meowcatsposts

[meowcatsposts]

Warm [Werewolf bf]

⚠︎ warning ⚠︎ : a little angsty at the beginning, yandere behavior from Argos

✎ notes:

idk if this fic makes a lot of sense - if it doesn't, I'm sorry (I needed an outlet for my emotions, esp with this one)

if you're interested, here's the previous part!

Overview: Argos begins to give you more freedom, but it might've not been the best idea. (He also treats you to a warm bath btw)

It’d been a shitty week. Everything had been bubbling and churning and crashing inside you, like litter in the ocean. Litter choked and killed the poor sea life; people choked and killed your emotions. You tried your hardest to hide it from your keen boyfriend and it seemed to work, because he didn’t say anything. 

As twisted as it sounded, Argos stayed silent because he wanted you to be happy. He’d been giving you much more freedom lately–on the sole promise of secrecy–and you (and he) thought you’d absolutely enjoy it. Interacting with people other than him was refreshing–thrilling, even…at first. Your family and friends and acquaintances were oh so glad you were back, and it brought a huge smile on your face. They missed you! 

Argos followed you, however, anywhere you went. Sometimes he was a human, wearing a hoodie with sweatpants. Most times he was a wolf, slinking into alleys and shadows. He was happy to see you happy–he cherished your smile…loved your laugh, after all–but he just couldn’t shake off the fact that they never asked you what happened or where you went. Ever. If they cared for you, he thought, wouldn’t they wonder?

Currently, you were at a lovely gathering and in the midst of venting to a trusted confidant. Curses wouldn’t stop spilling from your mouth and you half thought no one deserved to hear the profanities spewing through your lips, but they nodded along, sitting on a chair and sipping on a drink. You were getting to a peak in your story, then–

“This is really good!” they exclaimed, gazing into their cup. “What did they put in this?”

Oh.

The response was so out of pocket and so completely unrelated to what you were venting about, it sucked all the words right from your mouth. Your mind went blank. 

“I-” you started. 

“You know,” they continued to babble…and the rest faded away.

Quite frankly, you were beyond offended. Despite seeing all red you politely excused yourself and calmly walked away, drink quivering in your hand. You thought you’d nearly break that pretty little glass cup. Stay calm, you urged yourself. Stay calm. The last thing you–or anyone else, for the matter–wanted was another tiring confrontation at a lovely reunion, right?

Argos saw how your lower lip quivered. He saw how your eyes glistened. He saw how hard you gripped your drink. He saw everything, and it took all of his willpower not to rip the door off its hinges with his claws and steal you away. Sharp ears pressed against his head, his black fur melted with the shadows’ dark embrace. He’d get you out. Somehow. 

“Oh? Who’s this?”

Hearing some excited whispers, you glanced over to see what was happening. It’s probably some long-lost person coming to visit, you told yourself, standing uncomfortably in the corner of the room, swirling your empty glass. Nothing interesting, most likely.

Wrong. 

Among the sea of voices you heard his, gravelly and deep. It cut through the air like a sharp knife, and it sent shivers up and down your spine. 

It was Argos, in the flesh. 

What in the world was he doing here? His copper eyes locked with yours and you quickly looked away, fighting the crooked smile that was creeping up your lips–he never failed to find you, did he? When you looked up again he was standing in front of you, large frame engulfing your vision. You nearly let out a yelp but he put a finger up to his lips, silently shushing you. (That simple shirt–the way it stretched tautly over his shoulders and chest, hugging his pale arms tight–looked delicious on him, you thought. As always.)

“What are you–” you started, in a hushed sort of way.

He cut you off by holding onto your hand rather firmly, but not enough to dig into your skin.

“Taking you home,” he replied, rather harshly. 

His voice was low as if he was purposely killing it; it came out in an almost baritone growl. His copper eyes were glued to the door–your ticket out. As you stared at him bewildered, he tilted his head toward the exit as if saying, ‘Let’s go home,’ and all you could do was oblige, half-stunned and half-grateful for his sudden act.

He whispered a soft, “Come,” as he squeezed your hand and tugged you along with him.

Inevitably, people tried to pry and ask questions, but he evaded each query with a charming, rugged smile and swiftly went along his way, you in tow. It seemed to work, because they stood there, too stunned to speak. 

When the two of you were out of prying eyes and ears, Argos shifted. (He had you hold his clothes, though, before he did; he shredded too many already.) He was so big–bigger than a pack mule–yet silent and invisible. (No wonder he’s able to stalk you.) Fur as black as obsidian ran in silky waves along his robust body, thick coat melding perfectly with the night. Paws as big as a dog’s head touched the ground as he gazed at you expectantly.

“You want me to ride on your back?” you asked, quite unsure. 

A muffled hum rumbled in his throat, telling you, “Yes.”

“...Ok.”

The ride home was pleasant. You mindlessly played with Argos’s thick black fur, running your fingers along it, pinching it gently. It was relaxing, hearing the soft crunch of leaves beneath you, burying your face in his warm back. He didn’t mind it when you played with his ears, either, or when you ran your hands along the sides of his fuzzy neck. He was just happy you seemed calmer. Less sad. 

After shifting back, Argos decided to treat you to a small bath. Might as well, he figured, because his clothes were off and you didn’t seem to mind the nudity anymore. The bath wasn’t anything fancy–no petals, no bubbles, no oils–but it was warm, and he was there to take care of you. His deft fingers massaged shampoo into your scalp, and you sighed in relief.

“Are you ok?” he’d ask softly once in a while, washing you off. You just hummed in response, eyes closed and enjoying the sound of water bouncing off the walls. 

He got into the tub after washing up himself, warm water sloshing around as you felt his skin against yours. You leaned into his touch. He pressed gentle kisses on your nape, then along the curve of your neck and shoulder, bringing you closer with his arms.

After a few moments of comfortable silence he mumbled against your shoulder, “What I did was a mistake…” frustration tinging his voice. “I shouldn’t have let you go.”

You knew damn well the reason why, but nonetheless asked softly, “...Why?”

He didn’t say anything, just buried his face in your shoulder further, arms wrapping around your waist tighter. 

They’d pay, he thought to himself.

[meowcatsposts]

Cold [Long Mian]

⚠︎ warning ⚠︎ : hints of dub-con (no nsfw scenes written)

✎ notes:

the vibes of this fic (and the previous one) low-key reminded me of some lyrics from "sleep well" by d4vd

I haven't played Dislyte in eons, so I apologize if Long Mian is OOC!

Overview: Long Mian visits you after a very long time.

What was he doing here, in your home? Sure, you’d been the one who opened the door, but still–no one could possibly disobey his icy regality…right? 

Long Mian floated around the room, golden eyes skimming over the items in your humble abode. It was as if he were a spirit, graceful and charming, and all you could do was stare dumbfoundedly. A million questions flooded your brain and you wanted so badly to blurt them all out to him, but you just couldn’t; they clogged up in your throat. Not after the fact that he could’ve killed you–an innocent little bypasser–a while back. So you simply just stood there, invisible ice anchoring your feet.

“It seems you and I don’t share hobbies,” he commented, breaking the silence. His eyes drifted from the walls, to the windows, then to you. 

You let out a shaky breath and opened your lips. How long had it been since you were holding it? 

“Wha-” You cleared your throat. It felt oddly dry, and it definitely wasn’t because of the crisp winter air. “What do you mean?”

A ghost of a sad smile appeared on Long Mian’s lips.

 “It doesn’t matter,” he murmured, and after a moment of silence he continued, “I’m happy I got to see you again…I want to talk with you since it’s been forever I’ve heard your voice.” 

He wouldn’t take no for an answer; you knew it. Ever since he was little he’d been like that–unwavering. Now gifted with his ethereal horns and tail, he was even more so. 

The snow would be a good distraction, you thought. It was nice to gaze at the frosted scenery; it gave you something else to look at. So, you walked briskly over to the window and pulled out two chairs. One for him, and one for you. 

“What about the snowmen you mentioned earlier?” It was simply out of politeness, what you said, what you did. “Did…you want to make one together?...Like how we did before?”

“There’s no need for that,” Long Mian replied curtly, taking his seat right beside you. A small frown slithered up on his handsome face. “They melt too quickly. Besides–” His tail flickered as he turned to face you. “I came to visit you, after all.”

His mellow voice turned to white noise as you carried on with your conversations. You couldn’t hear anything, even if you wanted to. You couldn’t feel anything, for the matter, because it was just too much for your woeful mind to comprehend. And Long Mian took notice of this, keen eyes narrowing at your troubled expression. He never let even a tiny detail of you go unseen because, in his eyes, you were far too precious for that. 

“Is something the matter?” His sharp query pierced right through you, and you hadn’t realized that his gloved hands engulfed your balled-up ones in an attempt to soothe you. Your breath hitched in your throat.

His hands were surprisingly warm for a cold-hearted man, and quite frankly, it terrified you. Even with all this space around you, you felt cornered–like a helpless, pathetic mouse in the giant talons of a dragon. It could crush you instantly if it wanted to, but it just held you there, dangling. Was he toying with you? you questioned. What was his goal, anyway? To kill you? To preserve you in ice? You broke against your will, and it all came spilling out.

“What’s the meaning of all this? What do you want from me?” you blubbered, hands clammy with sweat. He must’ve felt it too, even though his expression was unreadable. “Do you want to kill me? Preserve me–”

“Shhh…” 

Oddly enough, his soft shushing was enough to quell your sniffling. 

“You’re the only treasure I want alive,” Long Mian replied. His eyebrows furrowed. “Yet I don’t know why.” 

He sounded so sincere, so childlike, that for a moment you thought you were with the charming, kind boy you knew from long ago. 

“It’d be such a shame to preserve you,” he continued, almost raving. “You make such lively expressions. Your voice is warm. Your hair, your eyes, your skin…you’re beautiful, (Y/N), much more beautiful than those frozen Miramon in my chambers. Their beauty pales in comparison to yours.”

His long gloved fingers brushed away the crystal beads forming in your eyes, and they rested on your cheek…trailed down to your chin. All you could do was sit there, frozen, gazing into those glacial eyes with agitated wonder. What was he going to do? What were you going to do?

Too late.

His lean body towered over your sitting one, and he was all you could see now. His robust frame was inches away from yours, and so were his lips–so wintry pale, you thought they’d feel cold on yours. A storm swirled in those golden eyes of his, and he couldn’t resist the primal urge to capture your lips. They’d be all his, he vowed, and his only. The fluffy fur running along his back and tail stood on end, as if static brushed it. You must’ve felt it too, he thought, because your tight lips finally parted.

Before you knew it your lips were taken by his, fervently. He was much, much warmer than you thought, and you nearly let out a startled squeak. A low, faint growl rumbled in Long Mian’s throat. It was a sign of pure possessiveness, a sign that you were in the dragon’s vice grip. If you’d been aware, you would have noticed his tail shivering. It became hard to breathe now, to concentrate. Your vision clouded and you tried to move, but it was no use.

When you pulled away his smoldering gaze never once left your meek one, and it sent tiny jolts down your spine. 

“Please…” you whimpered, pushing his chest with little force. Even under his regal clothes you could tell just how powerfully built he was. There was so little you could do, it shattered your heart. The boy you loved was a shell of his past now, turned into a frigid man. 

Yet, unbeknownst to you, a few embers remained burning. Just for you.

Long Mian leaned in beside your head, his lips hovering over your ear. 

“You’ve already been part of my collection, my dear,” he whispered lowly. It sent shivers down your spine. His fingertips trailed over your neck, to your arms and to your stomach, resting on your thigh. “Ever since I’ve laid my eyes on you.”

The dragon prince had snatched you from the earth, and there was no going back.

[meowcatsposts]

Hey there I have an idea for an avatar the way of water fic its slightly angsty but hear me out pls!

So y/n sully, has been missing for most of the day and no one seemed to notice, until they show up at ronals hut cover in bruises, cuts from weapons, even the hair on there que has been choped off and there que has cuts on it. All of this was caused by the teens of the village, who brought them outside of the reef and attacked them, leaving them for dead. Y/n is a tired, bloody mess chooses to run to there bansie/ikran with the plan to leave. And well they do and no one noticed they left, not even there family. Only ao'nung noticed and it shook him with grief, he loved y/n.

Whether or not y/n comes back, is up to you! You don't haft to write the part where y/n gets the crap beat out of them if u don't want! Thank u!

Alone [Ao'nung]

✎⁾⁾⁾ notes:

angsty at first!

reader is metkayina & characters are probably OOC

I really needed some inspiration, so tysm for your idea anon! I'm also really sorry it took me so long to write this, I hope you'll forgive me 🙏

I changed some things from the req to fit my previous story, I hope you're alright with it!

Overview: You get beaten up by some assholes who happen to not like the Sullys, so you run away. Heartbroken, Ao'nung sets out to find you.

Ronal stifled a horrified gasp. Gashes, everywhere. Deep purple bruises, all over your skin.

“Who did this to you?” she whispered madly. “Come.”

Every touch, no matter how light, stung sharply. Why me? you thought bitterly. Hot tears welled in your eyes but you furiously blinked them back, refusing to give in to the hurt. Time blurred by and you vaguely recalled Ronal asking you a few questions, but couldn’t remember what. Was it about your queue? The blood? Everything seemed to fade away, and you couldn’t care less.

