictures of me, why does he have secret pictures of me - and the panicked look on Cas’ face isn’t helping any.

Cas stalks up to him, reaching his hand out. Dean yanks the photos out of his reach at the last moment, holding them to his chest protectively. 

“No reason,” Cas says, which is a blatant lie. No one hides pictures of their friends like this, carefully and deliberately. 

There’s really only one explanation Dean can think of, but it seems impossible. It has to be impossible, has to be just wishful thinking. There’s no way the thing he’s been fantasizing about for the better part of a decade is coming true.

Cas glances down at the photos in Dean’s hands. “Can you just... pretend you didn’t see them?”

“No,” Dean says immediately. “You need to tell me why, because if it’s what I think it is...”

He trails off. He doesn’t know what he’d do.

“Don’t make me say it,” Cas pleads. “I don’t want to lose you.”

There’s so much Dean could say to that, the most important being that Cas could never lose him. He’d rather break his own heart ten times over than hurt Cas in any way. 

Instead of telling him all that, Dean goes with his impulse. He grabs Cas’ arm with his free hand, takes a step towards him and closes the gap between them. 

Cas gasps when their lips meet. Dean doesn’t get a moment to doubt his decision before he’s kissing him back, arms wrapping around his shoulders and holding him close. It’s an exhilarating kiss, both new and familiar, the culmination of ten years of build-up which means it has to be disappointing but somehow it’s not. 

Dean isn’t sure which one of them pulls away first but suddenly he’s looking Cas in the eye, seeing that giddy and disbelieving look on Cas’ face that must be mirrored on his own.

“I don’t - how long have you been waiting to do that?” Cas asks. 

Dean laughs. “Way too long, man.”

He doesn’t wait long to do it again.

*

They make out for several minutes before finally separating and cleaning up the broken glass. Then they make out some more, lying down on Cas’ new couch. Then they stop to have a serious talk about their relationship, which involves a lot of blundering and embarrassing revelations (”Ten years?”), followed by even more making out. 

Cas pulls away at one point and reaches for the other pictures, still propped up against the couch. He takes them out of their frames one by one, showing Dean the pictures shoved underneath. 

They’re all of Dean, every single one, even the ones hidden behind pictures of countries he’s never even been to. It’s both flattering and a little creepy, and Dean tells him as much, although he dulls the criticism with a kiss. Cas complains back at him that pining silently for ten years isn’t exactly normal either. They concede that they’re both losers and creeps, and go back to making out.

Dean doesn’t go home for three days. It’s only another two weeks before he’s moved in with Cas permanently. Some might say they’re moving fast (Sam does, although Dean suspects he’s just pissy about having to find a new roommate on such short notice). 

Dean prefers to think of it as moving very, very slow.

[angrylizardjacket]

when i said it i thought it was true [1] {Ben Hardy}

Anon asked: could you do an imagine where ben is the reader’s ex and they are somehow working together on the set of bo rhap and they fall in love all over again ☺️ could you make it angst-y and then end with fluff? i love your writing so much!!

Anon asked: could you do an imagine where the reader is in bo rhap, maybe playing as one of roger’s gfs or something and she kind of falls in love with ben while filming the scenes with him as roger 💖 very fluffy pls :D

A/N: 3124 words. Super AU version of BoRhap being filmed in the fic. There’s gonna be another part, that will fill the prompts better. This might end up being a series. I hope you enjoy. Feedback would be nice.

When your manager rings you, telling you that you’d landed a part in the Queen Biopic Bohemian Rhapsody, you were elated. Freddie Mercury was a bit of a personal hero of yours, and to be a part of his story on the big screen, it was sort of a dream come true. 

In your first meeting, you sign a nondisclosure agreement, and you’re given the latest draft of the script to start learning, as well as a character brief. The script calls your character ‘Amanda’, the girlfriend of Roger Taylor who he eventually realises he wants to settle down with. You’d seen pictures of young Roger Taylor, you wouldn’t lie, you were excited for the role. Honestly, even today he was still quite a fox.

The point is, you were excited to have a fun time on set with a pretty blonde, make some new connections, and earn some good money. Some really good money.

The other shoe drops when you’re flicking through Instagram, and one of the stan accounts you follow has posted a leaked screenshot of the proposed cast list, and there’s your name, right beside the name of the last person you wanted to pretend to be in love with. Ben Hardy; pretty blonde extraordinaire, and your ex-boyfriend.

The table read is... awkward. 

The two of you are sat next to each other, and barely spoke two words to each other. You feel unprofessional the whole time, but you’d rather be anywhere else in the world, and the delivery of some of your lines falls a little flat. The director casts a concerned look between yourself and Ben as you rattle of what’s meant to be banter like you’re reading the news paper.

“They’ve got no damn chemistry; it’s like watching a celebrity divorce hearing.” When the Director vents to one of the producers in the hall outside after the reading, you manage to catch it where you’re just about to come out of the bathroom.

“They’ll be better on set, I promise, it’s just jitters.” She tries to soothe his nerves, and they’re off soon after, and you’re left with a cold, sinking sensation in your stomach.

“You’re Y/N, aren’t you? How are you finding the set?” The guy who greets you on your first day on the Eastenders set smiles with such casual ease it feels like you’ve known him for a while, instead of having just met him.

“Yeah, that’s me.” You agree with a quick nod, rocking back on your heels as you gaze around the space, trying not to look at him for too long. “It’s a bit overwhelming.” Actually, what’s overwhelming is that he’s talking to you. He’s Ben fucking Hardy, pretty-boy on the soap-opera scene, and he’s talking to you on your first day.

“Yeah, you’ll be right though; if you need any help or anything, just give us a yell, yeah?” And you realise he probably doesn’t know who you’re playing, or how you’re involved in that Season’s arc, but you certainly did.

“I didn’t know you could play drums.” You’re trying to be casual when you say it, but you see Ben tense where he’s sitting on a sofa in the rehearsal room, script and pencil in hand.

“I can now, that’s all that really matters.” He’s giving off such strong ‘please leave me alone’ vibes that it almost hurts, and you have to push through the knot in your stomach and sit down next to him.

“Ben, we need to at least be civil.” You say quietly, and he looks at you, expression a little forlorn.

“Y/N, we are civil, and we’ve done this before. Let’s just keep it professional, okay?” His tone leaves little room for argument, and you nod in agreement with a small smile, and pull out your phone, waiting for the rehearsal director.

“Hey there, baby, I don’t think I’ve seen you around here; I know I’d recognise your face.” You purr, running your hand delicately over the collar of Ben’s shirt, as his eyes widened and he spluttered to form a sentence, just as the script had told him to. 

Your character was more a plot device than anything, when Ben’s character is at a low point, his main romance is on a break, and he meets you, a temptress in all black. Your job is to give his character a realisation, he starts as your cocaine dealer when his supplier can’t make the drop, and he falls for you. Depending on the audience reaction, you knew the producers were waiting to see if they kill you off or have you recover from your addiction. The point is, your fate’s uncertain at the end of the Season, and Ben’s character realises he has to get out of the drug trade.

“I’ve got something for you, from Oskar. Can we go somewhere more private?” When he speaks, it’s with surprising confidence, and he steps up from the bar stool and into your space, smiling as your face lights up. The director calls cut after a moment, and you step back, smile sliding to something genuine as an assistant comes in and straightens your loose, black silk shirt, and they reset the shot for a new take.

“Ben, could you try less flustered? You’re here to deliver drugs, you’re not a schoolboy.” The director’s voice was kind as she came up to the two of you, and Ben agreed easily before she turned to you. “Great job, Y/N, don’t be afraid to be more even more forward, if you feel it.” As soon as you nod in understanding, she absconds, and you half laugh.

“If I was any more forward I’d be in your lap.” You snickered, voice quiet as you dipped your head to hide how you were faintly flustered. Ben was quiet, just watching you for a moment, but before you noticed, the director called for everyone to standby.

“I’m after Maggie, do you know where I could find her?” Ben starts as soon as the cameras start rolling, brow furrowed as he leans across the bar to speak to the bartender, and that’s your cue to enter the scene.

“Hey there, baby, I don’t think I’ve seen you around here; I know I’d recognise your face.” And when you say it this time, he smirks back at you, a little cocky, and you can feel the way it makes your heart flutter and you know it’s not as fake as it should be.

Before filming even starts, the producers have essentially forced you and Ben into bonding sessions which, if this were several years ago, would have just been dates. Now they’re awkward and tense, and you tend to bring heavily highlighted scripts.

“I saw you in that Wes Anderson movie last year. It was a really good performance, one of your best.” He offers over coffee. The idea that he’d kept up with enough of your work to label one ‘your best’ has you a little shocked, and something in your heart warms as you thank him softly.

It’s gotten easier to hang around with him, and it’s even easier to pretend to be in love with him in rehearsals. It’s like riding a bike, how easy it is to let yourself smile and lean into him, to let the banter flow easily between the two of you, fond jabs that edge on insulting coming as easily as breathing.

Joe mentions that he thought the two of you worked together before, and when you reply that you’d dated for almost a year, he goes very quiet, eyes going wide. After a beat, he admits it explains a lot.

