What is this?? A written post?? My Bite Me size swap is finally up (sorta). I initially was going to post this all in one shot, but it got long so enjoy non canon Bite Me content 💕
I've been absolutely swamped lately, so hopefully me posting is a sign that things are finally easing up!!
Shortly after the events of Chapter 10 Aedes wakes up to a rather big surprise- or perhaps more accurately, a small one.
Warm hands envelope Aedes in a way that dances on the border of intimate and claustrophobic. His thoughts felt thick, almost sticky in his mind, as they struggled to flow. Those soft doting hands clung to him, overwhelming in their size, anchoring him firmly in place. He can’t move- but … was that really so bad? With his mind in a daze, he didn’t have the capacity to tell himself he hated it. Far from it… There was an undeniably comfort in the silken touch, warm in a way that surpassed intimate. Warm in a way that would melt pain from his chest, render flesh from his bones and put him together anew. Those plush hands dotted over him, filled him with life - with such vigor and… and-
Want.
So much want.
He knew her taste, its memory, sweetened with time, dances on the tip of his tongue just out of reach. So did her name. What was it again… He’d seen it somewhere…
If only he could drink. He was sure he could find her name and so much more hidden away in that taste.
From her hands, all encompassing in their grasp, he felt her pulse. The rhythm of her rattles his bones, shaking him to his core. Each beat moves him, yet he himself remains unable to do so- anchored in place by strangely sticky thoughts and firm hands. God, if only he could just turn his head. If only he could sink his teeth into her… have just the smallest taste-
A drop.
He would gladly drown in a single drop.
If only he wasn’t stuck- if only he could be set free from their grasp.
Then, all at once, he was.
Falling.
Without their warm embrace- their suffocating hold, was sent falling back-
Or maybe, falling into himself? Aedes awoke as the ground met his face.
The fall, it seemed, had not been exclusive to the dream.
Rubbing his face, Aedes feels the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. Something was off. He grimaced- not at all fond of the strange stain the remnants of the dream, no, nightmare, had left on his brain. It left him with a strange chill on his body, as if he was yearning for the warmth of the dream…
Or… clothes? Aedes looks down, startled by his own apparent lack of modesty. Why am I…
As Aedes moves to sit up, the strange realization is immediately put on the back burner as a much stranger realization takes its place. His stomach lurches as his mind struggles in vain to right itself.
High. His stomach lurches, as if forgotten someway far below. Too high- Why was he so high up?? Vertigo hit him with all the grace of a car crash as he heaved- his very being ripped away from the ground and rocketing up by his own doing- much too high much too fast.
Slowly, on his hands and knees, Aedes blinks.
The dizzying spin didn’t leave- but his breath certainly did.
If he hadn’t so abruptly woken up he would have thought he was still dreaming. Cool morning air sent a chill over his skin from a window he could reach out and touch. Books fit for his hands lined the shelves he had so recently scaled. Clawed fingers traced the various knick knacks that should have dwarfed him…
That, until this very morning, had dwarfed him.
How…
His mind scrambles to make sense of it all. He needed answers.
He needed to know how this happened-
How could this happen?
But more than anything, Aedes needed to know how to breathe.
Each shakily attempted breath felt stuttered, the tightening feeling in his chest constricting each and every inhale. His heart pounded wildly against his lagging lungs, yet it wasn’t the beat of his own that concerned him.
Aedes' ears twitched, straining to hear the faint thrum, the slightest indication of something, someone, alive in the room with him.
His eyes locked on the source in an instant.
June.
Her name finally finds its home on his lips- stolen from some hastily placed piece of ID left laying on her desk. June Murphy. 12 Oakline Road, Saint Mira Lake, ON. Born June 18th. 172 cm. Aedes swallowed a lump of mixed emotions at the sight of her.
Small… God she’s so small.
And he… was not.
Nearly buried in a mass of blankets and oversized clothes, June Murphy stares at the relative behemoth in front of her- mind reeling as they lock eyes.
This… This has to be a dream right?
Yet she was all too aware of reality, having been jolted awake by the thunderous impact of what she’d initially assumed to have been … well, really anything but the reality that was staring back at her. A car could have plowed straight through her living room wall and it would have made more sense than what she was seeing.
Yet despite the unfamiliar perspective, she recognized him in an instant. The tousled black hair, the pointed ears…
Those piercing eyes.
Aedes.
In an instant, he was on his knees, moving at a speed June found to be even more unsettling now that he loomed above her. The sight of him so close was… bizarre… Uncanny even. Sure, she’d technically seen him far closer, when he’d been…
Pressed up against her lips…
In the palm of her hand…
June’s face flushes at the memory. You really don’t get much closer than that… and yet… even at what must have been a foot or more away, she saw him far more intimately than when she’d… June’s thoughts wander off, far too entranced by the man in front of her to remain focused on anything else.
Aedes was far more handsome than she had initially realized, and she’d already had quite the high impression of his aesthetics. His pale skin was smooth, bordering on flawless even at such a scale, his features were defined, a straight nose, distinct jawline, yet the edges had a softness to them, smooth in a way that seemed inviting- as if they’d been carved from marble. Her gaze lingered on the soft yet rich color of his lips, the realization that this man really wasn’t human hitting her hard- the knowledge that there were teeth behind such a pretty feature sending a shiver through her. Though none of his features held a candle to his eyes. Piercing and black, this stare bore into her… defile her, even…
June scrambles back, face hot.
Aedes does the same, reeling back at her sudden movement, as if somehow seeing her move confirmed this was, in fact, reality.
Oh… A knot forms in his throat, She’s afraid of me.
He swallows, the act noticeably harder than it should have been.
Of course she is, he thinks, unable to hold her gaze. She looks so… helpless. His face grows hot at the thought, guilt, like bile, rises in his throat.
Did she think he’d hurt her?
“Shhh,” Aedes hushes, hands reaching cautiously towards her, afraid she’d run off if given the opportunity. “Please… don't be afraid.”
He would.
