#tw: blood drinking

[babyfoxflower]

hi! making a request for alastor x f!reader! maybe where alastor has a nasty jealous side and takes it out on reader????? in a good way of course 👀 just a bit of an idea!

Ooooooo! I love this idea!

Jealousy

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, Jealous & Possessive Alastor, Groping, Scratching, Biting, Blood Drinking, Oral (Fem! Receiving), P in V Sex, Cervix Fucking, Creampie, Also a little fluff at the end because I couldn’t help myself

“Well, well, well, looks like someone has a death wish, touching what’s mine,” Alastor’s tone was menacing as he narrowed his eyes at the man who had just briefly brushed against you.

His scleras were turning from red to black, and you knew what that meant. He was about to murder this man. He’s always like this but it gets worse when he drinks. When another man even just glances at you, he becomes a feral animal.

“Alastor, my love, it was just an accident,” you said trying to calm your overly jealous boyfriend.

“Haha, accident? I saw the way this wretch was looking at you from across the bar and now he has the gall to dare to come near you, the Radio Demon’s lady…” Alastor’s antlers were now growing, and you knew that you had to get him out of here before things escalated further.

The man was frozen where he stood.

You took Alastor by the face, “Come on, honey, let’s go home,” you gently whispered into his big fluffy ears, “let’s go home and you can do whatever you want to me, claim me as your own.”

Alastor looked at you and grinned largely and then he turned back to the man who was shaking in his boots, “You get to live this time. But if I ever see again, I’ll fucking tear your soul apart and broadcast your misery for all of Hell to hear. Hahahaha.”

You took Alastor by the hand and led him out of the bar.

All the way back to the hotel, Alastor wouldn’t stop groping you. He squeezed your ass and your tits, and kept kissing up and down your neck. You just let him though because you preferred him like this to when he was slaughtering someone. Plus if you were being honest, it was turning you on and you could feel your panties getting soaked by the minute.

Once you got back to your room, Alastor ripped your dress off of you and pushed you onto the bed. “Tell me, my dear, who do you belong to?”

“You, Alastor. I’m all yours.”

“That’s right, very good,” he said as he cut off your bra with his claws.

He removed his gloves to get a better feel of your mounds, he massaged them with his palms. You let out a little mew.

“Heh, I guess it feels good then?”

You nodded.

“But, I know my darling. I know you prefer pain with your pleasure,” he said before lightly digging his sharp claws into the tops of your breasts over the scars from the previous times.

“Fuck! It stings so good,” you cried out.

He chuckled darkly, before dragging them down to just before your nipples as he knew you had places that you didn’t like to scratched. He pulled his claws out of your tits and watched the beautiful blood start rolling down.

“Looks delicious,” Alastor licked his lips.

He ran his tongue across your chest, lapping up your oh so yummy blood. The sweet taste of iron filled his mouth and he moan profusely. You, yourself couldn’t help but moan and groan. You bucked your hips and rubbed your clothed cunt against his pants tent.

“Could that other man make you feel this good?” He asked.

You shook your head, “No, no only you can make me feel like this, baby!”

“You’re being so good tonight, my pretty pet. Saying all the right things. Letting me have my way with you. That deserves a reward, wouldn’t you agree?”

Before you could answer him, he was already kissing his way down to your belly and from there that special place between your legs. He tore off your panties with his mouth, “Look at that, so wet already, are we?”

You felt that familiar sting as he dragged his claws up your inner thighs. You threw your head back as you enjoyed every last bit of the pleasurable pain that raising through you, sending tingles up your spine. He planted a gentle kiss on your clit, knowing that it would drive you mad.

“Please, Alastor!” You begged.

“Please, what, my dear?”

“Give me oral pleasure, please!”

“Well, you did say the magic word.”

He started off with little kitten licks but that soon turned to long strokes up and down your labia. The lewd wet sounds mixed with your lovely moans filled the room.

Alastor began rubbing circles into your bud of nerves while still keeping his other hand gripped tightly on your thigh. He teased your entrance for what seemed like ages before finally shoving his long inhuman tongue into your weeping puss.

He reached it deep inside of you until he reached that spot. He started spelling the alphabet over it again and again with his tongue until you saw stars. You screamed out as toes curled and you came undone all over his face. He drank up all the juices that poured out of you.

“Tastier than venison and jambalaya combined,” he hissed.

Quickly, he removed his clothing and made you touch your knees to your chest as his forehead touched yours. He eased his thick member that was already dripping precum inside of you. Once your walls adjusted, he started pounding in and out of your cunt. The tip of his cock kissing your cervix with each hard thrust.

He moaned your name before kissing you passionately. Your lips moved in sync with each others, he slipped his tongue into your mouth. You could still taste yourself. You could feel yourself coming undone again.

“Bite down on me, darling,” he said exposing the crook of his neck to you.

You obeyed and bit down as hard as could, the sweet taste of iron now filled your mouth.

“Ah! Fuck! It feels so good!” He huffed into your ear.

Your walls clenched down on him as you had your second orgasm. Your eyes rolled back this time and you went momentarily deaf.

His thrusts got faster as he was reaching his climax as well. Soon he went cross eyed and cried out your name as his thick seed filled you up.

Alastor collapsed on top of you. Both of you were panting and drenched in sweat. Once both you came down from your collective highs, you held him as he laid his head on your chest. You stroked his hair and his ears, he looked up at you and smiled softly. His genuine smile.

“I love you, y/n.”

“I love you too, Alastor.”

You two eventually fell asleep and next morning, he already had your favorite breakfast ready for you.

[five-rivers]

Stargazer, Moonweaver, Net

Hey, you. Yes, you. Have you ever wondered, hey, what would it look like if @five-rivers, @jackdaw-sprite, @seaglass-skies, @datawyrms, and @akela-nakamura all worked together on a fic for Phantasy Phest? No? Too specific? Well, if you had, it would look exactly like this fic here.

AO3 link

Tags: Lost Time, The portal accident, Phantasy Phest 2023, Alternate Universe - Modern Fantasy, Fairies, Blood Drinking, Moths, Clockwork has low opinions of the Fenton Parents, Transformation, Body Horror, Danny gets to say Fuck

Word Count: 11,197

Fic continues after cut.

.

"Ohno. Oh, no, no no nooooooo."

The stars were bright tonight.

Danny could even see them from where he was at the edge of a large clearing, where the trees stopped to wreathe the base of a hill.

Unusually, Danny didn't care.

"Nooooo," he said again under his breath.

Danny pushed at the net again. It reeked of garlic and sage the same way his parents’ nets always did, and the cord was rough and knobbly between his fingers. They must have woven this one with something extra.

He needed to get out. But with his flashlight fallen somewhere he could barely see the net or where it might end.

His flashlight. Where was his flashlight? Danny crouched, and began to grope at the ground around him. It couldn't have rolled too far, right?

The net folded up into his face, scratchy and unexpected. Danny flinched back but kept going, moving his hands in a circle. They met dead leaves and earth, and more than once he touched slimy and wet things he hoped were slugs.

He didn't find anything that felt like a flashlight.

"Heck," said Danny.

He sat down on the ground. The damp seeped into his pants but at this point that was a distant concern.

Maybe he could just find the edge of the net. It was a net. It had an edge. And his parents weren't always great at traps.

Danny pulled the net hand over hand in one direction and stopped when he felt something thicker cross over an arm.

He groped at it. It felt like the edge. Or an edge. One side didn't have all the net stuff. With mounting relief he followed it with his fingers–and discovered that it was attached to an opening only about large enough to slip a hand through.

There wasn't a tie that he could feel.

He couldn't find any other holes in it.

The relief withered. He was caught, alone, in the dead of night, in one of his parents' stupid monster catching nets. Without a flashlight.

And his parents, at best, might find him in the morning.

"Heck," said Danny, again.

Then he remembered he was alone, deep in the woods in the middle of the night, and no one would hear him.

"Fuck."

If only, Danny thought a while later, he'd brought his pocket knife. Or literally any knife. Something sharp to cut through the ropes.

None of the rocks he could reach had worked, though that was probably a little because he still couldn't see much of anything. It was really hard to wear through rope when you were doing it with a rock, blind. And through a net.

He was cold. His butt was colder from sitting in the leaves earlier. He kind of wanted to do it again, as a measure of his suffering. He wanted to be home, dry, and warm even more.

Maybe he could just wait for morning. Maybe his parents would know the trap had gone off, and come to check it. Maybe they'd check it anyway. They were the town crackpots for a reason. They didn't just believe in fictional creatures, they did so enthusiastically and with the kind of prejudice that made them set net traps in the woods. For one of their own innocent children to get caught in when he was only trying to stargaze on a clear night before school started in a few weeks. See some constellations, spot a few meteors, maybe a handful of planets, that kind of thing.  

Never mind that he’d maybe snuck out. Because he knew they’d freak out about him going into the woods alone. Because they believed in faeries.

Gosh, he hoped this didn't get back to Dash.

At least the stars were bright tonight.

He sighed and looked up, eyes automatically picking out familiar constellations.  The Big Dipper was easiest, although finding the rest of Ursa Major was less familiar.  All seven stars of Ursa Minor were easily visible, which again highlighted how good the seeing was. Then there were the other circumpolars.  Draco, Cepheus, Cassiopeia…  He could see the V of Andromeda, where it blended with Pegasus, and he could almost convince himself that–

An owl - he thought it was an owl - hooted somewhere nearby.  He jumped, which had the side effect of reminding him that, yes, he was still in a net.  He rubbed his shoulders and neck where they’d been rammed into the net.  Straining against rope shouldn’t have felt like running into a wall, but he supposed he did have his weight on the bottom of it.  

But he soon had other things to worry about than his parents’ irrational net design.

(Seriously, why was there enough room to stand up in this net?  What were they even trying to catch?  At first, he’d thought he could just walk away, back to town, even inside the net, but it was tied to something.  Maybe one of the trees?)

Sounds started to rise up from all around the clearing.  First the high-pitched chirr of crickets, then croaking, buzzing, and chirping.  Small noises, from small things.  

But with those small noises, Danny started to notice rustling and creaking and–  Was that a dog howling or a wolf?  Were there even any wolves here?  He remembered a unit in science last year where the teacher talked about wolves going extinct in some states.

The stars were bright tonight.  The woods around him?  Not so much.  

“People spend nights outside all the time,” he said out loud.  The word probably would have been more impactful if they weren’t whispered.  “All the time.  People go camping and hiking and stuff for fun.”  Never mind that they were usually more prepared to do so than Danny currently was.  And that most of the time, they could decide to just leave and go home or get a hotel room if camping got to be too much for them.  He continued, more loudly, “I just have to wait for morning.  They’ll find me in the morning.  And– and if they don’t, I’ll be able to see.  I’ll be able to get myself out.  I’ll be fine.”

If nothing ate him first.  

No.  No.  That was–  What out here could even eat him, anyway?  Wolves, yeah, okay, but were there wolves?  Still unclear.  Bears?  If there weren’t wolves, he doubted there were bears.  He’d never heard of any bears out here, anyway.  What else could eat a human who wasn’t, well, already dead?  Cougars?  That one school, a couple districts over, had a cougar for a mascot, didn’t they?  That didn’t really mean anything, though.  What else, what else…  Feral pigs?  Those were supposed to be invasive around here, weren’t they?  Danny had kind of laughed at the idea of it in class, but, here, now, in the dark, was a different story.   