“X-Men did you real dirty.” You’re half paying attention to an interview with Roger Taylor that the two of you had been instructed to watch together. You’re both in his trailer, sitting on opposite ends of the sofa as you watch in almost complete silence.

“What?” He asks, after a beat, your words having taken a moment to process.

“Killing you off like that; they could have gotten so much mileage out of your character.” The way you say it is far too well thought out to be an idle thought. Ben smirked.

“You just liked the leather pants.” He muttered, but you’re silence is answer enough. You know he sees your embarrassed smile, but you can’t bring yourself to deny it.

“Hey, do you wanna grab a drink after and go through notes and blocking and stuff?” You’re shooting your third episode, and you’re far more comfortable on set by now. Agreeing easily, you let Ben drive the two of you to what he claims is the best pub in town, and you sit in one of the more secluded booths to talk.

It turns out he’s just as much a fan of you as you are of him; you’re known more for your bit-parts in long-running series, it seems like the only show you hadn’t been a part of so far had been Eastenders, it was only a matter of time. It’s an innocent night, true to his word, all you do is talk, and discuss the script. There is one part of the upcoming script that has you a bit nervous. 

“Listen, honestly just go for it; it’s not meant to be sweet or anything, I’m literally taking coke from you.” You tell him, fidgeting, and he’s hums thoughtfully.

“You sure? We can talk to the director, I’m sure-” He offers, but you laugh to hide your nervousness.

“Nah, let’s knock it out of the park, the script says go for it so just go for it.” You assured him, heart rate already quickening at the mere thought of it. 

The next day, before the scene, the director comes over to talk you through it, making sure that if anything becomes uncomfortable, that you can talk to her. Both you and Ben assure her that it’s fine.

“You’re far too cute for this line of work.” You say as you hold a baggie of “cocaine” up to the light, smile playing on your lips.

“Cute? Ouch, you really know how to wound a man, you know.” He says, leaning back against the sofa in the hallway of the grubby hotel your character was staying in. He’s watching you with interest, small smile playing on his lips.

“Cute’s not a bad thing, baby, but you look like you should be making coffees or playing football in the sun, not here, not with me.” And you tap out a little of the powder onto your hand, pretending to snort it before you turn to him, his expression dark and hungry, and he kisses you, aggressive, almost desperate, and you lean into it, almost forget you’re playing a role with his hand on the back of your neck. When he lets go, when he pulls away, your eyes are still closed and you chase his lips for a moment. Eyes flickering open, you see him smirking down at you where he’s standing, and you both know it wasn’t entirely acting.

“You don’t know anything about me.” He growls, and you know you have to smile like you’re into it, like it’s a challenge, but instead, you duck your gaze, giving a small laugh and wiping at the nostril you’d just “snorted cocaine” through, before looking up at him through your eyelashes.

They call cut, and the director announces, almost a little awed, that she’s pretty sure they got the the take, actually says she’s not sure if she could getting a better take if they tried again. Ben seems far too pleased with himself. 

“They want us to tell the public we’re together.” You’re resting your head on Ben’s chest laying at the back of the tour-bus set, and his hand is resting on your waist, which is bare for the crop top and booty shorts they’ve put you in.

“Yeah, I heard.” He replies, voice equally quiet. “I think we’ve got a meeting about it tomorrow morning.” Gwil and Rami are actually playing scrabble at the front of the bus, and Joe is talking to Singer, the director.

“It’s a bad idea.” You’re so frank that you feel Ben freeze, and you heave a sigh. “It’s good for the movie, but Ben...” You trail off, and you feel it when he forces himself to relax. “It wouldn’t be real, it would just be weird.”

“Y/N, we’re actors.” He says very pointedly, and when you turn, resting your chin on his chest, he looks tired, a little exasperated. “It’s just a business deal.” He assured, and you let out a low, thoughtful grumble. 

“We’ll discuss it tomorrow.” You allow, and he nods once, shifting to a more comfortable position, and you go back to resting your head on his chest, eyes fluttering closed as Singer called for the shot to be reset and a bunch of people came and straightened your clothes, and touched up your makeup, all without you having to move much.

You agree to the terms set forth in the meeting easily, the story being that your relationship rekindled on set, and that you were now madly in love, mirroring the relationship you were portraying on screen.

“Wait, does that mean-?” Ben leans forward in his chair, with his heart in his throat as he followed their logic, thinking through the plot of the movie. “Like engaged?” He asked.

“Seems a bit fast.” You agreed, voice level enough that someone might mistake you for calm rather than internally freaking out, and your managers shared a look.

“There will be a public proposal during or after the world premiere, that’s up to you both, and after the movie is out on DVD, you can go your separate ways.” They assured, but your mouth fell open.

“You know he left me for X-Men, right?” You splutter, and Ben’s eyes widen as he turns to you with a scoff.

“You’re the one who said the distance was too much for us while I was in Cairo.” He snapped, and you threw your hands in the air.

“I was offering to come and stay with you instead, but you said you were too busy!” That was enough to shut him up, his mouth snapping closed as he turned away sharply, huffing out a resigned sigh.

“We have a few brands and restaurants who are interested in sponsoring, and the producers are willing to increase both your salaries if you go through with it for the full duration.” Your manager informed you both carefully, and you and Ben shared a resigned look.

“Fake intend to marry me for like three months?” He asked, voice low and bitter, and after heaving a long sigh, you look to your managers,

“Fine.”

“I think I love you.” Ben’s character shows up at your character’s door, and you open it in a silk robe. 

“Hello to you too.” You laughed, but he’s so serious, so sincere, and when he doesn’t flinch, doesn’t offer anything else, you step up to him, pressing your lips to his, and he wraps his arms around you, hands sliding against the silk over your hips, and you pull back.

“You’re too sweet for me, baby,” voice so low it’s barely a whisper, he’s the one who chases your lips this time, but your catch his chin, and his eyes open. 

“You’re high.” He says softly, voice raw and a little desperate.

“And you’re my dealer.” You push him back gently, going to close the door and his expression turns angry.

“That doesn’t mean anything; I love you, Maggie.” His words hang heavily in the air, but before you can respond, they call for cut. You’re told to play it more like it hurts to try and turn him down, and you agree, smiling and nodding all the while. Everyone sets up for another take and you close the door.

When you kiss him this time, his hands are holding your face, and you’ve got your arms around his neck, and it’s like the world falls away from around you. It’s not acting now, hasn’t been for weeks, almost months now, not since he’d asked you out officially. Every time you kiss him you’re desperate to drown in his embrace, and he kisses you like it’s just the two of you, no cameras, no scripts.

“You’re-” and he cuts you off with another quick kiss, which has you laughing a little sadly, “Peter you’re too sweet for me.” He rests his forehead against yours, heaving a sigh.

“I know you’re high.” He says gently, and you don’t push him away this time, just lean back, your finger lifting his chin.

“And you’re my dealer.” You tell him, expression falling.

“That doesn’t mean anything, that doesn’t matter; I love you.” And you know that in that moment, the words mean so much more than the script, than these characters, than the show; he loves you. Ben loves you.

You avoid him, outside of filming, until you actually get a call from your manager telling you you’re contractually obligated to be seen in public together at least once a week. Even while filming you’re short with him, and he’s quick to get away from you the moment he doesn’t need to be around you, which was getting to be pretty bad, seeing as how you had been blocking a sex scene.

After the call, you and Ben get a drink. It’s awkward at first, though that’s unsurprising. After a long sip of his beer, he pats his thighs where he’s sitting in the armchair across from you. You make a face at him, shaking your head. 

“It’ll look less suspicious than if we’re shouting at each other across the table.” He hissed, and you groaned, obliging and crossing to sit yourself in his lap. He’s warm and secure, and he wraps his arm around you like it’s second nature. “Let’s not make this weird.” He said gently, and you nod.

“As for tomorrow’s shoot,” you said softly, leaning in to make sure no-one else heard, and he nodded, humming softly, “we’re professionals, and,” after a beat you cleared your throat pointedly, “it’s not like we haven’t done it before.”

“Not in front of a camera crew we haven’t.” Ben says with a smirk, and you snicker in agreement. “It’s gonna go fine; this is all gonna go fine, I promise.” And when you raise your eyebrows at him in surprised question, he just laughs softly, and brings you in for a chaste kiss. “It’s only until the DVD’s released.” He assures you, and you let your expression fall, already weary.

“Ben, that’s over a year away.”

[p-artsypants]

Rage Awakened (5)

Ten years ago, Terra, Aqua, and Ventus lost their fellow apprentice, Sora, in Deep Jungle. Now, they are to return with two new students, Riku and Kairi, to lock the heart of the world. All the while, something watches from the trees. Feral!Sora AU

@chachacharlieco @violetstar-writes

Ao3 | FF.net

—

As they had every day, the group woke up in the morning and descended from the treehouse, creating their plan for the day.

“Alright,” began Terra. “Since we have to wait for Tarzan before we can go to the waterfall, our next step is looking for Sora, I guess. Ven and I will try over by the lagoon, Riku and Kairi try to treetops, and Aqua will stay behind at camp in case Tarzan comes for us.”

“Why does Aqua get to stay behind?” Asked Riku, sensibly.

“Because Ventus is still in his exam, and you would just sleep the whole time.”