You were gliding across the water with your ilu now. At least those pricks didn’t dare to touch your ride; they were smart enough for that, it seemed. Its hide was smooth, no blemishes in sight, and a tiny smile threatened to ghost your lips. The salty sea, on the other hand, burned your skin raw, but you paid no heed to it. Your heart ached far worse. 

Tenderly, you ran your aching fingers over the piece of fine jewelry on your neck, thinking of how badly you wished for Ao’nung to be here with you. You reminisced about the day he gifted it to you. How red his cheeks burned, and how red yours were, too. Another sad smile ghosted your lips. What would he think of you now? Gone and grieving, probably. You loved him, so so much and you choked up with tears. Maybe you could leave Awa’atlu and find another island. Find different, kinder people. But to leave Ao’nung behind…

You gazed down at your ilu, and it whistled somberly.

Ao’nung wondered where you were. He hadn’t seen you all day, and it was driving him mad. Did he say something to upset you, to hurt you? Heart pounding, he combed through your conversations in his head. To his relief, nothing. Then…surely you were curled up in your marui, feeding the tiny fish, right? He had to be right. 

But he was utterly, terribly wrong. 

There was no sign of you no matter how hard he looked, and his stomach began to churn. His heart raced. His breath ran short. Where were you? Maybe you were lounging at the seawall terraces, where the both of you would share stories together. Not there. By the shore, playing with Tuk and the ilu? Not there, either. In the Sully family’s marui? No. Heck, he even asked Neteyam and Lo’ak about your whereabouts, but the boys just pursed their lips and shook their heads. Ao’nung searched everywhere like a rabid dog, his eyes blown wide, ears keen to any sound of you. He needed to know where you were. He was utterly empty without you.

Finally having enough he stormed into his family marui, tail thrashing and ears flattened. A pungent aroma attacked his senses, but he couldn’t care less–at least for now. In his sight appeared his mother, sitting on the woven floor and grinding furiously.

“Where’s (Y/N)?” he pressed. Sure, he knew to keep his temper in check–especially around his parents–but this was about you. He had to know.

“I don’t know.” Ronal’s eyes were as somber as his, as she huffed, “I asked questions, but no answer.” Her eyes flickered back to the mortar in front of her. In it was the source of the odor–a paste, still gritty. 

“What’s the salve for?” Ao’nung pressed. His heart sunk, just a little lower; deep inside, he knew what it was for. He just knew.

Ronal pursed her lips, knowing her son would hate her answer. 

“(Y/N) came in with wounds. So many of them…” She sighed, pressing and swirling the pestle. Her face was torn with anguish, and so was her son’s. “I don’t know who did it, and I tried to ask, but nothing.”

Ao’nung paced around madly. The only assholes who’d even think of hurting you was that dishonorable, abhorrent lot. Sure, maybe he’d been one of them, but not enough to hurt. Never enough to hurt. Ronal gazed at her son worriedly, for it was a first of him to be this uptight. She could feel the bitterness boiling over him.

“Ao’nung–” she started. The last thing she wanted was her son missing, too.

“I’m going to find (Y/N).” 

And with that, Ao’nung flew out of the marui.

“Ao’nung!” Ronal rushed out after him, but it was too late. He was gone.

It was nightfall now. The waters turned black, and dim candescence webbed its cool surface. You sighed, tears pricking at your eyes. You were tired, hungry, and hurting, and your ilu was, too. It didn’t help that murky thoughts clouded your mind, either. Your ilu chirped forlornly so you stroked its neck, littered with luminous marks, in hopes of soothing it. Guilt overcame you. Perhaps it was better to return, you thought. The poor creature was suffering as much as you, after all. Biting your lip, you rubbed your glittering necklace between your fingers. What would Ao’nung be doing now? you wondered. Is he wondering where you went? Did his heart ache as much as yours did? Was he even looking for you? More tears burned your eyes as they threatened to spill over and you suppressed a shudder as another wave of anguish crashed into you and then–

“(Y/N)!” 

Ao’nung.

“(Y/N)!” 

You’d recognize that voice anywhere. How could you not? The sweet voice that calms your nerves. The rough voice that you roll your eyes at. It was so long–too long–since you’ve heard him, and your heart leapt with joy? Fear? You couldn’t tell, but one thing was certain: it was him. Him whose gaze turned soft when looking at you. Him who could listen to you talk forever. Him, who was home. But what were you going to tell him? Would he listen this time? You steadied your breath and gripped the handle between your ilu’s queues tighter, eyes flitting to find him.

“Ao’nung…? Wh–”

The ocean engulfed you, cold water rushing all over your skin. When you broke the surface Ao’nung was there, right in front of you. 

“I missed you,” he cried, taking you into his arms. “I missed you so much.” 

He held you tight and stroked your hair with shaky hands. He almost lost you, after all. 

“It took me so long to find you…I didn’t know where you were,” he blubbered. “I looked everywhere, you know, and I still couldn’t find you! I was about to give up, but–” Ao’nung cleared his throat, remembering he needed to be strong for you. After taking a few shaky breaths he murmured beside your ear, “But now you’re here. With me.” 

Tears poured down your cheeks. Your heart pounded against your ribcage. Just for a little moment, just for a little, you forgot about the pain. You hugged Ao’nung just as tight–even tighter, perhaps–feeling his warmth against your cold fingers. The tears wouldn’t stop as they ran in streams down your face, onto Ao’nung’s shoulder. He couldn’t care one bit; you were in his arms, alive, and that’s what mattered. His hands tenderly ghosted over your back, your nape and arms, and they rested on your waist as he pulled slowly back to look at you. To his dismay you shrunk away, trying hard to hide your battered body. 

“Look at me.” Ao’nung sighed as he wiped the tears beading at the corners of your eyes.

Open wounds littered your skin. They screamed at Ao’nung, and his blood boiled. Who dare touch you like that? He bit his lip to suppress the slew of curses bubbling in his throat. Not in front of you. Not now. That’d be saved for later, he decided. 

You shifted under Ao’nung’s intense scrutiny. Thinking it’d help him calm down, you cupped his face and whispered, “Look, the necklace you gave me.”

Ao’nung’s gaze drifted to your neck, and a smile ghosted his lips. You still had his gift on–a sign you were his, and his only. It was tarnished, sure, but it was there, resting beautifully on your skin. He slid his fingers through yours and squeezed tightly. 

“Let’s go back,” he said, tilting his head toward the ilu. “Together.”

blue line dividers by @/firefly-graphics

[meowcatsposts]

Best Medicine [Ahmed]

❥ note: @treasurecat24, I hope you enjoy :)

Overview:

Date time with your precious bf!

…but you got sick

So Ahmed’s here to baby you <3

Walking in cute clothes was flattering and empowering–perfect, even. 

With a sore scratchy throat, thrumming head, and heavy limbs, however? That was a different story. Each step sapped your nearly depleted energy reserve, and just to look straight ahead was a whole workout. Muscles aching, eyes watery, and head stuffed with cotton, you wished you had stayed home. 

Ahmed, seeing your sunken eyes and pallid complexion, knew something was very, very wrong. 

“Are you alright?” he asked, eyes flooded with worry. Clearly not, his mind screamed.

“Um…” Dully, you looked up to meet his gaze and slurred, “...Do I look bad?”

You weren’t alright, duh. You just answered his question with a question!

Sighing softly, Ahmed murmured, “You look pale, love. Pale, as in sick.” He placed his hand on your lower back and pushed gently, guiding your rubbery legs. “We need to take you home.”

Here you were now, lying comfortably in a bed, wrapped in a thick blanket burrito. A steaming mug of tea sat beside your nightstand and its herby aroma wafted fainty to your nose. Perhaps something warm would be nice. Feeling a little bad for not drinking it (your beloved boyfriend brewed it for you, after all), you dragged yourself up and took the cup, lifting it to your lips with shaky hands. It didn’t taste or smell really of anything, sadly, (darn germs!) but a faint sweetness tickled your tongue and you smiled. Honey. 

Ahmed walked in with a tray. On it was a steaming bowl of soup, a tall glass of water, and a plastic medicine bottle.

“You’re like a doctor,” you giggled. Sandpaper rubbed your throat raw, but you didn’t really care.

“Well,” your boyfriend started, smiling softly. “I am.” He set the tray down with a soft clunk and sat beside you, brushing a lock of hair from your forehead. “And you’re my special patient.”

“Please.” Ahmed was practically begging now. “You need to take this to speed up your recovery.”

How long did this go on for? Too long. Your boyfriend usually had the patience of a saint, but he really needed to suppress the urge to wrench your pretty little lips open and shove that spoon into your mouth. 

Seeing how worriedly dark Ahmed’s eyes turned, you began to second-guess your own stubbornness. Maybe you should comply, your conscience reasoned. 

“Fine,” you grumbled.

“Great!” he chirped, holding a tiny spoonful of that thick bitter concoction. “Say ah~ for me.” After seeing you hesitantly part your lips, Ahmed softly cooed, “Good job,” as he slipped the syrup into your mouth. After a lengthy while you managed to swallow the darn thing, its bitterness still coiled around your tongue. You scrunched your nose.

Chuckling, Ahmed handed you a glass of water. You drained the liquid in a heartbeat. 

As he set the glass atop the tray he murmured softly again, “Good job,” and stroked your head tenderly, fingers slipping through your hair. For some reason your boyfriend’s praise sparked flints in your face, so you ducked under the covers, hoping he didn’t see how red your face got.

Although Ahmed found your flustered self absolutely endearing, he was confused. Why so red? He peeled the sheets from your face, peering curiously into your eyes.

“Why are you blushing, love?” he asked. “I don’t think there’s anything to be embarrassed about…”

You just stared into his eyes. Blankly. Like a deer in headlights. Your heart thump-thump-thumped insanely, but somehow, you couldn’t break away from those emerald eyes of his. Though sick and teary-eyed, you had to admit that they were beautiful as ever, like the very first day you got lost in them; they were a flourishing spring forest, deep and nurturing. 

Ahmed didn’t look away, either. He, too, admired you silently; you were adorable, all wrapped up and flustered and needing his help.

Then you blurted, “Can you hand me the soup?” to break the fat silence. 

“Oh, sure.” Ahmed handed you the warm bowl hesitantly, fingers ghosting over yours. “Are you sure you don’t want me to feed you?” he asked.

Feed you? You blushed furiously–again–and nearly choked on your soup. Why was he so good at making butterflies rampage in your stomach? He was your boyfriend, but still–

“I’m fine,” you coughed, in a hushed sort of way. “I’m fine.”

Ahmed sighed. “That doesn’t sound convincing…but alright.” 

Maybe you were fine. Seeing that you already took your first sip he asked rather nervously, “Does it taste ok?” 

Oh, how he loved it when you bobbed your head and hummed a soft, “Mhm,” in return. He didn’t miss the smile ghosting over your lips, either.

Heart swelling with relief Ahmed said, “Really? That’s good.” He fretted over almost everything, after all–from the tea to the soup to the blankets. Everything.

He was ecstatic–absolutely happy to be of service to you–but something bothered him. He couldn’t be completely content. Yet.

“Why did you agree to go out when you were sick?” your boyfriend asked. His eyes reflected something serious and he frowned just the slightest, as if he were doing a grave examination. 

“Well…” you trailed. The warm soup bowl felt good in your hands. Comforting. “One, I didn’t know it’d get this bad, and two…I felt bad canceling.”

Ahmed hummed low in his throat, presumably in disapproval, as he rubbed light circles on your outer thigh.

“You should’ve canceled. I wouldn’t have minded,” he reasoned, a light pink dusting his cheeks. “I’d still get to be with you anyway, and I get to take care of you, so…” 

Not once did he break his gaze, however.

“Oh?” You almost choked on your soup again. Ahmed’s hand felt oddly hot on your thigh, and it definitely wasn’t because you were ill. In fact, your whole body was blazing.

So red again, he thought to himself, stifling a chuckle. Maybe you should get sick more often.

purple dividers provided by: firefly-graphics

[meowcatsposts]

Perfect [Neteyam]

✎⁾⁾⁾ note: reader is an albino omatikaya & neteyam is probably OOC

@tiddieshakeshownu, I hope you enjoy :)

Overview

Being born different, things don't go so smoothly for you

("Outcast is all they see" frfr)

So you learned to stay in the shadows

But Neteyam always finds you

You were born different. 

Your skin–a pale baby blue, void of the rich pigment forest Na’vi usually had. It burned easily, too; you couldn’t stay beneath the blazing sun. “Useless,” the hunters would say. Useless. 

Your hair–white as snow, that shines smoothly beneath any light. Children would flock around to touch it–some in awe, most in mockery. A few were mean enough to pull it, calling you, “Skxawng! Skxawng!” over and over and over. 

Your eyes–an icy blue, from the lack of pigment. Like your skin the sun was their enemy, its bright rays nearly blinding you. And, unsurprisingly, they cursed you with clumsiness during your early years. Tripping over roots and gripping onto branches for dear life you were, often the source of other childrens’ amusement.

One day, you returned home shaking, biting tears at bay; you were a hair's breadth away from the snapping sharp maws of nantang, after all! That wasn’t even the worst part; the other children set you up. Their jeering, high-pitched laughter still rang in your ears, no matter how hard you tried to drown them out. How you would’ve loved to jump into mother’s arms, to tell her just how cruel your own people were. How you would’ve loved to tell father about those scary-looking wolves, cornering you between a dark rocky crevice. 

