#boy went FERAL when he first transformed it was so good

[actualbird]

bored at work so here's a quick post of me rating luke cards where hes shirtless based on how feral it makes me

warning for slightly n/s//f///w language ahead and general down bad-isms from yours truly

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SSR Burning Heart - 4/10

he looks okay and the puppy is adorable, but it just feels rather static and lacking impact. maybe it;s because the context of this card is that hes Literally Posing For A Picture and when luke tries too hard, the sexiness transforms into endearing nerdiness. like, i do not want to take this lukey to bed so much as giggle at him and go "ohhhh mister tough guy over here thinks he's hot shit" and then he'd sigh and flash his puppy eyes at me and i'd poke him in the tummy

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MR Shining Warmth - 5/10

i know i went feral over this when it first came out but now that im looking at it in hindsight i just cannot accept that luke's waist and frame is that narrow, like….no. thats not the luke i know in my heart. the luke i know in my heart would be built like a double door fridge. still, i like how this card shows off his arms and that part of his waist where the muscle lines lead down to his c[TRUCK PASSES BY BLARING ITS HORN LOUDLY]

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MR Moonlit Prisoner - 7/10

has the same "too slim build" problem as the last but it gains points because of the WOUNDSSS MMMM I LIKE MY MEN HALF NAKED AND INJURED, WROW. the chains add a lot too, along with his TONGUE, WHAT THAT TONGUE DOOOOOOOO. i wish they took of this dang sheet though, it's covering too much skin, i wanna see more of this wounded chained dog, SHOW ME MORE, AND TAKE YOUR PANTS OFF WHILE YOURE AT IT!!

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MR Alluring Illusion - 8/10

LISTEN….I KNOW SOMETHING LOOKS OFF With THE ANATOMY OR WHATEVER BUT I RLLY LIKE THIS CARD BC 1) bird boy, this card was MADE for me and 2) he looks BUILT here, hes bUFF, look at his ARMS, this bird can PUMMEL YOU TO PIECES. i want to lay eggs for him

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R Sweet as Honey - 10/10

yes, an R card wins. an R card that not even showing the shirtlessness as much but thats what makes it so GOOD, it's the TEASE, the tension between DESIRE AND REALITY. that, plus he looks like a FRESHLY BRED OMEGA AFTER HIS FIRST HEAT. rawr. RAWR!! i need him bouncing and moaning on it expeditiously.

[ladykailitha]

Well Met By Moonlight Part 4

I'm back with our boys, I just couldn't leaving the poor people reading Royal Pain hanging like that. I'm an author, not a monster. So it's a little longer a chapter to make up for the wait.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

We get hints of plot and backstory. Enjoy!

***

The sky was starting to lighten and Steve groaned.

“Make time stop,” he murmured into Eddie’s neck.

Eddie chuckled. “Sorry, princess, but you promised Lucas that you would be back at dawn.”

Steve grumped, but crawled off his boyfriend and stretched. “Who would have thought vampires have better stamina then werewolves.”

Eddie’s answering grin was positively feral.

“Who’s to say I wasn’t like that before I got turned?” He winked at Steve as he pulled on his clothes.

Steve laughed. “I’ll guess I’ll never know.”

Eddie straightened up and looked at him curiously. “What do you mean?”

Steve shrugged. “A couple things, really. Like I don’t know what you were like before you changed and I won’t know if it’s just you or all vampires that are that good, because I don’t intend to sleep with anyone else. Ever.”

Eddie finished putting on his clothes and put his arms around Steve’s waist from behind. “You are very romantic for someone who comes from a race that is infamous for fucking everything willing.”

Steve huffed out a laugh. “Everyone says I’m too romantic for my own good, for the pack’s good.”

Eddie kissed Steve’s throat without so much as the hint of teeth. “Too bad, baby, because I am into that shit.”

Steve moaned. “If you keep that up, I won’t make it back to the compound in time.”

Eddie chuckled again, his warm breath huffing against the skin of Steve’s neck. He let go of Steve’s waist. “Go on, sweet cheeks,” he teased. “I’ve got to report back to my uncle before the sun fully comes up.”

Steve nodded and waited until Eddie was in the sky before he transformed.

*

Steve made it to the pack compound before the first true ray of dawn even peeked over the horizon.

Lucas huffed out a wolfy laugh. “Cutting it little close, aren’t we?”

Steve shrugged. “What can I say? I’m horny teenager that hasn’t gotten laid in over a year. So sue me.”

Lucas rolled on the ground laughing. “Come on, it’s time for Murray to do guard duty.”

Steve nodded. “Can you have Erica and Holly play nearby while he does his watch?”

Lucas sat up and nodded. “Still don’t trust him?”

Steve shook his head. The alpha watched as the scrawny wolf that was Murray’s alter came oozing out of the woods. He bowed his head to Steve and kept it down as the alpha and younger teen passed him.

As the two wolves went further into the forest that surrounded their home, they could feel the gaze of the older wolf on them.

*

Eddie made it back to the trailer park well before the sky lightened enough to hurt him. He smiled at the structure that had been his home since he was young. It didn’t look like it held the most dangerous and powerful vampire in Indiana. But looks were deceiving for both the man and his home.

Wayne had been turned in Kentucky around the beginning of the 18th century. When he sided against the South’s right to own people, he was chased out of his home into Indiana, only barely a couple decades into statehood.

There with the help of Dr Martin Brenner, the coven Dominus and Clarence Harrington, the alpha, Steve’s great, great, great grandfather (werewolves live longer, so not as many generations between Steve and his ancestor as there was between Eddie and his) and the reason it’s called the Harrington Pack, founded Hawkins as a safe haven for the supernatural and humans alike.

Wayne looked rough, because he was born rough. The oldest son of a farmer. He had six siblings but of those six, only two lived to adulthood. Abigail, and the youngest, Lawrence. When he was attacked, he fought back, getting the vampire’s blood in his teeth, accidentally starting the turning process.

He learned how to hunt and be a vampire all his own, breaking all the stereotypes of a turned vampire being feral.

Because of his rough looks it made people underestimate him, so he dug into that hard. He moved with the poor and disenfranchised wherever the people in power put them. He finally settled in Forest Hills. His trailer looked as rough as the man himself.

But it was built like fortress. Not a single ray of light pierced its metal hide and the windows were mainly for show. It was a tough old thing, too. Eddie had heard stories of tornadoes ripping through the area only to be the only thing left standing.

Eddie wasn’t sure what it was made of, but it was home. He slipped into the trailer like a shadow to find his uncle waiting for him.

“Cutting it pretty fine, aren’t you, boy?” Wayne asked from his comfortable arm chair.

Eddie grinned. “You know me, I like to push the boundaries as far as I can.”

Wayne scoffed. “And one day it’s going to get you killed.”

They stared at each other for a moment before Wayne got to his feet and gave Eddie a hug.

“I’m glad you’re home, Ed,” he murmured. “I worried that Hopper had finally crossed a line he couldn’t come back from.”

Eddie nodded, “It was a near thing, Uncle Wayne, but Steve had finally healed enough to use his alpha voice and force submission.”

“I worry that he had to use it all,” Wayne said.

“Yeah, well,” Eddie said cocking his head to the side, “at least Operation Vamp Out was a success. So there’s that at least.”

Wayne pulled back, putting Eddie at arms length to see him properly. “You got the alpha to do what exactly? Because this shit’s important, Ed.”

Eddie ran his tongue over his teeth thoughtfully, “I’m not sure I feel comfortable telling you about that, if I’m honest.”

Wayne’s eyebrows went up and his eyelids fluttered to a close. “You fucked him, didn’t you? You fucked the alpha of the Harrington pack.” He opened his eyes.

Eddie pursed his lips to try and hide his smile, but the sparkle in his eyes betrayed him.

“Hop was against it until I said you were my maker,” Eddie hedged.

“Yeah, because that meant he wouldn’t have to fight off Bill Hargrove for the pleasure.”

Eddie frowned. “S’that because the Dominus is a racist piece of shit who is absolutely grinding his fangs to powder because his half-sister is dating a werewolf?”

Wayne chuckled. “The very like.”

“He’s also very scared of you,” Eddie said moving to sit on the sofa, “Hop I mean.”

Wayne’s grin was vicious in its unfurling. “That’s because Hop knows what I’d do to him if he toed out of line.”

“I’ve always wondered why you didn’t do anything about him when he drunk off his ass most of the time.”

Wayne knelt in front Eddie and took his hands gently. “Because around the time Sara died, you came into my life. You were already a frightened little boy who was thrown into my care, not know what kind of vampire I was. Would you have warmed up to me as well as you did if I had torn Jim Hopper to shreds?”

Eddie blinked up at him, his mouth wide with shock. “No.”

“There, you have your answer,” Wayne said softly. “I couldn’t deal with a wayward alpha when I had a sweet boy to look after.”

He moved to sit next to Eddie on the sofa and bumped him with his shoulder. “I can’t be everywhere and I’ve learned that I can’t throw my weight around like I used to. I’m actually worried that I’m losing control of the town.”

“Is this about Jason and the other boys?” Eddie asked.

Wayne nodded. “It never should have gotten as far as it did. Let alone to the attempted murder of the pack’s alpha. And Sheriff Powell has been fractious to put it mildly.”

Eddie pursed his lips and then licked them slowly. “It would be better if Hopper was police chief again.”

Wayne nodded again. “Powell as sheriff is bad for the town. I’ll talk to Mayor Roberts and see if we can’t at least get him suspended for not taking a threat to the Harrington Pack alpha seriously.”

“Have Steve and Billy with you,” Eddie suggested. “Especially Steve. Because at least he can show the mayor the scars that the silver made.”

“That’s a good idea, Ed,” Wayne said. “I’ll get right on that.” He bumped Eddie’s shoulder again. “You’ve got a good head on you. Maybe in a few years, I’ll have you take over as leader here.”

Eddie blushed and ducked his head. “Only if that means you’re still around. I don’t want to lose you.”

Wayne pulled him close. “I won’t leave you. Not if it’s in my power.”

Eddie wrapped his arms around him and buried his head into his neck like he did that first night all those years ago. “I love you.”

Wayne kissed the top of his head. “I love you, too, boy.”

*

Mayor Roberts was pissed. He had especially placed Danny Powell as sheriff when the whole town thought Jim Hopper was dead. But the man had placed him between a rock and two vampires and a werewolf alpha all chomping on the bit for justice.

Justice that was rightly deserved. Hunters were like vigilantes. Outside the law, but respected by those who thought them necessary. Hunters that were very much barred from the town of Hawkins for a reason.

To be honest he was a little surprised it took five days for the three men in question to darken his door.

Wayne Munson walked in flanked by the teen leaders of the coven and pack. Billy Hargrove stood on the elder vampire’s right, while Steve Harrington stood on Wayne’s left.

The young werewolf looked more than a little worse for wear, he winced when he moved into the room, favoring his left leg. The leg Roberts was told had not only been shot with a silver bullet but caught in a silver foot trap.

It was inhumane what those boys did to Steve, but it was thing to hear about it and it was quite another to see its effects.

“Hello, gentlemen,” Roberts greeted solemnly. “I’m sorry we have to meet like this under these circumstances. Please have a seat.”

Harrington looked like he wanted to but when Munson and Hargrove didn’t he couldn’t without looking weak in front everyone. Something the alpha could not do.

He shifted his weight to his foot, straightening his spine so it looked as though he was standing on both legs equally.

Hargrove caught the movement and smirked. Munson ignored them both.

“We’ve come to see what is being done,” Munson said gravely.

“Jason and Patrick are both eighteen and will be charged with the full extent of the law,” Roberts said. “Andy, Chase, and Josh are all underaged and it’s trickier. Josh and Chase are only sixteen, while Andy is seventeen.”

All three supernaturals winced.

“Try Andy as child,” Steve said, “and then force the younger two boys to do community service in both the pack and the coven. Six weeks with each sect.”

Wayne and Billy looked over at Steve in shock. Mayor Roberts raised an eyebrow.

“What is the basis for that assessment?” the mayor asked.

Steve properly straightened up and all the boy next door persona dropped away to reveal a very powerful alpha. “I was there. I could tell that the two pups were only along for what they thought was prank. They are young enough that if they see what being in coven is like, what being in a pack is like, I believe they can change.” He crossed his arms over his chest and looked down.

“Andy was a more willing participant,” he continued seriously, “but perhaps one that could be persuaded that he was in the wrong. The other two knew full well of what they were doing and should be punished for it.” He looked up at Mayor Roberts, fire burning in his eyes.

Hargrove let out a long whistle. “Got some brains on you after all. I agree with alpha Harrington’s assessment and terms.”

All three men looked to Munson who was considering it. He rubbed the stubble on his chin. “It is sound judgment but I would like to add one thing, if I may?”

Mayor Roberts nodded. “Go on.”

“That the justice for Steve concerning the fate of Jason and Patrick be placed in my hands,” he growled.

The other three men blanched.

“They are still boys,” Mayor Roberts said, twisting a tissue in his hands nervously.

“I won’t kill them,” Munson promised. “But it’s time again I showed this town why I am its master.”

The mayor gulped, but nodded. Munson lowered his head slightly and then back up, not quite a nod, but an acknowledgment nonetheless.

Munson turned on his heel and walked out, the alpha and Dominus close behind.

***

Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20

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[perseidlion]

Ennui - A Cat King Dead Boy Detectives Short Fic (Complete, M)

The sky over Port Townsend was slate gray as it often was for weeks on end in the winter. The air was damp and heavy, with the ocean breeze cutting right through even the warmest jackets. Winter was usually free of snow in the Pacific Northwest, but the endless stretch of gray and drizzle was just as depressing as any deep blanket of snow. Perhaps moreso, because at least in snowy climes, the sun occasionally came out to play. 