He was pretty sure anything else was too small.  So.  Three things out of how many animals?  Thousands?  Yeah.  Yeah, the odds of those three specific animals showing up to bother him were low.  Yes.  Nothing wrong with the math there.  No siree.  

(And the stuff his parents were worried about, the stuff they’d set this trap for, that stuff didn’t exist at all, so he didn’t have to worry about it.  There were no werewolves, no chimerae, no hobgoblins, and definitely no fairies.  Wasn’t even worth thinking about.)

A branch snapped.  Then another.

He’d thought the owl was close, but this sounded closer.  And those didn’t sound like small branches.  

A deer?  There definitely were deer here.  Sam talked about deer resistant and repellent garden plants, sometimes.  Deer could get big.  Like, reindeer were huge, right?

It was dark under the trees, but by starlight alone Danny could still perceive a shadow moving among other shadows.  Something tall.  Something not shaped anything like a deer.

The shadow came closer.  

Danny held his breath and shrunk down against the nearest tree.  He couldn’t fight a bear.  Not even when he wasn’t caught in a net.

"Hello."

"Hi," said Danny back, on autopilot.

Danny continued staring at the shadow for several more tense moments before it occurred to him that it had talked.

"Wait, you can talk?" Danny asked.

"It would appear so," said the shadow, and did not move.  Now that Danny was looking and thinking rather than just freaking out, the shadow looked, well, pretty humanoid.  Tall, sure, and wearing a long coat with a hood - or maybe a dress?  And that could be long hair.  Significantly less weird in the middle of the summer than a coat - but humanoid.  

Human, he should say.  Outside of, like, parrots, there weren’t a lot of other things that could talk.  No matter what his parents said.  

"Um. I'm a little stuck," said Danny.

"Really?" The shadow did not sound surprised.

"Can you, I don't know, cut the net loose? Please?"

The shadow hummed. "I think the more interesting question is why you're stuck in the first place.  One does not frequently encounter those such as yourself in the woods so late at night."

Oh, wow.  Danny could empathize with the curiosity.  He really could.  This was a weird situation to come across, and whoever this was, they must be just as confused as Danny.  But he also really didn’t want to explain anything about this to a stranger.  And he would really rather be out while talking to what was, yet again, a complete stranger.  

… Humans were pretty dangerous themselves, come to think of it.  

“Yeah, I guess not.”  He swallowed.  “Why are you out here, anyway?”  Maybe he was being rude, but the shadow had asked first.

The shadow shifted, looking up.  Starlight limned pale skin and a sharp, straight nose in shades of gray.  “The stars.  The sun is too bright during the day.  It is easier to see them at night.”

“Oh,” said Danny.  Maybe, hopefully, not a murderer, then.  Just another person out stargazing.  A weird person but…  Danny didn’t exactly have room to talk.  “Yeah.  Me, too.  Since the moon isn’t up and all.  I just, uh, ran into this.  Trap.  Thing.”  He tugged at the net.  “And now I can’t get out.”

The shadow’s head tipped back down.  “Can’t you?”

“I really can’t.  I can’t even figure out how it’s tied on.  Do you, like, have a flashlight or something?”

“I do not.”

“Not even, like, one on your phone?”

“No.”  The shadow leaned forward, and might have held out a hand, but if they did, they didn’t touch anything that Danny could feel.  “What a curious and terrible thing,” murmured the shadow.  “What cruelty and carelessness, to leave it to trap the unwary.”

Danny winced.  Yeah.  Yeah, okay, it kind of was, and it was probably a small miracle that no one else had ever gotten trapped in one of these things.  

That Danny knew of.  

He pushed the thought of his parents absent-mindedly forgetting to check one of these traps, or only checking them once a week, out of his mind.  His parents were crazy and kind of forgetful and… well, the point was, he would have heard if something had… happened.  

They wouldn’t do that, anyway.  

“Yeah.  But, um.  Even without the flashlight, please, help?  Just, maybe if you could untie me, or if you have…”  Did he really want this guy to have a knife?  Not really.  Still.  “Something to cut with, maybe?”

“I cannot cut the net in which you find yourself.”  The shadow shifted again.  “However, I will stay with you until you are free.”

“Maybe if you tried some of the knots, you could get me out, though,” pointed out Danny.  

“I have encountered ropes like this in the past.  They do not agree with my skin.”

“What, like, you're allergic?” asked Danny.  

“Something like that.”

Just his luck.  He was found, but the person to find him was… incredibly strange.  And not very useful.  And had possibly run into his parents’ nets before and had a reaction to them.  

“Okay.  But maybe you could call for help?  I mean, I know you said you don’t have a phone, but you could go get someone who can get me out?”

“Child,” said the shadow, with a touch of amusement, “there are things in these woods that would eat you whole.  I am equipped to deal with them.  You are not.  It would be irresponsible of me to leave you while they wander.”  They settled themselves nearby.  “Besides, I can see the stars here as well as I could elsewhere in these woods.”

“Eat me?” squeaked Danny.  He'd thought about bears earlier, but not, like, out loud.  Talking about them out loud was different. He cleared his throat. “You mean like bears?”

“In some respects,” said the shadow, still amused.

"Okay, um." Danny really did not like confirmation that there were bears around. He could have gone without knowing that. Except he probably should know. Considering he was in a net.

The net.

Which the stranger somehow thought he'd be able to escape on his own?

"Hey, um. I have been trying to get out for a while," said Danny. "It hasn't been working. You're sure you can't do anything to help?"

"There is more than one kind of trap here."

Danny blinked.

Crap.  That would be just like his parents, wouldn’t it?  They couldn’t leave it at just one stupid trap in a public space, they have more.  “Where?”

“You will not be able to see it from your perspective, but I have no doubt it would close were I to attempt to free you.”  

“Great,” said Danny.  He took in a shuddering breath.  “Great.  And you, what, think I’ll be able to avoid it on my own?  When I can’t even see it?  Or is this a ‘wait until morning’ thing?”

“You will, at least, be less liable to be eaten by wild animals at that point.  And more able to untie knots with the light of day.”

Okay, yeah.  Danny had been thinking both of those things as well, but with someone here, he’d hoped… 

He rubbed his eyes, tiredly, and, to his absolute horror, his stomach rumbled.

“Are you hungry?” asked the shadow, as if Danny wasn’t already embarrassed enough.  

Danny mumbled something indistinct.  He had eaten.  Just…  The main course had…  Well, some things were better left unsaid.  The salad (courtesy of Jazz) had been okay, and so had the carrots.  He’d felt full right after dinner.  He had.  

But, yeah.  He was hungry.  Dinner had been hours and hours ago at this point. 

“I have food enough to share.”

“Uh,” said Danny.  “Okay?”

Something moved under his nose, and he flinched.  He hadn’t seen the shadow move.  

“Um, I’m not sure I can…”  He tried to wedge his fingers into one of the holes of the net.  He’d lost track of the opening.  

“They are small.  They will fit.  Hold out your hands.”

Danny, only a little skeptical, held out his hands. As promised, several round, slightly damp things, like largeish marbles, were dropped into them through the holes in the net.

“What are these?”

“Star jelly.”

“Like, from starfruit or something?” asked Danny, interested.  He squished one between his fingers.  It was springy, like a gummy.  But still.  Damp.

“Or something,” said the stranger.

“Why is it damp?”

“It hasn’t dried.”

Well. That was almost no information at all.

“But it’s edible?”

“I enjoy them regularly.”

Danny huffed slightly.  This guy was weird.  Again, that was the pot calling the kettle black, but Danny didn’t go around offering weird food to strangers.

No, he went around getting trapped in nets.

And he was hungry.

And it wasn’t like he hadn’t eaten weirder things. His parents could be creative.

Maybe he wasn’t supposed to accept food from strangers, but…  This guy was his getting caught in a net buddy.  And he had to admit, he was pretty mad at his parents right now.  It’d serve them right, that Danny was eating someone else’s food.  

Did that make sense?  Maybe not.  But it wasn’t like any of the stuff Sam or Jazz did made any sense, either.

Plus, it had ‘star’ in the name.  He basically had to try out at least one.

He squished the smallest between his fingers one last time, then popped it in his mouth.  

He chewed.

There was no burst of flavor. It tasted… pretty bland, actually. All the way through. But the texture was okay.  Mostly.  It was at least better than what had happened to the chicken fated for dinner.

So.  Probably not poison.  

(Although why anyone would bother to poison him when he was quite literally trapped in a net was beyond him.)

“I also have a variety of mushrooms.”  

Who was this guy? The last hippie in Amity Park? A revolutionary war survivor?

“Do you have hardtack, too?” asked Danny, unable to help himself.

“I have biscuits.”

Oh thank goodness. Normal food.

“Can I have one?”

Something distinctly cracker-like was placed in his hand.

Danny didn’t even bother snarking, he just ate it. The texture was flaky, the flavor nutty and buttery and just salty enough to coat the whole of his tongue with flavor. He crunched into it again and the layers almost shattered between his teeth, then melted in his mouth like butter in a hot pan.

Danny swallowed. He’d never had a cracker that good.

“Can I have another?” he asked. Then, as more fell into his hands, “Where did you even get these? They’re great.”

“I baked them myself.”

Well.  That explained why he didn’t have a phone.  He was a hippie of some variety.  Danny didn’t comment aloud, though, too busy plowing his way through another cracker. He spent a little while chewing in blissful silence before he could swallow.

“They’re great,” Danny repeated, and had another one. And another.

“Ah,” said the shadow, “I believe that was the first proper shooting star of the night.” 

“What?” said Danny, looking up from his impromptu meal.  He licked his fingers, then stretched out the net, the better to see through it.  “Really?  Where?”  

“From the neighborhood of Cassiopeia, crossing her and going north.”  A pointed finger stood out in silhouette against the slightly brighter sky, tracing an imaginary line.

Danny sighed.  “I can’t believe I missed it.”  The Perseid meteor shower was, after all, one of the main reasons he risked sneaking out.  

“Many meteor showers reach their peak shortly before dawn,” said the shadow.  “As we will be here for some time yet, I believe you will have the opportunity to see many more.”

“But the first one…” Danny said, trailing off.

“The first from our perspective.  This shower has been going on for some time.  For someone to our east, perhaps it is, instead, the last.”

Danny grumbled.  

First the net and now this…  

Something golden green streaked across the sky and he perked up.  That one had been nice.  A breath later, a smaller, shorter one flashed at the edge of his vision, a tiny needle of light.  

“See?  There will be more for you to wish on.”

“That’s really not why I wanted to see them,” said Danny, wrinkling his nose.  Wishing was, well.  It was the sort of thing little kids did.  It wasn’t scientific.  It was the kind of thing his parents strictly forbade.

“It isn’t?”

“I…they’re cool. And it’s nice. Or it would be, if it weren’t for this net.”

“What would it hurt to make a wish?”

Danny sighed.  It wasn’t like they were wrong.  This situation was stupid and illogical.  So.  

“I wish I could get out of this stupid net. Before my parents find out about any of this.”

The stranger hummed in interest. “They don’t know?”

“They sure know about the net,” griped Danny.  He didn’t take his eyes off the sky, but he did tug on the ropes to make his point.  The rope was homemade, twisted with nonstandard fibers along with more common silk and hemp, rubbed with garlic and sage.  It was distinctive.  It was familiar.  It was something he'd probably tripped on a dozen times when it was left half-finished on the living-room floor.  “But it's not like I told them I was sneaking out. Like, who's going to tell their parents they're breaking rules?”  