Sadly, that wasn’t so.

As you scaled the Hometree you heard hushed whispers; among them was your mother’s. 

“Will (Y/N) ever be able to ride an ikran?”

Then your father’s. “...fragile…don’t know…”

Fragile.

Something burned deep in the pit of your stomach and you wretched, but nothing came out. 

Night was your only option. No sun to blister your skin. No one to push you off the edge. Only at night could you forget everything else and focus on the beautiful world that was so cruel during the day. It was dangerous, sure, but you fared better. Limb by limb, meter by meter, you soared across winding branches and leaped across slippery slopes, paying no mind to the soft looming shadows of night. 

Eywa always lit a path for you. Always.

Long ago, a seed sprouted in your heart and it grew and grew and grew until its thick roots spread so much that your heart cracked and splintered and shattered. Those fragile broken pieces you stowed away in a box, somewhere no one could find–somewhere no light would shine. When no one was around, you glued those pieces back together, slowly and painstakingly, one by one, under the Pandoran night. No one should be able to find you deep in the forest, mending your broken heart–should.

“Neteyam?” you whispered. Your eyes blew wide; how did he know where you were at this ungodly hour? A moss patch, glowing blue-green, winded out and away from under his feet.

“Sorry,” he apologized sheepishly. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Hard cold ice encased your heart. You quickly shoved your broken pieces back into their shabby box and faced Neteyam with a cold, doubtful gaze. “Do you want something?” 

Now it was his turn to be surprised–baffled, even. 

“What…?” he spluttered. He was growing nervous, you could tell. His heart was thrumming. “I…was just wandering around and found you here…so I was wondering what you were doing.”

Not really convincing, was it? He was lying, probably. But it wasn’t so; Neteyam opened your eyes to so many things. 

Pandora was beautiful at night. Everything glowed so prettily; even the animals came out to play. You giggled softly to yourself as you saw a bunch of kenten spin around and around, disk-wings unfurling like glowing umbrellas. A pack of nantang pups scampered along the ground, lighting up bright patches of moss in the wake of their paws and you smiled, hearing them yip around. Every night Neteyam chuckled beside you, his laughter spreading from his lips to your lips, and you didn’t feel so lonely anymore. 

“Go, leave. Now.”

Neteyam was always there, somehow, when you were in trouble. He’d bare his teeth at those mean kids and afterwards, he’d take you on fun little shady adventures under big ferns and tall trees to cheer you up, and before you knew it, you were smiling–smiling!–and Neteyam would be grinning, too.

You gushed to your parents about a handsome boy who was so kind and caring and wonderful, and Neteyam, too, quietly told his parents about a beautiful Na’vi who had shimmering silk for hair and pretty skin like the skies. 

He couldn’t understand why you called yourself a freak; it shattered his heart when you did.

“Sometimes I wish I was born different.”

One particular night the moon shone so beautifully, so radiantly. Everything seemed to glow just a little brighter, just a little more prettier. It was so serene tonight, but it wasn’t so, and you blamed yourself for this. Your soft sniffles carried through the wind and into Neteyam’s ears, and he bounded to you in an instant. His markings glowed a pearly white-blue under the night, and you smiled weakly, seeing the boy in all his beauty. He was skilled and handsome and kind and sweet; why was he rushing to comfort you? 

“Don’t cry.” He hushed you with such sweetness that your heart melted into something gooey and warm–it scared you. Then with his thumb he gently swiped the hot tears streaming down your cheeks, never minding how wet his hands got. You nearly flinched; why so kind? 

“Look,” he whispered, jabbing a finger to his chest, yellow eyes all wide and silly and desperate–oh how he hated to see you cry. “You might not see it, but I’m different, too–part demon, some assholes say.” He paused, biting his lip to suppress a hopeful grin. “We can be different together.”

A sliver of a smile creeped up your lips. Different. Together.

Then Neteyam murmured in that hushed-excited whisper, “Here, come closer,” and held out his arms to beckon you into a hug. Timidly and shamefully you scooted a little forward, wiping furiously at your eyes.

“Look at me. Please?” He wanted so badly to tell you how stunning your eyes were, how pretty your smile was. He wanted to give his eyes to you, just so you could see how radiant you truly were–but now wasn’t the time, he could tell.

So he gently bumped foreheads with you, closing his eyes. You closed yours, too. Then slowly, timidly, his hands oh so softly cupped your face as if he were telling you, “Stay, don’t go.” As more tears stung your eyes you rested your shaky hands atop his larger ones, feeling his warmth spreading to your fingers. It was just him and you now, glowing under the moonlight; you thought you could feel his breath on your lips. 

“I see you,” he murmured softly. “Perfect.”

blue dividers by: firefly-graphics

[meowcatsposts]

Fear Spirit [Dmitri]

✎⁾⁾⁾ note: I wanted to add a little twist to the Greek god of fear, Phobos, with this fic. I hope you enjoy :)

╰► warning: mentions of arachnophobia (fear of spiders) + acrophobia (fear of heights) + stalker-y behavior

Overview

You feel uneasy

Like a pair of eyes staring at the back your head

Until one day, a guy named Dmitri shows up

“Do you need help?” 

A stranger, medium-built, peered over at your hunched figure and the largely stuffed grocery bags that sat in your trunk. Sympathy (or was it pity?) coursed through his system at the sight.

“Uh…” You stared into his tawny eyes for a hot minute before replying with a bashful, “Yeah, I do, actually…”

“Ok. I got you.”

Before you could even utter another word the stranger shouldered more than enough bags and began walking. (Odd–it seemed he knew your route.) He walked at a sauntering pace, however, and you soon caught up, only a bag in your right hand. A twinge of guilt struck your stomach as you eyed his load, comparing it with your own. Sure, it was his choice to help, but still–he was carrying too much (though he seemed to handle it perfectly well). 

“I can carry a few bags,” you offered. Your hands itched; it simply felt wrong to be idle.

The stranger hummed lowly before replying, “Oh, it’s ok. Please don’t feel bad. I offered to help, anyway.”

It was odd, how he knew–how a mere stranger knew exactly how you felt. Your cheeks flushed a weird pink. Yet something stirred in your stomach; he was undoubtedly leading you to your own home. How?

“Thank you,” you spluttered softly; it was the least you could say.

“You’re welcome.”

The stranger’s lips curled into a tiny smile, but he turned away too quickly for you to catch a glimpse. How the hell did he know the way to your home? Panic rose to your chest. It was like bobbing helplessly at sea, salty water crashing into your mouth.

In the calmest way you could muster you asked him quietly, “How do you know where my house is…?” 

Eyeing the muscle on his arms and the way his shirt stretched taut against his back, you guessed that he’d easily overwhelm you in a fight. Heck, he probably could snap a bone if he wanted to. So you sewed your mouth shut, waiting fearfully for a response–a response you absolutely weren’t ready for.

“Eris sent me to you,” he replied, rather matter-of-factly. “That’s why.”

Eris, the goddess of discord and strife? What even was he, then? Dmitri didn’t miss the confusion flitting across your eyes, but he didn’t care to elaborate any further. He simply soaked in your bewilderment that permeated throughout the air; he quite liked it–your dilated, flickering eyes and quivering lips.

“I’m what you’d call a spirit,” he finally said, quelling the long silence. “A spirit of terror, fear…all of that sort.”

Terror? Fear? What the hell? Breaking out of your stupor you asked, rapid-fire, “Then…what’s going to happen to me? How many of your kind are there?”

The stranger feigned thoughtfulness as he gazed up at the sky. It suddenly felt so much lower now, as if Atlas dropped it–quite suffocating. 

“For your first question, nothing will. I won’t let that happen,” he answered, dull hazel eyes staring at your expression, to see if it would change again. “And for your second question, a lot. I have many siblings.”

“I wouldn’t share you with them,” he added, knitting his narrow eyebrows. He clicked his tongue softly, mostly to himself. “I don’t like sharing, anyway.”

You saw him everywhere now. You saw him at the grocery store, gazing aimlessly at the poultry, the pastries, the shelves. You saw him browsing through books at the local library, those slender fingers grazing over each and every book spine. Heck, you even saw him sitting at an inconspicuous table at every restaurant you went to–regardless if you were alone or with friends. A tiny shiver ran through your spine. 

As you were putting away groceries into the refrigerator, your thoughts couldn’t help but run back to the stranger at the parking lot. The very first time you met him, you couldn’t help but notice those lean ropes of muscle, flexing under his shirt when he picked up all those bags effortlessly. Wavy, chocolate brown hair framed his honey-dipped face all too well. And those melancholic, tawny eyes–he was eye candy for sure. But why would someone so mourningly beautiful act like a stalker?

“Hi, (Y/N).” Your name rolled off his tongue so smoothly, like velvet. Cool breath fanned over your ear.

You shrieked unceremoniously and whipped around and skidded away, far far far away from whoever the hell broke into your house. Immediately, you recognized the man. Wavy, dark hair. Tawny eyes. Lean body. Him. 

“Shh…it’s me,” he murmured. A ghost of a smile painted his lips. “I’m sure you recognize me already, judging by the look you’re giving me.” After pausing briefly he continued, a chuckle underlining his voice. “I’m Dmitri. Sorry for not telling you earlier.”

It was no use grabbing a knife; he was a spirit, after all. 

“I told you earlier, didn’t I? When I helped carry your groceries?” he cooed. “I won’t hurt you.”

Your heart hammered. Your head pounded. Run, or die. As if you’d trust anything that comes out of his mouth. 

Dmitri’s dark eyes turned even darker. Why didn’t you trust him? He clicked his tongue and sighed heavily, leaning on your kitchen counter.

“Why don’t I turn into something for you?” he offered. Dmitri tapped his fingers lazily against the counter; you guessed he was getting impatient. “Preferably something everyone hates.”

It was no use staying silent; you needed to speak, one way or another. And clearly, this was his way of bending you to his will. “Ok…what about a spider?”

Dmitri bowed fleetingly, half-smirking. “Your wish is my command.”

Then suddenly thick black smoke furiously swirled around him and you couldn't see any sign of the man now, just a small cyclone of onyx and gray. Though when you blinked, the haze vanished and he was standing in front of you. 

As a huge arachnid. He wasn’t lying.

Legs, all eight of them long and spiky and hairy. Eyes, all eight of them glossy and black and big. Fangs, sharp ends dripping with liquid–was it venom? Saliva? 

Dmitri saw you, frozen in your tracks, and nearly laughed. Gosh, “petrified” looked good on you.

“See?” he said. “I can turn into anything.” His voice was all gravelly and echoey and gross at the same time, thrumming like a fly your eardrums. You shuddered, squeezing your eyes shut; he looked and sounded horrendous.

“...Can you turn into something less…disturbing?” you peeped quietly. Instant regret. “Please?”

After a fat silence Dmitri replied, rather disappointedly, “Sure, I can do that. Keep your eyes closed.”

“Ok.”

“I’ll tell you when to open them.” 

His voice was close–normal, now. And why were you chilly? Cool wind brushed against your skin, and it smelled like the city: bustling, gaseous, and industrial.

“You can open your eyes now.”

You gasped–out of terror, and astonishment. 

You stood atop a thin, measly wooden plank, high above the ground. Did you just hear it creak? Sticking into the skies were tall gray buildings, and littered below them were shops, houses, and people of all sizes. The people looked like ants, from where you were. You shuddered. This wasn’t “less disturbing,” as Dmitri promised! 

A flock of screeching birds darted through your eyesight and you lurched, scared out of your wits. Yet you didn’t plummet to your death–couldn’t. 

“Isn’t the scenery nice?” Dmitri’s voice echoed throughout your skull, wrapping around you, vibrating in you. He was nowhere to be seen, but you felt him all around you, like a blanket that was too warm and heavy–suffocating.

“...Please,” you whimpered, lips quivering, hands clammy. “Please make it stop.”

You heard Dmitri sigh, and a gust of wind blew in your face. You lurched again. 

“Just know that I can be anything,” he whispered. “Anything.”

Black smoke engulfed you. Then again, and again, and again…endlessly. He morphed into scenery, objects, animals…anything, as he claimed. You grew dizzy. Your knees buckled; they turned to jelly. Your head swam. But just before you crumpled to the floor Dmitri caught you in his arms, caging you in a hug. He gently laid your head on his chest, stroking and combing your hair. So cute! You were like a kitten, soaked in water. The corners of his lips lifted just a tiny bit as he gazed down at your shaking form. 

“Maybe I toyed with you too much…” he purred.

chain divider by: bangssefi black divider by: firefly-graphics

[meowcatsposts]

Necklace [Ao'nung]

✎⁾⁾⁾ note: reader is metkayina & Ao'nung is probably OOC

Overview

Boy is jealous (not good at hiding it, either-)

Why? The Sully kids.

He has a necklace he wants to give you, but he just can't

You hissed in Ao’nung’s face–baring your teeth just a little bit–hoping he’d get the message. Your eyes burned. Your tail swished. The Sully kids looked at you in awe. How were you, a mere Metkayina, able to stand up against the Olo’eyktan’s son? 