The Cat King’s cannery was drafty and cold. Even his loyal subjects had abandoned him for spots beneath houses and under staircases where they huddled together for warmth.

It had been about a month since the Dead Boy Detectives had come to town and stirred up everything like a whirlwind. Cat had felt more energized than he had in decades, and not just because one of said detectives was curiously handsome and fascinating. 

But in their wake, they’d left an eerie calm. Their time in town had been short, but they had a reputation for a reason. They’d solved nearly a dozen cases, small and large in their short time. Some of the cases had been outstanding for decades. They’d also vanquished Esther Finch, the powerful and vain witch who had been causing trouble in town longer than the Cat King had ruled. 

Esther was a scourge who crossed lines even some of the darkest creatures would not. Plus, she’d beaten him to death with her cane, taking one of his precious lives in the process. Which was just…so rude.  Cat would be lying if he said he didn’t miss her a little - if only for the chaos she brought. She was a piece of shit, but she was a piece of shit who kept life interesting. 

And things were just so…quiet without her particular brand of chaos. 

And without him.

Cat stretched his toes out and off the edge of the stack of palettes that served as his throne. He was draped in a heavy black fur coat to try and hold back the chill. When he exhaled a deep-chested sigh, his breath condensed like cigarette smoke. 

He felt numb. He knew he should get up and at least use his magic to kindle a fire in an oil drum or envelop himself in a protective haze of magic. But the cold that pricked his skin and the draft that trickled between the fur of his coat at least let him feel something. He’d been considering the possibility of moving for a good long while, but couldn’t will his limbs to do more than shift a bit to make sure his body was covered by his coat. 

Cat would swear up and down that he was an independent creature, one who went where he pleased and made love to whoever he liked. But the truth was, he was a profoundly lonely creature who covered up that loneliness with tricks and flirtations. 

He wasn’t fully a cat. When he transformed into his feline form to join the feral colony of Port Townsend, they all knew it was him. They treated him with deference and respect, but they also othered him. He could be human whenever he wanted, which set him apart even more than his position.

Cat wasn’t fully human, either. To the residents of Port Townsend, he was known as the town’s slutty weirdo who was always followed by feral cats. They were used to him by now, but just because they didn’t hassle him didn’t mean he was one of them. His dual form meant he was trapped between two worlds, only really at home with other creatures who had a foot in both worlds. And most of them, he’d already alienated or had some sort of beef with - or were just not creatures whose company he found entertaining. The result was, he didn’t really have any friends in town to speak of, which only added to his loneliness. 

Finally, Cat got up the energy to drag himself to his feet. He took a series of lazy, heavy steps down off the platform, his fur coat dragging along the dirty ground. As he walked aimlessly through the warehouse, he chased echoes of memories. 

First, he passed the stain of blood on the ground where his previous body had been beaten to death by Esther. The reminder of that pain made him wince involuntarily. But then he saw echoes of Edwin when he caught the first hints of lust in his eyes, followed by the indignant British snark of him protesting his punishment. He closed his eyes and remembered what a pair of ghostly lips brushing his cheeks felt like when Edwin came to say goodbye. 

Cat turned and caught his reflection in an old, half-broken mirror propped against one wall and partially covered by a dropcloth. Slowly, he turned to face the mirror head-on. He lifted a hand to summon his magic, paused, rethinking it for half a moment, then he swirled his wrist.

The purple fog that accompanied his transformations with an affectation - a magician’s trick to make the whole thing seem more impressive. His magic in its natural state was subtle and quiet, as befitted a creature of stealth. The shift to his body happened in a blink. 

Edwin’s reflection stared back at him from the mirror, one hand still held delicately in the air, clad in a brown leather glove that matched his brown overcoat. He was a perfect copy, save golden, slitted eyes. He stepped up to the mirror and swept the gloved hand across the surface to clear it of some of the dust. Then he tugged off his glove and caressed his own cheek. He closed his eyes and let his fingertips creep over his lips. He nuzzled his own palm and exhaled warm breath against his fingertips.

When Cat opened his eyes, it was Edwin’s green eyes gazing back at him. Edwin’s face full of sadness and longing. Edwin’s face aching with loneliness. He pulled off the other glove and held his own hand, tracing knuckles and fingertips. He held his own hand and squeezed it. 

Keep reading on Ao3

[sonicasura]

Me: *sees AUs where if Transformers Animated Optimus and Black Arachnia switch places* Let me give you all something better.

First off Optimus' robot mode. His will be based on a drider, a mythological creature with a human top half and a spider lower body. Retains Autobot colors but with additional orange markings on the abdomen similar to a jumping spider in pattern.

Alt Mode? Goliath Birdeater aka the world's largest spider and a tarantula. These beauties right here! I like to mention Goliath Birdeaters are actually gentle giants who only bite when threatened and rarely eat birds.

Optimus is a BIG BOI particularly around 32 ft in size as he had some growing to do so his body could fully support this new frame. If you are wondering, yes he does molt like spiders. And Optimus also kept them as a morbid reminder that the bot is now a monster.

Yeah I forgot to mention the guy went into self exile. Instead of the behavior people usually portray Arachnus Prime, he's still a kind soul but now layered with self depreciation, loneliness and thinks 'monsters like him' don't deserve companionship. OP more likely to run away than chase someone off.

He ends up on Earth ten years before Megatron and made his own nest somewhere near Detroit. Optimus becomes a local cryptid akin to Big Foot on levels of popularity. The only proof people could gather is the tracks he leaves behind, empty punctured oil drums, or molt fragments.

Spider brain tends to go off where he tries to catch birds and other critters. Only casualties were a few deer alongside the realization Optimus can subsist on organics too. He shuts himself in whenever this new craving occurs as he rather not eat a human during a feral state.

The rapid rise in technological advances for Detroit later forces him to relocate within the sewer systems since his previous den faced absolute destruction. Feral episodes become more difficult to manage as Optimus resorted to fishing to satisfy himself. It takes awhile before things become normal for him.

Then a repair crew from Cybertron emerge lead by his dear friend, Elita-1. A blast from the past Optimus wished to never face again. Nor the Decepticon threat that will soon expose his existence.

Good luck Optimus as you'll need it.

[trinarysuns]

TF One spoilers ->

Overall a good movie, if pretty predictable in its plot beats (kind of groaned at the villain monologue broadcast, I knew that was coming). The animation is great and the living, shifting surface of Cybertron is *chef's kiss*. Orion is a feral little gremlin, it's fantastic. I don't know how Starscream's "yes, hit me harder!" was supposed to come off but it just turned out horny. He's been stuck out here for fifty years fighting random quintessons and apparently just wanted someone to come strangle him. Justice for my boy Starscream, who's been fighting longer than Megs has probably been alive and got beat up by a guy who learned to transform three hours ago.

But a lot of bits don't quite hang together the longer you think about them. The elite guard were just hanging out in the ruins for that long, and don't seem to have even tried going back to Iacon? Why? Did they consider it a duty to defend what they could from the quintessons? They definitely know the truth of what went down, so...?

Megatron's arc overall just felt... Weird. Too slow and too fast at once, the direct turn from "maybe we should just go back and be miners" (which itself seemed a very out of character thing for any version of Megatron to say at that point) to "I want to kill him". The way him shooting that first one of their pursuers is framed as this moment of no return when fifteen minutes later Bee is slicing up guys to no comment. The elite guard just kind of become Megatron's for no apparent reason except he beat up Starscream that time.

They're cribbing off IDW's mild-mannered poet -> warlord evolution, but it happens so fast Megatron just kind of turns evil when in IDW it took a lot for him to get there. And sure, it's a kid's movie and that's how it goes, but that plus handing off his whole uprising of the masses thing to Orion strips out a lot of the character complexity that makes him interesting.

And at the end, the quintessons, presumably still out there with their fleets, now have easy access to slurp up as much of that new-flowing surface energon as they can. Safe inside the planet, Optimus has just exiled Megatron and anyone who followed him onto that ruined surface with no defenses but the skeletons of dead ships and their own bodies against the quintesson forces. Optimus my dude, I'm not sure what you thought you were accomplishing here, but there is no way this can end well.

[bettsfic]

Oh yes! I think you would love the main protagonists and their connection. I'm feral about this movie, I just watched the day before yesterday, and I'm so anxious to have time off so I can draw fanart of the thing because it's soooo good.

Now, I love horror, so I have seen so much horror in my life that I can tell you this is one of those movies in the genre that are different. Our protagonist is Sam (short for Samira) and she has a cat named Frodo (I'm sorry but that was genius in so many ways, I can't tell you why because spoilers but they really make it made sense, there is truly a connection there). Frodo the cat is a character as well, I have never seen a movie before that has an animal that has indeed some weight into the movie (at least not one that is not like Marley and Me or those kind of movies).

Anyway, sorry, back to Sam. The first thing you know when the movie starts is that she has cancer. A woman who has cancer in a movie that develops into an apocalyptic world is really interesting. The movie explored this in detail, and I loved every second.

She is tired, she is angry, she is brave, and at the same time, you can tell she is scared af. She has some problems trying to connect with people because she thinks there is no point in it anymore, and probably because she thinks they are sorry for her and therefore their interest is not genuine.

She used to be a writer. She wrote a book about poems. She doesn't have the drive to write anymore, but she carries a notebook, whatever she goes, and I love her so much, Betty. I can't even explain the whole of it.

So next, we get to know the ML. Name is Eric, she is from England and went to NY to study to be a lawyer. He is how you write Eddie on your Stranger Things fics. I went even more feral at this point, I was chewing my fist. They were perfect together.

They connect. They make wonderful things for each other.

THEY EXCHANGE CLOTHES!!!!

OLDER WOMAN, YOUNGER MAN!!!

I don't wanna say more about it so you can enjoy it for the first time yourself, if you want to watch it. (But if you want to know more, just say so, I would be happy to talk about it for hours!)

I would say something I just learned yesterday before I go. Eric has anxiety in the movie. He has panic and anxiety attacks during the movie. What they removed is that he was trying to kill himself when the whole alien/monster ordinal began, and then, he met Sam. They erase this part from the movie, I guess because of time, because I could tell anyway while watching that Eric was maybe suecidal or that al least he was neurodivergent (again, I would love to elaborate but spoilers).

Hope you have the chance to watch it, I would love to know your thoughts if you do so. Also, you can scream at me about it if you enjoy it as much as I did.

So basically, this is a movie about two really lonely people that connect and gain perspective about life and themselves while trying to survive the beginning of an apocalypse. It felt very transformative. It was perfect.

Thanks for coming to my TED talk. Also, sorry for any weird grammar sentences. I hope I manage to come across all my ideas, English is not my first language.

I forgot to tell you, they are not trying to escape the apocalypse for 3rd parts of the movie. They are just trying to get pizza. SAM STOPS TO SMELL BOOKS AT A BOOK STORE IN THE MIDDLE OF AN APOCALYPSE!! HELP! SAD BOY FOLLOWING OLDER WOMAN LIKE A PUPPY!! There is so much going on, and I can tell this is not a horror per se. I just adore them so much. Sorry, I just needed to add these.

okay you have Compelled me. i will walk to the ends of the earth for any "sad boy following older woman like a puppy" narrative.

this is one of the few movies i don't want to see alone so i'll have to see if my roommate would want to go with me sometime this week. if i see it i'll let you know my thoughts!

[beanswrites]

Ok, request time! Miraculous Ladybug with Marc x Nathaniel. Slightly angsty Drabble that’s mostly fluff; Marc freaks out because on one of his date nights, that’s when he’ll turn into his weregoat form (humanoid and non-feral). Nath catches him (painfully) transforming anyways and thinks he looks adorable.

From The Horns To The Hooves

ngl i have never heard of the term "weregoat" before but hey, you learn something new everyday!

anyway this drabble is slightlyyy angsty but mostly fluff!!

pairing: Nathaniel x Marc (from MLB)

tags: angst, insecurity, painful transformation, weregoats?, comfort, fluff

summary: nathaniel catches marc as he's transforming into his weregoat form

this is my first time writing something even remotely close to this (were-creatures and all) so i hope i did right and that you like it!!

requests open!! | masterlist | rules for requesting

No, not now!

This was the absolute worst thing that could've happened to Marc today. Not the fact that his hair looked a little too shaggy for his liking, not that his outfit wasn't perfect for the movie date he had with Nath, but the fact that he was starting to transform!

"God, no! Not today!" He muttered as he sat down on his bed, bending over in pain.

How would he even excuse himself? He couldn't just bail on his boyfriend without any reason. And he definitely couldn't say "Hey, Nath, I'm transforming into half a goat and it hurts beyond your imagination so I can't watch The Ninja Turtles movie today"!

As many different excuses went through his head, his tranformation progressed quickly. Marc winced and writhed in pain, trying his best to ignore the pulcing headache the rapidly growing horns gave him.

His feet also hurt way more than he knew was possible, so he took off his sneakers to avoid them being ripped open by his hooves (again).

"Marc, honey, Nath's here to pick you up. Are you ready?"

Nononononono-

"Uhh, mom, I'm feeling sick, maybe it's best if he didn't come in.."

The silence after was deafening. Marc took that as a good thing, since he was relieved that his boyfriend won't see him in his were-goat form.

Suddenly, just as his transformation reached it's peak, someone opened the door.

"Marc, are you okay? Your mom told me you were feeling sick-"

Nathaniel's mouth swung open when he saw in what state his boyfriend was. The ravenette shied away, feeling a bit too exposed and seen for his liking. Even though Nathaniel was his safe person, someone he'd never feel too shy or embarassed about, he was still ashamed that he had to see him like this.