As he reaches, Aedes’ eyes catch sight of his blacked claws. The sight freezes him in place, stomach churning at the thought of what he must look like to her. She had been terrifying. If this woman before him had been terrifying- what was he?
Back to back posting ? Its more likely than you think! Can't keep you guys waiting too long 💕 I've been having so much fun with this AU while trying to actually get ahead with Bite Me
In this part we see that though the dynamic might have changed, these two most certainly have not.
Aedes, thought June, was indescribably fucking hot.
Her heart pounded in her chest as if it were dying to throw itself at him. A wash of emotions swirling in her chest as she stares up at the man in front of her.
What the fuck is going on? This has to be a dream, right? A wildly vivid dream brought on by a guilty conscience? Her eyes wander, catching sight of his … lack of clothing.
Perhaps this was a different kind of dream.
“June…” his whisper came as a low rumble. June’s breath caught in her throat, heat rising to her face as if she were a kettle reaching its boiling point- though, thankfully, she refrained from screaming. Since when did he know her name?
At her non response, his brows knit together, the massive landscape of his face shifting to that of concern. A shiver ran down her spine at his gaze, so overwhelmingly locked on her. It was… stripping in a way, seeming to take so much of her in that it left her feeling bare.
It took her brain an awkward second to realize that the feeling was not exclusive to her mind. June Murphy sat there, in a bed that seemed like it could have hosted a football game, let alone her, completely and utterly bare naked.
Aedes watches June as her hands, so unfathomably small, grip her blanket and slowly pull it to her chest.
His brain freezes at that last word.
Her… naked chest.
Heat rising to scorch his cheeks, Aedes turns his head, a muffled noise escaping him as all at once the awe and strangeness of the situation evaporates- like a fog being lifted by the heat of the rising sun, or in his case, the heat of his rising embarrassment. Gaze averted, his mind races.
Just what exactly was going on? He’d avoided seeing her, let alone speaking to her since… they met… a meeting he certainly wasn’t keen on revisiting… Yet now, in the unprecedented strangeness of whatever the fuck was going on, it was clear he couldn’t just go back to avoiding her.
Aedes swallows, a nervous lump forming in his throat at the thought of just how he was supposed to navigate something like this.
Should he apologize?
Did he even have something to apologize for?
She was the one who defiled his pride.
She was the one who poisoned his mind with whatever sickness she’d put him through.
Sure he’d yelled at her, insulted her, but - His ears perk up at the sound of her voice, far softer than he could have anticipated.
Far softer than he liked.
“Did… did you do this to me?”
Aedes’ eyes widen, his rising frustrations deflating in an instant. She thinks I've done this?
Stunned, Aedes slowly shakes his head.
“No. I…” His voice trails off. Even with her mostly covered by the blanket, Aedes can barely look at her. The sight of her shaking filled him with guilt, seemingly for his very existence. Even as he averts his gaze, he doesn’t miss how her heart hammers in her chest. Aedes grits his teeth.
He hates this.
“Here.” His voice nearly cracks, words sticking awkwardly in his throat. Aedes stands, though his heart fills with lead upon hearing June’s gasp.
God, he hates this so much.
June Murphy, however bizarre and terrifying the situation, could not say she hated it.
Perhaps, five minutes from now, when the reality of the situation sunk in… maybe then she would hate it. Maybe then she’d be completely and utterly terrified.
But at this moment in time her mind was completely and utterly occupied with the very large, very handsome, and very naked vampire man who’d turned to rummage around her room.
Why? She had no idea, and frankly- she wasn’t sure her mind had the capacity to care.
She would panic later.
Aedes turned back, seemingly a little more aware of his lack of modesty as he made an awkward attempt to cover himself as he reapproached. Again, he kneels down, his piercing gazing locking June in place for the briefest moment, before he turns his head away, not wanting to look at her like this. Slowly brings his hand to her. In it, his shirt, now embarrassingly small. It was uncanny to see his clothes like this… to imagine what he had looked like in them... What he had looked like to her.
She doesn’t take it.
It doesn’t take Aedes long to reason why.
My hands… His throat constricted at the realization of what his hands, blackened and clawed, must look like at her size. Why would she take anything from hands like mine?
Before he can pull his hand back, June speaks.
“Thank you.” Her voice, far too soft for his liking, is all the warning he has before he’s met with the strangest sensation. A shiver runs down his spine as he feels her touch, warm and feather light, take the shirt from his hand.
“I’m sorry,” Aedes begins, still averting his gaze, his hand moving to hide his teeth as he spoke, “That's the only clothing I have to offer-”
His apology is interrupted by a sound Aedes had not anticipated.
June laughed.
“Oh no- You’ll have to forgive me, but I think I have even less I can offer in the clothing department.”
Aedes remained frozen in place- stunned. She was laughing?
How could she be laughing?
His ears twitch, faint sounds of fabric being shifted and slid against soft skin pricking at his senses. Slowly, he turns back, a look of confusion on his face. He wants to ask her why she’s not panicking- Why hasn't she hid from him? He wants to ask her a whole myriad of questions, but at the sight of her sitting there in his shirt, the only sound that manages to escape him is a sharp inhale.
It was a peculiar sight, seeing his clothes too large for her frame. His shirt hung loosely on her, hanging off her figure in a way that somehow seemed more lewd than her bare form. Ears hot, Aedes swallowed- quickly excusing himself to route through her wardrobe.
----
“You really don’t know what's happening?”
In lieu of speaking, Aedes, clad in June’s loosest pair of baby blue shorts and what was supposed to be an oversized t-shirt, shook his head. He’d heard smallfolk talk of legends, of human blood giving his kind power but those were… vague superstitions? Or at least, he’d always assumed so- just some overly mystified explanation of his nature.
Sitting on the floor beside June’s bed, Aedes frowned. He’d been drinking blood all his life and nothing more abnormal than a full stomach and some blood drunk thoughts had ever occurred.
Just what exactly was going on?
Here he sat a hundred times the height he’d been the night before, and there she sat- magnitudes smaller.