Ao’nung and the rest of his gang remained silent–awestruck, even. No one dared to oppose him, really, let alone hiss in his face! You were a bold one, for sure, to do something like that. 

“Leave them alone,” you said. It struck ice into everyone’s hearts but you felt calm, unlike the blood roaring in your ears; perhaps it was Eywa who was soothing you. “We’re all equal. Get that into your thick skulls.”

From that day on, the Sully kids stuck to you like glue–even dragged you around so they wouldn’t get bullied.

Great timing. Absolutely perfect.

Ao’nung couldn’t shake off this…sting from earlier. He thought you’d react like him–not like his sister Tsireya. He thought you didn’t like outsiders; you even said you’d only accept a Metkayina mate! You and Tsireya were too warm to the Sully kids–who had five fingers, lanky blue bodies, and thin tails–helping them and cheering them on in the ocean. What were you–a freak, too? 

Ao’nung looked down at his hand. Resting on his palm was a necklace, hand-made by him–for you. He wove the cord by hand, always doubting if it would be too tight or too loose. He hand-picked every shell; they had to be the perfect size. He even waited until nighttime to pick out the ones that glowed the prettiest, the brightest. And the clasp–the hardest part. He hand-carved a small conch into a clasp, so you needn’t go through the trouble of tying the necklace. It took him hours to complete. Sometimes, his hands got so tired he had trouble feeling his fingers the next day. (But he’d brush it off; he was Tonowari and Ronal’s son, after all–the Olo’eyktan and Tsahik.)

Ao’nung’s blood boiled. To think that all his efforts would go to waste! 

“(Y/N)! (Y/N)!” Tuktirey squealed. She latched onto your leg and gazed up at you with her gleaming, glowing eyes of childish glee. 

“What is it?” you asked, wondering what the youngest Sully kid wanted. Tuk was cute, always running around the marui and playing with the sea life. 

“Can you take me to the ilu again? Please?” she pleaded. It was almost every day she asked you to take her to feed the ilu, watch the ilu, or ride the ilu, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say “no” to that cute little face. 

Taking Tuk’s smaller hand into yours you replied, “Ok,” with a smile adorning your lips. 

Ao’nung gazed at you from afar, blood pumping hotly. His heart was beating fast, even he could tell. Like Tsireya, how were you able to treat the Sully kids so nicely, like they were Metkayina? He was supposed to be kind, respectful, but right now, he just couldn’t. Especially when you were being so cordial and smiley–even defended them! What were you thinking?

He saw you and the little Sully girl ride an ilu, giggling and laughing. And it wasn’t the first time, either. On other occasions he saw you mingling with Neteyam, Lo’ak, or Kiri, helping them with their breathing, ilu riding, diving…way more than necessary, in his opinion. Heck, you even touched them!

A burning scar lingered in Ao’nung’s mind. Your teeth, bared at him. Your eyes, boring through him. Him! Him! Not the outsiders! 

Ao’nung gripped the hilt of his fishing spear. Hard. So hard until his knuckles turned bluish-white.

You, Ao’nung, Rotxo, and other young Metkayina were to fish along the reefs, so you left Tuk under Kiri’s care. The little one would be safe with Kiri, you knew.

“Thank you,” the older Sully girl said, bobbing in the water with Tuk. 

The water, glistening off your skin. The sun, shining on your hair and your eyes, lighting them up like halos. The ocean, hugging and caressing your body that cut through the gentle waves so fluidly.

“Ao’nung,” Rotxo whispered, throwing glances your way; he easily guessed what his friend was thinking. “Your fish swam away.”

Seeing that his prize was nowhere to be found, Ao’nung clicked his tongue, eyes narrowing in disgust. He was supposed to be a skilled hunter and diver for his age–not staring at some freak-lover.

“You caught enough, though,” Rotxo added quickly, hoping to quell his friend’s frustration. It seeped through his entire being, Rotxo could tell, and it unnerved him. Why was Ao’nung acting so prickly?

“You good?” Rotxo asked, looking into Ao’nung’s eyes. They’ve been cloudy for the past few days. 

“I’m fine,” Ao’nung replied curtly. He didn’t dare look into Rotxo’s eyes. Or else he’d crumble and tell him everything. 

Everyone had returned from fishing, and you were nowhere to be seen–probably with the Sully kids again. That thought alone had Ao’nung’s blood boiling mildly.

Rotxo snorted and rolled his eyes. Ao’nung wasn’t fine, duh. 

Ao’nung snapped, and he snarled, “What?” 

“Just making sure you’re not going to pick a fight with Lo’ak again,” Rotxo teased. After a short, uncomfortable silence he whispered, “You know you can tell me.”

Ao’nung just grunted. 

“It’s about (Y/N), isn’t it?” Seeing that his friend’s ears perked up a little, Rotxo continued, “Just give your gift. At least you’ll be able to confess.”

At first you thought Ao’nung gave it to the wrong person, but it wasn’t so. His eyes were way too shy, way too genuine. They were soft, reflecting the moonlight, not hard like obsidian. And they darted around like fish.

A necklace, handmade, lay in your palms. Woven delicately into the cord were several small shells, each placed an equal distance from each other. In the day they would reflect the sunlight, glimmering softly. At night they would glow prettily, almost like the sky–purple, blue, a tinge of pink. At the end of the necklace was a clasp, carved out of a conch. Speckles of pink dotted the glossy ivory. You remained silent the whole time, out of words; words just couldn’t express the feelings swirling in your heart. 

Ao’nung, on the other hand, was growing agitated, quietly wondering if you’d reject his gift. His eyes flitted from your wide ones to the necklace as he fought the urge to jump into the ocean. (The necklace took him ages to craft, though, so he prayed to Eywa you’d accept it with a smile, at least.) 

Finally cutting the thick silence he asked bitterly, “What, you hate it?” The poor boy tried to hide the hurt gurgling in his stomach. “I can take it back–”

Before Ao’nung could snatch the piece of jewelry from your hands you pulled it back to your chest, replying with a defiant, “No!”

“What?” Ao’nung’s ears flattened slightly; he was confused. “Then why were you quiet?”

“I…I like it,” you said shyly–so softly that Ao’nung doubted his ears. “I like it a lot…I just don’t know what to say.” After a brief pause you found the words you were searching for, and gazed earnestly into Ao’nung’s eyes. “It’s beautiful. Very, very beautiful. Thank you.”

You accepted his gift! Bitter feelings washed away, Ao’nung nearly melted right then and there. He thought he could get sucked into those sweet eyes of yours. 

“...Here,” he mumbled. “I’ll help you put it on.”

Ao’nung, with a gentleness that even he was surprised at, parted your hair. It was his first time touching you like this, so tenderly, so affectionately. With trembling fingers he brought the cord around your neck, and clicked the clasp shut. After huffing (more out of stress-relief than frustration), he stood in front of you and eyed the necklace that rested beautifully against your collarbones. Then, a beaming, prideful smile creeped up his lips.

It fit perfectly.

blue dividers by: firefly-graphics

[meowcatsposts]

Caught [Li Ling]

✎⁾⁾⁾ note: this fic is *significantly* shorter than my usual ones, but I hope it's enjoyable nonetheless ;)

Overview

Mans catches you dancing by yourself to some ~hot~ music

He’s like, damn

You’re so into it-

So you don’t notice until you turn around lol

Your head–swaying with the thrumming beat.

Your hands–running all over your body, feeling it inch by inch, savoring it.

Your hips–rolling with the music, humming sensually in your ears.

How you felt so sexy in a shirt and shorts, you hadn’t a clue. But you knew you were in the moment, feeling it–enjoying it. Enjoying how easily your body rocked and swayed to the rhythm. Enjoying how hot you felt, how lovely your body felt. Eyes closed you whipped your head back and exposed the delicate skin of your neck and collarbones, fingers brushing against that sweet, sensitive spot. Your other hand caressed your waist and your hips, and you bit your lip in bliss. 

It felt so good to let loose.

“Babe,” Li Ling called, nearing the bedroom. “Babe? What’re you doing?”

You weren’t answering, but the door was ajar. Taking it as a green flag your boyfriend entered the room, unbeknownst to your little “dance” session.

“Damn,” he whistled softly, just under his breath. “Look at you.”

Your hips–rolling to whatever was blasting in your earbuds. Your neck–exposed. Your hands–running all over your cute little body. Li Ling could list so many things that made you look so hot, so delectable, but simultaneously his brain short-circuited, the image of you letting loose burned into his mind. He groaned softly, pursing his lips to muffle the noise; his sweatpants felt significantly tighter now. (Oh, the things you do to him.)

Currently, you had your back to the door, feeling like absolute royalty–and completely unaware of your boyfriend’s hungry eyes. Turning to look in the mirror, the all-too-familiar figure of your dearest jumped into your peripherals. 

“Oh shi-”

You scrambled to pause your music as you ripped out your earphones and straightened out, limbs turning rigid. Your gaze finally landed on your boyfriend’s wolfish grin, then almost immediately flitted to anywhere else but him. Gosh, your face was so red–red with embarrassment–and scalding hot. Li Ling found it cute, however, and let out a low hum. (He didn’t miss the way your cheeks burned redder, too.)

“Why’d you stop, hm?” he teased, crossing his arms and leaning against the entrance, clearly blocking your only exit.

“Shut up,” you groaned. Absolutely soaked in embarrassment you slapped your hands on your face and curled into a tight ball on the floor. What were you going to do now?

Li Ling chuckled, rolling his eyes. “You don’t need to be that embarrassed, babe. I thought you looked sexy, anyway.”

Sexy? Your face was ablaze, and your heart was screaming frantically in your ribcage. Was it even possible to burn up this much? All the while, you were utterly unaware of just how close your boyfriend was.

“So sexy, in fact…” 

A pair of lips brushed softly against the shell of your ear, and you squeaked as you were forcefully pulled up. Just as your back hit your boyfriend’s chest, his large hands firmly gripped your hips, pulling them flush against his. Something unmistakably hard pressed into your ass and suddenly, the air in your lungs turned thick.

“You feel that?” Li Ling asked, voice a hushed, raspy whisper. Judging by your tight shoulders and cute ass pressing just a little harder, he knew you felt him, so painfully stiff and needy for you. Suppressing a guttural groan he mumbled teasingly, “You feel it, don’t you?”

All you could do was nod ever so subtly, nearly melting under your boyfriend’s hardened grip. Li Ling chuckled, but it wasn’t a playful, teasing chortle anymore. Instead it was a breathy, famished sigh–and of what, your pretty little head could guess, right?

[meowcatsposts]

Better [Werewolf bf]

╰► warning: mentions of stalking and kidnapping

Overview

You get kidnapped by a werewolf, basically

(But don't worry, he has your best interests at heart)

“You deserve better,” he murmured, rough voice raspy from the lack of use. His copper eyes bore into yours, so icily striking yet fiery warm. “You really do.”

Argos was his name, you learned–the hound-human who captured you. He had an unruly and dark but smooth mane for hair, and his complexion was rather pale, like white lilies under waning moonlight. Ropes of lean muscle undulated beneath his milky skin as he scrounged for something in a heap of bones. He kept his “treasures” hidden there.

From the ghoulish pile he produced yet another skull–a dog skull. Hollowed dead eyes stared back at you as he put the piece of bone in front of your eyes, and you suppressed a small scream. Were you going to end up like this?

“You’re scared,” Argos said, dark eyebrows drawing together. “I didn’t mean to do that…” 

He paused to look you in the eyes once more, as if checking a wounded bird. Then he continued–after encapsulating your hand in his larger, rougher one. They were warm, like a hot cup of tea.

“This could have been me, a long time ago,” Argos trailed, rotating the dog skull and tilting his head to see its void eyes, too. “Neglected, starved, dead…” He set the skull down with a soft clunk. “I’ve watched you, and I see it in you, too. The people around you don’t see your worth, do they? They treat you like vermin, from what I see–something to never befriend, something to never worship.” Suddenly his eyes burned dark, a moon in a solar eclipse. A guttural growl escaped his parted lips. “And I’ve seen you cry by yourself…with no one to cry on…”

Then, gazing into your eyes like a pet who lovingly sidles up to its owner, he asked, “Was it lonely?”

You hadn’t noticed the hot tears searing your eyelids nor the blurred Argos in front of you, who held both of your hands in both of his. It was so unnerving and creepy and freaky that a hound-human like him stalked you, but at the same time it was so fuzzy and gentle and warm that it made your heart clench. Oh, how you wished for a genuine connection–a connection of trust and love and nothing else. But alas, thick ropes of human connections strangle you, leaving you breathless and choking, raw and bruised. 

Did Argos understand? Perhaps he did, because with a small smile he wiped your tears away with his thumb, murmuring soft ‘it’s ok’ s, or ‘I’ll be with you now’ s. 

“Yeah…it was lonely,” you croaked. “How do you know?”

Argos said nothing, just held you close. 

You had just returned from a hangout, rather large, consisting of several friends. A part of you was happy you went, but another whole was glad to be far, far away from that suffocating setting. Sure, everyone was cordial and bubbly and kind, but they knew each other more than you did. So you were left to drift by yourself most of the time, left to gaze upon tightly-knit trios and duos who were talking and smiling. One, as a joke, called you something foul–but apologized later on for potentially hurting your feelings. 