"S-sorry, Nath, I-I.."

Nathaniel's eyes quickly trailed over his boyfriend's fluffy, goat body in shock. He noticed the way Marc was shivering and basically writhing in pain. He took a couple of steps to him, petting his hair gently.

"You look.."

Gross? Disgusting? Monstruous? Horrible? Freakish?

"Adorable"

Marc was left in shock, a slight pink tint rising in his cheeks.

"But-t Nath..?"

"It hurts, doesn't it?"

All Marc could do was nod and humm in pain.

"Mhmm.."

"Wanna stay here..? We could draw, or watch anime or something?" Nath suggested with a smile.

"Sure.."

They hugged, and the ginger felt the sides of his boyfriend's horns nudging him.

"Can I touch them?"

Another nod. Nathaniels gentle fingers went all over the sharp horns while he sweetly kissed Marc's cheek.

"Marc, I.. I love you, all of you, from the horns to the hooves, yeah?"

The goat-boy smiled sweetly, cuddling against his boyfriend as they pulled up some anime to watch.

He knew. Nathaniel loved him just as he was. Horns and hooves and all.

that's all for this one!! thank you for reading, and thanks for the request! follow for more! <3

[mattsdae]

I didn’t know how much I needed “loup-garou” in my life so I thank you for that! -But now I need more of it…

i’m also need more werewolf!matt work in my life so here’s some headcanons i like

sfw

- first of all, it doesn’t really affect his daily life (unless it’s around the full moon)

- he has some little habits that he gets from his breed, but nothing too noticable

- like he loves running/jogging and even though he says it’s to stay in shape, you know it’s because it gets his hunting needs out of his system

- he also has a really bad staring problem because of his need to stalk. once again, nothing too crazy, but he still loves to watch you do random things

- after transforming, you kinda let him do what he needs. sometimes he gnaws on furniture legs, sometimes he stalks and hunts you, but usually he just howls and rolls around in the mud

- which he kinda hates bc when he comes out of it, he feels super gross. you’ve tried to give him a bath before he went back to normal but he bit you pretty hard so you just let him be

- the worst is when he starts trying to mark his territory so you have to get onto him for it (he looks at you with scared little puppy dog eyes bc you never yell at him)

- loves a good cuddle. big spoon, little spoon, doesn’t matter much to him, he just loves being close to you.

- generally a sweet little guy that just happens to turn into a feral beast that destroys your house once a month

- loves having his hair played with. actually, pets in general are good for him. he just loves when you ruffle his hair or scratches his back.

- oral fixation to the max. always has something in his mouth and usually sleeps with a chew toy bc if he doesn’t, he grinds his teeth really bad

nsfw

- speaking of oral fixation, loves having you in his mouth. fingers, pussy, ass, doesn’t matter. as long as something from your body is in his mouth, he’s happy

- he’s a switch with no real preference

- like he loves pinning you and marking you up, but he also likes taking orders and doing whatever you want him to do

- very obedient when he is sub, very eagar to please

- has a real bad breeding kink, especially close to his transformation. cumming inside is a requirement and he does get genuinely frustrated when he can’t.

- has a habit of growling during sex. just gritting his teeth and snarling while fucking you or while getting fucked

- biting.. always has his teeth sunk into you. shoulder, neck, thighs, anywhere he has access to will be bitten

- has the sweetest little puppy dog eyes while sub. looks like a dog begging for scraps and will whine like one too.

- very drooly. just a slobbering mess without trying. would have literal drops of spit leaking from him while panting above you and practically begging for some type of praise

- oh yeah, he’s also loves praise no matter what. telling him ‘good boy’ would leave him trembling no matter the context

ok that’s all i can think of add more if you want bc i love this shit

[roosterbox]

Fic Rec Friday 3/1/2024

Title: not everything becomes bullshit (not with you)

Rating: General Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: Gen, M/M

Fandom: Stranger Things (TV 2016)

Relationships: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Robin Buckley & Steve Harrington

Characters: Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson, Robin Buckley

Additional Tags: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Trauma, Eddie Munson Lives, Steve Harrington Needs a Hug, theyre a mess, Miscommunication, ya know the bullshit thing?, yeah - Freeform, that, thats the trauma, along with his damn parents, Healing, Cuddling

Summary: bullshit: n - stupid or untrue talk or writing; nonsense.

The thing with Nancy comes up with Eddie during an argument and Steve cannot seem to handle it.

———

For this, the last fic rec Friday (of this particular batch anyway), let’s take it back to the start. Back to the beginning of my newest obsession. So here you go - the first Steddie fic I ever bookmarked.

I went into this with next to no knowledge of the context surrounding it. I didn’t know about the whole bullshit thing, didn’t know shit about Family Video, or Vecna, or anything. Heck, I didn’t even know what their voices sounds like (almost still don’t in Eddie’s case - I’ll get to S4 eventually!). But the emotions, man. The emotions just drew me in. The dynamics. Even from this story, going in like 90% blind, I got the sense that I would latch on to Steve Harrington like a dog with a favored toy, and would never let go. Ever. Welp, here I am over a year later, still not letting go of my babygirl.

This fic easily established for me one of my favorite Steddie dynamics. That being emotional wreck!Steve and comforting!Eddie. Everything I’ve seen canonically makes Eddie seem like a great source of comfort. He looks like he’d give great hugs, you know? And Steve just deserves to be able to let himself go, emotionally speaking. That boy has been through A Lot in three or so years - either let him get therapy, or let him cry. Maybe both.

There aren’t very many other characters in this, other than Robin of course. Which is kind of as it should be. And that’s another aspect that I had no context for (still don’t, technically; S3 will continue! Soon!) - her platonic with a capital P relationship with Steve. There’s only a few crumbs of it here, but they are delicious. Also, yet another Steddie fic trope I love pops up here: Robin being extremely protective of Steve when she thinks that Eddie might have wronged him. It’s subtler here than I’ve seen in other stories, but that girl would go feral on a motherfucker for Steve’s sake. I adore that about her.

And let’s not forget that this fic features something else that I adore but rarely see in angsty fics - COMMUNICATION. A huge part of adding drama to relationships in fiction (in RL too let’s be real) is a distinct lack of communication. People keep secrets or dance around what they mean, when just SAYING SOMETHING straight up would solve so many fucking problems, lol. And while this may start out with typical miscommunication shenanigans, the shift when they realize that, no, we need to actually talk about this, is just too good. There’s even a line in the narration that says “communication is key and all that jazz, right?” YES, BOYS. YES. Talk to each other.

Lastly, and perhaps most importantly, the COMFORT in this emotional hurt/comfort story, is out of this world. I can deal with my Stevie baby being put through an emotional wringer as long as someone, preferably Eddie or Robin, is there to comfort him in the end. To remind him that, yes, he is loved beyond measure, and that he deserves said love. How lucky for me (and him) that this fic has comfort in it from both of them?

Just a beautiful, simple little h/c gem of a fic. Steve needs a hug, and he gets several of them. Perfect.

———

Next Week: Nothing! Zip! Nada! Null! This is, officially, the last of these fic recs I’m doing.

FOR NOW

Thanks so much for reading this, and for reading the fic if you do!

[jayde-jots]

Hello again, rewriting again here how would some specials or movies like with hero of the rails or adventure begins work out in giant au?(also I’m assuming scruffy incident doesn’t happen unless he’s asking for a wish)

Sorry for taking so long to answer this, I got distracted pretty quickly.😅

I've already made a fanfic for the adventure begins- HERE

As for Hero of the rails?

Spencer or as his name would be- Silver Link, is already a giant by the time the events in the story take place. In this story, I'd like to think Spencer is one out of a set of quadruplets and he's the only one whos a giant, the others are still engines. Two boys and two girls. So the ones who are still engines like to pull a Bill and Ben rather often. The first time the silver trio came to Sodor they tricked the engines into thinking that there was only one silver locomotive, despite their genders being different they all have a very similar voice so it wasn't hard to pull off. The Sodor engines and giants would just think that their really fast but in actuality there was just more than one of them, like when Bill and Ben pulled that prank on Connor. But their giant brother doesn't like to be seen, and he's very good at staying hidden. So the Sudrian engines and giants just think there's one Spencer snaking around the island until the end of the movie for the plot twist. With that explanation out of the way, lets get into the actual story- The Sodor giants and engines get teased by "Spencer" as per the original, until Thomas has even had enough and challenges him to a race. A thing I haven't mentioned yet about shunter giants is that they can curl up into a ball and roll around at high speeds Sonic the Hedgehog style, most giants or even engines don't know about this so it's Thomas's personal ace up his sleeve. "Spencer" gives Thomas his head start like per usual but he surprises everyone when he takes off at breakneck speeds by rolling away. But the problem then becomes that while he's fast he doesn't have all that much control. So he comes to an accidental crash into Hiro's hideout. Hiro was forgotten before the giant virus went global, so he wasn't ever vaccinated, which means, Giant Hiro! It then becomes a race against the clock to fix Hiro up before he fully transforms into a giant. The "Spencer"s notice this and try to figure out what's going on, but since Thomas carries the spare parts away from the tracks they have no clue what he's doing exactly, so they enlist the help of their big brother to help find out. That's all I got figured out for the start but at the end Thomas and Giant Spencer get into a bit of a scrap that makes Hiro act as well, showing the more aggressive and feral side of giants.

[witchlywonders434]

Meet my OCs 1/4

Name: Fenris ‘Fen’ Gunnhildr, The Beast, Wolf Man, Werebeast, Cambion

Age: Mid 20s-Early 30s

Personality: Emotionally driven, fun loving, loyal, protective and excitable, he’s not exactly known for his intellect, he’s also a bit of a mama’s boy(in a healthy way) and a little naïve and oblivious at times.

Backstory: Fenris is a Cambion(Half Demon) who’s parents were former slaves of the Coil, his demon father was killed while distracting a group of Coil Slave Catchers who invaded their home, allowing his mother to escape with a toddler in her arms, knowing that the Tainted Lands were not safe for them his mother fled to raised him seclusion in woods Death’s Clutch.

Years passed and he found himself in an Coil ambush while out late at night, cornered with no hope of escape something awoke from deep inside him: his first transformation allowed him to fight his way out, however he was overtaken by his baser instincts and unable to transform back until hours later, over time he was able to gain a degree of control over his transformation however he can still easily slip into a feral state while transformed and it was still easy for him to trigger an unwanted transformation through emotional outbursts. He went to the Demon Lands to find a way to sabotage the Militia’s imports and exports before Eddie’s arrival and was only able to return after the Coil’s takeover of Bladehenge he then helped chase the Coil back to their lands after Ironheade’s return becoming good friends with Eddie in the process who taught him how to play the guitar.

Now he regularly patrols Death's Clutch and the Eastern Continent with a small group of Headbangers and Razor Girls in search of any signs of Black Water rising up again if he's not going wild at the Beach Party.

Abilities: His Demonic Heritage gives him an improved sense of smell and hearing and slight night vision in his human form, he’s also has enhanced strength.

Demon Transformation: his previously mentioned attributes are further enhanced. He grows sharp claws strong enough to cut through steel, his bite force is strong enough to sever limbs, he is also able to considerably move faster his sense of pain is also mitigated in this form.

Weapons: A black and red Warlock guitar called Blood Moon and a pair of enchanted throwing axes that return to his hands when thrown. A Familiar Spirit in the form of a snow white Dire Wolf named Fannar who has with cryokenetic abilities he can summon with a solo and use as a method of transportation.

Weaknesses: He can lose control of his transformation and become feral making him dangerous to everyone on the battlefield, cannot fly, sensitive to loud noises and bright lights in human form and even more so in beast form, susceptible to being possessed by the Tears in beast form.

Skin contact with pure silver causes Fen to develop a burn like rash that almost seems to sear his skin causing him immense pain as he touches the metal. Inhaling the pollen of the Aconite flower (AKA Monkshood or Wolfsbane) make him have severe hay fever like symptoms in human form and it acts more like pepper spray in his beast form in high quantities. Not feeling pain as much in Beast Form means that he may not notice being severely injured until he transforms back.

Appearance: (He's 6'8 btw) Disclaimer: in TS4 he is actually a Vampire because I made him before the Werewolves pack came out

[wereh0gz]

Thinking about Archie comic's werehog

[neonovember]

The fine line between want and need

steve rogers x plus-size!short!reader

summary: dismissing the belief that captain america was checking you out, you push down any growing feelings of attraction in fear of rejection, but as the days go on, steve starts to lose patience, and one day, his desire becomes something you can’t ignore.

warnings; smut smut smutty smut, explicit scenes and language, obvious size kink, height difference, insecurity, self deprecation (a bit), over stimulation, cockwarming, fluff, (bucky’s a bit condescending but he loves you), domestication, dats it (i think)

author notes: yeah..I’m going through my cap phase again after rewatching captain america..who can blame me?? that clean shaven face and those broad shoulders…also size kinks are my favourite ever and stevie makes it so easy with his mammoth paws and bimbo ass lmao, hope you enjoy reading as much as I did writing this

When you first caught Steven Grant Rogers checking you out were doubt founded.

No, really, catching his blue eyes raking over your frame, lingering on the slit of your skirt had you frozen, stilled, paralyzed.

There was no way, no fucking way, Captain America was checking you out.

You didn’t want to sound self deprecating but it was him, Americas golden boy. The worlds best soldier and you, you were just a mere low level, Avengers archivist.

After making sure your eyes were working, scrubbing at them gingerly to not fucking lie to you, you opened them to see him again, stalking your frame. His bottom lip pulled between his teeth, a glinting expression on his face.