His frown only deepened.
Had he…? He couldn’t have…
Aedes rests his head on the bed, trying desperately to grasp at a situation that, even now, seemed far too big for him to handle. He eyed June, her once imposing frame now dwarfed by her surroundings, the pillow she leaned against threatening to swallow her whole.
Serves her right. He thought bitterly, his eyes lingering on her hands. Though he couldn’t ignore the itch that persisted at the back of his mind, an itch that gnawed at whatever mental fortitude he’d summoned to banish it from his conscious thought.
You’re lying.
Aedes sighed, as if he could somehow expel the invasive thought from his mind. He didn’t miss the way his breath ruffled her hair- nor did he like it.
She has no knowledge of the way my world works… She’ll trust humans-
Worse yet- she trusted him- at least enough to stay put. Once again, Aedes’ scowl deepens.
How would she live like this?
How would he?
His size was what allowed him to feed unnoticed. Like taking a sip from a lake- a way for him to hunt without killing. As meager as his stature had been, he’d had his stealth, his ease of access… he'd had plenty- his feedings a relative bounty every time.
Aedes chest tightens, a groan threatening to push past his lips. He runs his hands through his hair, trying and failing to ignore the growing sense of unease.
How would he feed like this?
Brow furrowed, his ears flicked in agitation. This was bad.
This was dangerous.
He was dangerous.
Was this his life now? Aedes bites his lip, only to quickly cover his mouth a moment later, lest she see his teeth as she was. So close to being human, to having some shred of humanity- no longer something that could be seen as a pest, yet now someone that could be seen as something far worse. He tries in vain to swallow the growing panic rising in his chest.
He wouldn’t be seen as something worse, because he would be worse. He-
As he stared daggers into the comforter, Aedes caught movement from the corner of his eye.
June stood.
Aedes froze.
She walked towards him.
He didn’t even breathe.
As June moved closer and closer still, Aedes remained motionless, a deer caught in the headlights of a, very small, oncoming car. As she draws mere inches from his face, Aedes moves to pull back, but instead is stopped, the soft hum of her voice anchoring him in place like a leash around his neck.
“Stay still.”
So he did.
Ears folded back, he stayed, unmoving, as she brought herself so close to his face his eyes wouldn’t focus. So close he breathed her in on every inhale- sweet cream and carnal spice. So close if he so chose to, he could taste such a luxury.
“You’re not… afraid of me?” His voice is low- hesitant even.
Her touch makes him flinch. Gentle, as if he were still mere inches tall, June brushes back the stray hairs his frustrated mussing had garnered. She hums thoughtfully, and he finds himself wishing that sound would once again rattle his bones.
“Should I be?” Her voice didn’t carry a hint of doubt. Though concerned, her voice felt …warm.
Aedes hesitates for a moment.
“... yes.”
He wanted to lie- like she did. To tell her she would be safe with him. That he wouldn't hurt her. Yet he couldn’t bear to entertain this sad little fantasy where he pretended not to hear the way her heart raced, or see the way her hands shook- and selfishly, he couldn’t bear waiting for her foolish bravado to run out, lest he start believing he was anything but what nature had made him to be. He knew what he was- A monster.
It was time she learned that too.
If this illusion had to be broken, it would be on his terms.
June swallowed, biting her lip as his head, like a monument come to life, rose from where he rested it on the bed and closed the nearly nonexistent distance between them. He tilted his head just so, the way one does when leaning in to steal a kiss. Her knees felt weak, as did her resolve. As he moves closer, his nose brushes past her side, slowly, until it was his lips brushed up her frame. The wash of his breath as his lips part sends a shiver down her spine, a shiver that only grows as very large, very inhumane, teeth were revealed.
“Don’t be foolish.” He whispered, voice silky and stern, lips brushing intimately against her body as he spoke, “Do you not think I’m tempted?”
There's a pause, his question hanging heavy in the air before his lips pull back into a sneer, teeth bared as he adds, “I could have you in a single bite.”
June inhales, breath shakey as her thoughts run wild. Before she can even contemplate a response, she's already speaking, the words seeming to fall from her lips as easily as breathing.
Nearly A WHOLE YEAR after the first chapter WE ARE BACK !!
Meet Rose, a varsity athlete who should needs to pay more attention to the concussion safety protocols. Also Grayson (you'll see a lot more of him eventually)
- - - -
Next Chapter: Chapter 3
Word count: 2160
CW: Adult language
Rose smiles. She smiles as the sweat beads that slick her brow drip into her eyes. She smiles as her limbs grow heavy, arms burning and near useless. She even, to the displeasure of her teammate, smiles as she drills. Her grin an ever present, and rather unnerving, fixture on her face as the duo works their way through their umpteenth repetition of speed drills.
Through gritted teeth Grayson Wilder manages to hiss out a quick knock-it-off before being met her forehead ramming square into his gut as she shoots yet another blast double. As her she makes contact, Grayson is swiftly reminded why pre practice Mcdonalds was a terrible idea.
Who even drills blast doubles during speed drills anyways?
As Rose plows through the take down, Grayson uses the brunt of his mental fortitude to curse their coach for having dared to suggest that doing some extra drilling with Rose would be light go’s for him- that, and to keep his meal firmly where it belonged.
Grayson lands with a grunt, and Rose takes the time to give him a sympathetic look before the two hustle back to standing, only to repeat the whole process again.
And again.
And again.
And-
The sound of the score clock's buzzer could have been a choir of angels to either athlete at this point. Sweaty, drained and sore, Rose sighs- not from fatigue, but instead satisfaction. There was a buzzing in her arms, shaky and electric with that telltale combination of adrenaline and exertion. Speed drills objectively sucked. Getting stuck with one of the 90 kilo men for a partner sucked even more. But losing her shot to go to Nationals last season has sucked the most. This season would be great- even if that meant she would have to favor the monotony of drilling rather than the excitement of scrimmage.
Think big. Rose grins, testing the sound of her new little mantra in her head. First early birds, then provincials then-
“Rose!”