Minutes dragged into hours, and you soon grew exhausted by the continuous chatter that you couldn’t keep up with–or really be a part of. It was an odd number of people anyway, you told yourself. It’d be natural for someone like yourself to be floating. So you excused yourself, before you grew too sick. (Not like the others really cared, right, though they waved and said cheery ‘bye!’ s to you.)

Currently in the shower, fresh tears streamed down your wet cheeks. Why were you crying, again? Was it relief? Was it hurt? What was it, anyway?

All you knew, though, was that it felt good to cry.

Argos heard your soft sobs and whimpers bounce off the ambient shower walls. 

Every. 

Single. 

One. 

Heck, he even heard you blow your nose every so often, probably because you were crying so much. His sharp ears flattened on his head and he prowled around in endless circles, large paws making no sound on the prickly grass. His tail dangled limply and his thick fur bristled against the chilly fall breeze. 

Why did your outing have to turn so bitter? he wondered. Why did you always have to end up like this?

Argos saw how bright your hopeful eyes looked, only for it to drain drain drain away until your once beautiful eyes turned nearly dull. It reminded him of when he was infested by maggots–lying limply on cold stone, life slowly draining from his eyes. It took all of his resolve not to whisk you right away, into his humble little shack. At least he could provide you with warmth there. He would protect you–love you–unlike those unappreciative posers. There were too many of that kind, he thought bitterly.

Argos gazed blankly at the dimly lit road. It was good that it was dark; he melted into the shadows. No one to see him. No one to hear him.

“Argos, do you think I’m selfish?” you asked the now-hound male, whose large head was on your lap. Argos rumbled his throat as if to say, ‘No, you are not.’

Your fingers glided through his dense, black fur. It had been quite a while now, since he claimed you as his. Perhaps it’d been a few months now, maybe more. And your former home? Argos told you not to worry about it–apparently it’d been taken care of. How, though, you didn’t know. 

Argos treated you quite well; you were his royalty, after all. He fed you your favorite meals and snacks, gave you space (to some extent–you couldn’t leave the premises), and drowned you in his affections. When he was a wolf he licked and nipped gently at your skin, and provided you with his fur to play with. When he was human he embraced you and napped with you, and loved to kiss you–sometimes on the forehead, sometimes on the lips, but mostly on the neck, right where your heartbeat was. His kisses were usually light and sweet, a stark contrast to his brooding eyes and glacial complexion.

“Mmh, Argos,” you mumbled, resting your hands on his lean pale arms. 

Argos, on the other hand, was resting his hands on your hips, caging you between his body and a wall. His lips trailed up and down your neck, peppering it with sweet kisses. His copper eyes smoldered with heat, and his body was no different; you thought you would burn under his touch. You knew you couldn’t escape, either, since he was so big; he made you feel so small, somehow, like prey caught by a predator.

“You’re not telling me to stop, are you?” Argos stated; the way his voice lowered by octaves, clearly, it wasn’t a question.

As your breath hitched in your throat, he chuckled, eyes fluttering up to meet yours. They really looked like melted copper now, dissolved by his primal instincts–to press you into the wall…pin your wrists above your head…ravage you until dawn. But somehow, he managed to push them back to the depths of his hungry core, sticking to pressing soft kisses all over your exposed skin.

Feeling a little awkward just standing there, you slipped your fingers through his dark hair and played with the thick strands and massaged his scalp. Argos groaned faintly, just under his breath; you felt it on your skin–hot and needy. 

Getting a surge of confidence you murmured in his ear, “Do you like it?”

Argos just pressed you harder against the hard wooden walls, eliciting a cute squeak from you. (He made sure not to hurt you, though, because he knew just how easily you’d break.) It wasn’t the first time he tossed you around like a ragdoll. He loved how your eyes widened with fear, how your lips parted, how your breath became ragged and uneven; it made his blood burn with adrenaline. 

“I do,” Argos replied gruffly, “but let’s not forget about who’s pinned against the wall, now…”

Sometimes, you hated the man for his cockiness; it dripped off of him like a pungent perfume. 

But he was all you could ever ask for…

So why not stay with him?

yellow dividers from: firefly-graphics

[meowcatsposts]

Breaking Focus [Ahmed]

Overview

He wants friends

He just wants them, bc he’s kinda lonely

But he ends up making the atmosphere awkward sometimes

So he’s not usually successful

But this time, he wants to be successful

With you

So he’s like, yolo Imma do it-

(Q’s basically wingman)

“Come on,” Q droned. “You’ll be fine, trust me! (Y/N) doesn’t bite.” 

He hovered beside Ahmed, small wings fluttering impatiently beside his head. Ahmed, on the other hand, looked deathly unsure. His green eyes nervously flitted to the back of your head, then to Q, then back to you. He could put on a stunning show for millions of screaming fans, yet he couldn’t muster the courage to talk to you. Why was this so unnecessarily hard?

“If it makes you feel any better,” Q offered, observing his colleague’s tight expression. "I'll go with you." Then, to sprinkle some humor, he added playfully, “As your totally awesome friend, I need to support you.”

After letting out a strained chuckle, Ahmed shook his head. 

“I should be ok," he sighed. "This shouldn’t be so hard…”

To Ahmed's surprise, the two of you got along quite well. So well, in fact, that he found it difficult to ignore your presence. He'd perk up when passing you in the halls, or cafeteria, or lounge room–anywhere, really. What started off as small, soft greetings evolved into comfortable, blossoming interactions that, quite frankly, Ahmed actually looked forward to. He found that, with you, there wasn't a need to fill silence with extra words–something he always felt obligated to do with others. 

Recently, he found that he couldn't help but to genuinely smile whenever he'd talk with you.

"So you were interested," Q teased. "I'm such a good friend."

Ahmed simply smiled it off, but his ears were tinged a cute red. 

"Who wouldn't be, though?" he replied, matter-of-factly. "(Y/N)'s a nice person."

Q huffed at his colleague's obscure answer. Little did he know, though, that Ahmed found you absolutely spellbinding. So spellbinding, perhaps, that you'd easily snap his focus into two.

"This isn't working as intended...just one minor flaw..."

Ahmed, hunched over his notes, sighed softly. With deft gloved hands he pinched a small vial between his fingers and inspected it, comparing the concoction with his rather large stack of records. After gently slipping the tube into its rack, he proceeded to scribble more notes on yet another sheet of paper. He was a hair's breadth away from success, and nothing was going to prevent him from seeing this experiment through.

In another part of the Union was Q, currently conspiring to break that laserlike focus of Ahmed's. 

As he fluttered restlessly he mumbled, "Drums didn't work...shouting his name didn't either...his fans, a little..." 

Exasperated, Q plopped down on a nearby couch and slapped his hands on his face, groaning loudly. Something had to break that damned focus.

Just then, as if the gods answered his cry, Q spotted you from the cracks of his fingers. Perfect! His eyes shone like LED party lights, and without a moment to waste he zoomed to you, unable to wipe that sneaky grin off his face. 

"Q?" you blurted, practically speechless. He just popped out of nowhere! After escaping from your stupor and assessing Q's eager expression, you knew that something was brewing inside that mischievous head of his. 

So you asked, rather doubtfully, "Do you need something?"

"I do, actually!" Q replied cheerfully, still wearing that fox-like grin. Though, after seeing your raised eyebrows and partial frown he added reassuringly, "It's nothing bad, I promise! I wanted your help with something..."

Step 1: Ask Ahmed to visit his lab.

"Can I visit you in the lab sometime?" you asked Ahmed, per Q's meticulously crafted instructions. "It's ok if you don't want me to, though," you added quickly. "I feel like it's rude..."

"Oh, sure! I don’t mind." Ahmed replied instantaneously, partially because he found your consideration quite endearing, and mostly because he enjoyed your company–loved it, even. With you there, he thought, his work might just progress faster. 

Though, he was quite curious. Why had you asked him that, of all things?

Step 2: After Ahmed agrees, go to his lab.

“Why are you following me?” you asked Q, who was fluttering beside your head with an impish grin. It seemed like he really couldn’t wipe that smile off his face, for reasons unknown.

Currently, you were making your way to the medical wing, wondering why Q’s steps were so simple (too simple, in fact), and also wondering what Ahmed would be doing in his lab. Was it an experiment? Observations? Note-taking? All of the above?

“What?” Q retorted, in an oddly excited way. His sharp voice broke your train of thought. “Can’t I see Ahmed, too?”

“Sure, sure.” Playfully you rolled your eyes, ignoring the fact that your train of thought was full of Ahmed in a lab coat. “You can see your boyfriend again.”

After a couple back-and-forths with an overly eager Q, your thoughts strayed back to Ahmed. You wondered what he’d look like, in lab attire. Would he be wearing safety goggles? Gloves? Would his wavy, purple hair be tied into a short ponytail? You suppressed a giggle, imagining how he’d look with his hair up; he’d probably look just as stunning, you bet.

Finally, a door stared you in the face–a closed one.

"It's closed," you half whispered, half shouted, gesturing to the looming entrance. "He's probably doing something important!"

Q completely ignored your panicked remark and rapped several times (a little too loudly), but to no avail. 

"See?" you said, "I don't want to–"

"Ahmed!" Q shouted, shamelessly opening the door. He completely blew off your warning, again. "(Y/N)'s here!"

After glaring daggers at Q, you timidly stepped into the room and immediately spotted the med ops chief dressed in his white lab coat, skillfully tinkering with equipment you couldn't put a name to. Clear goggles covered his emerald green eyes, and his wavy purple locks framed his face normally (no ponytails, sadly). He scribbled furiously on a sheet of paper and paid no mind to his two visitors, eyes boring through his work. He really is focused, you thought in awe, watching his deft fingers work with caution and precision all at the same time.

"Say something!" Q commanded. "He didn't hear me."

"But–"

"Just do it!"

Step 3: Say his name.

Sighing, you sucked in a readying breath and mumbled softly, "Uh...Ahmed? Q and I came to visit."

With that, Ahmed's head whipped up and his hands ceased writing, the intense focus in his eyes perpetually gone. Was he the same person?

"Oh, hi..." Ahmed replied, smiling sheepishly. He carefully adjusted his coat, smoothening some invisible wrinkles with his palms. "So you came."

You nodded and added with a hint of playful sarcasm, "Partially coerced by Q, though."

Ahmed chuckled. Typical of Q, he thought. You probably wouldn’t come here by yourself, after all. 

"I was just testing out a few concoctions," he further explained to you, gesturing to the test tubes in their respective racks. Each glinted with a substance–not all were liquids, you saw. "None of them are working as intended, though..."

Ahmed’s gaze then flitted to Q, whose jaw was practically touching the floor. He did feel a twinge of guilt, though, because he was too absorbed by you. Still, he wondered why his colleague looked so astonished.

"What the–" Q blurted. His eyes blew wide, glinting and gleaming like a cat soaked in water. "I didn't think this would work."

Ahmed, who was utterly confused, asked, "What?" 

He then turned to you, whose lips were curving into a smile, only to be more confused.

"What are you smiling for?" Ahmed asked again. This time, trouble painted his beautiful eyes.

"(Y/N) broke your focus! I finally found someone who could do it!" Q replied lightning quick. "So you are interested, huh?"

Now it was your turn to ask, with a blushing face, “What?”

purple dividers from: firefly-graphics

[meowcatsposts]

Match-up for @meowcatsposts

You've received a notification from elliotsbooks!

Open email?

Dear meowcatsposts,

You've been matched up with...

Li Ling!

You guys are like the “opposites attract” couple, y’know?

It’ll probably take a while for you to move in because of how unorganized he is.

Like his apartment is a complete mess.

Although he wants to help you with everything he doesn’t mind you doing things by yourself.

Likes to listen to you play guitar.

He gives very good cuddles.

Almost immediately falls asleep when you’re around.

Easy to talk with, whether it be to vent or just talk about your interests.

Even though he’s pretty protective, he lets you be independent.

Invites you to hangout with his friends a lot so you can socialize more.

Never wants to make your uncomfortable.

Even though he seems really chaotic at first, he can be a true gentleman.

[meowcatsposts]

Black Dragon [Italar] - Pt. 2

╰► warning: a little angsty in the beginning

✎⁾⁾⁾ note: this is part 2 of the Black Dragon story. the link to part 1 is below:

[part 1]

Days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months, and months turned into years–cold and unbearably lonely years.

The dragon stared at the mouth of his cave where sunlight washed in, coating the rocky walls with luminous tint. He’d often glance outside, watching if leaves rustled or if dead branches snapped. He’d often listen for birds to squawk or critters to scamper off, but there was one thing he’d always listen for–your lovely voice, for which he took for granted. He took many things for granted, he learned, through the stifling silence of the cave: your small, soft hands running along his scales; your bright curious eyes; your smile, whenever he’d bring you fruit or tell you a tale. 

The dragon took it all for granted, and now, he wished he hadn’t.

He wished that, instead of telling you ‘next time,’ or ‘only this once,’ he wished he’d said, ‘of course,’ or ‘sure, little one.’ He wished that he’d told you his name, so he could hear it roll off your sweet tongue. He wished that he’d told you more stories, so he could see that blissful smile of yours. He wished he’d shown you his treasure hoard, so he could see your eyes sparkle with glee. He wished and wished and wished, but no amount of wishing could ever bring you back.