You begged your supervisor to let you leave early that day.

It wasn’t that you weren’t attracted to Steve, any one in their right mind within a 4 meter vicinity of his god like stature and chiseled face went into heat. Jumbling their sentences, mind warm and body sweating, acting dumb and fluttering.

He was just like that, making your already stumbling, unbalanced demeanor, 10x more stupid.

But you were scared, stilled from making any moves of pursuit by the imagined humiliation of being turned down by the star spangled, blue eyed soldier.

You’d never live it down, the heated embarrassment following you around like a shadow.

You’d surely have to transfer the hell out of SHIELD that’s for sure, you’d only hope the agent appointed to you would kindly leave out the reason behind your resignation.

being turned didn’t really look good on your resume.

So you continued catching the glances of Steve’s lingering gaze, eyes you could only describe as hungry and feral. The blue hues transforming into darkened black, pupils blown out.

You kept your distance, staring down hard whenever you’d catch his eyes, never quite holding it for more than a breathe.

Captain America, however was growing impatient. Now matter how many times he made he’s desire ridiculously obvious, you had always seemed to look the other way. Eyes darting everywhere but him.

He’d at first thought it was rejection, his cheeks burning red in embarrassment before realizing what it truly was.

You were shy.

He’s caught himself smirking at the realization, recognising your tells in a second. The way you’d pull back your hair, wrapping it as if it looked anything but perfect, or when you never held his gaze long enough, always looking beside or above him when he’d talk to you.

What he loved the most though, above anything, was when you pulled those pretty red lips in between your teeth. He’d watch you press pearly whites into the reddened skin, biting, gripping, teasing him with what was rightfully his.

He’d grabbed you then, when you were continuing your assault on your lips, seemingly ignorant to the torture you had bestowed on the avenger, he’d had enough.

Pushing you into one free rooms he luckily found, he pressed you to the file cabinet. Making sure it’s hinges didn’t press into you too hard enough, but enough to make you let out that pretty squeak.

God you were adorable, big framed glasses perched on that nose, owl eyes always donned with mascara and eyeliner, glitter pressed into the corners.

He didn’t usually get like this, always secure in his composure, always busy with avenger like duties. Or at least that was the lies he feed himself at night, mind rationalizing his avoidance of the dating realm.

Too big, too scary, to different.

He’d told Sam one after noon at a barbecue, passing him the meat and talking about his failed love life, or more so, his non existent one. Sam made sure to remind him that, you can’t fail at something you didn’t even try.

The fact was, dating in the 40’s was already a hassle, he couldn’t imagine that it was like in the 21st century.

But god did you mess him up, frazzle him with your squeaked apologies or kind gestures, your booming laughter swallowing the SHIELD level with bubbling euphoria. Quick bite remakes you’d throw at Tony that had you squeak with surprise, hand flying to your mouth, shock at your own losed composure.

Tony would throw his head back in laughter though, seemingly unbothered by your crude sarcasm and insult. Mumbling “now why can’t we have more people like you around here”

Gorgeous.

The serum running through his veins didn’t make it any easier, his heightened senses torturing him with the smell of you, the sweet, silky, bliss smell that you had. Your pecan skin glistening with your body wash, strawberry and something else he couldn’t put his finger one until he walked by a flower shop: patchouli.

Steve regarded himself a man with composure, a sense of decorum that came from the 40’s and the goodness within him. Yet whenever he’d catch glimpses of you within the hallways, always summer dresses and figure hugging skirts he felt his resolve slip between his fingers.

Those damn dresses, ruffled and colourful, some with patterns whilst others were simply plain, always falling onto your body like silk. Your curves and hips hugging the material until his dick was throbbing and his muscles twitched with want.

There was something about them, the dresses, how they sang to the feelings within his heart of his past. How they reminded him of the dames Bucky would bring along, how they spurred images and thoughts of you that had no right to evade him.

Images like you being bent over his desk, the ruffled hems of that goddamn dress pushed up, having you keen as he filled you, his chest pressing into your back. Or maybe having you on his lap, thick thighs wrapping around his, hips pushing down against him, begging, pleading, that sweet voice calling for him.

There were thoughts though, deep, mind whisking, daydreams he’s indulge in about you. He’d set his heart heavy with possibilities of a future, coming home to cooked meals and jazz, those sweet hips gliding to the melodies, hair pinned up and that apron he’d bought you around your waist. He practically thrusted at the image, before berated himself at his promiscuity. He didn’t stop though, never, the images following him like a reminder, you weren’t his just yet.

But your cunt, that pretty little pussy knocked him back a step each time you were in a 10 meter distance of him, brain fumbling at the taste, so close, right on his tongue. Those days he’d spend late at night, hands gripping his hardened length since that moment thinking of you.

“Why do I get the feeling you’re avoiding me?” He questions, looking towards you.

You were stumped, eyes wide, looking at him in confusion.

“Captain?, what- what do you mean? What is this?” You squeak, brain quite not believing what the eyes where seeing. The darkened meeting room was illuminated by the red glow of the projector, casting a shadow across Steve’s face. An expression that could only be described as deprived and predatorial took over his features, imprinting across his cerulean blues until they eroded into pitch black

“Oh I think you know exactly what this is sugar, god I knew you were shy but wringing a man on like this?”

“You could do some real damage” He growled,

You squealed at that, mind reeling as you realised.

He knows, knows your little stupid crush, and he wants you

The multitude of his want shown clearly when he pressed further into you, eyes searching your blown out ones. Smirking at the shock, at the realisation that he knew.

“What, though you could keep that little crush from me? I fought Nazis in Germany darling, a little shyness isn’t going to stop me from getting what I want” He growled, hand dipping low, squeezing the meaty flesh of your hips.

“What..what do you want Captain” You asked meekly, neck bent back with anticipation, hands tightening with his low groan at your endearment.

He looked down at you when you said that, eyes blooming with desire but also something else, a fondness, a hope, a sliver of insecurity he wore well.

“What I want? I want your legs over my shoulders so I can taste that sweet pussy that’s been on my mind for weeks”.

“And then, and then, I want to take you out to dinner, treat you real good, the way you deserve, the way I would’ve done in the 40’s” He replied smugly, eyes growing hued with longing of older times.

“Then, I’m going to slowly, carefully, undress that pretty little number you’ve gone and put on, glide my hands over your body, mark these goddamn curves,”

He groaned into the croon of your neck, hand gliding over the dip of your waist and the thick of your hips and thighs,

“And after I spend hours getting you wet and hot for me, I’m going to fuck you into the mattress until you don’t know anything but my name” He growled, eyes hungry with anticipation, fingers gripping buttons, a hard stomach pressed into the soft curve of your own.

Licking your trembling lips you pulled his head to meet yours, lips crushing in a heated embrace, all teeth and tongue, clashing and biting, the desperation you both held for each other shown nakedly in Steve’s tight grip and you arching back.

You might have to skip on dinner.

— -

That’s how you ended 5 months later, thighs on either side of Steve Rogers huge frame, feeble hands pressing into his chest. Crescening his skin with indentations as you gripped onto any salvage that he could give you.

Your body slid slowly, torturously up his length, your arms flexing at your raised hips, trying, and failing at bringing yourself down on him, your sweet moans falling out at the friction.

Steve laid under you, eyes glittering in memorization as he looked up at you, the scene burning a greedy memory into his mind. Kept for when missions went for too long, or days where he was needed anywhere else but between your legs.

Your curls wet with sweat, your face scrunched in pleasure, brows furrowed in concentration at your fumble attempt at lowering yourself on his length.

Steve found it humorous, hiding back a chuckle at your struggle. How you slipped and grunted out at every raise of your hips, movements slow and sloppy.

Never used to how fucking big he was, how he could take you so well, whilst you struggled on top of him.

Needing, pleading his help, his soft hands around your hips to bring you that mind scattering pleasure.

Steve reviled in how your thighs could barely wrap around him, pressing into his hips, the soft muscle making him groan. Whilst you weren’t petite by any means, all plump, soft, and curvaceous, you body was still so small compared to Steve. Straining against his mass of muscle, fleshy hips still not enough cushioning for his brutal thrusts.

He’d noticed it from the start, in fact, one of the reasons why he was so enamored by you was because of the noticeable size difference. Moments in Avengers elevators where you could barely meet his shoulders left him hard and throbbing, rerouting his designation to his office to take care of the growing bulge pressing against his jeans.

You were just so short, and in moments like this, where your legs barely brushed against his calf? Where your soft curves trembled across his mass of muscle, where you couldn’t even raise your hips all the way, sent him into a frenzy.

Growing even more hard and increasingly impatient, he pressed his mammoth hands to your meaty hips, bringing them down onto his cock, the erotic sound of skin on skin music to your ears.

You squeaked in surprise, his massive length was too much, it filled you to the brim. Left you shuddering on his lap, eyes rolled to the back of your head as he continued his onslaught.

“Eyes open peach, I need to see you” He groaned out, before pistoling his hips up into you. Holding your hips down in a flush, keeping you pierced on his length with nowhere to escape.

Cracking a hesitant eye open, you were met with a sight that sent a wave of slick to your pussy, pulse tightening with the erotic image in front if you.

Steve was laying against the headboard of the bed, his golden locks a messy heap. Mussed with sex and heat, strands stuck to the perspiration on his forehead.

His face was flushed red, his usual pale skin now coloured with arousal and lust. His kiss swollen lips were pulled into his teeth, as he watched your short limbs fail to keep up with his huge frame.

His pace unrelenting and so unforgiving it left you arching your back painfully, begging, crying for reprieve which only spurred him to go deeper.

Planting his feet, Steve drove into you harder, less than a breathe before he dove back in, his length glistening with your slick.

Your pussy latching onto him each time he thrusted back in, the sight left him groaning obscenities into your ear, pulling you lose to him until your tits pressed against his hard chest.

“Please, Stevie, I need it” You groaned, a blubbering mess on top of him. You felt the familiar tightening in your belly, the cord growing thinner and thinner until you were oh so close.

“Fucking velvet, the way your gripping me, shit, sugar, I know, I’ll get you there” He groaned out, sensing your impending orgasm, feeling the tightening of your walls around his cock.

The twitching of your thighs, unable to take on his continued pace. His unrelenting pace. Steve knew all your tells, sensing every goosebumps on your body before it appeared, feel every step off the cliff before you even climbed it, Steve just knew.

He’d ingrained his mind with every release of your quaking body beneath him, memorised you coming apart from his hands, his mouth, his words.

With a large arm wrapped around your back, pressing you to his stomach, his body contorted yours to a new position that sent him deeper within you.

Catching that spongy spot in your walls, crying out in desperation, your fingers pressed into the bed spread, trying to pull away from the pleasure that was too good.

Sensing your body shaking with overstimulated, Steve chuckled at your failed escape, holding his arm tighter, bringing you even closer to the edge.

“There it is, right here huh” Steve groaned, grinding into the spot that sent you into an incoherent mess. Eyes fluttering with stars, hot white pleasure dripping down your spine.

“No no no, you can take it, you will take it. I want you to feel it all, every last bit, I can’t have you running from me huh?”

You merely let out a strangled moan, mind reeling into subconscious desire. Until your brain couldn’t comprehend anything besides him, and the heavenly sensations he was giving you.

You could feel yourself tethering over the edge, your body going plaint against Steve’s, losing motory sensations and cognitive awareness as you succumb to the euphoric saccharine pleasure.

“I’m so close Stevie, so close, please, I need you” You managed to cry out, the coiling burning within you, scorching your belly with hot anticipation, walls fluttering and clenching with need.

You hear Steve groan loudly behind you, grunting out praises and obscenities that fell on muffled ears. Mind too consumed with want, too consumed with reaching the peak.

The bottomless pit of pleasure you were swimming though was reeling it’s head and you gripped Steve tighter, pressing your fingertips deeper into his chest. Indenting into his skin until copper blood sprang forth, you bent down to lick off your abuse, mind hazy and body boneless.

Steve reached done to rub your pulsing clit, pressing his fingers to the bundle of nerves causing you to abruptly jump out. Forcing you to arch your back in overstimulation, eyes glazing with tears at the nearing of your climax.

Fastening his already brutal pace, Steve put his serum laced stamina to good work, barely needed to thrust out before diving back. The squelching sound of skin hitting skin sounding like a bad porno.

Steve buried to the hilt, until his own pelvis slammed into your hips, even the meat of them not enough cushioning for his brutal thrusts. His cock slid easily through your folds, silk velvet walls clamping down, causing him to shout in pleasure, cursing, praising, worshipping you.

Steve Grant Rogers was a dirty sinner, a man plagued with unholy desires and unhinged insatiability.

And he was on his knees, at your altar, begging for repentance.

“It’s too good, you’re too good sugar, been thinking bout this the whole day, this pussy making me hard as fuck halfway through meetings” He groaned out, eyes fluttering close, face warmed and glazed with pleasure.

Steve looked gorgeous like this.

Disheveled and unkempt and dazed and in love, he wasn’t making orders or cramping his back with mission reports. Or growing grey hairs with the stress that was given to him the moment he was laced with serum.

Steve could just lose himself; in you, in pleasure, in the blinding hue of love.

“Christ, just look at you, my gorgeous baby” He growled out, his eyes glowed with a kind of admiration.

As if it would be his greatest honor to die at the hands of you, to die under you, to have his last breathe stolen by you.

And as if he could sense your thoughts, he’s skilled fingers circled your swollen pearl, rubbing with a tenderness that shook you with iridescent pleasure.

Collecting the slick collecting around his buried length, the soppy mess of your arousal coating his fingers, bringing them up to your lips as he dragged the wetness across them. Before dipping his fingers into his own mouth, licking his fingers clean like honey, groaning at the taste.