The shadow hummed again.  "That is true."

Danny was distracted from replying or continuing by a pale, oddly oblong blur to the north.  It stayed in place, even as colorful shooting stars passed it by.  

"Is that–?" gasped Danny.  He leaned forward against the tension in the ropes and a similar, less tangible ache in his chest, as if he could get closer to the sky.  

The oblong blur widened into several similar streaks, like thumbprints on glass.  Green, pink, and purple began to seep into them.  

"There must have been a solar storm I didn't know about," said Danny as meteors shot through the undulating curtain of the Aurora. Delight was dancing in his stomach and thrumming along his limbs at the sight. "We hardly ever get the Aurora this far south." 

"It is an auspicious night for stargazing, then," said the shadow, "and one I am indeed glad to share, despite the circumstances."  

The thing was, they were right.  Despite the net, stargazing with someone who liked it as much as he did was nice.  It was really nice, despite the net.  Nice enough to wish, quite sincerely, and on a meteor that fell across the sky in that very moment, that they could do it again.  It probably would have been nice even without the Perseids and the Aurora, but with them he was practically giddy.

Briefly, Danny imagined how this meeting might have gone sans net.  

Okay.  Honestly, Danny probably would have run for it.  Weird adult in the middle of the night, after all.  He had briefly wondered if the guy was an axe murderer. 

He rolled his shoulders.  His back was starting to get sore - probably a combination of the net and how long he'd been looking up, but he didn't want to take his eyes off the light show even for a second.  

"My name's Danny, by the way."  They were kind of sort of friends now.  Stargazing buddies.  Net buddies, even.  Danny couldn't refer to the as 'the shadow' or as 'the guy who sat with me all night the time I was trapped in one of my parents' nets' forever, and he doubted the shadow wanted to keep mentally referring to him as 'that weirdo kid who got stuck in a net' for eternity, either.  

"I am honored that you would trust me with your name," said the shadow, tone strangely formal. 

"Uh, you're welcome?" Danny said.

"I go by Clockwork."

Wow. This guy really was strange, huh?  Was that his legal name?  Just a nickname?  A screen name?  Had he changed his legal name to that?

"Nice to meet you, Clockwork," said Danny, for lack of a better response.

"I am pleased to make your acquaintance, as well."

Pleased to make your acquaintance. Well. Danny's parents were eccentric too (see also: net. see also also: believing said net was going to catch faeries and demons.) and he was now almost eighty percent sure this guy wasn't an axe murderer.

Danny shifted under the net. He could try and shake hands, but the excitement and delight hadn't faded much at all and it was hard to focus on formalities when so much of him was full of so much energy.

Wait.

That was weird, wasn't it? Danny frowned. Should he have taken random food from a stranger? Clockwork had mushrooms, too. Had the star jelly been not just edible but an edible?

Was he high right now?

"Clockwork," Danny began, and the Aurora bloomed across the sky. The moment filled with shared murmurs of admiration, and by the time it died the thought had passed.

Even if the energy hadn't.

He flexed his fingers.  Maybe he’d run through some kind of itchy plant?  That might explain the tingle on his skin.  

There was a hollow, almost melodic popping noise from the vicinity of the shadow.  The vicinity of Clockwork, he corrected himself.  

“You should try to stay hydrated,” said Clockwork.  

A scent both floral and salty wafted up to Danny’s nose.  The green glimmer of the Aurora reflected off the glassy lip of a bottle.  “Is– Is that alcohol?” asked Danny.  “Are you offering me alcohol?  Wine?”

“I am not,” said Clockwork.  “This is far more nourishing.”

“‘This’ being what, exactly?” asked Danny, still vaguely suspicious.  

“It is mostly sugar and water.  Fruit juice, salt, nectar, among other things. As you would call them, electrolytes. You have exerted yourself.  It has not been purposefully fermented.” 

This guy and his weird food. Still, that didn’t seem…bad, exactly. Danny was thirsty, and he liked gatorade, and that was kind of similar, right? And he was curious.

The crackers had been good.  And even the star jelly had been edible.

It took some experimentation to hold the bottle firmly through the net.  The body of it was too large to fit through any of the holes.  But the mouth and neck of the bottle could go through, and Clockwork seemed content to hold it until Danny figured it out.  

The liquid inside was thicker than he had expected.  Sweeter and saltier, too.  The flavor was… interesting.  A little sour, a little bitter, a little… savory?  It definitely tasted like flowers smelled.  Only, it also tasted like something else?  A lot of something elses.  

He pulled the bottle back and licked his lips thoughtfully.  He… didn’t hate it.  It sure wasn’t something he’d just drink on his own, though.  On the other hand, taking that sip had made him realize how thirsty he actually was.  Which was very thirsty.  He must have gotten more dried out than he’d thought, first walking here and then fighting the net for who knew how long.  

He took another sip, trying to focus on the flavors he hadn’t quite been able to name.

And another.

Something in him settled as he drank. He hadn’t realized how nervous he’d been. Was it nervousness? He’d thought it was excitement. Delight. Something positive.  But now it was settling into something softer. Calmer. And yet the sky was no less compelling.

Maybe it was a different sort of happiness, now that the unexpected relief and delight of a fellow stargazer out here had calmed his nerves. Maybe he hadn’t managed to calm down until now, and the drink was finally letting him?

Regardless, his limbs weren't so tense anymore, and breaths he hadn’t realized had become so short were drawing long and even now, and that was a relief.

He alternated sips with looking up at the stars.  The Aurora undulated slowly, and was periodically pierced by meteors.  The stars behind the curtains of light were harder to see, but he could still pick out his favorites coming and going, first hidden, then not.  The motion of the lights almost made them seem as if they were moving. It was hypnotizing. 

He tilted the bottle back once more, and made a disappointed sound deep in his throat when he realized it was empty.  Huh.  He must have liked it alright after all.  That wasn’t a small bottle.  In fact, it was bigger than he’d originally thought when Clockwork had first given it to him.  

… He hoped this didn’t make him have to pee.  He was in the woods, but standing next to, um.  Well.  An impromptu bathroom.  Until dawn, at least.  Would make the net thing much worse.

“Done already?” asked Clockwork.

“I guess I was thirstier than I thought.”

“You had been exerting yourself for some time.”  Clockwork plucked the bottle out of Danny’s hands.  “But I believe that you will soon see the fruits of your exertions.”

Danny sighed and leaned more deeply against the tree he was attached to.  Subtly, he rubbed his back against the bark.  The soreness was getting worse.  “Not unless you see a rescue party.”

Clockwork hummed. “I do not. But perhaps you will not need one. The weave of the net seems looser, now. Can your hands fit through?”

Danny tested it. His hand fit through one of the holes easily. And another. It was the same with the third he tried.

“What,” he said.

“It is progress, is it not?”

“I don’t know how,” Danny said. “It’s not like Mom and Dad don’t tie these things at every connection. I didn’t think they could slide.”

“And yet your hands can fit through.”

“Yeah. I just wish I knew how that happened.”

“Dawn will come,” said Clockwork. “You will be able to see it then. Perhaps you worked them loose with your straining.”

“I guess,” said Danny, still wondering.

“And with dawn, you will be free, one way or another. For now, shall we focus on this spectacular sky?”

“Yeah,” said Danny.

He’d never seen a night sky like this before, after all. Even if he was stuck under a net, he had a …not a friend. But a fellow stargazer who was just as appreciative. And he was full, and no longer thirsty, and even the cold of the wet earth beneath him wasn’t as cutting with Clockwork’s company.

He settled in again to watch the lightshow, and worried at the cords of the net as he did. It wasn’t like he couldn’t do both, after all.

The stars flashed.  The sky spun.  Clockwork and Danny both exclaimed and pointed at particularly impressive meteors.  Clockwork noted the visible planets and occasionally pointed out asterisms Danny had never heard of before.  The Veil, the Key, the Mistletoe, the Dancing Maidens, the Hive, the Moth.  He half suspected Clockwork was just making them, and the stories that went with them, up to entertain Danny.  But, then, Danny was entertained.  He couldn’t complain.  Even when Clockwork tried to get away with calling Libra The Balance, Danny found his objections were more laughter than indignation.

The eastern horizon began to blush pale. Danny found himself almost disappointed at the sight, even if he’d be able to get out of the net soon. And really see Clockwork. After stargazing for hours together, it felt odd that he still didn’t know what the man looked like even though his voice was becoming as familiar as a friend’s.

He rubbed one of the net cords between his fingers.  Was it just him, or did it seem… scratchier?  Thicker?

He stroked the skin on his palms. Did he have rope burn, maybe? He had been pulling on the cords for hours.  And who knew what his parents had soaked the nets in after they’d been woven?  Danny sure tried not to.  

More importantly, before too much longer the sun would drown out the meteors and the Aurora both.  He wanted to press this sight into his mind to keep forever and ever.  And not just the sight, but the feeling of…  He couldn’t put a name to it, to what he felt, sitting here with Clockwork

It just felt important.

A meteor fell.  He wished it would last.  Another meteor, brighter.  He wished that even after Clockwork inevitably found out who Danny’s parents were and what they were like in person, he would still want to be ‘acquaintances.’  Friends.  Whatever.  He was weird enough.  Probably.  Like Sam and Tucker.  

He wished–

A huge fireball bloomed directly overhead, a celestial arrow angling down, north, wreathed in blinding green.  It took Danny’s breath away.  

He wished he could do this again. He wished he could cast off the shadow of his parents’ weird fae traps and property damage and hatred of creatures that didn’t even exist. He wished he could have the space and time to figure out who he was and who he could be, whether that was an astronaut, an astronomer, a screw up, whatever Jazz was trying to convince him to be that week, or, heck, even someone just as strange as his parents and Clockwork.  He wished he could be himself, could just shed the image of what they and almost everyone else seemed to see in him.  

Also, the net.  

Some of the net fell heavily around Danny’s shoulders, then slid off them.  He didn’t look down, still entranced by the after-image.  Then pain, white hot and as sharp as a knife, drove into his temples and back.  It took his breath away.

He dropped to his hands and knees, gasping for air and squeezing his eyes so tightly that tears began to slip out.  What had happened?  What was wrong with him?  He hissed out a shaky breath that was dangerously close to a sob as the pain redoubled, strengthening and strengthening again until static pulsed in the dark of his shut eyes.

It felt as though his head were splitting open.

The pain lanced down his back and he revised the thought. It felt as though he were splitting open.

And then his face came apart.

And then there were only scattered fragments. Scratching.  Growing. Stretching. The feeling of fingers on earth. The feeling fingers of earth. Unfolding. Squeezing. Balance; a knife’s edge.

A great and overwhelming sense of space.

Like a leaf before a storm, Danny trembled.

Eventually, it ebbed.

He was clinging to the ground with all his might, which wasn’t much; the whatever-it-was had left him weak. His limbs felt like jelly and seemed half as cooperative. He was gasping for air, each breath harsh enough to sting his throat. There was a blanket over him and he had the halfway-delirious thought that if Clockwork had a blanket he’d have appreciated it sooner than this.

He couldn’t feel the net.