The dragon sighed, defeated. Perhaps, at heart, he was still the tyrannical beast from long ago, selfish and haughty. Perhaps physical torment wasn’t enough for what he did to those poor, puny villagers. Perhaps he needed a punishment far worse than javelins or blades, but why? 

Soon enough, that sorrow was engulfed by fiery rage. 

Who ordered you to never return to his cave? Who stopped you from enjoying his company? Who stopped him from enjoying your company? Who was to take you away from him? 

Italar roared, unfurling his wings and snapping his teeth. The entire cave trembled as dust sprinkled onto his wings and back, rocks jumping, ground shaking. Outside, the birds and critters scattered away, cheeping and crying with fright. The dragon’s golden, frenzied eyes snapped to the entrance, lips peeling into a livid snarl. 

He never realized how lonely he was, until this moment.

A dark figure stood outside his cave frozen in place, limbs rigid with fear. The dragon squinted, cautiously stepping closer to the bright entrance, to whoever this visitor was. A low growl rumbled in his throat. Who could have stumbled across his lair?

"(Y/N)?" he whispered, astonished. "It's...you...is it really you?"

After quickly pressing his wings closed, the dragon pedaled slowly backwards so you could enter. He couldn't believe it. Your chubby cheeks and little limbs smoothened, but it was undoubtedly you. Your scent, your eyes, your hair–it was all the same. 

“It’s me,” you whispered. “I hope you remember.”

Italar pressed his nose against your stomach, inhaling softly. You smiled. He nudged a little harder, taking delight in how your soft flesh gave to his muzzle. As his roughened scales poked through your clothes and pulled a small giggle from your lips, you gently placed your hands over the dragon’s snout, running your fingers over the large onyx scales. He slowly pulled away, golden eyes boring into yours. You’d changed a lot since he saw you, though beautiful as ever. 

“Of course I remember,” he replied, the tenor in his ancient voice reverberating through your core. “You were an odd one." Then, after reluctantly pulling away from you he offered rather shyly, with its tip swaying on the cave floor, "Do you want to play with my tail?” 

Without hesitation you replied with a delighted, “Sure.”

The dragon curled up on the floor and swished his tail in front of him, black scales undulating with excitement. With a flick of his claw he beckoned you closer next to his hide, to which you happily pranced over and obliged, enjoying his cool scales and warm belly. He hummed in delight, the familiar feeling of curious fingers running along his armor. For a few moments there was only silence and soft, pleasant breathing; Italar gazed down at you lovingly, too engrossed in nostalgia. He then remembered giving you a ring and wondered if you still kept it, as you promised all those years back.

“Do you…still have the ring I gave you?” he asked out of the blue, scanning your fingers. He found nothing, however, and thought disheartenedly, Typical. Children lose things rather easily.

“Oh, I do,” you replied, taking something out from your collar. Nestled on your neck was a thin chain and the golden ring dangled from its links, still lustrous as ever.

“I didn’t expect you to wear it like that," Italar hummed delightfully. He was wrong after all; you kept to your oath. 

“Oh…” you trailed, a little abashed, and a little sorrowful. You gently tucked the piece of jewelry back into your collar. “I didn’t want anyone seeing it, since…you know…”

Italar noticed how your eyes darkened, like how gray clouds covered the shimmery sun. 

“Your parents forbid you from coming here, I presume?” the dragon finished for you. A spark of fury popped in his heart, but only for a moment.

You nodded, averting your gaze to the scales adorning his tail. You stroked it, to revel in its smoothness and to distract yourself from the painful exchange long ago. As you snuggled into his arm, you recalled your parents calling Italar a vile monster–something to never be fond of, something to never love. Staring at his onyx scales and sharp talons and great wings you thought they were utterly wrong–he was beautiful and kind and worthy.

“I thought so,” Italar replied bitterly. With a gentle stroke of his claw he pet your head. "But you're here now."

In an attempt to lighten the heavy mood, you asked him, “You know the story of the dragon king you told me? I always wondered what would've happened if he didn’t die.”

Italar raised his head, golden eyes widening in surprise. You had still remembered. A moment of silence veiled the cave as he pondered what to say.

"Well..." he started, a bit hesitant. "Do you see where my scales are uneven?"

Before you could even ask what he was talking about, the dragon slowly unfolded his wings to reveal a series of ugly scars running along his sides and belly. Scales were stripped off in chunks, some growing unevenly and some revealing large patches of rough, pinkish hide underneath. You gasped, eyes blowing wide in horror. This wasn't just uneven–this was gruesome.

"You told me your scars were from animals," you gasped, face white with pallor. "You never showed me this..."

Italar rumbled softly as you ran your fingers across his scars. 

"I didn't want to scare you," he murmured, "so I hid them with my wings."

Slowly but surely, realization dawned on you like the raging sea. You were left utterly speechless, waves upon waves of sorrow and shock rushing you.

As you took his face into your gentle hands and hugged his neck tightly, you whispered, "So you're Italar, the dragon king?"

"Yes," the dragon replied, folding his great wings and nuzzling his maw against your neck. He closed his eyes and inhaled your scent, so sweet like honey. "I am Italar, the dragon king."

[part 1]

[meowcatsposts]

Black Dragon [Italar] - Pt. 1

✎⁾⁾⁾note: this is a story about a black dragon I made up in my mind. although this is different from my usual posts, I hope it'll be something enjoyable to read :)

the link to part 2 is below, if you'd like to check it out:

[part 2]

Overview

When you were little, you stumbled across a cave inhabited by a dragon

You were terrified lmao

However, you bonded with the dragon bc he told you stories and gave you treats

But suddenly, you were banned from going to the cave

*cue lonely dragon*

Will you return after all those years, or have you forgotten about him?

“...And so Italar the dragon became a tyrannical ruler, ravishing livestock and tearing hamlets apart. He burned any mouth that spoke against him, and clawed through the throats of deserters, leaving them to gurgle in their own blood…”

It was odd hearing a story from a dragon as ancient as the tale itself, but you paid no mind to that at all. You didn’t mind the gory descriptions, either, as your child mind was too engrossed in the creature’s molten eyes and plated tail. 

“The people of the village lived in fear, making sacrifices, cowering for their lives. Until one day…” 

The dragon looked at the small child poking at his scales and sighed, blowing hot air on your face. He laid his thick tail in front of him for you to play with, always wondering why you didn’t go screaming bloody murder like the other noisy brats. At first, he suspected you were bait to lure him out, or some tattletale for his head. Instead, to the lonely creature’s surprise, you kept him company, begging him to tell you stories, or to see his hoard, or to play with his worn scales and sharp claws. 

The very first evening he found you, you were lost and scared, tears pouring down your chubby reddened cheeks. Oh, and when you saw those massive rows of sharp teeth and those ferocious golden eyes of his, you bursted into hysteria. To shut you up, the weary creature swiftly dragged you into his den, muffling your panicked cries in the hollows of his cave.

“Please don’t kill me,” you whimpered. Feebly, you wiped your red, runny nose on your sleeve, looking into the dragon’s eyes fearfully. 

“I won’t,” he scoffed, eyeing your little frame. “You wouldn’t satisfy my appetite, anyway.”

After stewing in your wet sniffles and hiccups, the dragon glanced to the mouth of his cave. The skies turned purple as the nights kissed the sun goodbye, blowing cool breeze into the dark, rocky abode. He sighed; it would be unwise to let a child return home at this hour.

After rising heavily on his hind legs, the dragon said to you sternly, “Stay here, human. I’ll get something for you to eat.” Your watery eyes just stared blankly, so he growled, “Stay. Understood?”

As obedient as you could you nodded fervently, rubbery legs giving out.

“Good.”

You gasped in surprise as a fat pile of fruits cascaded into your lap. Small berries rolled off and a few apples and pears lay still between your legs. The dragon, like a huge cat, curled into a ball a couple meters away from you, keenly eyeing your expression.

“Eat,” he said curtly. “I’ll keep you warm only for tonight.”

Ever since that day, the dragon found you outside his den, always asking for some yummy fruit. Too tired to send you back, he welcomed you into the maws of his dark dusty home. 

As he nudged a big pile of apples and berries and pears your way, he grumbled, “Your name. What is it?”

“(Y/N),” you replied, scooping the fresh treats into a bag. Out of pure, innocent curiosity, you asked, “What’s yours?”

The dragon scoffed, deep thrum of his throat shaking the pebbles in his cave; it sent tingles through your belly. 

“I’ll tell you another time,” he replied.

Whilst adjusting his large wings and lowering his head to the ground, the black dragon continued his tale.

“Until one day…the people conspired to kill the beast. They pretended to offer him a grand meal of several fat pheasants, a large boar, and a deer’s head. Overzealous and inflated with pride, Italar feasted ferociously, unbeknownst to the heavy net being dragged behind him.”

The dragon growled, revealing his set of sharp glistening teeth. You giggled and he half sighed, half chuckled at your fearless reaction. His nostrils flared as you placed your hands on the top of his scaly nose, tiny fingers probing at the sharp ridges of plated armor. Disregarding the odd sensation blooming on his snout, the large creature spoke once more.

“And when he got captured, he tried his hardest to escape, clawing at the iron chains and gnashing at the sharp spears slashing his hide. His furious roars boomed throughout the town, but the people didn’t run, to his dismay. Again and again, spears impaled the dragon, until he was too tired to retaliate.

“The villagers cheered, seeing life seeping away from his eyes…oh, but how foolish they were, to think the great dragon would simply die without a final fight. With one last roar, Italar shook off the iron net and set the village aflame, taking great pleasure in the screams of burning flesh and wood. Then, he swiftly flew off with the little strength he had left, beating his powerful bleeding wings to a forest, where he took his final breath.”

“Is that all?” you asked after a short pause, looking into the dragon’s golden eyes. They glowed faintly in the dim cave, like topaz. 

“Yes.” He nodded, gently sliding away from your curious hands. “That is all.”

You looked down at the rough stone floor of the cave, knitting your eyebrows. The story ended quite gruesomely, leaving a sour aftertaste on your tongue and for some odd reason, gloom spurred in your innocent little mind. Shouldn’t there be another ending, where the dragon king lived happily in the forest? Sure, he’d done terrible, unforgivable things, but shouldn’t he have a second chance at life? The more you thought about it, the more frustrated you became, and the more frustrated you became, the more your chest tightened. It was odd, feeling such sympathy for an imaginary character.

“What’s the matter?” the dragon queried, noticing your simmering expression.

“Shouldn’t there be a happy ending?” you replied, rather harshly. “I know Italar did bad things, but I don’t think he deserved to die.”

The dragon chuckled deeply, shaking the tiny rocks lying beside him. You looked so cute, mad, cheeks colored red and eyes burning with fervor.

“You’re an odd one,” he hummed amusedly. “Although the dragon king didn’t get his second chance, the village did. After he died, that little hamlet grew to a mighty empire–though I’m not entirely sure if it is in ruins now.”

Although conflict thumped at your ribcage, your child mind latched onto the prospect of a small, insignificant little hamlet rising to an powerful and almighty empire. Perhaps the dragon could tell you another story!

With big round eyes you pleaded, “Can you tell me about the empire? Please?”

The dragon sighed once more, making sure to blow as much of his hot breath on your face as possible. He suppressed a chuckle when your hair turned into an unruly mane.

“I’ll tell you next time,” he said. “If there will even be one, of course.”

And surely there was, because he'd see you for the next couple months.

“I have something for you,” Italar murmured, melting into the darkness to the back of his lair. His massive tail swept dust to the corners of the cave as he plodded to his treasure pile, hidden behind shadowy veils and sharp rocks. After clinking through his collection for quite some time, he returned with a piece of glinting jewelry.

“Take it,” he said, delicately holding the tiny ring between his claws. He then dropped it onto your palms, and it didn’t look so tiny anymore. “And swear to never lose it.”

When you returned home, however, you swore to your parents to never return to that cave, ever again.

[part 2]

grey dividers provided by: @firefly-graphics

[meowcatsposts]

Headpats? [Drew]

✎⁾⁾⁾ note: @neonsquad303, I hope you enjoy :)

Overview

You love animals

They’re so cute oomph-

And what’s better, you have a bf who has a jackal head

Yet you’re too shy to ask him to pet him

But that’ll change, don’t worry :)

The sun gently colored your lengthening shadows, hands entwined, bodies walking side by side, close. Little zebra doves cuckooed softly, some waddling in pairs on the stubbly grass. Other bigger birds bobbled their heads and pranced around, following the occasional visitor for a morsel of food. As you followed the birds with your eyes, a small smile adorned your lips. 

Spotting a wooden bench nearby, Drew gently squeezed your hand as he walked you to it. 

“Oh…thanks,” you mumbled shyly, feeling a little embarrassed that you were caught ogling at some birds. 

“You’re most welcome, dearest,” Drew replied. Fingers still entwined, he placed your hand atop his thigh and mindlessly rubbed small circles on the back of it, humming to himself. You stared at the bandages wrapped around his fingers, a pleasant warmth creeping up your neck. 

Drew, noticing your gaze on the park birds, said out of the blue, “According to an article I read somewhere, birds that are in pairs are couples. They’re mates for life.”

Just like us.

“Really?” Leaning your head on his shoulder, you eyed a pair of zebra doves who were constantly waddling together; after one took off, the other followed suit. “That’s…cute.”

“Mmm…yes,” Drew hummed.