“The best meal I’ve ever had peaches, I’m a starving man when it comes to you, always” He growled out, eyes darkened as he watched you lick the arousal from your lips. Moaning at his words, his promises, he’s oaths.

Steve drew deeper, newfound determination powering his animalistic and feral pace, trying to get you to the finish line fast enough. He’s prior denial to your orgasm disintegrating after your groaned pleas, he could never deny you for too long.

It was a truth you divulged in for a second, a second before the binded coil snapped in two, splintering into shards of spine burning pleasure.

And before you could blink, before you could let out another whined moan, you were thrown over the edge. Blanketed in white hot pleasure that rang through your entire body, until the tips of your toes and the hairs on your head bristles with your orgasm.

All you could manage was a strangled wail of his name, chanting the syllabus like gospel as the fluttering beginnings of another orgasm began its descent.

“Shit shit shit shit,” Loud profanities rang from the blond, losing himself in you, feeling the depths swam.

“Just like that sugar, fuck, scream my name, I want everyone in the entire fucking world to know your mine, that I’m yours.

Say it, speak my name like it’s burned into your skin, repeat it like it’s the only thing you know” Steve growled out in a croak, his own release nearing, his thrust growing sloppy with burning pleasure and the feeling of your walls around him.

He never quite got used to it, the first sink into you, the way your pussy enveloped him, welcomed him in like he was meant to be there, like he was a part of you, molded for each other lifetimes and centuries ago. Scorched into hot sand and inked into scripture. Destiny made before man, the cards drawn before even Thor was whispered into mythological lineage.

Your walls clamped down in desperation, gripping Steve’s cock like an anchor, sinking its claws and stilling his unrelenting thrusts that grew sloppy with your climax.

You pulsed your cunt impossibly tighter around Steve’s length, pulling him over the cliff, urging him to his release. With one last groan and pushing thrust, Steve finally fell.

Moaning out your name like worship, Steve never faltered his thrusts. Pushing deeper, pulling your hips lower until he was nothing but buried within you, painting you walls full of his white hot pleasure.

His thighs shake with release, thrust sluggish with euphoria.

Coming back from the tethering high, uncraning his bent neck, and opening his eyes, Steve Rogers looked down at you with nothing but pure adoration and love. Wonderment was the only word that could describe his expression, and it was in awe of you.

His cock still pulsed within your walls, and his body shook from the savagery that had just occurred, but Steve just looked at you. Your dazed, blissed expression, your overstimulated high that you were coming off. You never looked any more gorgeous to him then you did now, disheveled and sweaty with the feral, devilish acts you’d just performed.

In moments like this, in nights like this, where it was just the two of you and the music of your bodies, Steve felt infinite. Like the trauma and grief of a man out of time was gone with the wind, until what was left was just you. Just you and him, where time knew no bounds, and the love you shared carried you into Millenia.

Steve felt a lot like that with you, the burning starts of feelings he hadn’t felt in a long time, the anxieties and possibilities and futures he’d lose himself in during missions and debriefs. You had sunk your perfectly manicured finger into the super soldier, and he wasn’t just wrapped, he was goddamn cemented.

Cradling your soft body into his chest, Steve made no moves to lift you off him, content in laying there, his softening cock nestled to the hilt.

“Stevie?” You whispered, brain still scrambled from the mind altering orgasm, body still jittering with the aftershocks. Steve paws, hands smoothing down your goosebumped skin, pressing soft circles across your spine.

He hummed in response, a lazy reply as he basked in the post nut hue granted to him.

“I, I should probably get up” You groaned out, after trying to lift yourself up, his soft but big length gliding along your slick walls, again.

You never quite got used to his size, always wincing when he sat to the hilt, the burn of it sending you into panted breaths, before that world rocking pleasure took over.

Steve groaned out in response to your movement, before gripping your hips back down.

“I just, -not yet, I just wanna feel you, can we stay like this?” Steve whispered back, vulnerability lacing his tone, his eyes shining in a desperate whined way that had you conceding.

Nodding, you rested back against his chest, turning his large body to the side, pressing you softly into him, curling your head into his neck. Breathing out a huff of content.

—-

You had remained like this, molded, conjoined, connected, until the morning rays filtered through the linen curtains of your windowsill. The caramel hues casting a golden glow across the room, the white walls covered in Steve built shelves, picture frames and draped fabric shining with the wake of the sun.

You and Steve always woke with the sun, a hard transition you dealt with out of love when you first moved in. You were used to waking during the moons of the day, the afternoon bustle being the chirping birds to your wake.

Steve woke like he always did, eyes first scanning his surroundings, his ingrained training and suspicion never faulting even in dazed half wake.

You rested against his chest, your thighs pressed to his bent knee, one leg draped over his own. The blankets crumbled and strewn to the side, becoming estranged in your sleep until they rested at the edge.

His length was still nestled in you, warmed and wrapped around your slick velvet walls. Steve took a moment to relish in the luxury, head tilted back, eyes shut as he hummed with satisfaction and gratefulness to whatever god that had given him this gift of you.

Easing out of your still sopping heat, Steve groaned out in the insatiable pleasure he always had for you, your walls tightening even in your sleep, as if to say, come back.

Slowly maneuvering himself off of you, careful not to disturb your slumber, Steve huge body dipped towards the edge of the bed. Cringing slightly at his hugeness, cursing his lazy limbs as they unabashedly knocked over the few things scattered on the bedside table.

As much as Steve had thought he’d grown used to his gigantic frame, 90 years was still not enough for him to grow familiar with his mammoth size. Still the sickly thin boy from Brooklyn, as much as he tried to forget. Steve sometimes felt he was just that, except in a body that wasn’t his, granted to him in a bottle instead of his own brute work.

And even though through missions that required stealth, Steve carried them out in precision and expertise, silent on his feet as if he weighed nothing.

Quick with his moves as if he was made of marble, whenever he’d come home in the early mornings and depths of nights he’d never quite make it to bed without toppling over at least a few vases and hanged ornaments.

You’d never get angry though, simply amused at this exasperation, chuckling at the way he’d forgotten his own large stature. Before he’d turn around and tell you how he’d make sure you’d remember.

He did, every single time.

Carding a hand through mused hair, Steve perched on the edge of the bed, naked and blissed out with sleep and sex.

Turning towards your sleeping frame, he curled back the few coils that sprang forth from your head wrap. Before gliding his hands across the points of your face, fingers following the lines and crevices that he adored so much.

The morning glow casting a bronzing hue across your already pecan skin, Steve reveled in the way you excused utter feminine energy, the aura of you surrounding the room with its thick dulcet.

The edges of you glinting with iridescence, a goddess, he whispered under his breath.

You looked like a goddess undisturbed, asleep, the masking of rest easing the tensions you held so well, the morning shining the indescribable youth you always had at every age.

Pressing a feather kiss to your forehead, Steve gathers the blankets around you, letting you rest for the little time before you’d come tumbling down stairs.

Hastily drugging sweatpants onto his hips, Steve quickly made work of showering and washing the musk of sleep and sex from his body. Making his movements downstairs, his hands jittered with eagerness for the day.

Mind reeling with the taste of coffee he’d brew and your Romanian bread you’d learnt from the likes of Bucky's current cooking obsession.

He loved the sweet loaf of dough you’d make each morning, promising it was better than Bucky’s. Even when you’d protested, chastising him that it was the man himself that taught you, he pulled you into his side at that. Whispering he didn’t care, even whilst Bucky rolled his eyes and smacked him upside the head.

The morning changes colours as it goes through its motions, waves of vermilion and amber paint the granite benches and white encrusted cabinets. The French doors open wide and naked, flushing the kitchen with a luminous light as Steve begins the brewing of coffee.

And almost like a sacred song that called you forth, you made your sleepy, and very unbalanced descend down the stairs.

Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you found purchase on one of the stools perched on the island. Dazed bliss wrapped you like a blanket as you knelt your chin on your hand, eyes silently watching your lover.

After a few moments of hummed silence, apart from the occasional rustle of trees and animals burrowed into the spring bushes, you cut the comfort with a small chuckle. Eyes still watching Steve moving around, his limbs lazy with sleep but still efficient with that never leaving agility.

“You know you don’t always have to do this, make coffee” You shrugged out, it was tedious work, something you hated doing living alone. Something you solved with the many expensive coffee shops on street corners.

Sure you missed the sweet nutty taste of freshly brewed coffee, but you weren’t going to sweat your way through the precision and carefulness it took.

He simply hummed back, and before you thought he hadn’t heard you, which was impossible, he turned towards you with a glinting smile.

“I know, I just want to” He voiced back huskily and low with the early morning air.

You hummed back, grinning at the way he was so utterly kind and thoughtful, so careful and knowing and good. You didn’t even ask him to make coffee everyday for you, he just did it.

And it brought you to tears because you had never experienced someone doing that, just think of you, do things for your convenience. Occupy their mind with your desires, your wants, your needs.

Sure you fell in love, but in all the years on earth, and all the experience of past relationship’s, you had never, never had a love like this.

It marched you over to his towering height, face pressing into his chest. You could never reach his shoulders, eyes squeezing in gratitude and love.

“Well thank you, Stevie, even if it’s some ingrained thing in you to be fucking amazing. Still, you’re too good to me” You mumbled out into him.

He laughed at that, reaching down to wrap his hands around your face;

“I like the blissed look on your face when I fill that mug of yours even more” He smiled, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your lips. All the fervor still there but without the feralness of last night.

You snorted into the kiss, lips twisting with humor as you leaned back to look him in the eye.

“Ew gross, you two are a bunch of goddamn rabbits in heat” You hear the sounds of the soldier before you see his stomping feet come from the hallway. Steve hardened against you, shocked by his friends arrival.

“Bucky. What are you doing here so early?” Steve grumbled out, obviously vexed by the rude intrusion into the start of another spine tingling fucking.

“I keep hearing my name in your mouth Steve, and I don’t like that..” Bucky begins his saunter towards the blonde, as Steve rolls his eyes Bucky simply titters him with narrowing blues.

“Disrespecting my cooking? Calling my beloved loaves,” He mockingly blinked back false tears at that.

“My Romanian bread distasteful? While I don’t doubt that this girl over here’s cooking is good and all, but to call her hardened block of flour superior to my sweet heavenly bread..”

“Hey!” You tore out, half amused at Bucky’s rambling over bread and the increasing annoyance that crept into Steve’s face.

“So while you may be wrapped around her little finger, you’ve gotta have some decency to truth here Stevie. No need to lie, just admit my bread is better, that's it,” Bucky continues his early morning ramble, left hand on his hip, whilst his right motions around him.

His hand making circular motions resembling whipping towards the blond, the ex assassin was a sight to behold.

Steve begins pushing him through the door, eager in getting him out to continue what he started.

“And even if her pussy is that good it’s no match for carbs Steve! Quit the lyin’ and give in!” Steve harshly shoved him through the brownstone doors at that, eyes narrowing at his audacity. Whilst you grinned at the childish alteration that didn’t seem real this early in the morning.

You could still hear the mumbled shouts from outside as Bucky tried to peruse Steve into his unmoving truth. That food was more important than girlfriends and relationships and everything he didn’t have.

Finally alone, Steve looked back towards you with an unreadable expression. Leaning against the brown doors, blue eyes scanning your face.

“You know he’s right” Steve began, head tilted back until it hit the hardwood.

“What?” You questioned, Steve hadn’t really thought Bucky’s rambling was coherent, right?

“You have me wrapped around your finger darling” He smiled at the way your amused smile flashed into raised shock.

He leaned forward bringing you up to his chest, causing you to tumble towards him.

“I’m practically pussy whipped” He mumbled into your ear grinning at the way you gulped nervously, goosebumps littering your skin as you took in the truth of his words.

His vulgar, slang, words he no doubt learned from Sam. Steve’s eyes musing towards your already pulsing heat, pussy slick with arousal at Steve’s unabashed confession.

Steve pressed his lips to yours, pulling your curled bun towards his face. Brushing his hands over your rounded ass, Steve gripped and massaged the curve, grinning when you let out a squeak.

But before Steve could venture further, an all too familiar booming voice rumbled into the living room. Feet stomping with new determination as if they had already failed at their mission before.

Bucky stalked in, grinning with a smile, except he had dragged along Sam this time. Earning a loud groan of annoyance from Steve as you all but snickered at Bucky’s unrelenting mission of proving Steve wrong.

“Here, an unbiased decider, so that the final say won’t be tainted by..l-..love” Bucky made a childish gagging voice, “I hope you’ve sharpen your knives doll face, cause I’m coming for you jugular” Bucky smirked before quickly dodging the punch Steve threw.

His legs scurrying away in laughter as he made his way to the kitchen, already setting up measuring cups and glass bowls.

Steve grumbled about today being a relaxing morning, eyes burning holes into Bucky’s moving frame. Cursing his oldest friend under his breath.

You turned towards him, draping your arm over his shoulder, feet on the tips, hands scratching the hairs on the nape of his neck.

“I better go protect my name, can’t have him slandering my cooking” You smiled looking up at the blonde.

“Don’t worry,” Steve whispered into your ear, “You’ve got Sam in the palm of your hand as well” Steve smirked.

Even if Sam never admitted it, he’d grown to adore you, and would take any chance given to go against Bucky. Relishing in the soldier’s exasperation over his disrespected cooking, unbiased your ass.

“Oh, I know, why do you think I’m giving Buck over here a head start” You grinned back motioning to the soldier busing himself with flour and sugars, mind going over the notes he no doubt made for the day.