Had Clockwork gotten him out once it got light enough out? It seemed much brighter now, even if the thought of opening his eyes made Danny wince.

There was a painful, high-pitched chirr sound in the background.  It hurt Danny’s ears and made him wonder if there was an injured animal nearby.  

Something pressed down gently on the back of his neck, where the fuzzy, fluffy edge of the blanket rested.  It removed itself, then returned at the top of his head, whereupon it slid down to the top of his back.  

Oh.  Oh.  He was being petted.  Comforted.  That must be someone’s hand.  Clockwork’s?

It felt… unusually satisfying.  Especially when they fluffed the ruff of the blanket which Danny was strangely aware of.  

Very gradually, the tension in his body began to ease, and he was able to start cataloging the parts of his body that hurt, which was all of them.  But there were a few that hurt more.  His eyes.  His ears.  His temples and the sides of his head.  His entire back.  His shoulders, neck, ears, and large parts of his spine felt like every hair on them had been individually plucked out and then sandpapered.  Speaking of his spine, that felt as if it had been stretched, pulled to bits.  And his back still felt like it had been stabbed.  Multiple times.  Especially around his shoulder blades and at the base of his spine.  

Other than that, he was just sore, everywhere.  

The quality of the chirr sound he’d been hearing started to change, morphing into a sort of purr.  One that rose and fell in time with the hand petting Danny.  

Huh.  

His hand flexed on the ground.  Something was…  There was something very off here, beyond the pain, but that was getting better, and he was starting to feel almost… comfortable.

His weight shifted again, and the ground shifted under it.

It was warm.

It was…damp? Wet. There was something wet under his hands.  Carefully, worried that it would move again, Danny took one hand off the ground and brought it to his face to sniff.   

It smelled good. It smelled wonderful, salty and hearty and just a little bit like chicken soup.

He licked it.

“There we are,” said Clockwork, softly.  “Take as much as you need.”  

Danny needed a lot, right now. His throat was raw, and he was thirsty and suddenly starving, and beyond that the pain that was still leaving echoes through his body. This was warmth and comfort and he wanted both.

He lowered his head and began to lap directly from the source, and warmth and comfort steadily filled him like the morning sun.

He pulled back, not exactly satiated, but needing something else, something different, now.  He made a soft, pleading sound, more like a chirp or a keen than anything human.  He didn’t understand what was going on, but part of him trusted he would be cared for.  Loved.  He’d already been given so much he didn’t know he needed…

Another plea escaped his throat.  It blended with the softening chirr, fitting with it far better than Danny felt it should.  

Something soft and sweet-smelling tickled his cheeks, and Danny dove in, his tongue coming out to search for what he knew was there.

Sweet.

Sweet, but not in the way of candy or even sugar. This was softer, perfumed, more reminiscent of honey but lacking that sharp note.

He wanted more.

As he pushed his face deeper into the… container… something touched his…  Touched…  What?  It was touching his… not his head, but something over it, something attached, something he could feel, and now that he could feel it, was thinking about it, whatever it was, he could feel its movements, as even the sigh-soft breeze pushed it around. 

It– No, they were something fine.  Something soft and delicate.  Something light and flexible and oh so very sensitive.  

The hand, Clockwork’s hand, stroked down his back again, and Danny realized he could feel the fluff of the blanket the same way he’d been able to feel the things on his head. And it trailed past that, to his horribly sore back, and down, all the way down, past where his back should end.

Down, to where Danny could feel something laying across a foot. Down, to where he could feel a hard object under him.

Something twitched, and the thing across his foot fell away. The hard something vanished, too, replaced with the soft ground he found himself on.

Danny chirred, confused.

Oh.  He had been the one making that sound all along.  But.  That wasn’t a sound he could make.  It wasn’t.  

He had to see what was going on. 

Opening his eyes was, perhaps, the single hardest thing he had ever done.  It wasn’t that they were stuck closed or anything, they were just so heavy, and a large part of him just didn’t want to know, wanted to stay half asleep, wanted to keep being held and petted.

Red. A deep, rich red puddled around him on the strange, soft ground. And the ground was uneven, and covered with small ridges and creases where it didn’t vanish beneath the red. Which was welling up from the ground like a spring.

Danny was wrist-deep in it.

A short distance from his face lay the biggest flower Danny had ever seen.  It was bigger than his head, its pale petals stained liberally with the red.   Handprints.  The red stains were in the shape of handprints.  Danny’s handprints.  

The red looked– Well, it looked a lot like–  Like a scene from a horror movie–  But it was coming from the ground, it couldn’t be.  It couldn’t be blood.  

Danny had been drinking this.  What had he been thinking?

“Are you feeling better?” asked Clockwork.

Danny looked around for him.  Then, he looked up.  

The very first thing he noticed was that there were still stars in the sky.  It was still dark, the Aurora was still bright.  The meteors were still falling.

Why could he see?

Why could he see so much more?  He’d only ever seen the stars like this in long-exposure photographs.  The light pollution was way too strong this close to the city.  

There were other, closer things.  The leaves on the trees were green, but they weren’t just green.  Their veins seemed to glow with soft pinks and blues.  He could see insects and birds, too, all of them strangely bright to his eyes, like they had swallowed stars.  

Then, there was Clockwork.  It had to be Clockwork.  There wasn’t anything or anyone else it could be.

“I will interpret that as a yes,” said Clockwork, smiling down at him with love clear in all six eyes.

He had the nose Danny had seen before, yes, and long, silk-white hair, but everything else was so far beyond what Danny had imagined that it was hard to even comprehend.  

And yet it suited him perfectly.

His skin was blue, like summer twilight, warm and rich.

His face glowed in the same soft, steady way as the birds, and set in it, his eyes were a kindly red. There were four on his right side but his left had only two; a deep black scar tore its way down most of his face and left two empty sockets in its wake. It was interrupted only by his primary eye on that side, and Danny felt tender relief that the old wound hadn’t taken that one, too.

White filaments made up a thick ruff around the collar of his– No, that wasn't a cloak, those were wings.  Huge, dramatic, moth-like wings, layered over one another.  There had to be dozens of them, all the way down his back.  They were as dark and starry as the sky on the outside, but some were turned towards Danny to show the luminous, moon-pale undersides.

Below that–below that, Danny couldn’t see. The ground he was on was too high, and Clockwork too large. The ground–

He wasn’t on the ground.

Finally, like disjointed pieces of a puzzle, the details became whole. The uneven place where he lay, with its softness and whorls of ridges and creases. The warmth of it, and the placement.

The–the blood.

He was on Clockwork’s upturned hand.

Forget the rest of it.  When, and how, did Clockwork get so big?  

Danny chirred a question. Wordless, overwhelmed and wondering.

(And why was Clockwork bleeding?)

“You are safe, little one. My little one.”

Danny chirred again, a little cross. That didn’t answer anything.

Clockwork only smiled, and then there was a gentle rocking motion as they moved. Like clouds, the trees in the distance slid sideways with deceptive speed. 

Danny settled, feeling sleepy, slow, and stupid, but still safe.  Like he should be able to make this all make sense, like this should make sense, if he was just a little more awake and aware, but that it didn’t matter if he couldn’t, because he would be protected.

And then, Clockwork tilted, and his hand jostled, and though he didn’t become more visible, they were suddenly surrounded by great spikes of grass and flowers, stories tall. Some of them drooped, heavy with seeds or droplets of dew. They hung huge and heavy from the stalks, like fruit ripe to bursting.

Danny blinked. Frowned. Blinked again.

There was something, an idea, that made sense. But it hung just out of reach, blurry, and every time he reached for it, the thought passed through his mental fingers like the morning mist.

It was, it should have been, obvious.

Clockwork would know. Danny chirred his question again.

“It will come to you,” Clockwork said. ”Give it time.”

Clockwork cleaned him off gently with a huge, damp cloth, taking special care with his ruff, antennae, and wings. He mopped up the blood pooling beneath Danny as well, with a reassurance that Danny was welcome to more if he needed it. With another hand, he laid another huge flower down next to him. The stem where Clockwork had held it glowed briefly, before it faded into the relative dark of early morning, leaving the flower with the same odd coloration as the tree leaves earlier.

Dawn was still hours off. He wasn’t in the net.

Danny looked up.

He’d wondered what it would be like to stargaze with Clockwork without the net.  Apparently, the answer was wonderful.

The stars were still so beautiful. More beautiful, now. There was such an incredible array of color and brightness in the sky, like a living painting. There was scarcely any black left in it.

Danny blinked, slow.  He rubbed his face with his hands, lingering over his ears - which felt long and soft, like a cat’s or a rabbit’s, he must really be sleepy - and the long fluffy things that had sprouted from his head.  They twitched under his fingers.  

He looked up at Clockwork, still hoping for an answer and… Clockwork had things growing from his head, too, now that he looked.  He’d mistaken them for hair, before, but while Clockwork certainly had plenty of that, braided, beaded, and beribboned, that wasn’t all he had.  

They were antennae.  Four of them.  White, fluffy, and softly glowing.  They were much longer, compared to Clockwork’s body, than Danny’s were compared to his.  Danny raised his hands to feel his again.  He had two.  And, maybe, behind each, a ticklish little nub.

It felt…right, that they should both have antennae, though. Satisfying. Comforting, like a hug. Like the stroking had been, and the blood.

What else did Danny and Clockwork share, now?

Danny’s eyes trailed carefully over Clockwork’s face.

Danny was pretty sure he only had two eyes, but he touched his face again, just to make sure.  Then his ears…  Clockwork had big, long ears, too, the edges of them soft with white fur. Just like his ruff.  Danny’s ruff was black shot with silver and… it was growing from his skin.  It wasn’t part of a blanket, which meant…

He twisted his head to check.

There was no blanket.  Danny had wings.  They were wrinkled and slightly damp, but they were wings, just like Clockwork’s, although he didn’t have nearly as many.  Two sets, to Clockwork’s uncountably many.  

He also had a tail. And only two arms, to Clockwork’s four. Somehow, in the moment, this seemed less important than the wings.

His eyes kept returning to his wings.

The outsides looked just like the darker parts of the sky did now, streaked with meteor silver and edged with Auroral green.  The insides were the same vivid colors as the Aurora itself.  Pinks, purples, blues, and greens all dancing together.

They were beautiful.  He definitely, definitely should not have them.

He wanted them.

He shouldn’t want them.  

He did.  

He drew them close to his body and looked up.

There was a huff of fond laughter. “Remember to fan them out, my little fledgeling. We want them to dry well.”

Oh. Right. Danny unfolded his wings again, a little embarrassed he’d forgotten.  

And then he returned his attention to the stars. He was determined to enjoy this for however much longer this might last.  Maybe this would all make sense in the morning.  Maybe all of this would be taken away from him.  Either way, neither was true now.

Now, Danny was here with Clockwork, looking up.

Now, the sky was vast and beautiful.  

Later, his eyes started to feel heavy again.  He pulled the flower close, and began to absent-mindedly chew on the petals in an attempt to stay awake.  He didn’t want to miss anything else.

Despite his efforts, his eyes began to droop. His head kept falling into his neck fluff, and the flower tumbled from his hands.

Clockwork plucked it from where it fell, and replaced it with a blanket, just Danny’s size.

“Some inevitabilities we must fight,” said Clockwork, “but this isn’t one of them, my dear child.”