“Fair.”

“Everyone got a radio?”

They all held up their appropriate walkie-talkies.

“Good, then let’s—“

“EEP!”

One minute, Kairi was there, and the next she was gone, with only a yelp to signify her disappearance.

“Kairi?!” Riku cried out.

“What the hell was that?!” Terra shouted, after seeing a blur sweep her off her feet.

The radios blared to life. “I found him! Er—he found me! I’ll try to—“ static.

“That’s horrifying.” Said Ven.

“Okay, new plan,” declared Terra. “Ven and I will check the lagoon, Riku will check the treetops, and Aqua stays here.”

“That’s the same exact plan as before, but without Kairi.”

“Ah but this time, we’re looking for Sora and her.”

Riku scoffed and began walking off on his own.

“Remember! If you see a strange heartless, call for backup!!”

“Aye aye, Captain.” He waved back.

—

Kairi had been listening, like the good student that she was. She knew she’d be paired up with Riku again, since that’s just the way it always was.

Had she been standing a foot closer to anyone else, it may not have happened, but one second she was looking at Terra, and then she was up in the trees. An arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her tightly to a bare chest as her feet left the ground and her stomach dropped into her shoes. She didn’t even scream, just let out a yelp. It’s like she had left her voice behind.

When she gathered herself, she raised the radio.

“I found him! Er—he found me! I’ll try to get him to bring me back to camp!”

The arm around her tightened and she felt her weight shift down. Instinctively, she hugged him around the neck and then hooked her legs with his.

Looking down, she saw that he had taken her high up to the treetops, a dizzying height from the ground. She clenched her eyes shut.

Finally, they stopped, but he did not loosen the hold on her.

She finally opened her eyes, seeing that they had come to rest on a huge branch. She pulled back slightly to look at him, and likewise, he looked at her.

His eyes were blue. She had seen them before in the moonlight, but now, she could see them properly. Large, brilliant, and so so blue. His glance was tender, yet piercing, and froze her to the spot.

“Hello again...” she found was all she could say.

He didn’t respond with words, only the toothy grin that fit so well on his charming face. He leaned in, his nose touching hers in greeting.

She smiled back, shyly and unwound herself from him, only then did he finally let her go. “You know, it’s not polite to pick up a girl without her permission.” She scolded.

He frowned, but then became happy again when he realized she wasn’t mad at him.

“I really need to go back. The other’s will worry about me.”

He frowned again, his brows furrowing. “Danger.”

“Danger? Then I really need to go! They need my help!”

He grunted and stomped his foot. “Danger!”

“I know! I understand! But we need to help them! Please!”

He grabbed her arm, and shook, not enough to hurt, but just enough to get his point across.

Being a princess, Kairi was used to being benched and ‘staying safe’. But ever since she became a Keyblade wielder, she was determined to save herself. And she emphasized this by summoning her keyblade. “I can protect myself.”

He stared at it in shock.

“It’s a keyblade,” She explained. “You have one too, don’t you?”

He hesitated, but held out his hand, his blade synthesizing.

Now, Kairi had only been studying under Eraqus for about a year, and there were plenty of things she didn’t know about keyblades. But there were a few key things she had learned early on.

She knew all keyblades, save for one, were made in the realm of light. The one exception was the king’s blade, the Kingdom Key. Rather simple in design, a blade of gold with a silver hilt, with a relief of a crown at the end, it was the only keyblade of the realm of darkness. It was fabled to have a partner, the Kingdom Key of light. Though Eraqus was never able to answer when asked where it was.

As she looked at the keyblade in his hand, several thoughts passed through her head. But the most prominent, was that something was wrong. It almost looked like the King’s key, except for a silver blade and a gold hilt. But it looked sick, she surmised. Like the keyblade itself was ill, and even dying. Long, fleshy tendrils of darkness wrapped around the blade, and ended in what looked like claws. The hilt was broken and jagged, and parts even looked dissolved. The crown was struck out with an X.

Kairi touched the blade, fearful to find it colder than any keyblade she had ever touched.

“You...really are Sora, aren’t you?”

His eyes widened. “Know Sora?”

“Well, I know of you, Terra and Aqua told me about you.”

He gruffly shuffled away from her, “Danger.”

“Wait...are you saying that Terra and Aqua...are the Danger?”

“Mmm.” He hummed in confirmation.

“Oh Sora...they love you and miss you! Come on, let’s go back.”

He grunted, and if to solidify his decision, he parked it on the branch. He was acting just like a child.

It was almost adorable.

Kairi found the radio again, and called to her team. “I’m still okay, but our friend is being a little more stubborn than expected, so I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

Nothing came from the other line. She glanced at the radio, only to see no lights on it.

Dead.

“Great...They gave me the bad one.” She sighed. “Well, I guess I’m stuck with you.” She plopped down on the branch next to him.

He seemed to be in a better mood now that she had resigned, and scooted over closer to her, straddling the tree branch.

She was startled, but only for a moment, since she was being to get used to him invading her space.

He rested his hand on her heart. “Kairi,” then he mimicked the action in himself. “Sora.”

“Very good!” She praised with a little clap.

Encouraged by her praise, he leaned forward and pressed his ear to her chest.

“Are you...listening to my heart beat?”

“…heart…” He said, his voice soft and reverent. Then he sat up and gestured for her to do the same to him.

She couldn’t help but laugh. “Alright, you got me.” She braced herself on his chest and leaned in to listen.

His heartbeat was strong and steady. Much more calm than she was feeling at the moment.

Despite the condition of his keyblade, listening to his heart was soothing, and warm.

Finally, she pulled away from him. “Very nice,” she said awkwardly.

He smiled widely.

Then, without warning, he grabbed her around the waist again and leapt from the branch. This time, she had a second to latch on before she could slip.

“Look!” He demanded, as he moved through the trees.

She didn’t really want to, afraid of how high they were, but she peeled her eyes open.

They were so high up! If he missed a vine, they would be toast.

But this didn’t seem to bother Sora at all. He laughed and hooted as he swung, calling greeting to other animals as they travelled.

Then, she noticed something out of place among the trees.

She pointed, “That’s Riku! Let’s go say hi!”

If Sora was untrusting to Terra, Aqua, and Ventus, then perhaps he’d be more welcoming to Riku. He perched them on a branch a few feet above him.

“Riku?” Sora asked.

“Yeah, he’s my friend. Our friend.”

“Friend?”

“Yes, Sora friend, Kairi friend, Riku friend!”

“Oh friend!” Sora sang, seemingly understanding.

It seemed that Riku hadn’t noticed them, as he almost fell off the branch he was resting on when they landed next to him.

“Riku!” Kairi sang.

“Oh Kairi!” He breathed in relief. “I’m so glad I found you...or you found me, I guess.”

Sora sat between them, glancing back and forth as they talked.

“Riku, this is Sora.” She introduced, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Nice to finally meet you, we’ve been looking everywhere for you.” He held his hand out.

Sora grabbed his wrist, yanking the hand closer to him to study it. When he deemed there was nothing in it, he frowned at Riku.

“You shake it,” he explained, grabbing his hand. “Like this,” he moved it up and down.

Sora watched the gesture, and then enthusiastically shook his hand, damn near dislocating Riku’s shoulder. “Okay okay! Not that hard!”

Sora let go with satisfied giggle. “Like Riku! Like Sora?”

“Yeah, I like you Sora.” Riku confirmed.

“Like Kairi! Like Sora?”

“Yes, I like you too, Sora.” She smiled at him.

“Sora key, Kairi key, Riku key?”

“Keyblade,” he corrected, summoning the Road to Dawn.

Sora smiled toothily. “Sora key...keyblade!” And he showed his.

Riku stared at it in shock. “That’s...” he looked at Kairi, “Do you know what keyblade this is...or was?”

“It looks like King Mickey’s keyblade. The one from the realm of darkness.”

“This is its partner, I’m sure of it. But...”

Both of them looked at Sora, who just curiously looked back, not knowing what they were talking about.

“Something’s wrong with his heart.” Riku deliberated. “I think that’s what’s causing this.” He touched the black coiling bits, shivering in response. “They’re made of darkness alright.”

This worried Kairi even more. Riku had told her about his fall into darkness, and what it had done to his heart. There was no telling what this meant for poor Sora, who probably didn’t even realize the danger he was in.

“We should catch up with the others,” said Riku. “They’re probably worried sick.”

“I don’t blame them. But...there’s a small problem. He’s not really...keen on them.”

“On who? Terra and Aqua?”

Sora hissed loudly at the mention of their names, confirming Kairi’s statement.

“Hey hey,” She soothed. “It’s okay.”

Riku scratched the back of his neck. “Well, it makes sense. If he thinks they left him here on purpose or forgot about him. I’d be pretty salty too.”

“So what do we do?”

“Well, he likes you. Why don’t you just...don’t know, hang out with him? Know his world.”

“Me?”

“Sure. He damn near kidnapped you to see you again. Though I don’t really like the idea of you gallivanting around the Jungle with a strange boy…”

Kairi couldn’t help but giggle, “what are you? My dad?”

Sora decidedly had enough of them talking and took Kairi’s hand and tugged.

“Okay, we can go. I’ll meet up with you when I can.”