Steve watched your retreating form with a smile, resting his head on the wall near the hallway ottoman. His eyes crinkling at the way you stood with your hands on your hips as Bucky tried to strangle the flour away, keeping it hostage in his side, Sam moving to unlatch it from his cradle.

Picking up the hastily thrown shoes Bucky ripped off in his scurry from Steve, he placed it on the shoe rack near the front door. He never missed the way your fluffy slippers stood out against his black combat boots, somehow a perfect fit, the perfect mold.

He never wanted to stop tasting your morning bread, or miss your fired tongue at Bucky’s unnecessary condescension. Such fire and snide compacted in such a small body. You put the ex-assassin, killer avenger in his place without hesitation, something Steve never stopped telling you he adored.

Steve couldn’t remember his life before you, a simply frazzled memory that left him speechless at its reality. That he had gone a life without you in it, gone a life without the three people he loved more than himself arguing in the kitchen.

The bickering voices of Sam, Bucky and you, played the soundtrack to the life he lives now. And Steven Grant Rogers, wouldn’t trade it for the world.

[phantomenby]

Not a worm

aldhidbah asked:

By chance for the requests, could you do a scenario where the poly lost boys end up meeting a dragon reader.

Something quite new for me but it was v fun to write, I hope you like it bubs <3

It's no surprise that Paul sees you first, having gone on one of his late-night runs for munchie snacks he had been stumbling through the woods while nibbling on some twizzlers.

He thought he smelt something sweeter than the snack he had and began looking around for the poor soul who had decided to wander into his territory so late at night.

To his surprise there was a happy little human tiptoeing along the cliffside, humming to themselves with their arms stretched out like a little bird.

"Now if I could just get the balance right-" you yelped as you tumbled to the side, losing your balance and going over the edge of the tall cliff you had been practicing on.

If you had been human the fall would have killed you, but your body instinctually transformed you into your spirit form, it began elongating as your arms spread out into grand wings covered in large freckles.

Shooting back up into the sky you let yourself disappear into the clouds, completely unaware of the bewildered figure below watching you fly away.

Honestly, Paul was becoming very concerned about what he had been smoking. I mean, of course, he had hallucinated before, drugs had changed a lot in his one hundred years of livin' and had fucked him up in many ways, but this felt almost too real.

I mean

He could smell you.

Heading back to the cave he kept glancing back to where you had been, from the edge of the cliff to the sky above, when he saw nothing there he shook his head and slid down into the cave stumbling past Marko and laying down on the fountain edge.

"You good Paul?" Marko asked him from where he stood in his alcove, fussing with one of his prized pigeons.

He didn't answer, watching as the roof of the cave spun above him, reaching up towards the shells and starfish which swayed with the breeze flowing in and around the cave.

Dwayne was doing circles around him on his skateboard, practicing a new trick he saw a kid doing on the boardwalk the night before, landing with a thud beside Paul after he almost fell onto his behind. Looking down at his zoned-out brother he decided it would be fun to waste the next few hours messing with him, flicking his head and pinching his cheeks and Paul tried to scratch him, hissing like a feral cat.

"Pffft dude what did you take this time."

"Shut up princess, the guy said it would make my pizza taste nice," he hissed, snapping his fangs towards the hand pulling on his nose, letting his head be tossed around as his body flopped down in defeat, "besides, not like it can kill me, saw some funny shit though- ow! Dude cut it out."

Dwayne gave up with a laugh, fluffing up Paul's hair before resuming his task of riding circles around him, making him dizzier.

"What did you see this time then?" David was watching the two of them with a smirk, lazily taking another drag of his cigarette.

Paul's face scrunched up as he tried to focus on what he had seen, trying his best to describe it, "oh like, y'know one of those like fuzzy noodle worms?"

"Those what?-" Marko was slowly turning red, letting his birds go as he hopped down to sit on the couch across from Paul, trying his best not to laugh at him.

"Shhhh, let me think. Those fluffy worms, that are all bendy and have googly eyes, but like, this one-man I don't know. It was glowing and shit, and before it was this human that fell off the cliff-"

Paul went on with his ramblings for a solid hour before they made him stop, dragging him to their nest as he kept talking about the fluffy sky noodle.

Your day could have been better.

There was a storm coming in from the East that was throwing you off while you practiced, trying to get the jump right. It wasn't anything special, just a move you saw some synchronized swimmers do that looked fun.

By the time night set in you had got pretty tired, having walked all the way up to the highest cliff that overlooked the lighthouse and bluff you had been trekking along the night before.

Taking a seat and dangling your feet over the edge you decided to have something to eat and reached into your backpack, pulling out the thick sandwiches you prepared in the morning, they were a little stale and cold but you would need your energy to make it home.

"I never realised how good the sunset would look from here," munching away happily you watched the golden globe disappear beyond the horizon, the sky transforming from a fiery orange to a blossoming pink and finally a deep blue. Within the hour you would be able to see the stars come out, the light of the town not reaching this far.

Looking down towards the bluff you watched as four figures appeared, eyes squinting as you tried to take in their distant forms.

"Where the fuck?-" you ducked down when the one with pure white hair glanced in your direction, laying your body down so you would be mostly hidden by the long grass. When he turned away with a shake of his head, leading the other three who were now tussling towards the forest.

David was not happy.

Paul had hardly slept after whatever he had smoked and kept him up for most of the night.

Dwayne and Marko were perfectly fine, chipper and well-rested as they bounced around the cave messing with each other.

Even worse he had run out of smokes and would have to interact with some dumb human to get some more. He would definitely be hypnotising them for a free pack, there was no way he was going through the trouble of pickpocketing someone just to get his fix.

Everything smelt funny too, like some odd funk seeping through the ocean air he was used to. Not a bad smell, but not human, and not familiar.

He thought he was going insane when he saw something on the high cliff, thinking he was going mad, no human dared go up there in this kind of weather. Even he and his boys avoided it.

"Stop dawdling idiots, some of us have places to be," he pushed Marko away when he wrapped his arm around David's neck, pushing his finger into his cheek and cooing at him.

"Awee did someone wake up on the wrong side of the waterpipe-" he stumbled back as he was shoved, recovering quickly and moving towards his taller blonde brother who was trying to roll a blunt to puff on the way, "you know we could get you some of those foam earplugs, but they might not fit in those big ears of yours-"

"Shut up"

By the time they had ridden down into town David was ready to claw his packmate's eyes out, a headache was slowly setting in and he was considering forgetting the night altogether and calling in early.

So that's just what he did, 'buying' a couple of packs of his favorites and heading back to their nest, he had just begun to descend down the stairs on the side of the cliff when he glanced up to the sky.

"Holy-" his cig was quickly forgotten as he stared wide-eyed at something moving through the clouds, a long pale shape weaving and twisting its lithe form above him.

God, he would never let Paul ruin his sleep again. Just one night and his mind was already playing tricks on him.

The next day you decided to take a break from training, choosing to spend the good weather and now much clearer sky relaxing on the beach.

Within a few hours your skin was fairly toasty, honestly, you needed it, going out most nights had left you feeling gross from the lack of vitamin D.

You wondered how you would look to all of the people around you, covered head to toe in dark freckles that coated your skin like you had been kissed by the gods.

It's a good thing your variant was made for the winter otherwise you would have been little more than a husk. Goodness knows how your cousin was doing trekking across Alaska when they were a sun sprite.

"Now where did I put that-" you dug around your backpack, hunting for the small sketchbook that you carried around with you at all times.

Since yesterday your mind had been focused on the men walking across the bluff so late at night, feeling intrigued by their strange nature. You had sketched them all loosely, drawing little more than their body shape, varying hairstyled and clothing. Even from afar, you could tell they were quite pretty.

And at least now you knew what the odd scents in the air were. They clearly lived somewhere along the cliff or spent most of their time there since their stench was strong.

Maybe another night you would explore, or even approach them, even if they weren't harmless you could always shoot off the ground and fly away from them. Dazzling humans was easy and tended to leave them too disorientated to believe that you were even real in the first place.

When they left their nest the next night there was a new smell buzzing around their home, going all the way across the cliffs down towards the neverending beach in front of their home.

It set Marko off instantly, sniffing around like a bloodhound as he tried to track it down.

His nose was his greatest tool, Paul's too, but Marko's wide eyes helped him spot things his dopey friend could not.

He was stumped though, the scent just ended, went out into the ocean, and never returned. By the end of the night, he was chewing through his gloves and bouncing his foot in irritation as David and Dwayne discussed things between them.

"All I'm saying is that we can't do anything about it David, we have no scent, not sight of whoever- whatever it could be. I'm worried too but if we wait and look out over the next few nights we might be able to see something."

David had gone through an entire pack that night, already making another trip to the small convenience store he had been borrowing from for years, they never remembered his face after his encounters with the staff there, always wondering why their inventory kept going missing.

"Agreed. We'll hunt tonight and Marko and Paul can try and track the scent if it comes up again. Let's just keep a lookout tonight boys?" They nodded in unison, eyes focused in different directions over the boardwalk, "if you see anything, smell anything, follow it."

The farmers market was open at last.

Apparently, it was a new thing in Santa Carla, but you had grown up with them since you grew up in the East, Asia was your home and the good food was always cherished.

God, it had been so long since you had seen food set out like this. It felt just like home.

You had bought an obscene amount of strawberries, cherries, and baby cucumbers. Taking a bag of them to the cliffs with you and leaving the rest in your fridge to gorge on over the coming week.

It was a good thing you could hunt for fish in the ocean most of the week, snacking on kelp as you hid beneath the waves to satisfy your ravenous appetite. If you had to buy most of your food you would be deep into debt.

Getting jobs wasn't hard though, you worked small shifts at a diner and the local library most days, sometimes even a couple of hours cleaning up the beach.

It got you out into society and the fresh air most days and that was all you needed.

Moaning in delight as the sweet cherry was crushed between your teeth, spitting out the pip mid-chew before licking your fingers and closing the bag back up. You had already consumed half of what you had brought with you, fingers now stained a deep rouge as you tried to lick the berry blood from them.

It was already pretty late at night, your shift didn't start until two PM the next day so you figured you would enjoy the cool breeze and float around for a few hours. The sky was clear and the ocean reflected the stars and moon above beautifully, it was enchanting and you weren't going to miss out on it.

Slipping off your shoes and knitted jumper you took a deep breath, running towards the edge of the cliff and leaping off into the open air. Your body was pulled down by gravity towards the imposing ocean, air flying through your hair as you laughed in delight, feeling your change begin - just missing the water as your wings glided across the darkness below before ascending into the sky.

OK so

maybe Paul had seen a worm...of sorts

But this was so much better, and worse.

I mean

what the fuck

The four of them were looking on with wide eyes as the human they had been observing changed, growing into a great beast that slid across the ocean and into the dark sky above.

"Paul-"

"Marko-"

"That's not a fucking worm-"

"Well I said it was a fuzzy worm, not just a worm, it's like a sky noodle"

His smaller brother stared at him, mouth agape before flickering back to where you were, weaving around like an eel does beneath the ocean.

"David-"

"No." David dismissed Dwayne, lighting another cigarette and pinching the bridge of his nose.

"What the fuck to do you mean 'no'?! There's a- a, a fucking dragon flying around above us," he turned to his tall blonde companion, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him harshly, "Paul, I swear to all that is holy, if you drugged my fucking drink I will kill you-"

"Hey! I haven't pulled a stint like that since the sixties, chill out man, y'all just need ta' accept that it's real."

Then Paul, the genius that he is, had an amazing idea.

His brothers hadn't realised he had left them until they saw him chasing after the 'sky noodle', shouting after it like he had found a dog in the park.

Whatever the thing was had spotted him flying behind it and had begun spinning to avoid his touch, becoming more and more panicked as it zigzagged across the sky.

It had been so peaceful, the soft breeze running through your fur, talons stretching as you bobbed along. Until someone started shouting behind you, which wasn't fucking possible, you were pretty high in the air and no human should have been able to spot you or be remotely near you.

Turning your head back your glowing mauve eyes darken as they lock on to the blonde creature tailing you, shooting down towards the ocean to miss his hands.

"What the fuck is that" whatever it was was gaining on you, moving efficiently across the sky as it tracked your movements.

"Wait!" You could hear him calling out to you but chose to ignore it, hoping it would get the message and fly away, as you spun around him you realised he was one of the men from the cliff, the one with sky blue eyes who stank of weed, "dude chill! I just wanna ride your back sky worm-"

Growling you ascended, going as high as you possibly could, feeling your lungs burn.

'Shit shit shit', your mind was racing, no matter how high you went he wouldn't let up, 'oh god, not now! Not now!'. You began to see spots of blue and black across your vision, your body feeling tight as it shrunk and returned you to your human state.

As your body fell back you saw the man chasing you, reaching his hand out as your eyes rolled into the back of your head, feeling arms surrounding you before you blacked out.

Well shit

The worm Paul had been chasing had now transformed into a very not worm thing, looking almost human but with prominent facial features he would expect from a half-turned vampire.

He descended back to the cliff where his brothers had been watching on, Marko meeting him halfway and looking in wonder at the being in his brother's arms.

"What happened?"

Paul shrugged as he placed you on the ground, crouching down to feel your pulse, it was strong and your flesh was still warm to the touch. Phew. He felt kinda bad, maybe if he had just left you alone you would have been awake and could talk to them.

"Well Paulie, I guess they're not a worm."

Ah, Paul stroked his hand along your cheek, smoothing his thumb over your brow bone as he watched you with curiosity.

Not a sky worm indeed.

"God, I need a drink, come on let's take them to the cave" David was already heading towards the stairway, hairs looking a lot more grey than white in the pale moonlight.