It was moments like these, serene yet intimate, that put your mind at ease. No nervous smiles in front of strangers. No formal greetings and goodbyes. No one to level with. You stole a glance at Drew, locking eyes for a brief moment. His eyes narrowed into sweet amethyst slivers and they sucked you in, eliciting a flustered squeak from you. 

“Are we embarrassed, perhaps?” he teased gently.

Unable to hide the growing smile and the hotness rising to your cheeks, you buried your face into Drew’s shoulder, evoking an amused chuckle from your lover.

After boring yourself of park birds, your gaze landed on Drew. Ever since day one, you wondered if his fur felt like a dog’s, or if he liked headpats, or if he could actually hear your heartbeat keenly. You kept your mouth shut, however, as you didn’t want to seem childish to your prim and proper boyfriend. 

From the corner of his eye Drew noticed the curious gaze you gave him, and asked, “Is there something on your mind?” 

He still hadn’t let go of your hand, keeping it warm on his leg. Your tongue swelled, rigid in your throat. He’d caught you looking for the second time.

Drew, being the proper gentleman he is, wouldn’t like to play around, would he? Gentle and caring he was, treating you with the utmost care in the world, like a gem. So you simply settled with staring at the smooth fur adorning his jackal head, imagining how pleasant it’d be to run your fingers through it. Your eyes quickly darted to his sun-contoured black fur, to the shiny rim of his spectacle, then to the curious purple eyes of his.

Finally, after mustering up the courage you could, you asked softly, “Can I pet your head?”

Drew, albeit having excellent hearing, wanted to confirm for his own amusement. “Come again?” he asked, ears twitching.

You chewed the inside of your cheek. Perhaps your fears were true. Perhaps your boyfriend hated getting headpats. Perhaps your timid request fell on deaf ears. Color drained from and bloomed on your cheeks all at once, and you fought the urge to slap your hands on your face. 

“Can I…pet your head…?” you asked once more, deathly unsure this time. 

Drew, finally smiling, replied, “Of course.”

“...Really?”

“How could I say no?” Drew chuckled at the nervous smile adorning your lips. 

Like how an excited child would reach out to a puppy, you slowly took your boyfriend’s head into your hands. Smooth, shiny black fur. The fluff around his ears. The soft ridges of his brows and jaw. It was enough to send you into pure bliss. You played around with the texture, stroking fur this way and that, but at the same time making sure to smoothen the poofs before thumbing another area.

“Oh, I’ve been waiting for this moment.” Drew nestled his head between your palms, throat thrumming faintly. 

Giggling you asked, “So…you like headpats?”

“I love headpats,” Drew confirmed. Then he added softly, loud enough for only you to hear, “Especially if they’re from you, dearest.”

[meowcatsposts]

Treasure [Xiao Yin]

╰►content warning: mentions of some violence and blood, predatory behavior towards a child

Overview

Now, Xiao Yin is *usually* a chill dude

He just wants to travel and relax with the love of his life

But someone hurt you, disrespected you

Physically, emotionally, mentally, etc

So they’re gonna pay the price oop-

(I hc that this man harbors a possessive dragon within him)

It wasn’t much far into the relationship that Xiao Yin discovered your adoration for children. And when he saw you smiling with the kids, who were munching away on your candies with the biggest grins on their faces, his heart nearly melted. Ever since that day, he would dream frequently about you and him, nurturing a family; the simple, yet elegant thought awakened the creature lying dormant in him for long, his desire to look after you growing even stronger.

Though, on some days he’d get chastised for his behavior by his fellow bounty hunters, frequently getting compared to a dragon obsessing over its hoard. However, you were one of the greatest treasures in his life, so he paid no mind to their incessant teasing.

“It’s (Y/N)!” one of the children exclaimed, excitedly pointing her tiny finger at you. The others followed her line of sight, pleasantly surprised to see another familiar figure standing beside you.

“Xiao Yin too?” another queried. The children were unable to contain their excitement, bubbling so vibrantly in their chests. The small group of kids rushed up to you and your lover, exchanging looks of pure joy and confusion; did the two of you know each other, and why were you holding hands?

“How do you know him?”

“You’re holding hands!”

“Are you friends?”

“Are you guys dating?”

At the last question the children all gasped. Was it true? They all bore their sparkling round eyes into yours, then to Xiao Yin’s, gazes flitting fervently between the two of you. Stifling a chuckle, Xiao Yin looked into your eyes and shrugged as if telling you, ‘why not tell them?’.

“We are,” you replied, rather abashedly. The children didn’t miss the pink brushing your cheeks and so they gasped even louder, clapping and bouncing around; they just found out a dire secret! Xiao Yin chuckled softly at your shyness, gently squeezing your hand in comfort. 

"We brought you guys some treats!" He ruffled the bag that dangled from his fingers, smiling brightly at the children who could barely contain their excitement. It was quite cute, how simple yet honest they were to their feelings.

As you watched Xiao Yin fool around with the little ones, running around and playing chase, you couldn't help but to chortle at the lively sight. His bright blue eyes, snowy hair billowing behind him, and gentle smile tickled your heart pink. He'd make a good father, you thought to yourself. Always looking out for the ones he cared about, putting them first when the situation arises, truly, your lover was a splendid person all around.

Though, you've heard several stories of a time he lost control, went berserk. Those soft, vibrant larimars smoked to onyx, void of any shine, glimmer, or gloss. His lips, usually a gentle feathery line, pulled into a bloodthirsty snarl. Even his milky complexion and hair turned frazzled with hate, stained crimson from the blood of his foes; he was the reincarnation of the savage dragon, they say.

"The dragon doesn't settle for any less," you've been told by some street wanderer. Then, as if rubbing a bitter ointment into your skin, he added cheerfully, "You're pretty lucky!"

Now, Xiao Yin left to buy more snacks, putting the children in your temporary care.

"(Y/N) will take good care of you guys, alright?" he had said, patting their heads one by one. "There's no need to worry!" 

After pressing his lips on your forehead, he murmured softly, "I'll be back soon."

Hearing some distant wailing you went to check what it was, following the cries to a dim barren street. You gasped at the sight, horrified. It seemed one of the children wandered away, unbeknownst, into the predator's den. She was backed up to a wall by a looming figure, knees buckling, eyes watering, lips quivering.

"Please don't lay a finger on her," you politely requested of the stranger. The last thing you wanted was a simple pickup to turn into an ugly scuffle.

"Oh, it's you," he sneered. "The one hanging around Greywater scum." The stranger snickered, lightly probing at the poor, sobbing child. "Why waste your time with him? He was bedridden, if I remember correctly."

"Leave the child alone," you hissed. Though it wasn't hard to ignore the slew of insults, they left your blood curdling at an icky, lukewarm temperature. You gazed into the child's terrified eyes and beckoned her over, to which she bolted into your arms, sniveling, gripping tiny fistfuls of your pants.

"Have the scum's kids latched onto you now?" he taunted, imitating pouty faces. "How cute." 

You swallowed the bitter bile stinging your tongue. What exactly had he done to the little girl? Abhorrent thoughts flooded your mind and boiled the blood in your veins, yet you forcefully tied yourself to iron chains, chewing down the fire roaring in your throat. 

"If you will," you breathed calmly, steadying your breath. "I'll be leaving with her now."

Eyes popping open, the creep said, “Oh, really? I was just having fun with her.” He looked down to the tiny girl latched on your leg and asked, smiling wide, “Right?”

Bursting into tears she disappeared behind you, peeking through with those terrified, weepy eyes.

“Let’s go now,” you whispered, ushering the child away. She gripped your hand tightly, knuckles turning white. 

But the harasser wasn’t going to let his catch escape so easily, now would he?

“What happened?” Xiao Yin asked, eyes wide. “Is anything broken? Are you alright?”

Spluttering he rushed to your side, inspecting the many abrasions on your skin. The other children timidly came to look as well, eyes overflowing with worry; some were even crying, balling their fists and grinding their teeth. Young wallows and fervent clamoring echoed throughout as anxiety bled into the small area.

Wincing, you explained, “Someone tried to mess with the kids…so I stepped in. I didn’t break anything.” You feebly dabbed your bloodied lip. “...I’ll be fine.”

Guilt tore away at Xiao Yin’s heart; he shouldn’t have left your side, so alone and vulnerable, in the middle of an open field. If you hadn’t been a capable fighter…the thought turned his blood cold.

“Where’d they go?” he pressed. 

You were shocked, to say the least. Why would Xiao Yin, of all people, expend such energy on a sadistic, perverted fool? 

“I’m as angry as you right now, but now isn’t the time for that,” you reasoned sternly. “We should get the kids to their homes first…he might try something again.”

Xiao Yin sighed, swallowing the exasperated breath that raked his lips. Yes, he was furious at what happened to the poor little girl, yet he was absolutely livid at what resulted in you–why couldn’t you understand? Some fool assaulted you, bruised you, tainted you, all because you stepped in to protect an innocent child. He repressed the guttural growl brewing in his throat, instead curling his knuckles white.

“All right,” he murmured. “I’ll get you and the children home.”

After gingerly patching you up, Xiao Yin squeezed your hands tightly, enveloping them in his charcoal laden fingers. You’ve endured too much, he thought somberly, gazing bitterly at your bruises and lacerations; he nearly believed they scorched his eyes, burned his vision. Though wanting to press his lips to your scratches to make them feel better, Xiao Yin knew it wouldn’t pacify nor tame the wrathful roaring in his stomach. So he gently collected you in his arms and kept his fingers entwined with yours.

Then, after boring his beautiful eyes into yours, he uttered, “Do you know where he went?” 

It was unusual seeing your lover act so fervently, as if his tail was set aflame. It was as if a beast was hidden in its own hazy breath, eyes gleaming and distant thunder rumbling.

“He’s probably still here,” you replied, sighing softly, recalling the little girl’s pallid expression. Memories of the unpleasant, sweaty stench of your scuffle flooded your mind; you nearly felt like throwing up, thinking about the other children who were sobbing guiltily at your feet. “He might be waiting on the kids again…”

Xiao Yin nodded, silently agreeing to your last statement, and said, “I’ll check if he’s still there.”

“But you won’t be safe alone!” you cried in panic. “What if something happens to you?”

He softly pressed his lips to your forehead and laced his fingers in your hair, smiling assuredly at your jittery expression. 

“I’ll be fine,” he murmured softly. “I’ve handled worse.” 

When he turned the doorknob, though, his diamond eyes cracked and splintered.

Xiao Yin weaved through Graywater’s smooth streets, dim alleys, and roughened roads, eyes sweeping every one of the town’s corners. Lips pressed in a fine line and a body full of knots, scorn swirled in his blood. He couldn’t believe his eyes when he spotted you, bruised and beaten and lying on the ground, wiping your own blood off your face and body. 

If only he had been wise enough to remind the children to stay with you, you wouldn’t have been hurt. If only that predator hadn’t laid his vile fingers on you, you wouldn’t be walking around in bandages. If only he had returned earlier…things may have been different. Xiao Yin breathed shakily and pursed his lips, continuing on with his brisk stride–until he spotted a hulking man with crisp blood speckling his clothes.

“Oh, my lover left you in quite a mess,” he chuckled quietly, fingers dancing dangerously close to the hilt of his blade. “...Perhaps I don’t need to use this.”

Thud.

The harasser gurgled and choked on his own breath as something hard grinded his Adam’s apple. Crunch, crunch. Tearing, he gaped into Xiao Yin’s unyielding eyes, so stunningly glacial. The dragon’s den was dangerous, he learned, fire spreading across his throat and tumbling into his chest. 

“Please…” he rasped, desperate to win his breath back. A bitter potion of blood and sweat trickled through his lips and soured his tongue. “I won’t touch those children…or your lover…so please…”

“So you have the mental capacity to figure that out?” Xiao Yin remarked, rather snidely. He gazed solemnly into the harasser’s horrified eyes, nearly cracking the poor man’s neck into two; he fell silent choking on his own breath, eyes bulging from their sockets.

Xiao Yin leaned further onto his leg and gazed down emptily at the strangled man. He suppressed the amused chuckle bubbling deep in his throat, and whispered, “Please don’t come near here. Ever.” With a soft, manic smile he released the man’s throat from under his sole, watching the wretch trip and flee, gasping and gagging, tail tucked between his legs. 

Worried sick, you glanced at the windows and door over and over, paying no mind to the throbbing bruises or stinging lacerations littering your body. Each tick of the timer rang sonorously through your ears, and it held your heart in a vice grip. Was Xiao Yin going to be okay? Was he even going to return? 

“Please be okay…” you murmured, bundling your hands into a tight knot. “Please–”

Then the door creaked open, revealing your lover, unscathed and smiling. Despite your screaming unoiled limbs you threw yourself onto him, embracing him tightly in your arms. How you longed to see his gentle eyes, to touch his silky white hair, to hear his soft voice. Xiao Yin carried you to the couch and gently laid you down, looping his arms loosely around your waist, lightly brushing your hands with his fingers. Humming happily, he tenderly pressed his lips to your ears and nape, making extra sure to confine you in his hug.

“I’m back,” he murmured softly, still beaming.

Seeing such content on your lover’s face was novel, so, out of pure curiosity you asked him innocently, “What happened?”

“Hm…?” he hummed nonchalantly. “I just told him to back off on what’s mine.”