Riku nodded once, and gestured them on.

Kairi placed her arms around Sora’s neck.

He excitedly hugged her back and then jumped off the tree.

Riku watched them disappear, and then said to himself, “Aqua’s going to murder me.”

—

Back at the Land of Departure, Eraqus was setting up for a guest. It had grown lonely in the castle these last few days, since he was so accustomed to having the kids around, at least one at a time.

“My, I haven’t seen the castle this empty in ages,” spoke the visitor.

Eraqus smiled at him. “At least 15 years, my how time flies.”

“What brought you to call on me, if not to bear witness to your new master?”

“Is loneliness not a a worthy enough excuse?”

“What some call loneliness, others would call peace and quiet.”

“You always did prefer silence, didn’t you Xehanort?”

The older man chuckled, taking a seat at their chess table. “It helps me think.” He made the first move and the game began. “It’s been a while since we’ve had a game, hasn’t it?”

“Yes, If you forgive me, I never thought it was appropriate to call on you while the darkness was such a threat.”

Xehanort raised an eyebrow. “And it’s not anymore?”

“Almost. As we speak, my students are sealing one last world. The darkness will have no foothold after that.”

“I see. Though the darkness won’t be able to swallow any more worlds, the heartless will not retreat, you know.”

“I know...but in due time, they will fade.”

“If that’s what you believe, who am I to contradict you?” He moved his knight to block a pawn. “What is this last world to be sealed?”

Eraqus sighed. “Well, it’s Deep Jungle.”

If Eraqus noticed how Xehanort’s eye twitched, he didn’t say anything about it.

“Deep Jungle? I’m surprised you would send them there after what happened. If it were me, I would let that world go. There is nothing there.”

“You sound like Terra,” Eraqus smiled slightly. “He wanted to let it go. But a world’s worth is not up to us to decide. Especially if it can be saved.”

“Are they fairing well?”

“Fairly.” He used his bishop to take out Xehanort’s Knight. “They met some people there, researchers to study the gorillas. And they have an idea where the keyhole is. And...” he hesitated, swallowing hard.

“Eraqus?”

“They found him. They found Sora.”

“Alive?”

He nodded. “He’s been alive all this time. He’s...been surviving in the forest. He’s feral now, though I don’t doubt it.”

Xehanort frowned. “Eraqus, I know the knowledge of his survival comes as a joy, but I must advise you against bringing him back here.”

“What? Why?”

“I told you before, when you first took him in as a student. That boy has incredible darkness in his heart, and he is dangerous. If indeed he’s been all alone all this time, there’s no telling how human he is anymore. Can he still tell the difference between right and wrong? Can use critical thinking?”

“Well, what are we supposed to do? He’s not just a human, he’s a keyblade wielder. We need him.”

“Do as you please. But I have given you my advice.”

All this talking had distracted Eraqus and put his Queen in jeopardy, and Xehanort was quick to take her with his bishop. “Check, old friend.”

Eraqus frowned, moving his king. “I’m going to prove you wrong. Sora is important to us. He’s coming home.”

[canadiankazz]

The Fourth Time - An L.A. by Night fanfic

Jasper and Annabelle's relationship has taken a lot of intimate steps lately, but when she lets him take the reins, so to speak, and let his more dominant side out, they manage to find a way to get even more pleasure out of it. 

SPOILERS for the end of Campaign 1 including the one-shots. This has gone off canon, so consider this an AU. It's worth reading Part 1 (The First Time), Part 2 (The Second Time) and Part 3 (The Third Time) before you read this. This fic takes place almost directly after The Third Time. This was written before the premiere of Season 2, Episode 2.

I lay no claim to owning any of the characters involved. Things are gonna get more kinky than they have been in this series so far from here on out. We are way past tame wrist biting now. We’re getting into some mild BDSM stuff in this part.

As always, special thanks to @cravatfiend for the support and encouragement during the writing of the drafts. When I asked them for a safe word, they picked the best one for Annabelle. I had the privilege of watching them read this for the first time and all they could say was "...Damn!" High praise, indeed. 

All my love, also, to @gokaiyellow for their additional input, @fluffy-wookiees for being adorable, and to everyone else who has enjoyed this series so far. There are many more parts to come after this one, no worries. (As of posting, I’m currently finishing writing part 8 with ideas for part 9!)

Also posted to the author's Ao3.

First posted Feb, 2, 2019.

The Entire ‘Feeds From’ Master List Can be Found Here

The Fourth Time

Annabelle was having a nightmare. She was running for her life through a dark sewer. Her shoes splashed through the filth. Rats squeaked and scattered in a panic as she charged forwards. Behind her, she could hear a dreadful snarling echoing through the tunnel. She couldn’t see the monster chasing her, but she could hear it. Its hungry growling was getting closer and closer. When, not if, but when it caught her, it was going to rip her apart and eat her alive. Her eyes scanned the walls and curved ceiling frantically for a ladder or escape hatch up to the streets above. There! A ladder appeared to her right. She climbed it as fast as she could, but right when she was about to push up through the manhole cover, she felt sharp claws grab her leg and pull her back down. She screamed.

Annabelle woke with a shudder. Her Beast strained in her chest and throat. The room she was in was dark. There were no windows. She was on her side facing a blank wall. She could feel someone else's body pressed against her back and a long arm curved cosily around her side and stomach that was not her own. There was no breath or body heat coming from the person behind her.

Then she remembered. She was in Jasper's sanctum again. In his bed, again. And he had fed on her last night, again. And now...

She tried to turn her head to look at him without disturbing him. His arm tightened around her a little.

“Jasper?” she whispered.

“Mm.”

He was awake. Annabelle relaxed a little and went back to looking at the wall. He seemed comfortable where he was and so was she, to her mild surprise. Their relationship had taken many great leaps these past few months.

“Hey,” she said softly.

“Hey,” he mumbled into her hair.

“Sleep well?”

“Like the dead.”

She rolled her eyes and poked his arm. “Ha. Ha.”

She heard him snarl softly in her ear as he smiled.

“You need a bigger bed,” she told him.

“Why?”

“Because we only barely fit on it.”

“I thought that this was only going to be a temporary thing,” he said, sounding amused. “Something to tie me over for a little while.”

“Well, clearly... it's not,” Annabelle said softly.

“We can't keep doing this forever,” he told her. His voice was gentle, but firm. “The others are going to find out, and... it's not a healthy relationship.”

Annabelle frowned. “What do you mean by that?”

“What I mean is that...” he sighed, thinking of what to say. She felt him roll back slightly away from her. “It's one sided.”

“No... you feed from me sometimes and let me sleep in your bed sometimes, that's fair.”

“But you don't have to sleep here.”

“You don't have to feed from me either, but here we are,” Annabelle said pointedly. She sighed and touched his hand. “I don't want to argue with you. I... I am happy for this to continue as long as you want. I don't feel like it's one sided, Jasper. I thought you liked it... Liked me.”

“I do,” he admitted softly, “but that’s the problem. I think I’m liking it too much and... that scares me.”

Annabelle thought she understood now. He had told her that a Kindred feeding from another was a big deal and she got why now. Blood was more than just food for them, it was life, and sharing your life with someone else left a big impact. So too did someone forcibly taking it away. He had been trying to adjust to this new, kinder type of feeding and despite the fact that they had only done it three or four times in the past few months, maybe things were still, on an emotional level, going a little too fast for him. Annabelle awkwardly shifted, rolling over to face him. His hoodie was down. From what little light there was in the bedroom, she could see his pale, gaunt face. “It’s okay,” she said. “Don’t let it scare you. I think I get it though. We’ve been kind of going at my pace a little bit.”

Jasper remained quiet, but gave a slight nod. He could see she was more or less on the right track. He felt it in his blood.

“Okay,” Annabelle sighed slowly. “Do you want some emotional space?”

“I think so. To think things over.”

Annabelle nodded and stroked his arm. Her Vitae has done a good job healing him. “Okay,” she said. She didn’t want to make Jasper uncomfortable in this relationship. “How about this... if you want to do this again, you call me, okay? And we’ll do it however you want to.”

“Okay,” Jasper said. He lent forward a little and his forehead touched Annabelle’s for a brief, tender moment. “Thank you,” he whispered. Then he rolled over and got out of bed.

Annabelle stayed where she was, not wanting to get up yet. “You still owe me a boon, remember?”

“Mm. True.”

“And I've thought about what I want from you. If anything happens to me, anything really bad, I want you to take care of Mark and Elleanore for me.”

“What do you mean by 'take care of?'” he asked.

“Watch out for them. Make sure they don't get attacked, I guess? Just keep them safe, as best you can.” Her hand found her golden locket around her neck and held it.

Jasper considered this briefly and decided that it wasn't unreasonable. It was certainly less embarrassing than teaching X how to moonwalk. “Alright,” he nodded.

“Thank you,” Annabelle said tenderly.

Then Jasper stretched his long limbs. Annabelle could her his joints crack and pop. She sat up and sighed. She was hungry. She needed to go.

She packed up her laptop and the little plastic candles she had brought the night before. Jasper helped to collect them. “Will I see you again later?” She asked hopefully.