For another few moments, he kept his eyes stubbornly on the sky.  Another pair of meteors fell, and he wished, perhaps selfishly, that this could last forever.  

But, he admitted to himself with a sigh, he was very tired.  

Danny curled up in Clockwork’s hand, tucking his head under the wings he was careful to keep fanned, and his tail around his head.

“Rest, my little one,” said Clockwork’s voice, already distant. “We can talk more when you are rested.”

And Danny did.

Dawn.

The kiss of the sun on the horizon.  The beginning of a new day.  The banishment of all things of the night.  

Danny jackknifed straight up as if its fire had been poured directly into his veins, heart pounding.  He woke just in time to see his new wings, his beautiful, terrible, fully spread wings evaporate like the morning dew.  

The antennae, the tail, and the fur that had grown around his neck and shoulders and down his spine stayed.  

More concerningly from Danny’s perspective, his perspective didn’t change.  He stayed small, just the right size to fit snugly in the palm of Clockwork’s hand.  

Clockwork’s wings stayed.  So did his extra eyes, his antennae, his skin color, and everything.  

This wasn’t a dream.  

Or there really had been drugs in the food Clockwork gave him. 

Why, oh why, was that the best case scenario right now?  Why was the best possible answer to the question of what was happening that he was just really really high?  

Because if he was just drugged, that meant he was only normal human stupid.  People took stupid drugs accidentally and on purpose all the time.  But if it wasn’t drugs, if this was real… That meant he’d somehow wandered into a world where his parents were right, had always been right, and he was probably about to get eaten.  

“I would not, and will not, eat you,” said Clockwork.  “I never would.”

“I don’t know what you would or wouldn’t do!” hissed Danny, pulling on his hair. “You turned me into some kind of– of moth boy.”  

“You would have turned regardless, trapped so thoroughly and so long on a faerie door on a night like that. I simply made sure that it was kinder.”

“Kinder than what?”

“Any number of things. Any number of fates. They do not give much more mind to cruelty than your parents.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It was their trap you fell into, dear one.  Without their actions, you could be human, still; safe and warm at home.  Though,” and here Clockwork smiled so gently that Danny couldn’t help but be comforted despite himself. “You are safe, and you are warm. And you could be home as well.”

Danny hunched his shoulders.  “What,” he squeaked, “is that supposed to mean?”

“I mean that as you are, you would be in danger with those who made the net that trapped you. I mean that you would be welcome in my home, and cared for, and safe. You are not the first lost and lonely child I have found. Nor the first with parents who should have protected them, and did not.”

“You’ve kidnapped other kids?”

“I have adopted other children. Other children, who were not cared for as they should have been, not loved as they deserved. As you deserve.”

“My parents love me just fine,” Danny snapped.

“I see,” said Clockwork, and he seemed sad. “And your presence here in the night? Alone, without even a light to see by?”

“I snuck out. And I brought a flashlight with me.”

“Alone,” said Clockwork.

“I thought the woods were safe.”

“Why? Did your parents tell you they were?” asked Clockwork, eyes narrowed and nose flaring.

“No! No, they said they were full of monsters.”

“So they didn’t teach you we could be dangerous?”

“No, I–I didn’t believe them.”

“My child, humans can be dangerous. Even to other humans. Surely, you know–”

“I know that,” interrupted Danny. “I didn’t think you existed.”

Clockwork frowned. “Your parents set cruel traps for the unwary.”

“Because they are crazy. Were crazy?” Danny moaned, burying his head in his hands.  He resisted the urge to start preening his antennae and fluff. “I don’t even know anymore.”

“Their cruelty is the same,” said Clockwork, “Regardless of whether you believed the target existed. And they let you go hungry.”

“That wasn’t their fault.  They made dinner.  It just… didn’t work out.”

“Then whose fault was it?” asked Clockwork.  “Yours?  Your sister’s?  As parents, they should provide for you, not leave you to fend for yourself.”

“They didn’t leave us to fend for ourselves,” scoffed Danny, crossing his arms.  

“What do you call them leaving to go test what was left of that chicken?”

“That was– Okay, but what happened to the chicken was really weird–”

“It was not the first time, or the only time, that they abandoned you in favor of crafting their weapons and traps.”

Danny shook his head.  “They love us.  They love me.”

“Sometimes, that is not enough.”

“Sometimes it is.  Of course it is. They love me. They love me enough to–” Danny swallowed, fighting down grief and horror. “I’m not leaving them.  Or Jazz.”

Swallowing hadn’t helped. It had only shoved the churning knot of emotion down into his chest where it could reach awful vines around his heart and squeeze.

His hands were shaking.

God, what would Jazz do if he randomly disappeared?  They annoyed the heck out of each other, and Jazz definitely held some of the things she did for him over his head for guilt trips, but he didn’t doubt she loved him. He didn’t doubt she would be frantic if he vanished.

He chirred again, mournfully, and only looked up again at Clockwork’s light touch.

“If love is enough,” said Clockwork, softly, ”then shouldn’t it be enough that I love you?”

“I–I don’t know,” said Danny.

Because the thing was, he didn’t doubt that Clockwork loved him. Nor that Clockwork would nurture and protect him, as he already had. It was easy, terribly easy, to imagine snuggling under Clockwork’s wings or into his ruff and trusting that he would be safe.

Danny pinched his eyes shut. “I’m going back.”

“As you are?  Knowing how they would treat those they consider monsters?”

“Yes.  They’re my parents.  They love me.”

“Through this forest, and all of its dangers?”

“Yes.”

“Through all the hazards of that human city?”

“Yes.”

“Nothing I can do will dissuade you?”

“No.”  Although, Danny reflected, Clockwork could certainly stop him physically.  All he would have to do was hold him.  But Danny would fight him.  He’d fight, and he’d never stop fighting, and trying to get back home, no matter what.  No matter how much Clockwork seemed to care for him, or how gentle and kind he was.  

Clockwork sighed.  “Then I have no choice.  I will let you return.”

“You– You will?” asked Danny, suspiciously.  It couldn’t be that easy, could it?

“Yes.  But I would not have you killed out of hand, my child, as would certainly happen if you were to return as you are now.  First, let me show you how to change.”

“I don’t want to change anymore,” said Danny.  “I don’t.  I don’t.” The fear was a beating heart inside of him, the idea of more change, unknown and untraveled. 

“Perhaps I should say, change back.”

“I can be human again?” A needle of hope lanced through his chest. But would he ever see Clockwork again? 

“Not precisely,” said Clockwork, before Danny could dwell.  “No more than you are now.  But it was the doorway that changed you, and doorways are of the between rather than here or there.  Thus, you are of both sides of the door, not just one.  You are still half human.”

Danny sat down.  “I am?” he asked, voice wavering.  He wasn’t going to cry.  Not now.

“Yes,” said Clockwork.  “You are half human… and half faerie.  Half of their house, and half of mine, tied by blood, if not birth.”

Danny remembered.  He remembered drinking Clockwork’s blood (again, what had he been thinking?) and how good it had tasted.  

He hoped that wasn’t going to be, like, a recurring thing.  

“So, what do I do?” he asked.  

“First,” said Clockwork, “you ought to take off your clothing, so it doesn’t tear.”

“So it doesn’t…?”  Danny looked down at himself.  Maybe he should have realized earlier, but he wasn’t wearing the clothes he’d put on yesterday.  Which made sense.�� At his current size, they would have been far too big.  Instead, he was wearing simple white layered robes that had openings in the back for his wings and tail.  

“I will have to get you something enchanted to change sizes, or to come when you transform, should you choose to remain and change often,” continued Clockwork.  “But I was able to make these on short notice, and they were suitable for the night.”

“You made these?” asked Danny, oddly touched.  He was supposed to be mad at Clockwork.  He was supposed to be afraid of him.  But both of those feelings just ran out of his hands like water out of a fist.  

“I did,” said Clockwork.  

“What happened to my clothes?”

Clockwork shifted one of his wings, showing what was beneath it.  Silver buckles and pocket watches shone brightly against dark silk and leather.  Other things, like bottles, herbs, and what looked like a small spyglass hung from belts or were secreted in pockets.  Danny’s ratty jeans and t-shirt stood out like a sore thumb.  

“Oh,” said Danny.  “Okay.  Um.”  His hands curled around the edge of the tunic-like top portion of the robes.  “Don’t look.”

Clockwork closed his eyes. 

“Now what?” asked Danny, who very much was not enjoying being naked in the open like this.  

“We are creatures of the night sky,” said Clockwork, eyes still shut.  “We are of the Stars and the Moon.”

“The moon is up during the day, too.  It’s up right now.”

“So it is,” agreed Clockwork.  “But so is the Sun that drowns out the Stars.”

“The sun is also a star.”

“So it is.  But it is not like other Stars.”

“Yes, it is.”

“It is not like other stars to us, or to humans.  It is the light by which so many see.  It is what divides day from night.  It is, you see, what has clipped your wings.” Danny shifted slightly, the missing weight of his wings both foreign and familiar. 

(There was so much to unpack.  He hadn’t any time.)

“Why is it different?”

“Its proximity, perhaps. We can discuss it at a later time, if you wish. I would enjoy such a conversation.”

Danny hadn’t really thought about there being a ‘later’ with Clockwork, but…  The thought of never seeing Clockwork again made his heart squeeze painfully, so he shoved it away.  

“In any case,” continued Clockwork, “for those like yourself to change, you reach for one or the other.  For the day or the night.  The light or the dark.  The Moon or the Sun.  However you would like to think about it.  You give precedence within yourself to one or the other.”

“Is it harder when they’re close to one another in the sky, like now?” Danny asked.

Clockwork smiled, though he kept his eyes shut. “As I do not transform that way, I do not know myself. My other children may have more comparable experiences, and we all are more comfortable under the phase we were born under.”

“I don’t think I’m going to be running into your children any time soon,” said Danny.  Seeing them would, after all, mean that Clockwork had succeeded in kidnapping Danny, too.  Even if it meant that he’d see Clockwork again…

“Even so.  You will be able to see for yourself before long.  Reach out, now.  Can you feel them?”

Clockwork had a lot of confidence in Danny being able to figure this out quickly, huh.  

(Despite still being mad at Clockwork - he was mad, he was - Danny didn’t want to disappoint him.)

Reach out… to something inside himself.  Which was also outside himself?  He wasn’t entirely clear on how literal the connection to the moon and sun was.  But…  Right.  Okay.  He could do this.  He didn’t want to be a little gremlin moth thing that Clockwork - or, heck, an average bird - could carry off at a moment’s notice.  

He closed his eyes.  

Day and night.  Light and Dark.  Moon and sun.  This was the kind of Yin and Yang stuff Sam sometimes got into.  Balance and changing balance.  

If he was reaching for the sun - for the Sun, the idea of the Sun - he should reach for heat, shouldn’t he?  Heat and life and truth.  

He could feel it, on his skin, warming him, cutting through the coolness of the morning.  He imagined that warmth sinking through him, filling him up.  

But there was warmth inside him, too.  It built in his chest and left his lungs with every breath. It churned in his heart and coursed through his veins like the blood that helped to carry it.  It was easy to take that, and imagine light to accompany it, centered at his heart.  To imagine it reaching out as the sunlight reached in.  He imagined it growing, brightening, pushing out against the inside of his skin, chasing away the dark, chasing away the moonlight and starlight and Aurora.  Gold, chasing out black and silver.

Except… not entirely.