Her thoughts are abruptly interrupted by a shout from her coach. Hank Miller beckons her over, a cheeky smile on his face as she jogs towards him.
“Another double and Grayson looked about ready to turn Green… son.”
Rose wishes she has the self control to groan, but instead, she laughs.
“Think he’s McLovin it?”
“He’ll be McLoving his sauna suit, that's for sure.” Hank shakes his head. With sigh he hands her a packet. Though as Rose grabs it, Hank doesn't let go. Eyebrows raised expectantly, his smile is replaced by a more stern expression.
“Filled out by Monday, got it?”
Rose rolls her eyes, but Hank’s grip remains firm.
“Don't lose it.”
In a feat of self control that could rival that of monks, Rose resists the urge to inform Hank that it's not impossible to print another copy. Though in fairness, with his downright cretaceous tech literacy, there were good odds that for him, it may in fact be impossible.
“Yes, Mom.” Finally, he relinquishes the thick stack of redundancy forms. With the packet in tow, Rose makes a B-line for her water bottle. Quick drink, stretches… maybe some footspeed drills? The thought of managing to get her legs to move with the growing weight of fatigue and lactic acid setting in was far from appealing, and there was also the weight of impending assignment deadlines to consider…
It should be a felony to have assignments due the first week of the school year...
With a groan, Rose downs her water as she meanders back on the mat to start her stretches, the cool water an oasis in the mugginess of the wrestling room. Though, the coolness of the water does nothing to hide the red hot glare she can feel burning a hole into the back of her head. A quick glance behind her reveals Hank, with a frustratingly smug pair of raised eyebrows as he casts a nod toward her packet; left abandoned on the sidelines.
With all the subtlety of an air horn at a funeral, Rose makes a show of bringing the oh-so-precious forms to her bag, grin smeared across her face as she plays up her exasperation. She can hear Hank laughing behind her, along with another “Monday” for good measure.
Looking over her shoulder Rose makes sure to shoot him a glare of her own as she shoves the papers into the front pocket of her-
A scream.
Head on a swivel, Rose's eyes immediately lock onto the source- a strained yelp escaping her as the sight sends her sprawling back. Her mind races, fumbling as it strains to make sense of what she was almost certain could not have been in her bag.
“...You good?” Hank’s voice feels like a lifeline back to reality, reeling Rose in from her shock.
“Uhh y-yeah, no. I'm good.” She lies, “Just, uh, papercut.”
Rose didn’t move. Hell, she wasn’t even sure if she had been breathing. She was frozen- feeling as if even a blink would dispel the almost certainly not real reality that stared back at her.
There's…. There's a man- A very small man- in my bag.
Rose swallows nervously. Had she hit her head and not realized? Grayson had made her eat mat on at least one failed attempt at a leg shot… Could concussions cause hallucinations?
There's a tiny man in my bag.
They definitely could, right? Rose couldn’t help but notice the irony that she couldn’t remember the stupid Safe Sport Concussion Awareness presentation. What was more concerning? Hallucinations from a grade 2 concussion, or finding a tiny man in her bag?
Rose blinked.
There's still a tiny man in my bag.
In a far away reality, she hears the muffled voice of Hank asking if she's sure she's alright.
Rose hurriedly gathers up her bag at his approach.
“I’m good. Totally good. I… I uh… gotta go.”
_ _ _
Those few stuttered words were all the warning Tamius had before he was flung backwards as the bag was torn from the ground.
A plan- he needed a plan. Anything-
Instead, Tamius was met by sheer chaos. His word topples over itself, rising and falling and sending him careening into the wall of fabric. A horrible realization dawns on him.
She’s running.
Dread seemed to be the only thing anchoring him to reality as Tamius remained a victim to gravity’s indecisiveness.
He’d been caught.
That behemoth idiot had fucking caught him- Tamius grit his teeth.
No. Not yet.
White knuckled, Tamuis clung to the fabric of the bag. His eyes desperately scanning in the low light for the hole he’d cut. If he could make it back into the larger compartment he could buy himself some time taking cover in her clothes- there’d be an opportunity for escape. He was sure there would be. He’d make one.
In a mix of determination and desperation, Tamius fights against the rhythmic lurching, an awful feeling of vertigo boring down on him as his hands scramble for new grips, something- anything- to pull him closer to that fucking hole.
A lock clicked.
The sound slicing through him- an executioner's bell condemning him to his fate.
No, no, no- not yet!
The stillness that followed was truly terrifying, a contagious beast freezing him, and time itself, in place. Reality itself seemed to hold a change, like the feeling before a storm- his muscles tense, and hair standing on its end, as if current was running through him. It was an electric sort of dread- a missed step, an object about to fall, the moment before impact-
No.
The impact came in the form of five grotesquely large fingers diving into the pocket, looking far more like a Hellish mass of writhing limbs than the hands he was familiar with.
Every ounce of his being screamed- all thoughts coalescing to one;
Get to the rip.
In that moment, Tamius was not a man. He was not a being of higher intelligence. In that moment he felt no soul, no empathy, no love. He was a desperate animal scrambling towards a corner. There was no safety waiting for him just beyond the rip. All that waited behind the fabric were a few extra tortured seconds of delusion. A few painful moments where he could pretend he could reason his way out of this and avoid the reality barreling down on him in the form of five gruesome fingers.
Though reality, it seemed, had other plans.
That gargantuan fucking idiot.
The fingers coiled around him, engulfing Tamius in their impossible mass. His heart pounded wildly in his chest, echoed by that of the flesh pulsing around him- the feeling so deeply sickening he could taste bile on his tongue. Tamuis’ stomach lurches as he’s dragged out, hands grasping pointlessly for anything as he's brought forth in front of a sickeningly familiar face.
He wanted to scream. He wanted to fight back. He wanted to kick, and bite and scratch until she had to let him go. He wanted so desperately to be the cause of even the smallest amount of pain. Anything to wipe that ridiculous awestruck stare off of her stupid face. Anything to pretend like there was something he could do to change the outcome.