Jasper shrugged. “At some point, yes. I want to explore my labyrinth this week, and I know the others will be tracking down those other Kindred who attacked us the other night. We should help with that.”

Annabelle nodded. She was angry that her group had been attacked and she hadn't been there to help. At least she could help in the aftermath. She dreaded to think what would have become of Jasper if she hadn't gotten to him when she did. “Yeah.”

An invisible Jasper walked Annabelle to Griffith College, then they parted ways. They both had a lot to do.

**

Jasper kept himself busy over the next few weeks. He explored his labyrinth. He visited Eva. He received and carried out more jobs for Baron Abrams. All the while, Annabelle's movements and moods were in the back of his mind. The longer he went without feeding on her, the weaker his bond with her became. Part of him missed that. He found himself delaying finding another more permanent solution to his empty larder. He knew that eventually he would have to go back to his more aggressive feeding style, but he also knew he would miss having someone give him their honest and thoughtful consent. It made him feel a tiny bit less like a monster.

That got him thinking. Despite himself, he started to formulate a plan, purely hypothetical, of how his next feeding session with Annabelle could go. She had asked him to come back to her when he was ready to initiate things again and had said that they could do things his way if they wanted to. He had genuinely appreciated that. There was something dominant about him that was asking to be satisfied. Every time it came down to the act of feeding in the past, Jasper had been violent and dominant. Until Annabelle came along and offered herself to him, that is. That had changed things. Jasper had become what was for him, very submissive. Nothing wrong with that, of course, but it wasn't what he wanted to be doing all the time, every time.

He was curious, also, about how far he could push Annabelle's boundaries. She was the one who always wanted more and he had been holding back. He knew very well what he was physically capable of and what his Beast demanded of him. The thought of challenging Annabelle, daring her to keep up with him intrigued him. By the time Jasper finished planning the night he had in mind, he knew that he might regret it forever if he didn't try it. The worst that would happen was Annabelle would say no. He might be a little disappointed, but that was nothing new. He waited another few nights, then decided to set his plan in motion.

**

Annabelle was on her way home when she thought she heard something behind her. She paused, straining her senses, searching for something unseen. At first, there was nothing, then she heard Jasper’s disembodied voice in her ear. “Hey.”

She jumped. “God...!”

“No, just me.” Jasper sounded highly amused.

“Jasper, what are you doing?” She hissed, annoyed at being startled like that.

“I was going to ask you...” he started, then hesitated, possibly reconsidering his words. “Would like to come over tomorrow night for another round?”

Annabelle felt a ghost of a touch on her neck and shoulder, right where he had bitten her last time. She shivered and something deep in her core twisted in the memory of pleasure. “Uhhh... sure,” she said faintly. Her mouth was dry and she swallowed. “Can I ask why? I thought you might not want to any more.”

“I’d been thinking,” Jasper said in her ear with a light snarl, “that there are a few things I would like to try with a consenting individual such as yourself, and I don’t know when I will get the chance to do them again. I would be a fool to not ask.” He put special emphasis on the word ‘consenting.’ His voice was soft and sensual, unusually so, but it was undercut with a thirst that Annabelle recognised.

“Okay, um... how about I come over tomorrow and we’ll talk about it and... see where we go from there,” she said.

“Alright. Come by 3:00,” Jasper replied, “and bring those little plastic candles. And yes... you may sleep over as well.”

Annabelle nodded. “See you then.”

“Oh, one last thing...” she felt Jasper’s lips on her ear and she shivered again, despite herself. “In the meantime, can you think of a safe word, please?”

Annabelle’s eyes went very wide. What on earth could he be planning that would need a safe word? “Uh...” she stammered.

“Do you trust me?”

“Of course. Well, I have to, for us to do this, right?”

“We don’t have to do this,” he reminded her.

“I know, but... I want to.” Annabelle swallowed nervously and steadied her nerves. “Okay. I’ll think of something.”

“Alright. See you tomorrow.”

She didn’t hear him leave, but she hadn’t heard him approach either. She stood there in mild shock for another little while with her hands over her mouth and cheeks. She cursed herself for being as excited as she was. This was going to be very, very interesting. She hurried the rest of the way home.

**

When Annabelle arrived once again at Jasper's sanctum the next night, she had her bag with her with the plastic candles and her laptop in it. She had fed earlier, as much as she could without killing any one. She was almost beside herself with nervous excitement. Part of her thought that she should be more apprehensive, that she should let someone know where she was just in case things went bad. But she trusted Jasper. He had been very good to her so far, very good indeed, and he didn't seem to want to ruin this relationship they had going. She trusted the control he had over himself. She still believed that, over-all, he wasn't a bad guy.

She knocked on his front door. Jasper answered it quickly. He had been waiting for her in the passage way on the other side again. He was wearing a different black hoodie this night. This one had fewer layers and just a straight zipper up and down. It was casual. Easy to get into and out of. Interesting.

They smiled at each other and Jasper invited her in. She followed him closely back down the long passage way, though she was sure by now she had the route memorised. They caught up with a little small talk. As they got closer to his rooms, Annabelle could hear faint music. It was classical, something with an orchestra and a choir. They weren't singing in English... Latin, maybe? Annabelle wasn't as knowledgeable on her classical pieces. “You're playing music?” She asked, pleased and surprised.

“Yeah, to set a mood.” Jasper smirked at her. She recognised her own line that she had used on him last time she was here.

“Oh, I see,” she chuckled. “What is it?”

“Mozart’s Requiem in D Minor.” Jasper licked his fangs. “Tell me... have you learned Blush of Life yet?”

“Um... yeah. Yes, I have.” Annabelle had used it very successfully around Elleanore. It gave her a pulse, warmed her skin, let her breathe and otherwise seem almost entirely human again. Annabelle tilted her head a little at Jasper, slowly working out what he had planned. “Why?”

His grin was sharp. “I would like you to use it tonight.”

“Oh... yeah, sure. Right now?”

“If you'd like, or we can wait until we get to the bedroom.”

“I'll wait,” she decided. So far, she liked where this was going.

In the bedroom, they set up her candles on the floor as they did last time. The room was soon full of artificial, warm candlelight. The classical music continued in the background, unobtrusive.

“Did you decide on a safe word?” Jasper inquired.

“Yeah. Um... are you familiar with the stoplight method?”

He considered it. “Red, yellow, green?”

She nodded. “Yeah. Green means go, yellow means slow down, and red means stop. It's basic, but effective.”

Jasper nodded. “Alright. We're going to use that tonight. Unless I hear you say 'yellow' or 'red,' I'm going to assume that everything is green.”

“No gags, then, please,” Annabelle specified.

“No,” Jasper agreed. That had never been a part of his plan for tonight.

Annabelle kept glancing at his fangs while he spoke. She couldn’t help it. His eyes had a hungry and excited gleam. She suspected that he and his Beast were working in near harmony tonight. Well, they had their safe word in place. Everything would be okay. She was feeling brave and keen to see how far Jasper was going to push things tonight.

When she was ready, Annabelle nodded and slipped off her red jacket, as was their custom by now. She had worn the good bra again. Jasper recognised the shape of it under her thin tank top. He snarled a little when he smiled.

“On the bed, please,” he gestured to the bed. Annabelle complied, her lips twitching into a little smile. She sat on the bed, then lay back. As she did so, she activated Blush of Life. Her Beast stirred a little, but was still mostly dormant. She glanced at Jasper. He was staring at her with an expression of incredible desire. He came over to her and sat on the bed. He held her hand and seemed to marvel for a few seconds at its warmth. Annabelle's body fell back into the natural rhythm of breathing. Jasper felt her pulse in her wrist. His fingers were very cold by comparison, and felt very dead. He snarled to himself, pleased.

“I don't have Blush of Life,” he explained softly. “I never bothered to learn how to do it. I mean... why would I? Who am I going to try to convince that I'm alive?”

“You still could learn,” Annabelle said. She could think of at least one person he might have used Blush of Life on, if he could, but bringing up that person was very likely going to ruin the mood, so she didn't.

He shook his head. “I could, but it's doubtful.” He seemed to be enjoying just feeling her hands for a moment. The classical music swelled and faded into a new piece of a similar feel to the last, but a faster tempo.

Jasper moved suddenly. With little warning, he was on top of Annabelle, straddling her hips. He had one knee pressed on either side of her ribs. He wasn't very heavy, especially not for a Brujah's strength to support. Annabelle's insides quivered in anticipation. She felt vulnerable, but she remembered all she had to do was say one or two words and he would stop. She understood finally what he had been planning. Jasper looked down at Annabelle, his icy eyes boring into hers. Her heartbeat sped up considerably. Her face flushed. She met his gaze, excited but steady. The degree to which she wanted this to continue bewildered her.

Slowly now, he peeled his hood off his head. Then his hands went to the zipper in the front of his hoodie and he slowly began to tug it down. Annabelle's eyes went wide as Jasper's chest was exposed. He was built of nothing but lean muscle. His flesh was as pale as death save for the starkly contrasting mass of black veins that criss-crossed his body like an insane roadway map. He had no body hair. He unzipped the hoodie down to the bottom, but didn't take it all the way off. This was a compromise, she realised. She had wanted to see what he looked like under his layers for a while, and he had always said no. This was an in-between he was allowing her.