The sun was also a star, and all moonlight had once been sunlight.  They mixed at the edges, blending comfortably, linked inexorably.  

(There was magic he would be able to touch through this link that few others could.  He understood this instinctively - but he was not yet ready for it, and the feeling was pushed away, put aside for a later, more appropriate day.)

This was the Sun, a tiny spark of it held within himself.  

(There was the Moon, dark but no less itself, no less present and pulling for its invisibility during the day.)

And… the balance shifted.  

He wouldn’t be able to explain what it felt like, to fall back into his skin.  Not now.  Not today.

Maybe not even if he lived a hundred years.

(Maybe he would, something whispered in his ear. Who knew how long moth-things lived?)

But he found himself at his proper human teenager size, cradled in Clockwork’s arms, no fluff or tail in sight.  

Still naked, though.  

He snatched his clothes from Clockwork, and, blushing furiously, ran behind a tree to change.  

It was strange, walking next to Clockwork.  The… Danny wasn’t actually sure what Clockwork was.  Mothman?  Moth monster?  Anyway, Clockwork was still way taller than him, and the way his ruff and wings made him seem bulkier made Danny feel a little bit better about initially mistaking him for a bear.  

The walk itself was still weird and awkward.  Danny kept drifting closer to Clockwork, and then when Clockwork’s wings ruffled out towards him, as if to part or turn back to let him shelter under them, he flinched away, walking as far apart as the trees would allow.  

Danny wondered if one of the things Clockwork had given him to eat had been some kind of… family love potion, and if it would ever wear off.  Despite no longer having any fur, his skin still itched for Clockwork to touch him, pet him, hold him.  

Although, for that to be perfect, he’d need to change back.  Shrink back down until Clockwork could hold him securely in one hand and pet him, head to tail, with the other.  

Which– No.  No.  He was never going to turn back into a moth.  He wasn’t going to think about it.  He wasn’t ever going to have antennae, or wings, or a tail ever again.  

… Clockwork had a tail.  A long one, longer than Danny’s had been, compared to his body.  It trailed on the ground like the train of a dress, and both the left and right side of it was completely lined with moth wings, as opposed to Danny’s where there were only wings next to the little bulb at the end.  Which Clockwork also had.  It flickered with light, like a lightning-bug’s tail.

Danny wondered if his tail would do that, too, under the right circumstances.  

Not that it mattered.  Again, weird fairy door magic or whatever, he was going to be human from now on.  Yep.  

(Wow, the more he thought that, the less convincing he got.  That was sad, actually.)

They reached the edge of the forest.  Amity Park seemed to sparkle in the light.  Too bright.  Too artificial.  Unreal, after the events of the night.

“Here is where we part, for now,” said Clockwork.  “If you need me, you will be able to find me.” Could he say anything that didn’t sound ominous and weighty?

“Right,” said Danny.  He hesitated, then, impulsively, hugged Clockwork.  He shouldn’t have.  Clockwork was exactly the kind of monster his parents had always warned him about, and was an admitted serial kidnapper who had spied on his family and turned him into a moth.  

But he couldn’t imagine leaving without hugging Clockwork.  Just once.  

Clockwork hugged him back, with all four arms and what had to be a dozen wings.  It was the best hug he’d ever had - even if it was also the most terrifying.  

Then, Clockwork leaned down so that his lips were next to Danny’s ear.  He whispered to him a simple handful of words.  Most of them were familiar.  His name.  His full name, the one on his birth certificate, the one his parents and sister used when they were really upset with him.  But… one of them he hadn’t heard before.  Not once.  Not ever.  

It was still his name.  

He knew this with the same surety as he knew the rest of his name.  He also knew it hadn’t been his name before last night.  

It was his name… because it was Clockwork’s.  It was a family name, belonging to him as indelibly and as truly as the name ‘Fenton,’ one that bound him not only to Clockwork, but to the rest of Clockwork’s kin.  

It did more than that, too.  When Clockwork spoke his name, his true, full name, it was as if every molecule in his body had been magnetized and his name was a magnet.  He was held still by it, at perfect attention.  Whatever Clockwork wanted to say, whatever he wanted to do, Danny had no choice but compliance.  

Not that, in the moment, he wanted another choice.  

“Follow your conscience, my dear, sweet child,” said Clockwork.  “I want that for you, always.  But when you do, please…  Have a care for yourself, too.  Do not needlessly throw yourself into deadly danger.”

Danny, pinned to Clockwork’s chest, nodded.  

Clockwork, with palpable reluctance, released him, hands tracing along his cheeks before falling away.  “Be safe, Danny.”

Danny nodded again, and stepped backwards, out of the trees and into the sunlight.  He didn’t know why he felt so sad, all of a sudden.  He was going home.  He’d avoided being permanently kidnapped or eaten.  He was fine.  

He turned away.  

He was going home. 

Stay tuned for the sequel. :)

[harveywritings92]

[Vampire AU: Ghost and König are being briefed on a mission via video call, when their human mate R/n wanders into the kitchen she is heavily pregnant, and starts searching their fridge.]

König: If you’re hungry Spatz I bought pickles, they’re on the bottom shelf..

R/n, grimaces in disgust: The baby doesn’t want pickles…

König, confused: Then what do they want?

[She searches the fridge in frustration, Ghost was going ask if she wanted one of them go out get her something else? When her eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas, The vamps watch in horror as R/n pulls out one of their blood jars; pops the lid open and starts drinking. The blood dribbles down her chin and stains the front of her shirt, when she done she wipes her mouth a notices her boys watching her in shock.]

R/n: What?

Ghost: I don’t think I’ve ever realized just how gross that really is. (to König) Get her back to bed.

König: Uh, Ja, Let’s go Spatz. *As he helping her to their room.* Do you want me to order you a pizza or something?

[König and Ghost were going have a very long conversation about this new development, and read up more dhampir pregnancies.]

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

Spatz means Sparrow.

[ficmesideways]

Request for Anonymous Gif Source: Astarion (Unknown)

Imagine playing with Astarion's hair while he feeds on you.

------- Imagine -------

He had not been wrong when he said your body betrayed your need. Every time he neared your neck now you would shutter in anticipation. You craved his teeth in your skin as much as you craved his body over yours, and now when he joined your bedroll at night your new habit would be to slip your fingers to the nape of his nek and direct him to where you wanted. His hair had become your guide and anchor as he fed. You would twist and glide your fingers through his white strands even gripping them tightly to force him deeper all the while he moaned and you shuttered at the intense sensations as he drank deeply.

[crescenttwins]

[The Other World's Books Depend on the Bean Counter, T, 440w] Seiichirou gags as the hot liquid spills onto his tongue, taste dull like a rotted spoon. Or, Seiichirou & magic sickness.

tw/ blood drinking, implied self injury

This was my work for this year's ToT! I was happy to write for a small fandom <3

[messy-roadkill]

related to this post. average lamb fantasies

[mel1rose]

In honor of Halloween...a reblog for the best TWST vampire au I've come across so far.

Twisted Wonderland Vampire AU Introduction

pt.1 featuring housewardens

cw: aged up characters, biting, blood drinking

Vampire AU based on the game Ikémen Vampire. The boys all live together in an isolated mansion that you happen to stumble into - now that you’ve discovered their secret, they can’t just let you go

pt. 2 diasomnia pt.3 octavinelle pt. 4 pomefiore

Malleus:

Malleus and Lilia are the original founders of the mansion.

They are “pure-blooded” vampires, meaning that they were born vampires, rather than turned.

As a vampire, Malleus has been so, so lonely all his life. As his guardian, Lilia decided to try to make his eternity less so by filling up their mansion with turned vampires - those who could have a taste of their own eternity, should they chose.

Although this was the initial goal, the newly turned vampires didn’t take to Malleus quite as well as Lilia might have hoped, often finding company with each other, and leaving him alone as he always has been.

Until you arrived at the mansion that is. Malleus hopes you’ll pay him some portion of your attention at least, even if it means he must find a way to drag you away from the others

Leona:

One of the earliest turned vampires to come to the mansion.

He hasn’t told you his reason for becoming a vampire, although it seems to be something to do with his history with his family.

Leona typically spends his days napping around the mansion.

He falls asleep anywhere and everywhere, so the other residents occasionally trip over him when walking through the halls.

Although he seems lazy and apathetic now, Lilia has told you that he was once a much more passionate individual.

He doesn’t seem too interested in your blood like some of the others, but you wonder what it would take to bring out his previous… intensity.

Riddle:

Always a stickler for the rules, Riddle simply couldn’t die without completing a checklist he keeps hidden from everyone’s view. Thus, he became a vampire.

You once asked to see the checklist, and never asked again when you caught sight of his angry face.

Riddle spends his days arguing with the other residents over rules they never agreed to follow.

He has a genuine love for reading, and with the massive library in the mansion, with books from all the ages Malleus and Lilia have lived through, Riddle is never at a loss on what to do.

Sometimes he leaves the mansion, although no one seems to know exactly where he goes.

Riddle refuses to touch you, let alone take your blood, calling it “improper”.

Lilia has, however, told you that Riddle is a bit… different from the other vampires.

His transformation went a bit wrong, and he has an abnormal and sometimes uncontrollable urge for blood, that the others just don’t have.

He has found a way to live normally, and has shown no sign of his condition to you, but when one of the other boys has decided to take your blood, you notice that Riddle seems to disappears as quickly as he can.

Azul:

Azul wanted to be turned to continue his lucrative business of course!

He is always, always pitching his contracts to you and the other residents.

Azul once tried to get you to sign over your blood, but Malleus put a quick stop to it.

Despite his tricks, he is one of the more friendly of the vampires, chatting pleasantly with you when you see him in the common areas.

Azul typically spends his days outside of the mansion, presumably trying to conduct more of his “business deals”.

You can, however, occasionally find him in the library, studying alongside Riddle. They never talk, but they do seem to enjoy each other’s silent company.

Azul’s interest in your blood seems more profit wise than personal interest, although the latter is not missing entirely.

Kalim:

A bundle of joy, Kalim seems totally out of place in this mansion full of vampires.

He doesn’t seem to remember how or why he got here in the first place, but that doesn’t stop him from gleefully enjoying his days.

Kalim spends his days relaxing and chatting with the other residents - those that are more sociable than others.

Kalim often relies on Jamil to take care of him, reminding him of his need for blood to survive.

Despite Jamil’s harsh suggestions to take blood from you, Kalim never considers it.

Your sunshine, Kalim is the only one you know you can trust here.

Vil:

You don’t know much about Vil, as he disregards your presence most of the time.

He’s let you know that he doesn’t know why the others insist on keeping you around. You’re not really sure yourself, to be fair.

Rook has informed you of Vil’s status as a model and actor, that being the reason for him being away from the mansion more than anyone, although he has to stay in the shadows more, with his vampiric nature.

You gather his job and fans are the reason he decided to become a vampire, although you question how long he’ll be able to stay in the spotlight without people noticing his differences…

Vil shows little interest in you as a person, let alone your blood. Despite his words, you have seen him tense up when you once got a paper cut in his presence.

Idia:

If you know little about Vil, you know close to nothing about Idia.

He stays almost exclusively in his room, and you only catch glimpses of him returning to his room from the kitchen.

You can really only guess what he does in his room.

Despite his reclusive and shy nature, he appears kind - compared to some of the others at least.