But Tamius The Bestoyed, was a man far too smart for his own good. Cursed with reason, he was granted no security in ignorance. Pride was reserved for those who could delude themselves into believing they were in control. Much to his horror, Tamius knew better.
He’d been caught.
Trapped in the fist of a colossus, Tamius swallowed his pride. Tamius was a man of intellect and reason. So he did what any man with intellect and reason would do.
He begged.
“Please.” His voice shook, thick with fear and desperation as garbled pleas spilled forth like a river in spring. The knowledge he so prided himself with failed him, his words a stunted mess of gasping pleases and begging to be let go.
Her brow furrows.
“Pl-please.” Despite himself, Tamius uselessly strained against her fingers, wracking his brain anything he could say. Her eyes, wide and gray, were locked onto him.
Gray.
Gray like foreboding skies. Gray like-
She sucks in a breath, her eyes widening as some sort of thought passes through the near impenetrable density of her gargantuanly thick skull. For a moment, her mouth hangs agape- a look of confusion crossing her face as she takes her time forming a thought.
“... Why are you crying?”
Of all the things she could have said, Tamius had not been anticipating this.
What?
As if experiencing sympathy stupidity, his own mind goes blank, struggling to keep pace with her words. Was he? His face felt wet.
Wait- what did she mean why? How stupid could she be- As if she wasn’t obviously the reason!
Tamius wants to say something, but calling out her oblivious stupidity was out of the question. Before he’s able to gather his words, her hand opens up. No longer restrained in her grip, Tamius, completely and totally dumbstruck, finds himself sitting splayed out in her much too warm cupped hand.
He’s hit with an onslaught of thoughts, as he rapidly begins reformulating any semblance of a plan.
Could he jump? Run? Where was he? Could he fit under the door? How would he get home-
“Did I …” His thoughts are immediately silenced as she addresses him again, “... hurt you?”
Her words catch him off guard, but not nearly as much as her expression. Concern. Embarrassment? She seemed horrified at the thought, her grey eyes scrutinizing him for any sign of injury in a way that bordered on violating.
Too close- too much.
Unable to find his voice, Tamius shakes his head, scrambling back as much as the limited surface of her hands would allow. The massive, and now that he had the chance to get a good look at her, very sweaty woman eyed him curiously. She thinks for a moment, brow furrowed as the act of thinking clearly was not something in which she was well practiced.
“How did you get so small?”
What? Get?
His own expression mirrors hers, brow furrowing as realization dawns on him.
This idiot Gargo thinks I’ve shrunk…
If he wasn’t so terrified he would have scoffed. It would be his luck that he managed to have encountered the most gullible specimen of humanity imaginable. As if people just go around shrinking- wait.
People.
She thinks I’m human.
His hands rush to his ears, relief washing over him as he feels his hair, mussed just enough from this whole ordeal to have covered their not quite human shape. This… this could work. Despite the way his hands shook, despite the way his heart pounded in his chest, despite the way this was far beyond the bounds of a worst case scenario, a wry smile tugged at the corners of his lips.
I love the concept of size shifters who unabashedly love being small. Not so much in a fluffy sense where they just feel so safe and comfy... But in a spoiled wanting to be pampered sense. Like smug little gremlins who just want to be carried around.
Word Count: 632
CW: Fearplay,
---
No matter how many times you ask them not to walk all over your plate, they never listen. Every meal time its the same thing. They shrink down, hoisting themselves up onto the table, and walk right over to your plate, enjoying whatever you’ve made for yourself.
“Ohh,” their voice is thick with that quintessential mocking tone, “but I’m sooo small. You won’t even notice what I’ll take.”
You narrow your eyes.
“I wish I didn’t notice you.” They snicker at your remark, continuing to pick off of your plate. The first time they had shrunk had been jarring to you both. It had been without warning. One moment they were walking towards you, and the next they had seemed to vanish into thin air. Had it not been for their soft yelp of surprise cutting the silence you weren’t sure you would have noticed them.
Things... things had changed since then. You almost missed the days where they had sat in your cupped hands, eyes wide with fear. The way the had to close their eyes before you touched them, the way their hands shook before they touched you... With the privilege of hindsight, they had been adorable. While you didn’t want them be terrified of you again, anything was better than this.
What had once petrified them had quickly become their preferred state. You couldn’t remember the last time they willingly walked somewhere; you having become their primary mode of transportation. Personal space had so quickly become a thing of the past. They quite literally had taken to walking all over you, and they absolutely knew it.
They were smug.
You try to shoo them away from your plate with a spoon but they duck and weave, nimbly avoiding being pushed from your plate. Their laughter feels taunting. You lean closer to them, eyeing them up and down. All you get in return is a smirk as they sit on the edge of your plate.
“I miss when you used to be scared of me.”
For a split second, that smug little smirk gets wiped right of their face. You don’t quite catch the emotion that replaces it before they begin to chuckle, but you didn’t miss the way the tips of their ears had turned bright red.
“Thats on you.” They say nonchalantly, as the pull some more food directly from your plate. When they see the confusion on your face, they continue, “I never really thought of you as a gentle person until all of this” they say, gesturing to themselves. “But boy was I wrong. They way you’d dote on me left and right? The concern in your eyes every time you picked me up? How am I supposed to be afraid of someone as soft as you?”
You snort. Soft, huh? You can feel a grin pulling at the corners of your lips.
“How are you supposed to be afraid?” Slowly, you pinch their ankle between your thumb an index finger, “How about I show you?”
You lift up, bringing their foot up towards their head and sending them tumbling to their back. Before they can sit back up you press your fingertip to the center of their chest; pinning them to the table. The feeling of their heart beating wildly in their chest is oddly exhilarating.
“How about you stay off my plate,” you say, as you loom over their tiny frame. You bring yourself much closer, face inches away from their body. “Lest I mistake you for something a bit more-” you pause, flashing them a toothy grin “tasty.”
The change occurs suddenly.