She gave him a warm smile, but when she reached to touch him he stopped her. He gripped one hand in each of his and leaned down over her. He pinned her warm hands and wrists down with his deathly cold hands to the mattress above her head. He continued to watch her, as if daring her to say 'yellow' or 'red.' She didn't. His grip on her was strong. Their faces were close now. Annabelle was breathing hard.

Jasper bared his fangs and growled at her, as if trying to scare her. He was the monster from myth and legend, the deadly black shadow with razor sharp fangs who stalked helpless people at night and she was the young, naive victim. He was perhaps even trying to provoke her one last time into saying their safe word. She did look scared for a moment. There was fear in her eyes, in her Beast, but still she didn’t say either of the words that would make Jasper pull back. A true victim, she was no longer. Annabelle was allowing this to happen.

“Green?” he rasped, edging towards losing control.

“Green,” she nodded and tilted her head to expose her neck. Blood, warm blood, flowed there, and some of it at least, was his for the taking.

The music swelled again in the background as the choir reached a melodramatic crescendo. With a hungry snarl Jasper bit Annabelle hard in the throat. She gasped at the pain. Jasper had good aim. His long, wicked fangs had landed right on her jugular. He bit deep, and his mouth filled with Vitae. She was as sweet, strong and aroused as always, but this time her blood was body temperature. Jasper had never had warm Vitae from another Kindred before. His Beast exalted. He began to drink greedily, keeping an ear open for Annabelle wanting to end this early. He hoped she would not.

The pleasure of the Kiss soon followed, radiating out over Annabelle's body and making her moan. Her eyes rolled back in her skull. She flexed her arms against Jasper, but he still held her down, firmly pinning her to the mattress. Her body, still under the influence of Blush of Life, reacted as it normally would have to intense pleasure. Her heart hammered in her chest. Her pulse raced, sending vital blood into Jasper's hungry mouth. Her brain was very soon dizzy, but she didn't care. Her Beast scrambled, but was soundly ignored in the overwhelming wave of sensations. Annabelle didn't know if it was because of this new, intense situation or the anticipation that had led up to it, but the pleasure this time was near orgasmic. When she felt Jasper bite a little harder in his enthusiasm, it crossed that threshold and she crested with a cry. Annabelle's body trembled uncontrollably underneath Jasper's from her core outwards.

Jasper lingered on Annabelle's throat for a moment or two longer, then pulled his head back with a snarl. His fangs and tongue were painted a deep crimson. Annabelle only barely noticed this. She shivered when he licked her wound closed and he thought he heard her whimper. His Beast whispered at him to continue, that this had been the best he ever had, but he clenched his jaw and ignored it.

Jasper sat up and let her hands go. She didn't move them. She lay there still, breathing hard, eyes closed. Each exhale had a little moan attached to it. He watched her chest heave up and down for a minute. The music faded and changed again to a soprano singing backed by strings and a piano.

Annabelle opened her eyes and saw Jasper watching her. He was still straddling her hips. She smiled up at him. “Wow,” she mumbled. She lowered her hands and rested them on his knees on either side of her body. Jasper didn’t mind. He chuckled at her reaction. “I... mm...” Words were failing her as her blood-deprived brain swam in a haze of endorphins.

“Good?” Jasper confirmed.

Annabelle still couldn’t speak, but she nodded.

Jasper slid carefully off of her and sat on the bed next to her. He hadn't taken a lot of Vitae this time, but what he had taken was potent indeed. His head was also filled with endorphins, mainly from her, but he didn't have the Blush of Life to let his body do anything about it.

“I can't believe you let me do that,” he chuckled softly. He re-zipped up his hoodie, but only part way. He left the top third or so of it open. “I thought for sure you were going to stop me when I pinned you down.”

Annabelle stretched and smiled at him. Other than an internal scolding from her Beast, she was content, still reeling slightly from the pleasures she had been through. “But I didn't.”

Jasper relaxed down next to her on the narrow bed as best he could. He found himself playing a little with her long, black hair. Their bond had deepened again, he knew. At that moment, in that place, he did not care. “You liked it... rather a lot,” he remarked, still amused. His fangs, when Annabelle saw them, were clean now.

“Yeah...” Annabelle marvelled. She covered her face with her hands as embarrassment washed over her. The pleasure this time had been too, too much. “Oh my God!” he heard her muffled giggle.

“What?” Jasper inquired, though he was fully aware of what had happened to her body and why. He was having fun.

Annabelle peeked at him through her fingers. She was grinning. “Is that what you had planned?” she demanded.

“More or less, yes. I'm glad it worked.”

Annabelle groaned softly. “Did you know about... that I would...”

Jasper smirked. “I kind of suspected... but no, but it was a pleasant surprise.” He stroked a cold, pale hand down her arm to her chest, where it settled over her still-beating heart.

“Boy, I'll say,” Annabelle agreed.

Feeling Annabelle's magically enforced heartbeat made Jasper get very quiet and suddenly a little introverted. His eyes found the gold locket hanging around Annabelle's neck and the silver ring on her finger and he pulled his hand back. He got up and went to turn off the music and the lights so that they could settle into bed.

When dawn broke over the City of Angels, the majority of the population arose to begin their day of work and school and life, but Jasper and Annabelle were once again literally dead to the world. The two vampires shared the little bed, holding each other. Where their relationship would take them now, neither of them knew, but in that moment at least, they were content.

[yeoldontknow]

Kilig

Author’s Note: happy birthday @imdifferentshadesofpurple <33 i love you so much. i know weve been talking about this fic since christmas and ive not been able to work on it. but its the mark of your dreams and i love you! mork <3 ↳ Kilig (n. Tagalog): the unstoppable sensation of joy or elation experienced when intensely, madly falling in love; the sudden feeling of inexplicable joy when something romantic occurs Pairing: Mark Tuan x Reader (oc; female) Summary: You’ve weathered so much in your relationship with Mark, and still he makes you twitterpatted. But when you’re moving in together, and choosing the right home to start your life, you start wondering if things will ever feel the same again. Genre: fluff; romance; domestic au Rating: PG-13 Warning: implied sex Word Count: 2,554

For as long as you’ve known him, Mark has told you he loves you with all of him.

The ways have been endless and numerous, sometimes imperceptible to the untrained eye, but for you, they have always been obvious.

It started with this eyes, the way they would find you in a crowded room, seeking you and your shape as a comfort. Without looking, you could feel them on you, a sensuous sort of touch that called you to him and made your skin hurt wherever he was not felt. And when you did dare to meet his gaze, let yourself fall with him, it was the way they were open wide and swimming. Too many colours seemed to pool and gather in his irises, bewildered by you as he was and taking on all the light in the world just to see you in perfect focus.

Then, it was his lips. This is when the ways became both simple and complex, a paradox of sentiment that took you weeks to untangle. His tongue seemed to handle the word differently, gave shape to love as though he were sculpting a monument meant to outlast humankind. To him, the word was delicate, though it was only a fragile thing when it was given to you, asking you to hold it with him, and to cherish it. He spoke the word like it were feathers, but he kissed it on you like wildfire, reckless and with abandon, and demanding that you burn with him.

On you, there was not a single place his lips did touch or taste, greedy in the way he consumed you and unforgiving in the way he weathered you down.

Lastly, came his hands. The holiness of his hands washed over with delay, slowly and overtime, and without the dedication of your thought. Only when you realized he touched you as though you were something sacred, gentle but with the whole of his hand, did you think back on all the ways he had handled the totality of you. In the early days, he clutched your hand as a cross, fingers to your knuckles and unwilling to be parted from you. The flat of his palms rested against your cheeks as he kissed you, holding your head and holding you to him, fending off the oncoming separation with prayers against your skin.

But these were nothing to the way his fingers traversed your spine, your thighs, your breasts, tracing scripture into your pores and hoping they etched into the bone. Nightly, he carved commandments into you, let his love spread until his name and his essence was a mark upon your ribs. It was the same for him, you knew, the way your hands gripped his shoulders and slithered down his back as he moved in you - your touch had been sweared into his spine, a permanent reminder at the base of his cerebellum that dictated his choices, his thoughts, his speech.

You called this unity. He called you his soulmate. Together, you knew it was love.

For as long as you’ve known him, Mark as told you he loves you with all of him.

But now, searching for a home in which you will start your life, the love he gives seems only to be directed towards you and not your future, and you don’t know whether to be offended or exhausted.

Choice was never his strong suit, backing away from options with raised hands and a cock of his eyebrow. It is not that he didn’t have opinions, it’s just that his were never as loud as others, and so he never learned to argue. In choosing you, he is vocal, adamant and determined, and his perpetual choice of you, he felt, absolved him of all the rest.

You thought, perhaps, this would change after four failed house showings and one apartment, each more special than the last. But with each, he seemed only to withdraw further, shrugging at things you felt were important and being vocal about insignificant things, unremarkable things that could be changed.

Today, on your fifth house showing, he stands in the living room admiring the design on the ceiling with a scowl. Arms crossed, he furrows his brow and pouts his lips, aloof and somewhat bored.

‘Mark.’ You say his name in the hopes of bringing him back to you and receiving his focus, but instead his gaze remains fixed. ‘What do you think of the mantle?’