He hasn’t tried to take your blood, and for that, you are thankful. Maybe even thankful enough to seek out his company in the future.

[ruporas]

feast (ID in alt)

[techn0tony]

I present to you: Donnie's design from my Future AU (that still does not have a name-)

Okay so a few things I should mention:

It's hard to see these details, but he has a robotic hand and eye (and one of his legs as well)

He is so fucking tall, he is taller than Leo even (but shorter than Raph of course). And yes he does tease Leo about it

He is the second brother to die, but I haven't decided his cause of death yet

There is a lore reason for places on his skin being blue, but it would be spoilers for my Separated AU if I told the reason x.x

This is the same Donnie from my Separated AU, my AU's are connected

EDIT MONTHS LATER LMAO:

Augh okay so actually I updated this recently: He does not die after Raph anymore, now Donnie is the first brother who dies

And the AU has a name now! It's the Genius Built AU

[harveywritings92]

{Vampire! Ghost pulls away from R/n after feeding on her.]

Ghost, wiping the blood dripping down his chin with his thumb: Alright that’s enough for tonight. 

[Ghost pulls his mask down as R/n tries to move away from the wall and nearly faceplants into the pavement, luckily Ghost catches her.]

Ghost, Holding R/n steady: Shit! You alright, love?

R/n, trying to pull herself up but failing: Fuck, I can’t...I can’t feel my legs....

Ghost, realizing he went overboard: Ah’ hell, R/n, Why didn’t you stop me dammit. *Picking R/n up and carrying her to his car.* I told you to pinch my side if it was too much!

R/n, hugs him: ‘m sorry...

Ghost: I’m not mad, Alright? I just... Just warn me if I go overboard next time... 

[wilteddreamsofbaldursgate]

Thinking about Astarion having to deal with his reclaimed mortality once the initial euphoria of it is wearing off: 

When he’s startled from sleep, woken by his own racing heartbeat. 

Him jumping at the movement in the corner of his eye, only to find it’s just his own reflection staring right back at him, puzzled, before he watches his cheeks redden with embarrassment. 

The sun slowly losing its appeal as time goes on because Astarion keeps getting nasty sunburns after days spent outside, trying to make up for centuries confined to darkness. Whenever he comes home with itching skin and drenched in sweat, he finds himself almost missing hiding in the shadows. 

The odd sensation of feeling more and less at the same time: while some of his senses are now dulled to better suit mortality, others feel heightened to the point of sensory overload—a gust of wind feels like fire licking at his skin and he gets so very anxious whenever he loses Tav in the crowd, unable to distinguish them by the once divine scent of their blood any longer. 

Since he has a reliant supply of his own blood pumping through his veins now, he’s feeling aroused so much easier and more often than not at quite inconvenient times. He enjoyed having sex with Tav before, but now that he’s mortal again, he finds that he’s having to overthink intimacy once again—where his desires used to be driven by burning hunger, lust now feels like a pleasant, more natural bodily reaction. Having to seriously consider contraceptive measures, should his partner be able to get pregnant, is also a rather novel experience for him.  

Bathing still feels as good as before, at least. But where he spent hours in the bathroom out of pointless vanity then, Astarion now has to wash himself because his body would stink of sweat and, well, life otherwise. It will be years before he openly excuses himself for having to use the bathroom whenever nature calls.

And food—food would be the hardest to adjust to. It takes a lot of trial and error to find something that pleases his virgin taste buds (although he swears there’re some odd pieces of memories flashing in front of his eyes whenever he's snacking on wild strawberries or awfully sweet citron tarts). He ends up acquiring a taste for raw cookie dough, shredded cheese and sardines, eating little else for the next two years or so. To everyone's astonishment, he's gotten food poisoning only once or twice.

Astarion is no stranger to pain or injury, but he’s appalled by how long it takes to recover from the most minor cuts and bruises. It’s a well-kept secret between him and Tav that his first common cold had him convinced he was dying for a fortnight straight. 

Crying is much easier now, too.

Ironically, it’s mortality that forces Astarion to strive for more permanent, detail-oriented plans for the future. Now that life is finite, he wants to use the time he has wisely. He might keep travelling the realms until he breathes his last, or settle down, eventually. He might learn a new profession or accumulate some wealth in less honest ways. Maybe, one day, he wants to have a family, heirs to whatever he decides to make his own. 

Once Astarion has come to terms with being a mortal elf again, he realises living is not just about a beating heart. Living is about having endless possibilities but limited time. Choices and decisions that lead to only one thing: death. 

Now that Astarion is living again, he finally understands that death is just another part of the journey.

[dorkfruit]

i was supposed to be in bed 2 hours ago shhhh dont tell god i was drawing myself a new icon instead

[nibbelraz]

Hey If Luo Binghe had a period, wouldn't it also be heavenly demon blood?? like, does it have the demon parasites and all the effects??

[nekrosdolly]

this is based on nothing in particular but i think vergil would eat you out more eagerly while you're on your period.

cw; afab sub reader, dom vergil, pussydrunk vergil, blood drinking, very brief pussy sniffing, cunnilingus, reader is written to have pretty gnarly periods, somewhat soft vergil to start.

blood has never tasted so good, flowing steadily from your sweet cunt in ichor streams and into his mouth. while he's never been fond of getting blood on his clothing from demons, or perhaps having it stain his coat (god forbid it taint yamato), this is different. you needed him and he wanted you all the same.

your periods aren't usually so bad, but it seemed to be getting worse. especially this month- it had to have been the worst yet. vergil had gone out of his way to make sure you were beyond comfortable, hardly allowing you to leave his bed- yes, his bed, not your own. he didn't want you to be suffering without him there to support you. the blue twin was uncharacteristically doting for the entire week. while he wasn't a fan of physical affection, he kept snuggling up to you in hopes that the inhumane temperature his body keeps would be enough to dissuade your horrific cramps.

he fed you when asked, made you plenty of tea that was supposed to help, and kept a good distance when you got cranky. the last thing he needed was you, pissed off at him for trying to help. though he wouldn't blame you by any means- he was suffocating you. within good reason, of course.

vergil had brought your immense pain up to trish and lady as inconspicuously as he could as a means of asking for help. what could he do to lessen your suffering?

"give her head," trish's voice is blunt. lady nods in agreement from her spot beside the tall, blonde woman.

"orgasms make periods shorter and less painful. we would know."

you're in bed, lying on your side with a heating pad tucked to your lower abdomen. your cramps were lessened thanks to vergil's efforts (the heating pad, some tea, and food,) but not quite gone. you're wearing one of his shirts and some very loose shorts made for sleeping when vergil walks in, and he all but pounces on you. it's embarrassing, how quickly he gets a semi just from looking at you in his clothing, in his bed, smiling at him.

sharing blood is intimate, right?

you're so sweet, looking over your shoulder at him with a little smile and meager wave.

"hi, verg," you hum politely as he shrugs off his coat and sets on the coatrack hanging on the back of his door. he settles on the edge of his bed to unbuckle each strap on his ridiculous boots.

"how are you feeling?" you turn onto your back to watch him undress, gloved fingers undoing the complicated buttons on his shirt, then unzipping it. underneath lies a black tank top and like a victorian man, you swoon at the sight of his collarbones.

"um, still a little crampy, but fine," he nods once, peeking over his shoulder at you. his fists clench, then relax.

"would you like my assistance?" he stands, peeling off his grossly hot, sticky leather pants that you love because they "hug his ass." you shake your head softly, closing your eyes as another cramp storms your uterus.

"you've done enough, verg, i'm alright-" a sudden weight over you cuts you off, feeling the bed shift beside your head and hips. when you open your eyes, your dear half-devil is on top of you and damn-near purring. his hair is starting to break free from its slicked-back state, a few strands falling over his face. he looks hungry, his powder blue eyes dark and murky.

"let me help," he rasps, one leg shifting in between yours dangerously close to your cunt, "allow me."

never a patient man, he fights himself to be calm as you ponder your answer. period sex has always struck you as gross. besides, nobody wants to fuck someone while they're literally excreting blood and chunks of flesh- or so you think. the minute you nod, he's pulling your shorts off, your underwear (and subsequently, your pad,) slipping down with them.

at first, you expect him to pull his boxers down, but your eyes widen at the sight of him slithering between your legs so he's face-to-face with your bleeding cunt. he's perverted in his own special way, closing his eyes briefly as he sniffs your blood-slickened folds, making you squirm. you open your mouth in hopes of telling him to quit being weird, but he beats you to the punch when he licks a stripe up your seam, thus drawing a moan from you instead.

blood has never been so sweet. mixed with the taste of you, he's in heaven. your legs hook over his shoulders upon his guidance, his tongue delving into your leaking entrance to taste more and more gore. plush thighs hug the sides of his head, making him hiss quietly as he forces them to part. red coats his chin, nose, and lips as he eagerly fucks you with his tongue, nails digging into your skin. drowned out beneath your noises of pleasure, soft noises of his own bubble in his throat.

you should've put a towel down, an afterthought that strikes you as he withdraws his tongue from your fluttering walls to lap at your clit with hunger only a vampire might have after tasting blood. your back arches, a cry leaving you when he sucks at your pulsing clit. he'd never say it aloud, but he loves getting you off. seeing you in such a pretty state, spread out or pressed against him, moaning until your throat was raw and tears spilled from your eyes all because of him- his tongue, his fingers, his dick, whatever it may be.

to vergil's disappointment, blood continues to seep out of you and onto the bedsheets instead of in his mouth, so he suckles on your clit until he's sure you're close before rubbing it with his thumb eagerly, forcing his tongue inside your cavern yet again. he growls into your cunt at the taste again, his mind hazy with the need to keep drinking you in. he can taste your arousal mixing with crimson, fueling him to keep going. the now sharp-ish tip of his tongue prods at your spongy g-spot, a pleased purr emitting from his chest at the way you're crying out for him to continue.

the hands on your hips gain a rough quality, his once-dull nails pricking into the soft skin of your thighs and dear god, his tongue- ribbed down the sides and pointed at the very end- fucks you masterfully.

"vergil," you reach down to take his hand, your climax fast approaching, only to find a scaly mass where his human hand once was. a quick glance downwards tells you all you need to know: he's triggering, albeit only halfway. sharp, glowing blue eyes meet yours and it's like he knows you're going to cum, your tight walls squeezing his tongue like they would his cock.

"i-i love you," you whine, a sound that falls short in comparison to the volume of the slurping and squelching filling the air. your hands grasping for something to hold onto as your climax fast approaches. your lover takes your hand in his clawed one with a soft grip. your head falls back against the pillow, squirming against his mouth. he purrs, nose nuzzling into your puffy clit. the vibrations send you tumbling over the edge.

with a cry, you cum hard on his tongue. he laps up your release and blood combined, a soft moan leaving him as he tastes you so sweetly. fire lights your veins, white-hot and all-consuming as he tongue-fucks you through your heady high, thighs shaking under his rough hands. he doesn't stop, burying himself in you until you're whining, pleading for him to stop with crystalline tears that he wants to lick away. with a soft tug to his hair, you pull him off and he allows you. but not before pressing a kiss on your overworked clit.

standing from between your legs, ichor coats his face from the nose-down. it's dripping from his chin down his neck, soaking into the collar of his tank top. it's enough to make you squirm under his gaze and pull your shirt down to cover yourself. red-stained (human) tongue pokes from between his lips to lap at the blood left on them, pale blue eyes boring into your own.