One second you’re looming over a miniature human, the next, there's a full grown person splayed out on your table, eyes wide, cheeks red, and completely on top of your plate.
You’re the first to break the silence. Doubling over, you laugh. Tears threaten to spill from your eyes as you look at their flushed face, expression completely dumbfounded.
“Don’t you worry,” you tease, “I don’t eat spoiled snacks.”
Howdy Everyone! Here's my Big Post of all projects past present and future. You can find my writing (as well as smaller prompts and blurbs) under the tag EntoWrites, as well as my art under the tag EntoDraws.
Commissions are currently OPEN (See my commission post for more details)
I'm always excited to talk about my OCs and stories (as well as just interact in general) so feel free to send asks and dms at your leisure! (I will cry with joy)
Below are my individual stories. Each title will bring you to that particular story's MasterPost, associated art, and character information.
Bite Me (Ongoing)
June wakes up to find a vampire has broken into her room- while she hadn't been under the impression vampires existed in the first place, she certainly hadn't envisioned them as diminutive human-like parasites with strangely alluring voices...
Tags: BiteMe
AUs:
Paranormal!Au (coming soon)
Mer!Au (coming soon)
The Shadow We Cast (Ongoing)
Mark can't seem to catch a break in life until life forces a break on him. Having recently moved into the middle of absolutely nowhere in some obscure little Northern town he soon finds out that he's not alone in his new home after a run in with a mysterious little wildcard of a man named Sal.
The spider loving little man is strong, fearless, and full of life- everything Mark wishes he could become (though he could do without the spiders). Yet Sal has his own personal battles he's facing.
Tags: The Shadow We Cast, TSWC
AUs:
INSTAЯ (Ongoing)
Dawn Delacroix lives alone with her dog in the boonies on a large property surrounded by woods, so when she spies something walking towards her house one cold October night she immediately knows something isn't right.
There's a creature outside... and it's getting closer.
Tags: INSTAЯ
AUs:
Finding Strength (Ongoing)
Tamius has life made. The human of the house is a Borrower's dream! Forgetful, slow, and regularly out of the house. Life couldn't be any easier- that is until a series of snap decisions leaves him tagging along with her to her regular 4:00 pm outing and he has some big revelations.
Two guys and too many beers leads to more shenanigans.
- - - -
Previous Chapter: Chapter 3
Next Chapter: Chapter 5 (Coming Soon)
Word count: 2998
CW: Adult language, substances (beer/drinking), animal death (fishing/hunting)
It was beyond crazy to me that the most normal I’d ever felt was drinking beers with a weird little man who stood no more than, what, 6 inches tall at most? How many years had it been since the last time I had this much fun? The last time I felt like I could talk and laugh this freely? It just felt so… normal? The thought seemed ridiculous- I mean, the situation was anything but… and yet here I was, thoroughly buzzed and listening intently as if we were old friends.
Sal paraded around the table, reenacting some grand adventure I could only wrap my head around with the help of however many tallboys I’d downed over the past few hours. Tales of hunting monstrous beasts and climbing unfathomable heights. He wove wild stories of a world so foreign yet so familiar… quite literally a world in my backyard.
As I nursed another drink, Sal set the scene, recounting a day-long trek he'd made out to the lake. Mist rose off the water as loons called to one another, their haunting voices echoing off the calm water. He watched intently as they slipped under the water, barely even a ripple disturbing the surface of the lake.
As if he was painting a picture in my mind, I sat enthralled, feeling as if I could feel the crispness of the water washing away the heat of the sun as he spent the day swimming in the shallows. The way he spoke… It didn't feel like I was imagining his retelling from my perspective- but his own. His perspective felt like something … almost fantastical.
"I tried to lure some of the minnows, but I couldn't get close enough to spear them without them darting off.” As if still wielding a spear he eyed the non existent minnows, patiently following some unseen motion as he remained poised to strike. “The bigger minnows seemed slower, but they wouldn't come near shallow enough. I ended up using some of the dried grub rations I'd brought with me as bait, and boy did it work like a charm. I swam I bit farther out with the bait and-"
Spear raised, I could practically see the imaginary impact- watching as the massive fish- or minnow, thrashed against the sharpened twig. I was enthralled- the way his muscles moved with the motion was almost… intimidating, bringing forth thoughts of him human sized, spearing a monster of a fish while swimming in some dangerous Amazonian river.
“The damn thing was a bitch to swim with,” he groaned, annoyance clear on his face, “For one- it was heavy. But worse,” Sal huffs, “It was still moving.” Despite the exasperation on his face in recounting the ordeal, the man’s face couldn’t help but return to grinning.
“So then I’m swimming back, right? Honestly more like flailing with the stupid minnow in tow, but I’m keeping above water for the most part… but I keep hearing this clicking… almost squeaking noise? Weirder yet- it's coming from below me.” He pauses, lowering his voice and I’m quite literally reeled in by his story, leaning forward on the edge of my seat.
“Then- whoosh!”
Sal grabs at the air. My heart jumps in my chest as the man’s hand lashes out just inches from my face.
“This monstrous bastard of a creature - absolutely huge,” He pauses, shooting me a cheesy grin, “Second only to you, big man.” I snort and Sal picks right up where he left off, “It was all murky brown with thick these thick… whiskers? And it just sucks me into its mouth with this horrific gulp. Next thing I know I’m being dragged underwater, half in its mouth, pounding on its head just hoping it’ll let me go if I hit it hard enough.”
My breath hitches, a shudder running through me as I make the connection- A catfish.
“With nothing to lose, I stab it. The spear goes right through its eye and-” Sal pauses, making sure he has my full attention.
“And?”
“Nothing!” Sal laughs as if it was hilarious and not down right horrifying, “That stupid thing didn’t even flinch! I don’t know if it didn’t go deep enough or if I just missed any vital enough part, but it did absolutely nothing!”
He leans forward, no longer laughing as his face takes on a grim expression.
“At this point I start to get worried.”
“Start?!” I scoff. Sal dismisses my interruption with a wave of his hand.