Unmoved, he sighs before speaking. ‘Do you think the circles were what they wanted?’

Thrown by his question, you blink at him before raising your gaze. ‘Probably? It’s in the final design, so I’m sure it was approved.’

‘It just looks so unfinished,’ he muses, turning to assess the design behind him. ‘Like wouldn’t they have wanted squiggles...for a ribbon.’

‘We can ask the development manager…’ Your statement fades as you search the pamphlet handed to you at the door, seeking a name. On each page, housing designs and templates greet you, all modern and extravagant, and with customizable kitchens. It says nothing about the ceiling.

‘I’m not saying we have to change it,’ he says, turning to look at you with a small, half smile. ‘Just would be hard to change if we wanted to.’

Briefly, you glance between Mark and the ceiling as you chew the inside of your cheek. Handling Mark when he’s like this is delicate, not because he is tempestuous nor volatile, simply because matching his aloofness will lead him to believe you are not serious - about this home, or any. One, poorly timed comment will send you back on another search and, while it is not that you are serious about this home, it’s merely that any home with him would suffice. And thus, this search has been overwhelmingly tiring.

Every home you have seen has been beautiful, modern, and delightfully within budget. This is a rarity, a magical experience in which choices are abundant and all are wonderful, and so you would be happy with any if he were happy at all. Instead, he’s placid, unmoved by any one house, liking things in one and hating the same in the other, difficult only because he maneuvers around choice.

But this is the first time he’s used the word “we,” implying an us in the space and a future existence. And so you are careful, clutching this word to your chest and hoping it does not sprout wings of hope.

‘Is this,’ you begin slowly, taking a step towards him, ‘something you would want to change?’

Shaking his head, Mark keeps his expression even and placid. ‘No,’ he says, simply. ‘Just saying, it’s hard to change.’

With a sigh, you close your eyes and count to ten.

Staring at the door to the master bedroom, rather than viewing the room’s size and scope, Mark hums. ‘These doorknobs are brass.’

From your position in the entry to the en-suite, you turn your head and regard him. Hands shoved in his pockets, he looks a little lost, and you hate that it makes you smile. ‘Yes,’ you offer, keeping your voice neutral, ‘but that’s much easier to change than a ceiling pattern.’

Mark glances up at you, somewhat aghast.. ‘Why would I want to change these?’

Once again, you find yourself dumbfounded. ‘Brass tarnishes easily.’ Pressing your finger into the knob, you pull it back after a moment to reveal the very clear impression of your print. Satisfied, you regard him patiently, as though this should be enough - the clear display of finger oils eating away at the smooth texture.

‘It gives the house character,’ he says, finally, still studying your fingerprint.

And this is what does it, what sends frustration and irritation to the center of your throat like bile. ‘These give it character?’ There’s a sharpness in your voice you know you will soon come to regret, but the way it feels on your tongue is a release you did not know you wanted to caress. ‘Not the mantle and the enormous fireplace?’

His head snaps up to meet your gaze, eyes searching your expression. ‘When have you ever seen brass knobs in a modern house?’ he tries, tone playful in the efforts of keeping you calm.

But still, you do not give in. He’s had so much of you, you think, and it is unfair he keeps this stage of your life at an arm’s length. ‘These give it character?’ you snap, fully rooted in your anger. ‘Not the mirror over the kitchen sink that faces the picture window to the yard.’

Taking a step back to fully appraise you, he regards you with a soft, worried expression. ‘What’s this about?’

‘Not the crown molding or the built in bookcases?’ you continue, unable to stop now that the flood has been unpinned from your lips. ‘But these, the ugly brass doorknobs, give it character.’

Several seconds pass in which you savor the silence, so unlike the quiet that usually falls between you. This is not the calm silence of knowing your lover enough to know their thoughts, the comfortable silence of partners in which words fail and somehow seem insufficient. This is the silence of realization and understanding, the silence of awareness that this may be your first real fight, and while it would never be enough to break you, it is enough to remind you that love takes commitment, even when commitment is hard.

‘Hey, what’s -’

Mark’s words are cut off as you spin on your heels and walk briskly out of the house.

Immediately, you know it will not be this one, and as you push through the front door a spiteful laugh rises from your throat. At least one choice has been removed, though it is not because there was any particular flaw. Sadness constricts your chest, and you are unsure if it is because you did really like this home or if it is because you have liked all the others, too, and you are unsure you will ever find a home with Mark or if he is just coming with you for the ride.

‘Baby.’

The deep intonation of his voice makes you release a heavy sigh, eyes wide as you cock your head back to stare at the sky.

‘Tell me what’s wrong.’

At once, you feel him behind you. His eyes, and now the heat from his existence, attuned to it as you are, as though he were magnetic.

‘No,’ you shake your head, keeping your back to him. ‘I’m mad at you.’

At this, he laughs, the sound rich and full, the chocolate you always find yourself craving, and it takes work not to turn to face him, and to see his skin in the sun of high noon.

‘You can be mad at me, but I’d like to know what you’re mad about.’ He takes a few steps towards you, his head radiating into your back. ‘I think that’s only fair.’

Keeping your gaze straight ahead, unwilling to turn or see him because it means you will cave, you sigh. Crossing your arms, you scowl, pretending he can see you. ‘It was your idea to move in together.’

‘I know.’

Digging your heels into the earth your purse your lips. ‘So why don’t you want to?’

‘What?’ he asks, sounding alarmed.

The worry in his voice is real, surprised, and you know you have been unfair. He doesn’t know he’s being difficult, almost never does - so self-aware in every instance except for this - and it’s cruel of you to let him panic.

Turning to face him, you see the way his hands clench at his sides, fighting the urge to reach for you. Still, you hold your ground. ‘You fight every house and find random things wrong with it, or pick the most bizarre things just because you don’t want to be involved in the choice.’

‘You think that’s what I’m doing?’ he asks, cocking his head to the side in concern.

‘Isn’t it?’ you laugh in disbelief. ‘You do that with dinner. You shrug every time I offer a choice and you tell me to pick. You let me pick what we watch on Netflix -’

‘But I like what you pick!’ he exclaims.

‘Okay,’ you shrug, shaking your head, ‘but I don’t want to choose anymore.’

‘That’s fine!’ Mark’s laugh is airy, unlike its usual texture. ‘I can pick the next show we watch.’

‘No, it’s not Netflix!’ You don’t mean to shout, but you’re tired. Tired of feeling like you don’t have a partner, and sick with the feeling that, somehow, you don’t have him. ‘It’s everything. I don’t want to be alone in choosing our home.’

At your words, he blanches, the colour fading from his skin even in the sun. ‘You think I don’t want to pick a house?’ he whispers, delicate in the way he handles his words.

‘Clearly, you don’t.’

‘I can see how it would come off that way, and I’m sorry.’ At once, he reaches for you, unable to hold back the need to touch you. He gathers you into his arms, burying his nose into your neck to take the smell of you in, deep into his lungs. ‘Really, I am. I thought you knew.’

‘What are you talking about,’ you murmur, immediately letting your guard down at the feel of his muscles beneath your hands.

Pulling back just enough to see you, he cradles your cheek with his palm. ‘Picking the house is so...not a concern of mine.’

In protest, you open your mouth to speak, but he cuts you off.  

‘Listen!’ he laughs, eyes wide and imploring you to be calm and to be patient. ‘Picking the house is not a concern because you are my home. As long as I’m with you, I am home. We could be in a hotel or a shed or a mansion, I don’t care. Okay, maybe I care about the mansion because that’s a crazy electric bill, but I don’t care where it is as long as I’m with you. I found home a long time ago, so when I bring up random things on house showings it’s because I don’t know what I’m supposed to say. Your heart is my home, and it’s the only place I want to be.’

Once more, silence falls between you, but this is the silence in which he tells you he loves you with all of him. The penetrative way he holds your stare moves you, makes you feel him once more taking root in your heart, holding it with his palm instead of your cheek. Silently, his lips shape the words “I love you” over and over, until he stops to smile, knowing that your soul has heard him where your ears could not. And last, he keeps you in his hold, hands burning with the knowledge that being separate from you is painful, terrible, and like this you know he is right.

Neither of you are truly at peace without the other, and so it should not matter what roof shelters you, for you will always shelter each other.

‘Goddammit, Mark,’ you laugh, pressing your face into his shoulder.

‘What now?’

‘You got me so emotional, I’m considering the brass knobs.’

[ofcacthuxandkylosaur]

Are there any trans Kylo fics out there? I feel as if it's all only trans hux this or feminized hux that...