[that-myllesstrauss-guy]

Idea that i had in mind about my fanfic, i gave Travis a whole wolf.

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So for Coreless, my fic between Travis x my OC i gave Travis a wolf dog, now hear me out it can be a little goofy but it actually have context. For thoses that somehow want to see this work stop here rigth now but for thoses that don't care or will never touch that history go ahead because i just want to speak my mind.

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So about that, i gave him a wolf dog because the history got this way, in the middle of the developing all that werewolf Travis and his dilemmas he tried to train himself. Pass the nigth starving while he was transformed, put himself into a place with water while he was binded, all that, so between those trains he tried to control forcing his hand between a thing that would remind something close to him as a wolf shaped creature, a dog. He catched a dog around the area of North Kill and he passed a whole month caring over him, the act of care could bring him a snap outta something that could bring a new thing for his feral mind while he was a werewolf, but that wasn't the case, unfortunately in that moment it wasn't the case, he killed the dog when the full moon came "and i'm sorry for that!", Off course it would happen, but that didn't stop him, he noticed the way that he killed the dog, he didn't eat him even though his werewolf side didn't ate since his first lockdown, he didn't quarter, he just killed with a quick attack on the dogs neck, something really happen to him, territorialism? He thought this way.

Something to add: The Werewolf Caleb will not attack Kaitlyn if she is already bitten in the Hacketts Quarry summer camp, meaning them recognize their own.

Now knowing that he did the same in the next month with female dog, now he didn't kill her, but she got hurt real bad after all his failed attempts to try to kill her, he was holding on, trying all the time to contain himself and it worked in a way, the dog didn't die that night but in the vet's bed she had passed away "I know, I know, it's dark but it's for the story sake", now he needed a final prove that he could handle himself with at least between animals/people that he knew however, in the meantime some co-workers felt his loss (in this fic only Caleb survived along side with him) so them menage a organized party to honor the Hackett family for all their years of service to the entire North Kill in a cabin further north, Travis didn't want to go but Caleb thought it was a good idea, wanting to do the will of the nephew who couldn't get happy with anything else he accepted. It was something basic, almost tacky but the real "gift" for them would come when the party was almost over, some of them decided to go on a hunt because they knew the Hacketts had a history with it so with the agreement of some local legal hunters who also participated of the party they would hunt wolves, more precisely a pack that was causing a lot of trouble in the area. That irritated Travis but Caleb was once again curious, they argued a little but he tried to make his nephew's liking just one more time, going against his will to the place where the pack was scattered, the hunt went on until they realized that they arrived at a point where they saw the cubs, which had a mother as a dog and the father a wolf that had already died in the meantime, the hunters suggested finding the dog's owners and taking the cubs to a shelter that took care of wild animals, however they could take two puppies, seeing that opportunity to prove his theory he took a male pup for himself and Caleb took a female, the boy was really happy with that despite the irony.

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When both came back to North Kill Travis once more did the same thing, he took care of the wolf dog cub whitout even try put a name on him and when the full moon came he needed to prove just once for all, he turned and the cub was terrified at first but both didn't have nothing to do with each other, both were equal, the same.

Fun fact: Wolfs will babysit, play and let the puppies eat part of the meal while the parents are ocuppied hunting or doing any other thing.

When the sun comes up the cub was all well on his side, sleeping a sleep he'd never had in his little life, he was snuggled near to a close family member, a father. After that he was sure he could control himself, at least in case something went wrong. He kept the dog and named him Dallas, trained him to be a guard and hunting dog, disciplined him to a point where all the wolf's ferocity was only used when he wanted to.

[battybatzgirl]

Hey Mr. Sandman, You Missed a Spot

AO3

Summary: 

It's not that Hunter doesn't ever sleep, Eda's come to realize. It was that he falls asleep sporadically, most of the time in really weird places.

Or: 5 times Eda catches Hunter taking a nap

Part 1 of the Finders Keepers Series

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Here’s the thing about Eda: she loves naps. Eda likes to be cozy, so usually, that equated to curling up under a blanket, lazing around, and falling asleep. The Owl Beast shared that sentiment, the creature that lived within her constantly wanting to nest. Those animalistic instincts were weird, but when you lived in a house with a demon who also liked to bury himself under a pile of stuffed animals, you kind of got used to it.

Here’s the thing about Hunter: he doesn’t sleep.

The kid has been living with them for only about two weeks, officially replacing Eda as Public Enemy Numero Uno in the eyes of the Emperor. When he’d showed up on Hooty’s doorstep, all bloody and barely conscious, Eda thought it was some kind of cosmic trick. The Powers That Be had to be pulling her leg because this was the second time the leader of the Emperor’s Coven had shown up to the Owl House with nowhere else to go.

Luz had been ecstatic to welcome him in, apparently excited to finally fulfill her dreams of becoming a middle child in their weird little found family. King was less thrilled, but eventually warmed up to the idea of Hunter staying with them as long as he taught King his secrets on how to command an army.

Hunter himself even seemed unnerved at the thought of living with them. He tried to leave a few times when he was still wounded, but his little bird palisman (Rascal, she’s heard him say) effectively herded him back into the house by continuously dive-bombing him and nipping at his ears. And after Belos put out a wanted poster for the kid, making him the Isles’ number one most wanted traitor, leaving wasn’t really an option. Not if he wanted to stay alive.

So eventually, Hunter begrudgingly accepted that yeah, he lived in the Owl House now.

And alright, Eda isn’t heartless. The kid was lost, wounded, and an enemy of the Emperor. She can work with that.

Getting to know him has been a challenge, though. Hunter has a lot of weird quirks. He holds himself so seriously that Eda has a hard time remembering that he’s a teenager and not a fully grown middle-aged man. He hardly ever smiles. He’s jumpy, practically jolting out of his skin every time you walk into the same room. He’s clearly Going Through Some Shit, as Eda so eloquently calls it, remembering how Lily went through the same thing when she slowly broke free of Belos’s freaky subjugation.

But still. The kid doesn’t sleep.

Eda first notices it around day four of his residence. She’s up early to go to the market, stepping into the living room and nearly transforming into her Harpy Form out of pure shock when she sees a figure messing with her bookshelf in the back of the room. Wide maroon eyes lock on hers from across the room and she feels the feathers that sprung to her skin recede.

“Titan, kid,” she breaths, “You nearly killed me. What are you doing up? It’s Saturday, you should be sleeping in.”

“Um…I did sleep in,” Hunter responds, as if it’s obvious.

Eda feels a frown tug at her lips, “The sun isn’t even up yet.”

The kid just shrugs a little lamely, and Eda feels a twinge of concern in her chest. (And ugh, feeling concerned for a guy who dangled you over the Boiling Sea is certainly weird.) If this was sleeping in for him, he couldn’t have rested more than five hours.

She steps closer, taking a second look at what he’s doing. Half the books are spread out on the floor, the other half stacked neatly back on the shelves in some kind of order.

He notices her looking, “I, uh, took the liberty of reorganizing your bookshelf. Or organizing it, since it didn’t really seem to have a system.” The kid ducks his head, the tips of his ears flushing pink. “I- I can put it back the way it was if you want, or organize them in a different way.”

That’s another thing about Hunter: he always has to be doing something. Being useful. Without direction, he crumples. It was always, What do you want me to do now, Miss Clawthorne this and I completed this task, Miss Clawthorne, what’s next that. His brain operated on a transactional level—I do this thing for you, you do this thing for me. And since Eda was housing him, he felt like he had to constantly be doing things for her. Constantly proving himself worthy to be here, repaying her. Hunter couldn’t seem to wrap his head around that she didn’t want him to do anything except stay comfortable.

Eda has thought up a hundred different little tasks for him to do in just his first four days. She’s running out of odd jobs to give him, and if she has to keep telling him what to do she’s going to start pulling out her hair.

“You’re fine, kid,” she says. “Keep doin’ what you’re doin’ if it makes ya happy. But you shouldn’t be up this early. You should at least take a nap later.”

Hunter tilts his head. “But that wouldn’t be accomplishing anything.”

“You don’t hafta be working all the time,” Eda stresses. “It’s okay to sit around and just exist once and a while. Actually, I think that should be your priority. Take a nap, relax, go cloud watching, take a walk—any or all of the above.”

“That sounds like doing nothing.”

“That’s because it is doing nothing.”

His face hardens, taking on that soldier-like seriousness that encompasses his entire demeanor. “Being lazy can’t be a priority.”

“Don’t think of it like that, then,” Eda almost snaps, wishing for a nice hot mug of apple blood. It was too damn early to deal with the repercussions of Belos’s all-work-no-play mindset. “Think of it as acting your age. Did you ever get to take naps as a kid in the Emperor’s Coven? Is relaxing just a foreign concept to you?”

He doesn’t answer, staring at her with those bagged eyes and guarded expression, and Eda throws up her hands in defeat.

She leaves then, her patience running too thin to continue arguing with him. She doubts he’ll actually go back to sleep. He probably goes back to doing whatever he was doing with that bookshelf. Eda makes a mental note to tell King to knock all the books off, just so Hunter can reorganize it later. Just for something for him to keep him occupied.

1.

Eda doesn’t even notice the first time it happens. It was one of Luz’s friends, Gus, who pointed it out.

The kids were gathered at her home after school, spread out on the floor of the living room along with various pillows and blankets. Luz found some card game she knew buried somewhere in the piles of human trash Eda has laying around, and the girl has been spending the better part of an hour trying to explain how it works.

“So the Wild Card doesn’t make you turn into a wild animal?” Willow questions, holding up a black card with looks like a colorful pie chart on it.

“Nope!” Luz says cheerfully. “It just becomes any color you want it to be to go with the rest of your hand.”

“But the card doesn’t actually change color?” Amity asks.

“No, it only represents the color,” Luz clarifies, and Eda has to admit, her girl has a ton of patience. She’s been quietly watching from her place on the couch, half-listening to their conversation, half-reading the Isles’ latest edition of You Gossipy Witch, a tabloid where a writer is speculating about her true form. Apparently, some people think she was raised by feral, wild owls on some far away barrier island, and has come to reside in Bonesborough just because she ran out of mutant rats to eat.

Weird.

But entertaining!

Gus holds up one of his cards, “So are blank cards bad, or—"

King jumps over his shoulder, landing on the deck of cards in the middle of their little circle and making them fly everywhere. “I have taken dominion over ALL YOUR CARDS. All of you must grovel for a taste of my wealth!”

“Actually, the point of the game is to get rid of all your cards,” Luz reminds him gently. “That way, when you get down to one card, you shout Uno! And you win! If no one else makes you draw anymore, that is.”

King deflates a little, apparently put off by the idea of less is more. “Oh.” Luz smiles and pats him on the head, and he brightens up. “Okay, let’s play, because I wanna make all of you draw as many cards as possible! You'll drown in your cards! Choke on them, even!”

As they start gathering up the cards that King threw everywhere, Gus lets out a little gasp. “You guys—is Hunter asleep?”

That immediately draws Eda’s attention away from the magazine. Her eyes flicker to the blond witch, laying on his stomach just on the edge of their group. He was still having a hard time socializing, especially with Amity, but Luz was determined to include him in all friendship activities. She said wanted to teach him how to be a kid, and hell, if anyone could knock some seriousness out of that boy it would be Luz.

Hunter is indeed asleep—his face is mushed into the forearms pillowed under his head, and his red palisman has weaseled its way to nestle in between the crook of his elbow. His breath comes out in soft little sighs, and Eda feels something in her melt.

“Awwww, he looks so peaceful,” Luz croons, mushing her palms against her cheeks. Amity’s already scooched past her, snapping photos on her scroll. Eda can’t blame her. She knows a good blackmail opportunity when she sees one.

Eda’s off the couch and catches King mid-pounce. “Whoa there, none of that buddy.”

“But Edaaaa,” the demon whines, his little arms and legs flailing in mid-air. “I have to conquer him when he least expects it!”

“Ehhh, let the kid sleep. Save your conquests for when he’s awake and can put up a fight.” Eda sets him down in his place in the circle, and the kids all glance at each other before turning back to the cards.

She notices that they’re more mindful to keep their tones softer, probably to not disturb the sleeping boy. And when Hunter wakes himself up about half an hour later, they don’t mention it, seamlessly integrating him back into their game.

2.

The second time it happens, Raine is walking Eda home. It’s early in the evening, and the pair just got done with a fabulous date—a picnic with apple blood and sweet (and stolen) baked goods? Titan, take Eda now, she’s found her perfect match.

She’s still riding that high, not noticing Raine stopping until they tug on their clasped hands. “Hey, who’s that? Is he okay?”

Eda follows where they’re pointing their finger. It’s Hunter, slumped against the base of an oak tree, fast asleep. His chin is tipped forward and a book open on his chest, and even more strangely, there’s a small pile of leaves on his lap.

“Oh, that’s just my—” Eda stops herself, the word catching in her throat. Hunter was a child in her care, yes, but he wasn’t quite her kid. Not like Luz or King. The blond witch was still too jumpy, baring his teeth and snarling at anything that tried to get close to him.

He calls her Miss Clawthorne, for Titan’s sake.

“—Hunter,” Eda finishes lamely.

Raine raises an eyebrow. “Your Hunter?”

“He’s uhhh, one of Luz’s friends who just so happens to be living with us. Not a big thing.”

Raine shoots her a deadpan look but strides forward anyway, kneeling next to the sleeping blond. They keep their voice to a low murmur, “Should we wake him? That can’t be comfortable for his neck. He’ll probably be sore later.”