“Huh?”

Xiao Yin chuckled, gazing at your confused, cute little face. You were the dragon’s precious treasure, and nothing could ever change that.

blue dividers provided by: @firefly-graphics

[meowcatsposts]

Fluffy Lover [Drew]

✎⁾⁾⁾note: I hope this fic brings you comfort during stressful times :)

Overview

You’re very stressed 

And you really need to decompress

Yet you have a hard time doing so, whatever the reason is

And Drew, being the perceptive lover he is, notices quick

He tries to ease you out of the stress

But you don’t really listen bc there’s a tons of stuff to do

So he coerces you lol

“Are you still finishing work, dear?” Drew whispered, rapping softly on the half open door. 

“...Yeah…” Rubbing your eyes, you mumbled out a half-baked response. In front of you lay an array of crinkled papers taking up all the desk space possible; you’d been picking them up and putting them back down for so long that small creases began to form on the fine print–a sign of a day’s long work. A dimly lit laptop sat within the nest of papers, lighting your stress-washed face. 

Though faith kindled softly in your heart, inevitably anxiety passed over, nearly extinguishing your crackling flame. Somehow, at the end of everything, you were shoved to the lip of a steep cliff, overlooking a dark looming abyss; sometimes, you’d lose your footing and slip and cling desperately onto jagged rock, feet dangling, head spinning, heart racing. The past few weeks had been exactly that–steep, treacherous, and draining. You ached from the mental burn, wallowing in pain from the neverending hike. 

And Drew saw you, crumbling under this mess. On numerous occasions, he tried to lure you away from the thorny paths, urging you to decompress with Brynn and Q (and occasionally Berenice), to take a break. You never truly listened, though, always brushing him off with an ‘I’ll be fine’ or ‘It’ll be over soon’ –all lies to keep him tame. But when he caught you one day, crying softly to yourself, he knew that whatever you were doing, wasn’t good. 

“What about taking a short break?” he suggested, sauntering into the cluttered room. “I doubt that would hinder your progress. In fact, I personally think it would boost your performance.”

Your mind screamed at you that he was right. Take a break, it wailed. 

But there’s so much to do in such little time, so much work to do, so much that’s left undone, so much–

Furiously, you typed the last few words on your computer and shut its lid closed. Tears burned your eyes. How long did this continue for? you thought. How much time did you spend sitting at your desk, hunched over paperwork? Too long. Hanging your head, you tried to blink away the hot tears but to no avail; they just kept falling and falling, flowing down your red cheeks. You wiped them away roughly. Drew needn’t see your pathetic state.

Oh, but he noticed–noticed much before you yourself did. He kneeled down, took out a handkerchief from his pocket, and gingerly dabbed your tears away, murmuring, “It’s alright to cry. You deserve to rest.”

Those gentle words caressed your aching heart as more tears cascaded down your face. You sniffled, furiously blinking them away. 

“But…” you spluttered, “I have to do this or else…the deadline is in a couple of days, and-”

“No, dear, you’re overworking yourself,” Drew hushed you, sternly gazing into your watery eyes. “Though I understand you want to get this done, your health is much more important.”

You remained silent, hands balled tightly on your lap. For quite some time, tiny tremors endlessly wracked your body and you fought waves upon waves of intense sniffles. Drew stewed in your muffled cries, handing you his handkerchief.

“Would you like a hug?” he offered. 

You nodded silently, blubbering a soft, “Yeah.”

He took your hand, slowly stood with you, and wrapped you in a warm embrace; his arms felt so secure and soothing to your fumbling, racing mind. You squeezed back tightly and bit your quivering lip, a flood of tears stinging the corners of your eyes. Pat, pat. Drew caressed your trembling back and ran his fingers through your hair, hushing and pacifying your unraveling self. He felt the hot tears seeping through to his shoulder, but he didn’t mind; he was your pillar, after all. 

Though, a tiny part of him dragged a deadweight, because he felt responsible. Because he didn’t want to put more on your plate, he felt as though it was him who let you work yourself to the bone. Because he thought you could pull through, he felt as though he abandoned you, leaving you to the wolves. As a lover, he felt irresponsible–negligent, even. He vowed to serve you as royalty, yet here you were, slipping through his fingers like sand. 

Drew hugged you even tighter. “Are you feeling better?” he asked softly.

“Mhm…thanks…” you mumbled, burying your face in his shoulder. His suit and bandages faintly smelt of him, the scent you grew to find comfort in. Gradually, the high tides of anxiety swept away, leaving you kneeling on wet sand; it wasn’t the most stable yet, but it was something you could finally stand on, use as fuel. Wiping your tears, you asked, “Can I pet your head?”

Drew smiled softly, ears wiggling. “Of course. Whatever you need, dear.”

He led you to a small couch sitting in the corner of the room. “Go ahead,” he offered, slightly tilting his head your way. 

In an instant, your hands were stroking the smooth fur of his head, fingers running along the tufts of charcoal fuzz by his ears and jaw. A small smile tugged at your lips; petting your lover felt akin to stroking a pet’s fur, comforting and addicting. You couldn’t help but to play with his head, a childish giggle escaping your lips. Drew smiled; it seemed like you were finally reverting to your serene self, nearly void of worry’s deadly poison. 

Then, from the corner of his eye he noticed your droopy expression, and said, “You can lean on me, if you wish.”

This time, you complied obediently, pressing your head against his shoulder. Sitting in the comfortable silence Drew gingerly rubbed the small of your back; his hands felt warm and safe, like they always were, and you leaned into him further. This felt good–right, even. With Drew by your side, the incessant chattering seemed distant now, and faded to the very back of your mind, leaving you in your lover’s caring embrace. It wasn’t long before slumber welcomed you into its snug arms. Drew gazed lovingly at you and yawned softly, removing his spectacle. After laying you atop his chest and draping his coat over your sleeping figure, he smoothed your hair again, as you did to him. 

Although not sure if you could hear him anymore, he murmured tenderly, “I’ll always be here for you, dear, whenever you need it.”

Q and Brynn found both of you passed out on each other the next morning, and they grinned–they’d never let you, or Drew, live this down. Ever.

*cue immense teasing*

[meowcatsposts]

Unique [Fabrice]

Overview

You find yourself entranced by Fabrice's music

He'd probably be playing at some random place for a change

Oh, and he notices all right

And he's like, hi lovely

Then you two talk and he tries chatting you up

But it doesn’t really work??

*cue confused Fabrice*

So now you’ve piqued his interest

"I don't mean to disappoint you, but he's charming for a reason."

Between the wavering heads of dazzled passerby you spotted his gentle, chocolate-dipped face, framed by wisps of flaxen hair, and immediately saw why everyone flocked to him. His deft fingers skimmed over the neck of an odd-looking instrument as he played to his heart's content, somber tune dancing and weaving through the audience's wooed ears. And, somehow, through the thick crowd he caught your eye, and winked discreetly. It left you confused, but nevertheless, you simply continued on with your stroll. 

Faint melodies waltzed through the salty breeze as the early morning sun wrapped you in a balmy blanket. With the cello’s bittersweet hymn entwining with the ocean’s whispers, you emptily gazed at the waves lapping gently against the pearly sands, and sighed. It was moments like these that you truly felt serene; No deadlines to rush. No one to serve. And, most importantly, your chattering mind ceases its worrying. Slowly closing your eyes, you let your senses enthrall you, take you on a ride.

Within a few moments you noticed that the crowd slowly dissipated, as lithe footsteps headed your way. Wondering who it could be, you glanced over, only to meet eyes with the charming cello player. 

“Hello,” he greeted, a smile adorning his lips. “What’s your name? I’d enjoy getting to know someone as lovely as yourself.”

That was new, being flirted blatantly by. Though, his smooth voice and mellow, gilded eyes did leave a semi sweet aftertaste on your tongue, so you decided to hang around the stranger for a bit. 

Eyes following the many butterflies fluttering around his shoulders, you replied, “(Y/N). What’s yours?”

“It’s Fabrice.” He found your lack of interest–or rather, gentle aloofness–rather novel; it was as if cold water burned his skin, so accustomed to welcoming the hot arms that desperately grabbed for his attention. Though, he didn’t just come to leave without a reward, so he commented lightly, chuckling, “I take it you don’t talk much to strangers?” 

As you saw a school of fish upturn their shiny bellies to the sky, you hummed in silent agreement; after all, it wasn’t normal for strangers to confidently approach you, as Fabrice did. “Well, I guess so…” you trailed. “It’s not usual that strangers just come talk to me.” You paused, glancing at his elven ears and billowing clothing, softly adding, “I do enjoy the company, though.”

Fabrice’s brows arose, as his eyes scanned your pinkish cheeks and abashed expression; you did look quite cute, in his opinion, so flustered and rosy. After all, he prided himself in his docile allure, and no one was fully immune to his charms, it seemed. His lips threatened to curve upward at this new discovery as he said, “If that’s the case, then, I’m glad to be of service to you.”

More than relieved that you hadn’t driven the beautiful stranger away, you asked, purely out of curiosity, “What made you want to play here? I haven’t seen you around here before, so I was wondering…”

Perhaps this was the first time, ever, in Fabrice’s carefree lifetime, that he truly felt human–not some object to throw woes and desires at, or to forcefully plant into the ungiving ground of devotion. Though used to the lusty gazes of women he could never truly be anchored by something so materialistic, and so he wandered, fulfilling his desires, whether small or significant. The man escaped his family, frivolously played his cello, and became a bounty hunter, so he could be carried away by the wind and sailed by the sea.

“I just felt like playing here, for a change,” Fabrice replied casually. “It gets quite mundane following a routine.” He paused, lips curving invitingly, and added, “Would you like to hear some? I’d love to play you a piece.”

Teasingly, you replied, “How much do I owe you?”

“How about a short walk on the sands with me?” Fabrice suggested, so nonchalantly.

“What…?” You never expected a mere stranger–a handsome one at that–to invite you on a leisurely stroll as his reimbursement. Pensively, you gazed into the wanderer’s fair eyes, eliciting a smooth chuckle from him; it seemed he sensed the worry groping at your heart.

“I just want to spend a little more time with you, that’s all,” he assured. “You’re very interesting.” You were still giving him those doubtful eyes, so he promised rather solemnly, “I won’t do anything to upset you, if that’s what you’re worrying about.”

“Okay, then…” A soft sigh escaped your lips. “I accept your bargain.”

Fabrice smiled warmly as he ghosted his fingers over the neck of his cello. Slowly, they waltzed over the delicate strings, and he drew his bow. A rich tenor wrapped you in a silky blanket, tremors running down your spine as vibrant voices whispered in your ears. The cello’s soft hands lured you through its mellow hymn, slowly turning solemn and dark, then suddenly to a pure and sonorous color. It mixed so well with the waves, rolling so crisply in the background; both notes blended so beautifully in your ears, leaving your mind in a dreamlike trance, craving for more.

But, at some point, all pleasures must come to an end.

After the song was done, naturally, you softly clapped your hands for Fabrice. A simple stroll definitely wouldn’t be enough payment for his enthralling performance, right? Inevitably, doubt crawled up your spine and tickled your skin, tearing you out of his music's gentle caress. You drew your lips in a thin line. 

“Are you sure just a walk with you is enough…? I can…”

Fabrice chuckled. It was quite cute, seeing your troubled expression. “Oh, that’s more than enough for me,” he mused. “Besides, I nearly thought your smile would be enough payment.”

Blood rushed to your face, as you looked anywhere but him. Flustering you might be quite fun, Fabrice thought.

It felt quite odd, being in another’s presence in silence. So many people came crawling to him for comfort, spilling their darkest secrets, fantasies, and complaints about daily life. He always thought they were foolish, tying themselves down to a structured world, always following protocol and rules. And, given his irresistible charms and devilishly good looks, Fabrice knew others would be attracted to him, like a moth to a flame; though, the poor moths would always burn up in heartbreak, as the flame left them cold and shivering.

But you, you hadn’t uttered a word to him–no complaints, no grumbling–simply enjoying the scenic waters that kissed the sands. Though he knew he was successful at warming your heart, it seemed like you fulfilled his requests just to be nice; it was usually a position he’d be in. Frankly, it left Fabrice confused and bothered, so he asked, “I’m sorry if this sounds sudden, but…is there anything you want to get off your chest? I wouldn’t mind lending an ear.”

“Hm…? Oh…” Glancing at Fabrice’s gentle, albeit slightly troubled, expression you replied, “I do have a few things I want to talk about, but…”

“Is it that you don’t want to trouble a stranger with your concerns?” he finished for you. Rather perceptive, wasn’t he? 

Your silence was his answer. So, Fabrice added convincingly, “Doesn’t that make it all the better, though? You might never see me again, so it’s a one-time thing.”

Usually, people would ramble on and on and on as if a motor was running in their mouth, because Fabrice seemed so innocently concerned for them. And, once he smiled seductively and uttered his spellbinding words, they’d always unravel their tight lips and hesitant selves upon him. But had you seen through him, perhaps, because you weren’t reacting like them? Fabrice absentmindedly looped his fingers around the golden necklace hanging at his neck, and gazed at the vast, open sea; truly, in his eyes, you were unique.

Perhaps he’d make it a routine to see you.

green dividers provided by: @firefly-graphics