"My lungs are burning, and the thing’s clamped down hard on my stomach. I'm stuck holding that stupid spear for life as it keeps doing this.. this…” He shudders, face twisting in disgust, “-weird gulping thing,” Sal shakes his head as if banishing the memory, “So I ripped that spear out and using everything I had I-” His fist came down, “- drove that spear right back into its head.”
Sal pantomimed a gruesome show- stabbing again and again in the world's most horrific display of charades as he brutalised the memory of the catfish.
“Finally,” He says, voice filled with a mix of relief and exasperation as if he’d just relived the whole ordeal, “it dies.”
I, stupidly, sigh in relief, as if somehow I couldn't have predicted the outcome with him quite literally standing in front of me.
“My lungs are on fire as I swim to the surface- and man, air never tasted so sweet.” Looking down at Sal, he's beaming, laughing like a kid as he recounts his victory over the massive fish. “And then it hits me- tasted!”
I furrow my brow, not quite following. Sal continues, frustration returning.
“No spear- and no fucking minnow! As if, after all that, air was gonna be the only thing I’d be tasting!”
After a brief pause I couldn't help but laugh. His smile grew even wider as he raved on, swinging his hands as he continued on about his harrowing ordeal.
“I refused to swim back empty handed after that shitshow- So I spent the whole afternoon dragging that giant bastard back to shore!”
Fuck. I stare at him, eyes wide. I can’t shake the disbelief as I try to think of what would be the equivalent feat- Dragging an orca back to shore? …Something bigger? I’ve never been an avid fisherman (nor did I have any plans to start) and really had no concept of how big the catfish in the lake got aside from the notion that they were definitely bigger than Sal.
“I get that monster to land- spend about 30 minutes on a fire that just won't start, until I'm finally able to start cooking that beast!”
He paces along the length of the table, his steps not nearly as sure footed as they had been a few hours prior. Even with his tiny frame I can easily make out the sheer rage simmering behind his eyes.
“And y'know what?” His voice, now starting to slur, is teeming with all the theatrics of a man at his absolute limit. I swallow, desperate to hold back a laugh I know is coming.
“What?”
“That fucking thing tasted awful!” Each word was spat with such ferocity it was as if he was trying to spit out the memory of the creature's taste.
There was no helping it.
With my inhibitions long since drowned, I laugh. I laugh louder than I have in years. I laugh until my sides ache- until tears prick at the edge of my eyes.
My vision blurs, tears threatening to spill over as he continues to rant and rave, but the sound of my laughing completely drowns out whatever critical opinions he was espousing on catfish edibility.
Wiping at my eyes, my brain takes a few tipsy seconds to focus back on the little man. Still shirtless, Sal had sat back, reclining with his back against one of the many empties as he lifted up what was arguably the equivalent to a very generous pitcher to his mouth with little effort- the relative ease of the action catching me by surprise as I imagined myself fumbling at doing the same.
He… he was built.
Quite literally a brick shithouse, if said shithouse belonged to Barbie.
Broad seemed like a fitting word. Broad chested, broad shoulders, broad smile- Hell, even his legs had a width to them. Sal looked as if he had stepped directly out of an instagram fitness post, with his … excessive biceps flexing under the weight of the shot glass, the act a paradoxical effortless display of effort. Even at his diminutive size, I could tell this man was anything but small. He-
He coughs.
My eyes dart away from his body in an instant, snapping back to his face… accompanied with heat rising in my own. As my eyes meet his, I’m again struck with the absolute absurdity of the situation.
I'm here… getting drunk… with a tiny man… He’s right there- arms reach in front of me…
And yet he still doesn't seem real.
My hand twitches at my side.
Touch him.
As my hand slides towards him, his gaze quickly flicks from my face to my hand and back to my face again. Confusion flashing across his features for a brief moment before his lopsided grin reappears. My finger tips barely graze him as he sidesteps my hand, shoving my fingers away.
Huh. There's a surprising amount of weight behind his push.
“Hands t'yourself, Big Guy.” Sal laughs, “You gotta take me to dinner first.”
It takes a moment for my brain to follow his words, and I snort.
“Is that not what I did?”
Sal blinks.
His own brain seeming to lag as realization dawns on him. After a moment's delay, he laughs.
Sal takes an unsteady step forward, the sway in his weight more noticeable than before. He’s still smiling, but a look of concern crosses his features as he stares at the ground in front of him.
“I feel weird.”
“You’re drunk.”
He looks back up towards me and I point to the drink. After a moment', Sal nods, seemingly cluing in. Maybe? I really couldn’t tell. For all I know, that nod might have been him nodding off with how stunted the gesture had looked.
“It…” He starts his sentence and seems to forget it half way through, taking a long blink in between words “... makes you dizzy?”
I lean forward to rest my head on the table, starting to feel all too alike.
“Mmm- yeah, when you’ve had a bit much.”
With that, I slid the shot glass away from him- An act which was apparently the most egregious party foul ever to have been committed. Shouts of protest erupt beneath me, as he trails after the glass.
With a laugh, I try to shoo him away, but man, the little guy can move. Despite the sway to his stride, Sal ducks my hand with ease.
“Dude,” I laugh, opting to pick up the glass, “You.. uh, you’ve had 'nough- you're gonna get sick.”
My words feel thick, almost sticky, in my mouth, and the thought crosses my mind that I should probably be taking my own advice.
“'m fine.”
I snort. The man didn't even know what beer was all of two hours ago, and here he was thinking he knew his limits.
“'s if you’d know,” I chuckle. “You're stumblin' 'round.”
Sal narrows his eyes.
“I am not!”
“Oh really?” My words slur together, thick with condescension and alcohol as a smile down at him. I shove a finger to his chest, I give a little push. Sal shoots glare as he staggers back.
“See?” I chuckle, “You're totally shtumbling!”
Eyes wide, he stares up at me, brain seeming to short-circuit for a moment before a goofy grin plasters itself across his face. I feel my own face mirror his expression as we break out into drunken laughter.
The laughter hit me hard.