“Eh, let him rest. This is more sleep than he usually gets.” Eda steps closer, kneeling down on his other side. It’s the side that has his scar, the slightly raised red tissue standing out even more so than usual now that he wasn’t constantly moving. She’s almost asked him how he got it, but he’s clearly sensitive about the subject. She’s seen the similar marks on his arms, and something tells her there are a whole lot more scars that he’s hiding.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out who gave them to him.

Still, it’s hard to ignore just how young he looks. When he’s stripped of all of his snappy comebacks, quick defenses, and that guarded demeanor Belos forced onto him, he’s reduced to exactly what he should be:

A kid.

“Oh!” Raine startles in surprise. Eda looks up to see the cardinal palisman fluttering down from above them, carrying a few leaves in its beak. It hops down onto Hunter’s lap and deposits the leaves in the little growing pile on his leg.

A smile worms its way onto Eda’s face. She runs a finger across the little bird’s head, “Trying to keep him warm, huh?” The bird lets out a trilling note of confirmation. She lets the bird be, turning back to Raine, “I think Rascal’s got this covered. If he hasn’t come in before nightfall I’ll come out and get ‘em.”

The bard casts one last glance down at the sleeping boy before they stand. “Y’know, he kind of reminds me of someone.”

“Oh yeah?” Eda weaves her arm through Raine’s as the pair reassumes their walk.

“Yeah,” Raine hums. “He kind of has the same build as someone I met when I was held hostage in the Emperor’s palace. The Golden Guard. Did you hear that he ran away from the palace? There've been rumors that the Emperor himself is tearing apart the Right Arm looking for him.”

“Uh, about that...”

Raine stops, turning to look at her square in the face. Eda gives them a sheepish, toothy grin.

“Oh my god,” Raine says. “You adopted the Golden Guard?”

“Hey now, adopted is a very strong word—”

The bard cuts her off with a delighted laugh. “How am I not surprised?” Eda feels heat rise to her face, but can’t help but return Raine’s infectious smile. “Only you, Eda. Only you.”

3.

The third time it happens, Eda’s passing through the upstairs hallway, intent on curling up into her nest for an afternoon nap of her own. She hears a shuffling noise as she passes by the glorified storage closet that they gave Hunter as a room, and can’t resist a peek inside.

What she finds is definitely…not what she was expecting. Hunter is laying flat on his back on the floor, his feet elevated on the little cot they’d given him. Yeesh, that couldn’t be comfortable. Soft snores woosh past his open lips, his face turned toward a crystal ball that’s playing some cartoon he must have been watching before he fell asleep.

His body is nearly covered in stuffed animals.

“King,” Eda hisses. The horned perpetrator is in the middle of dumping his entire army onto the blond witch’s chest, pinning down his arms with plushies. “What did I tell you about burying people alive?”

The demon pauses from where he’s been slowly arranging his army over Hunter’s sleeping form. “He’s got plenty of room to breathe! I didn’t cover his face,” King protests. “Can’t subjugate someone who’s dead.”

“No subjugating—” your brother, she almost says, “—Hunter.”

King squints at her, but then grumbles and starts slowly taking the stuffed animals off the boy’s body. Crisis averted, Eda slips back out into the hall, mind swirling. That was the second time she’d almost referred to Hunter as hers in passing. The feeling is too raw to speak out loud yet, but there’s a growing warmth in her as she watches Hunter acclimate to his surroundings in the Owl House. With every day that goes by, he’s more comfortable around her, around Luz and King and Hooty, and he’s starting to come out of his shell. He’s growing softer, less quick to snarl, becoming more Hunter and less Golden Guard.

Unconsciously, Eda’s started viewing him as part of their little family. Two weeks ago, that thought would have made her uncomfortable. Now, she welcomes it with open arms.

Ugh, she’s getting so soft.

4.

The fourth time it happens is when Eda’s flying home from visiting Lilith. She’s only been gone for the day, and is hoping that leaving Luz in charge hasn’t led to any freak fires, the resurrection of the dead, or other various natural disasters. Unfortunately, even her most responsible kid is pretty reckless, so Eda’s expectations are set pretty low.

It’s probably sometime around 2 a.m. when she makes it home sweet home. She swoops in close, intent on landing on the front door but stilling mid-air when she sees something on the roof of the tower. Even from up here, it’s not hard to distinguish the form of a looming body.

Eda’s heart leaps into her throat and she takes Owlbert down into a dive. Her body is tense when she lands, her staff already aimed toward the person lurking by the edge of the roof. “Alright listen bucko, you better step back or—wait.” She sees what looks like a lump of feathers sitting on top of the person’s head, and Eda squints in the darkness. She quickly pulls out a light glyph, sending the tiny ball of sun forward.

“Hunter?!” Eda’s tense posture relaxes. The kid doesn’t answer, and it takes her a beat to figure out why. He’s dead asleep, slumped precariously over the telescope they use for stargazing. Eda has no idea how he’s even standing at all. Kid probably had a ton of practice of falling asleep on his feet during long, boring meetings with the Emperor.

“Wakey, wakey.” She places her hand on his shoulder, gently, but he wakes up with a full-body jerk, startling the palisman on top of his head. The cardinal chirps once in irritation, fluttering to rest on Eda’s shoulder instead.

Hunter’s eyes are wild for a moment until he seems to register where he is and who he’s with. He relaxes then, letting out a yawn so huge it would put any lion to shame. “…Eda?”

“The one and only,” Eda says, ignoring how her heart squeezes at the kid finally calling her by her name. “Wanna tell me why you’re up here in the middle of the night?”

“Waitin’ for you,” he mumbles, voice rough with sleep. His eyelids drop and he sways dangerously on his feet. “Wanted to… t’make sure y’got home safe.”

The warmth in her chest expands and eclipses her entire body in that fuzzy feeling she gets whenever one of her kids does something particularly adorable. Thank Titan it’s dark and Hunter is too out of it to notice the smile that spreads across her face. If he was fully awake, Eda gets the feeling that A) he probably never would have admitted that he was worried about her, and B) would have snapped at her for smiling at him like that. “Well, I’m home now, so let’s get you to bed before you topple over.”

Eda wraps her arm around his waist and nudges him along, practically carrying him back downstairs, their palismen following close behind. She doesn’t mind. Someone had to make sure he didn’t fall off the roof.

“Night, kid,” she says, tucking him under the blankets on his cot. Hunter doesn’t respond, already having slipped back into unconsciousness. And if she brushes his bangs tenderly out of his face, no one ever has to be the wiser.

5.

The fifth time it happens, Eda’s gotten used to it. It's not that Hunter doesn’t sleep, she’s come to realize. He just falls asleep in weird places. Why, she has no idea, but honestly, the kid looked so tired all the time, she wasn’t going to question it. They had bigger things to worry about.

The Day of Unity is just around the corner, and Belos has become more irritating than ever.

Eda hadn’t even thought that was possible for him, but apparently, it was. The scouts around Bonesborough have tripled, their captains leading more and more raids, butting into shops to check everyone’s papers, and invading random districts.

Oddly, Belos’s priorities seem to have shifted. He’s still sending out grunts to round up any wild witches, but the guards have been playing a weird sort of hide-and-seek, going beyond just patrolling the marketplaces to actually tearing into people’s homes. From what she’s heard, the guards never take anything, just searching the place top-to-bottom before leaving empty-handed and moving on to the next house.

Belos was looking for something.

And unfortunately, Eda’s got a pretty good idea of what he’s after.

Said thing just so happens to be slumped across from her at the kitchen table, dead to the world. It’s late into the night, and most of the kids have already gone to sleep. Too on edge to lie down, Eda’s been keeping herself busy by concocting more potions while the late-night news plays on her crystal ball in the background.

Hunter, striving to be helpful, volunteered to stay up and help.

It wasn’t long before the kid slowly started to nod off, face supported by his palm as his eyelids started to droop. He’d been in the middle of mixing two ingredients—highly flammable ingredients, mind you—and Eda plucked the vials out of his lax grip just in time. Honestly, it was a miracle the kid never killed himself in the Emperor’s Coven with how randomly he falls asleep.

He probably never got the chance to sleep at all, a voice reminds her. She remembers how dead-exhausted Lily was during her first few days at the Owl House. It was probably safe to assume that the Emperor had a habit of running the head of his Coven into the ground.

Hunter has been picking up on Belos’s tightening grip, too. He’s been getting quieter, more reserved. He’s come to the same conclusion that Eda has: the Emperor was tearing apart the whole of the Isles to get him back.

Why, though, is anyone’s guess. Hunter has long since explained that his uncle always said that the Titan had big plans for him, and it probably has something to do with the Day of Unity, but beyond that, the Emperor had always kept him in the dark. Luz has a crazy theory involving clones and blood magic, but that sounds like it’s a plot point straight out of one of her Azura books. King thinks Belos wants his artificial staff back, and Hooty predicts the Emperor is just sad because all his Coven leaders are leaving him to join Hooty’s superior best friends club.

Whatever the reason, Eda’s made it pretty clear that she’s not gonna bend to Belos’s intimidation tactics and turn him over. That smarmy gold jerk could set the whole Isles on fire and Eda still wouldn’t hand him over. Hunter’s part of the Bad Girl’s Coven now, and Belos can just suck it. And she’s not afraid to say that to his stupid face, either.

So when the cauldron at the end of the table that holds the scrying potion suddenly begins bubbling on its own, Eda may very well get her chance.

She’s up on her feet in an instant, dashing to the other end of the table just as the steam rising off the potion begins to warp into a familiar figure.

“Edalyn,” Belos greets, his voice sharp like a dagger. “I do hope I’m not interrupting your evening, but I needed a word with you.”

Ugh, scrying potions weren’t supposed to work both ways! Belos was too damn powerful. He could probably peer into their lives as much as they could peer into his.

“Sorry, but now’s a bad time,” Eda shoots back. “Why don’t you hang up and call back literally never?”

“It’s come to my attention that you have something of mine,” the masked man continues smoothly as if she hadn’t spoken. “I’d ever so appreciate it if you gave it back.”

Eda’s lip curls back, feeling the itch of feathers poking out of her joints. She wants to shift into her harpy form and leap through the potion to claw out his eyes. “Sorry, Belos,” she says, dripping smug bravado, “We wild witches operate solely under the laws of finders keepers. Your kid? Mine now.”

Eda expects that the Emperor would very much like to vaporize her. “Make your threats wisely, Owl Lady. You have no idea what you’re up against. Everything will be easier for you and your little friends if you just hand the boy back over to me.”

“Fat chance.” Eda throws back her shoulders and shoots him a sharp grin. “Sounds to me like you’re threatening one of my kids, and we weirdos stick together. Going after one of us is basically asking for all of us to bring you down. Remember how well that went last time? How my human cracked your mask and publicly humiliated you during your big let’s-turn-Eda-to-stone ceremony?”

The Emperor looks as though he has some choice words to say, but Eda doesn’t care. Hunter is her kid now. She glowers at him through that mist, voice lowering in with deadly promise. “You’ll have to drag him back to your Coven over my dead body.”

“That can be arranged,” sneers Belos.

“Try me, antler boy.” Then Eda whacks the cauldron and sends it tipping over the edge of the table. The connection is immediately severed as the potion goes splattering over the hardwood, and the resounding CLANG of the bowl makes Hunter shoot violently out of sleep.

“Huh?! Whassit—Eda? What happened? Are you alright?”

“Fine, kid,” she says, swallowing down the rage that’s still bubbling hot in her throat. “’S alright, just got a little clumsy and knocked over a cauldron. Sorry for waking you.”

“Sorry for falling asleep,” Hunter responds. He grabs a towel and hurries to clean up the oozing purple goo.

Eda waves him off, “Eh, I don’t mind. You kids need your rest. Growing bodies and all that.”

Hunter still hesitates, looking at her for a beat too long as if double-checking to make sure she wasn’t really upset. Eda holds back a sigh, a twinge of pity flickering through her that he’d even have to look at her like that in the first place. All the damage from Belos couldn’t be wrapped up in a month, she supposed.

She snatches up the cauldron, still dripping with the ruined potion. Peachy. She’ll have to call Lilith to get her scrying potion recipe. Though maybe not having this in the house was a good idea. Eda doesn’t want to risk His Royal Highness dropping in on any more unexpected house calls.

“Eda?”

She looks up at Hunter. The kid chewing on his bottom lip, wringing the half-soiled towel between scarred hands.

“I just…I wanted to say thank you,” Hunter says shyly. “I know having me here hasn’t exactly been easy—not only because of the fugitive thing, but because I’m…” He flounders for a moment, and Eda can only pretend to know what’s going through his mind right now. “…me,” he finishes finally. “You’ve been so kind and patient with me, it’s so much more than I deserve, and no matter what happens next—”

“Hey, no.” Eda cuts him off with a swift and gentle beratement. She sets the cauldron on the table and crowds closer to him, curling one hand around his cheek. The kid automatically leans into the touch, and Eda can’t help but wonder how Belos could have ever hurt a child who was as sweet as this one.

“You may be one bratty little shit, but you’re my bratty little shit. And Mama says you deserve all the smothering that comes with being a child of the Owl Lady.”

Then, to prove her point, she swoops down and quickly places feather-light kisses on the tip of his nose, forehead, and his scar, until Hunter squawks and shoves her away. He’s practically glowing, flushed all the way to the tips of his ears.

“Gross,” he snaps, rubbing furiously at his face. “I’m never helping you with your potions ever again.”

“I’ll accept your terms. Now get upstairs, it’s way past your bedtime.”

“I don’t have a bedtime, I’m not a baby.” Hunter sticks out his tongue but obeys, slipping out of the kitchen and disappearing into the rest of the house. Eda shakes her head as she watches him go.

Kids. What could ya do with ‘em?