"...i'm going to get a tampon in," you mutter, getting out of bed on shaky legs and meandering to his en-suite bathroom. luckily, he's kept a small stash of period products for you ever since you started dating.

in the wake of your absence, his eyes travel to the tempting bloodstain on his bed. he has half a mind to lean down and nuzzle his face into it, perhaps try to suck the crimson from the stain in order to taste you again. he doesn't. instead, he waits by the bathroom door for you to finish so he can wash himself of your fluids, albeit reluctantly.

-

in the end, when he's holding your unconscious body against his in a tight manner, soft snores falling from your lips, he presses a ghost of a kiss on the shell of your ear.

"i love you," the sound of his voice is lost with the wind blowing through the cracked window, just how he would like it to be.

[grimesgirll]

“nah, baby, i’m not gonna be able to stop when i start.”

“let’s share then!”

“blood?”

you nod eagerly and daryl shakes his head again, muttering a no, baby, it’s not a good idea but your hand is on his bicep, bare neck front and center, and you feel him twitch in his pants beneath you. letting out a naughty giggle, you grind further onto your beloved vampire. “c’mon,” you coo. “you know you wanna.”

“you know i do, girl,” daryl breathes against your shoulder when you lean down to begin kissing his own, trailing up to his neck. he shudders with you on atop him. “baby,” he protests as you place hot, open mouthed kisses all over his pale skin.

"then why don't you let me taste you and i'll let you taste me?"

you propose that as if daryl hadn't seen the fucking face of god last time he'd tasted you.

"drinking from your kind is dangerous." he tells you immediately, even scooching back as if to not be so close to your irresistible smelling neck.

"but i trust you!" you insist and wrap your arms around him to pull the cold blooded man close to your chest. "why don't you trust me on this?"

"because i love you too much for you to let me drain you in the fucking bed."

a huff escapes you. "dare',"

"don't start that."

"but you'll be able to control yourself. i know it," you promise and press a kiss to his cheek, then his lips, reveling in how he softened into you. you only withdraw your lips to assure him, "let's just do it. i wanna taste you, dare'." your lips twinge into a crooked grin once daryl slides off slightly to reach off the side of the bed.

a flash of silver from the nightstand and daryl’s raising a freshly incised wrist to your lips.

for me? you mouth before parting your lips to let the thick liquid fall between them.

you haven’t had much vampire blood before. only once before in a dire emergency had daryl offered you his wrist. it feels special - like he’s yielding something sacred when it coats your tongue and you swallow what john hopkins' leading biologists had deemed the ultimate life blood.

daryl drops his wrist after you down a mouthful and is suddenly transfixed by how rapidly black, vivid dilation consumes your once bright eyes. only a thin ring of color remains on the edge of your iris. wooziness sets in and daryl's rushing to curl you into his side and recline you on the satin pillows of your shared bed. he can't help but swell in his pants at the spectacle he's made of you lolling your tongue out just a little to catch the dribble down your lips.

“now it’s your turn.”

“girl i said-,”

“-i know what you said!” you exclaim. daryl’s darkened eyes widen at your outburst. you sweep a tress of hair behind your head and roll your eyes. “i’m gonna be fine. please, dare’!” you pout. “i know you can just take a little. try it!”

“but what if-,”

“-you won’t.”

now you're nearly on top of your undead lover again - hands planted on his uncut forearm to urge him. "dare', it's only fair."

"it's not fair to drain you, baby," your auburn haired boyfriend counters. "you know how vamps get about fairy blood."

"just try it," and despite his speed, he almost misses the knife you're about to clean off. "hey!" you protest once he tosses it across trhe room.

"fine, just let me," daryl gives in.

you beam with delight. your lips find his again and envelope them, slipping your tongue inside as you bring his strong, calloused hand to your collarbone and slant into the welcoming bed. the hesitation you sense, you try to assuage with a thoughtful hand on his chest, twisting to touch his torso and draw him against you.

the sound of daryl's robust fangs coming forth has you already dripping. you squirm against his weight, already tilting your hips beneath him and his dick isn't even out.

"you ready, baby?"

a gentle hand comes to your chin, and daryl's wondering if it's even fair to ask you this in this rapturous state. to no one's surprise, you're nodding and begging for him to "just fucking bite" you already.

without further ado, daryl dips his fanged bite to the delicate skin of your neck. those sharp, penetrating teeth don't even factor into your experience. you're waiting for pain - daryl told you it sometimes hurt.

devoid of it or delayed, the pain never comes. just pleasure.

"ah, fuck!" you croon lustily. echoing your expletive with another moan. you feel daryl stop, not sucking or puncturing further. you whine and hook your leg under and around his. "don't stop," you demand raggedly.

so he doesn't. daryl drops his incisors fully into your neck, murmuring something through a blood filled mouth into your neck.

"fuck, dare'," you rasp.

the tugging through your neck, through your veins is only a dull, thrilling ache with daryl’s blood in your system. he may as well just be kissing your neck - delivering the ultimate hickey. whatever pain the bite victims on the news went on about when the anti-VRA people clearly did not present while infused with vampire blood.

it's not long before your boy is coming up for air.

blood dripping from his mouth, he's never looked more handsome.

you immediately pull him in for a sloppy kiss, not caring for the irony taste of you on his tongue or wondering why he's not insisting that he wipe off before he kisses you. no, daryl's arching into the kiss and returning your bump and grind with his own hips. you giggle into his mouth. daryl's high on fairy blood. your favorite.

ferocity takes over your formerly - somewhat - tame creature of the night. inhabitations dead and buried, daryl's not hesitating this time to get his lips on your neck - or to hike down your skirt. your legs kick desperately as you wiggle your brown skirt past your ass and suddenly your legs are in the air. held by one hand, your knees crunch above your chest and your panties are thrown to the floor. nose sharply inhaling as if he could siphon every delicious scent, every delectable drop of you from his nose through your clit.

"mhmm," you coo needily. "daryl!"

a tongue laves its way around your clit from side to side, then up and down as if blood drunk daryl couldn't decide. those unwavering hands keep your thighs propped up regardless. you buck and thrash but with daryl's hands on you, you remain still and twitch into his touch. your musk still dancing on his tongue and on the tip of every one of his senses just as he digs his fingers into your thighs. that seemingly supernatural tongue flicks around your clit and teases your core.

a buildup is on the brink of collapse before you even know it. there's no warning sign except for an involuntarily husk and the slick suddenly complimenting and wetting his pretty, pleasure driving lips already coated in your whimsical blood. the same fairy blood that he's going to his head. he can't tell if he's pussy drunk or overdosing on your sweetness.

and you can't tell the difference between time and space. both entities flicker on the edge of your peripherals as a blinding, body curling rush crashes through you. lightning can't compare. no tongue in the world could have you coming undone this way. if you two weren't so wrapped up in each other and the potency of your blood, you may be embarrassed but there's no room to be embarrassed with a vampire between your legs. a creature who loves nothing more than to build you up even past the point of breaking. he can't help but grow louder and even more aggressive in his tongue led campaign against your sensitive, fleshy core. you tighten and untighten, coil and burst until you're convulsing and coming onto daryl.

there's no chance to catch your breath as the wild weapon weaves even more neediness into you with the sweetness he's stealing from between your thighs. the campaign proceeds north, detailing a messy, hot, purple trail from your lower lips along your torso, your tits and to the lips quivering, still trying to trap breath in any way possible.

you're indulging in your own sweet, slick musk from daryl's lips and encircling your arms around him for anchorage once more. your hips on top of each other propels daryl in motion to yank his pants down. between you, his boxers are sliding down and he's knocking them off the bed.

an animalistic growl erupts from him just at the sensation of your slick pussy beneath his girthy cock. dick in hand, daryl is lining up with your slip n' slide of an entrance. suddenly you're pleading. puffing out pleases all while daryl sucks up the divine array in front of him.

head buried into your chest, it's easier to combat the chaos your blood has swirling around in your head. its heat inducing and dastardly just how hot you are like this. punctures on your neck healing, tits bouncing with every bated breath, voice dripping like honey. the vampire presses fangless kisses against your skin when he finally pushes his hips forward.

"fuck!" is your exclamation of choice.

"so fuckin' good," daryl husks into your chest.

an inch or two at a time is how daryl takes you. a tit cupped in one hand and yours in the other, daryl is sure to grate against your clit as he eases in. each labored moan eggs him to go further. the vulgar syllables you're uttering only urge daryl. eventually he's eating up every fuck, shit, and jesus christ with a crushing kiss.

hot and heavy, you two rapture yourselves into the most sinfully delightful rhythm. the drag of his cock against you feels like the finest massage. the edges of your vision are already spotty, so you just coax daryl closer and clench down on his cock.

"fuck," you two rasp in unison.

"c'mon, dare'," you're already croaking. "i'm already close."

daryl doesn't need to look up from licking the fervid skin of your breasts to know your lips are swollen, eyes blinking back tears, and dumbstruck. but when he finally tilts his head up, it makes all the difference. then he's diving to meet your lips.

those thigh muscles work into you without pause. thumping and smacking the wall, the bed feels like a faraway universe compared to the world outside.

your muscles tighten around him to remind that you are so close. so close that a finger against your clit has you squealing. daryl only subjects you to the dual motions long enough to feel the tension in your core crumble and crush his cock. he doesn't need every sense heightened by fairy blood to fill you up faster than he'd like. now though, with no resolve or reason he can summon to stop, he's on the edge of euphoria.

daryl immersed in you has you riding the same high. teary eyes long to capture the sight of him so relaxed. removed from any drama or stress, you wish you two could roll around like this every day. to thrust your face towards his and feel his stubble, to kiss hungrily, and feel his lips on yours as he finishes.

spurting into you like no tomorrow, daryl drives his hot seed into you. the hips that have you pinned to the sheets show no sign of stopping. in and out, in and out. the motion repeats itself as daryl rams every last bit of himself into you and you snap and shriek.

tremors trickle through you until they're turning to thunder crackles around daryl's cock. the sounds spilling from you two soundtrack your thoroughgoing, salacious release. "holy fuck, you feel good inside of me," you're cawing into his ear as you canter closer to coming down.

blissed out on the bed, the two of you don’t know where one of you begins and the other ends. tangled together is the only state you can comprehend. a whimper runs through you once daryl gently tugs his cock from your messy pussy. the cool air coasting up and down your folds startled you, not as much as the finger gathering up your slick - which daryl licks clean.

“fuck, and how many hours to dawn?” you ask, sitting up on lazy elbows.

“long enough for you to get some sleep.”

you huff. even through teary, lusty eyes you’re

“you gotta sleep off the v, girl.”

“it’s not v.” you argue instantly. you curl up to daryl’s side and drop your chin onto his shoulder. “it’s you. i don’t wanna sleep you off.”

“well you’re gonna be bouncin’ off the walls if you don’t,” and when your fingers start sliding down your lover’s torso, he takes the time to wrestle you into the soft mattress. instantly, his mouth is attached to your already healing wound - courtesy of the v, his blood.

pinned beneath daryl, you could go to sleep. fade into the mattress or the feeling of pure joy consuming you. but then you hook a leg around his and when your eyes meet, his are blacked out. or you could go for round two?

[pinkinsect]

i am nothing like him. my anger is only righteous. i am righteous.