I think there is indeed more trans Hux than trans Kylo out there, but I still managed to find some. Beware that I haven’t read most of the fics and therefore cannot say anything about their content. I also recommend of course you read the autor’s warnings;)

Trans Kylo Art

https://croatomunchi.tumblr.com/post/142969291522/would-u-ever-draw-like-hux-and-trans-kylo - croatomunchi

http://artllama.tumblr.com/post/146236116396/i-did-a-transition-log-because-i-cant-not-spend - artllama

http://toiek.tumblr.com/post/141289851114/i-love-trans-kylo - toiek

http://rip-space-birdie.tumblr.com/post/141067487245/kylo-ren-is-trans-pass-it-on - rip-space-birdie

http://opens-up-4-nobody.tumblr.com/post/153044170134/stutter-iplier - opens-up-4-nobody

http://opens-up-4-nobody.tumblr.com/post/147354462721/nice - opens-up-4-nobody

http://angerydj.tumblr.com/post/169121106275 - angerydj

http://corvosfursona.tumblr.com/post/137737245113/they-fixed-him-up-but-hes-conked-and-phasma - corvosfursona

http://kiiiloren.tumblr.com/post/137138625403/coming-to-u-live-tiny-trans-padawan-ben-solo  - kiiiloren

+ There is also a blog whose name is Trans!Kylo

Trans Kylo headcanons/ideas

http://bygoneboy.tumblr.com/post/148311042452/hi-u-should-talk-abt-ur-trans-kylo-headcanons - bygoneboy

http://nbnightwing.tumblr.com/post/136272896831/anyway-ive-been-thinking-a-lot-about-trans-guy - nbnightwing

http://kremaclassii.tumblr.com/post/137459014170/whispers-more-trans-kylo-head-canons - kremaclassii

http://kiiiloren.tumblr.com/post/138435517778/ive-been-thinking-about-trans-hux-and-kylo + http://kiiiloren.tumblr.com/post/137141605853/since-leia-is-force-sensitive-imagine-her-being - kiiiloren

http://lilstarkiller.tumblr.com/post/141230802426/alright-alright-i-keep-thinking-weve-got-trans - lilstarkiller

http://generallyhorribleatlife.tumblr.com/tagged/trans%21kylo - generallyhorribleatlife

Trans Kylo Fics

“Almond”  - angry_android || Kylo likes to hang out at his local Starbucks and brood. Hux works there part-time while going to community college. Because of someone else’s sloppy handwriting, Hux accidentally calls out Kylo’s name as “Kylie,” and there is fallout. The fallout might include dating.

“pocketknife”  - angry_android || There’s a reason Kylo wears a crop top. Hux understands.

“Casanova, Fuck Me Over”  -  Anonymous || With another kiss, Hux glances up. “You promise try and keep your limbs to yourself?” Ren snorts. “I will try my best,” he says, placing his hands on the sheets, “If you promise to stick your face between my thighs sometime soon.”

“Tarine Tea and Lambro Shark”  -  armitageren || The First Order celebrates a recent victory on a luxurious planet and it’s the perfect setting for Kylo Ren and Armitage Hux’s first date. Hux struggles to survive the date with his anxiety putting him on edge because Ren doesn’t know he’s trans and he isn’t sure what that means for their future.

“all the noises (from your hateful little mouth)”  - bloomthefox || In which Kylo whines and puts off his feelings, Phasma calls it like she sees it, and Hux is a stone cold mystery. Or, the defense attorney AU that literally nobody asked for.

“care and control”  -  cracktheglasses (cormallen) ||  It’s a wide strip of dark brown leather, soft, already a bit worn at the edges, snapped shut over Ben’s wrist. It means Ben wants him. Ben needs him. He may not always be able to say it, but he means it every time he puts the cuff on, every time he puts himself into Hux’s care – I’m yours.

“juxtaposition”  - cracktheglasses (cormallen) || He hopes Hux makes it hurt. Hopes Hux is as mean and arrogant and smart here as he is everywhere else, the way Kylo tries to be.

“Changed” -   Davechicken || Kylo was sure from a young age that he wasn’t female. It’s not until he leaves home that he finds people who agree.

“Pushed”  - Davechicken || Hux has to push his boy a little, to get him through the discomfort. Kylo always appreciates it after.

“Control”  - DoctorNinjaSpy || Patience is Armitage’s most valued virtue. Sometimes, however, he falters.

“special delivery” - gonnapop || Hux had not intended to be present for this messy process. Rather, he’d imagined returning after his shift and being handed a clean, swaddled baby. But there was nothing for it now.He rolled up his sleeves.

“Heel, Beg, Speak”  - JulieCox || Emperor Hux has a new pet, and enjoys pushing him around. Kylo has secrets, and enjoys keeping them to his own damn self. But they won’t stay secrets for long.

“the Panty fic”  -  kyloskummies || Kylo and Hux are roommates. Kylo is trans and wears panties. It’s a hot day and the AC is broken. Y'all know where it goes from there.

“Bad Poet and Good Artist”  -  lovewashisname || Hux has moved schools before. He’s sure this time won’t be any different. He’ll keep to himself, make a few acquaintances, and put up with his father the best he can. But not even an hour into his first day and he’s shattered his phone, walked into a gorgeous boy, and had a very, very awkward conversation with said gorgeous boy. In other words, Hux meets the incredibly sad Ben Solo, and maybe he doesn’t want to leave this school so soon.

“Bad Poetry on Starlit Rooftops”  -  lovewashisname || Everywhere Kylo looks, high school is portrayed as either the best place you’ll ever be, or a shithole that will ruin four years of your life. For Kylo, it’s neither. High school has been a place to hide from his own body, and to get into fights every once in a while. So in one year, none of that will change, he thinks. How wrong could he be? told from Kylo’s point of view

“A Real Boy”  -  MosImagination || Ben solo is a transmale junior, he has a crush on a senior named Hux. Ben is too afraid to show off his real self, but Hux quickly accepts him. And loves him.

“Birth of a dream”  -  MosImagination || Ben solo is a transmale, hux has always wanted a child, Ben gives his body to have their child.

“Expectations”  -  MosImagination || Ben solo didn’t know what to expect coming home on Valentines Day.

“Shark in the Water”  -  SeraphicVictory || Kylo Ren was absolutely the best sailor there ever was. Or that’s what he liked people to believe anyway. In truth, he was no better than any other man at the mercy of the sea. With one fatal mistake, he and his ship were destroyed in a terrible storm, and Kylo was certain he would fall to the watery grave that most sailors met at the end. But then he wakes up to a handsome, red-headed man. His savior: The Mershark called ���Hux’.

“Someone to come home to”  -  ShinigamiKnox || Hux is the supportive boyfriend and helps Kylo deal with his dysphoria. It was supposed to be a more serious piece of work, but I could not stop laughing at the infamous Ren quote. I’m so sorry.

“A morning at the gym”  -  SidMjkGc || Just another kind of workout.

“This Asshole”  - twinkyatta || Hux goes to a coffee shop every day, but there’s a new barista, and holy fuck does he hate him.

+ Trans Female Kylo fic

“Fate”  -  MosImagination || It was fate that they met. A beautiful transfemale Kylo ren. A handsome transmale Hux.

Trans Kylo series (of fics) 

“The Monsters We Keep”  -  AriMarris || Description: “The Monsters We Keep” is the story of Hux and Kylo, who fall in love and marry young and make many mistakes. Basically, the films rewritten through Kylo’s eyes with drastic changes. With extra one-shots thrown in the mix for fun.

“Bastards and Broken Things”  -  Bipolar_Armitage_Hux, kohoutek || No Description –> Resume of first work: A story of Armitage Hux’s childhood from the Bastards and Broken Things AU / Series.

“Caged by Monsters” (one work for now)  -  Bipolar_Armitage_Hux, kohoutek || No Description –> Resume of first work:  An introduction to the psychiatric ward AU - this is written by an actually neurodivergent person and thus there is a strong attempt to make it not remotely ableist. The “bad guys” in this are the abusive doctors and an ableist system. Hux meets Kylo Ren for the first time, or rather the other sees him in a therapy session with Dr. Brendol Hux and becomes fascinated by him.

“The Tired Raptor”  -  Kylux_TRASH || Description: “Hollywood, 1939. Amidst the glitz and the glitter of a bustling young movie talent at the height of its golden age, the Hollywood Tower Hotel was a star in its own right. A beacon for the show business elite. Now, something is about to happen that will change all that”Something did happen to change that. It happened, on October 31st, 1939, Hollywood California. Kayla-Rose and her male escort, Mr. Hux were riding in the elevator when they entered into a world unknown. They entered The Twilight Zone.

“when the lights are low”  -  transkylo (captainandor) || No Description –> Resume of first work: “Do your colleagues know how fucking possessive you are?” Kylo asks, canting his hips back, pressing into Hux’s touch as far as he can.Hux grins. “Does your mother know that you sleep with her political rivals?” Kylo’s laugh is breathy and uneven. “I don’t make a habit of it.” 

+ Trans Female Kylo series (of fic)

“She’s Just a Girl and She’s on Fire”  -   Kylo Hux (Loki_Likey_Thor_Odinson) || No Description –> Resume of first work: Hux and Phasma have been sent to a fundraiser for The First Order. Their uniforms have been changed for a smart military uniform and a glamorous ball gown. Everyone that should be here is – except for one person.Kylo Ren is absent, still on another planet, having surgery. She was supposed to be here, supposed to be on security detail for the night; Hux lost hope of seeing his girlfriend for the first time in months when he saw two Knights of Ren circling the room.

“from bby Finn to teenage heartthrob + Hux  (one work for now)  -  orphan_account || No Description –> Resume of first work: Mostly, Phasma loves her job. But sometimes, just sometimes, she really hates it. Meanwhile, Hux has a slight problem, and her name is Kylo Ren.