I laughed at Sal's near cartoonish drunkenness.
I laughed at how he stumbled with a push from a finger.
I laughed at the strangeness- the reality shattering strangeness- of his very existence.
This... this is really strange...
As our collective laughter died down I took in a deep inhale. I needed to know more. I couldn’t keep up the half assed charade of normalcy.
“Sal-”
In the brief moment I’d let my guard down, the tiny man quite literally pounces. I yank my hand away a fraction of a second before he lands, Sal stumbling as his weight falls forward. Before his face makes contact with the table, Sal seemingly just… goes with it? Just flowing with the momentum as if stumbling forward had been completely intended. With surprisingly little effort, his would-be fall morphs into a drunkenly graceful forward roll, carrying him to a stand- albeit, an unsteady one.
For a moment, I’m at a loss for words, and before I’m able to react to whatever odd show of athleticism I’d just witnessed, he’s already at it again, eyes locked onto the shot glass like a cat locked onto a mouse. I move to shoo him away with my free hand, yet I’m met with nothing but empty space as Sal scrambles underneath the gesture.
Again, he tries for the glass.
Launching himself at my hand, I feel his hands graze my own before I lift the glass out of reach. Sal lands with a stumble, a lopsided grin sitting smugly on his face as he looks from the glass to me.
Sal lowers his stance, looking something between a sprinter at the blocks and a mountain lion set to pounce.
Seeing the gears in his head turning (albeit, slowly), I clue in. Before he gets the chance to scale me for the beverage, I make a grab for him.
And yet, despite my efforts, somehow Sal winds up on top of my hand. It was like trying to grab at water- with him just flowing out of my grasp. Abandoning the shot glass, I grab at him with my free hand- watching dumbstruck as he drunkenly pivots, turning to jump at my in coming hand.
I freeze- Trying and failing to keep my hand steady as Sal hangs off my fingers.
With my lack of reaction, Sal takes the opportunity to climb my fingers like some sort of rope ladder.
To my horror, he climbs all of them, heaving himself to a shaky stand on the side of my index finger- Hands on his hips and grin on his face.
I meet his gaze and he laughs, his expression smug as he wags his finger at me.
“Too shlow.”
Arms out in a stumbling balance act, Sal begins walking across the edge of my hand looking oddly similar to a failed roadside sobriety test. Pausing, he frowns, pouting in frustration before bending over. For a moment, I think he’s about to throw up. Instead, he plants his hands firmly on my forearm.
My stomach drops.
With no effort whatsoever, Sal switches to walking on his hands- somehow just as drunkenly. Swaying side to side, every “step” seemed to overcompensate for the last, looking as if he was perpetually on the verge of tipping over.
And then he did.
In a split second, I’m sober.
My hand darts out, closing awkwardly around his form with all the grace and fine motor skills of a man marginally less drunk. Unmoving and unblinking, Sal stares up at me, a strange sound escaping him… almost as if a hum got caught in his throat. I could have almost been convinced he was nothing but an action figure with the way Sal went rigid- if not for his heart beating wildly beneath my fingertips.
My own heart drummed in my ears, and for a moment, just a single moment, it didn’t bother me that he was sticky.
He swallows. The tiny, but very human action feels uncanny at his size. The rise and fall of his chest, the strangely sizable weight of him in my hands… all of it is just so… strange. He feels solid - tense beneath my grip. Fuck- even at his size he felt strong. My eyes trace over the myriad of scars that marred his skin, gaze lingering over the clear bite mark that covered his shoulder and chest…
I hadn't even noticed my thumb tracing over it until I felt him try and push the digit away.
“Mark-”
“Oh- sorry.” I adjust my grip into something I assume is more comfortable, opting to hold him in a way that left him semi-seated in my palms rather than awkwardly dangling from a first.
It's a weird sight, seeing a grown man sitting in your hands. Every small movement I make has him sway, his head drunkenly lolling back as he slurs a few indistinguishable words with a chuckle. Up close like this he looks just about as drunk as he sounds- red in the face and eyes struggling to stay open.
Adjusting my grip, I cringe.
He was more than just a little sticky.
His pants clung to my skin, peeling off as I moved like a Band-Aid being removed. The mental image sends a shudder down my spine.
I consider taking the opportunity to wipe off the concerningly sticky little man while I have the chance, though a more rational voice in the back of my mind argues that a good host doesn’t assault their “neighbor” with wet wipes.
Below, Sal grumbles something unintelligible, clearly displeased with me as he swats at my fingers. Though despite his attempts, my fingers lingered.
Ugh- He left a stain on my hand!
I glare at the dark smear of sauce he’d wiped off onto his pants, silently reconsidering the option of dousing the man in dish soap, let alone wet wipes, etiquette be damned.
My first OCs June and Aedes are finally getting their story told!! I'm so excited to finally be posting this. This chapter acts as a sort of prologue to their OG lil comic. I'm very happy to announce I've got 10 or so chapters already written so for the next little while I'll be uploading this story weekly!
- - - -
Next Chapter: Chapter 2
Word count: 759
CW: Vampire adjacent mild gore (mentions of blood, drinking blood)
Darkness had always been a comforting embrace to Aedes. There was an innate safety amongst the shadows, and a beautiful stillness under the light of the moon. Still- but not quiet. The night, in all its ethereal splendor, held a delicate symphony; Wood frogs and crickets sang with fervor, the leaves in the canopy above whispered subtle secrets, and the thrum of a heartbeat rang out in the distance- a sirens song to someone like him.
Aedes listened intently, following the slow rhythmic beating with well practiced ease- a predator stalking its prey. His mouth watered. It had been so long since he last fed. This rural town afforded him a certain safety, but the cost of less frequent feeding was a hard price to bear. He was starved. Hunger gnawed at his insides, relentless and unforgiving in its demand to be sated, the alluring call of a potential meal pulling him forward as if it were reeling him in.
He felt almost as if he were in a trance, his fixation on the thrumming causing the world around him to fade away. The nightly sounds seemed to dissolve more and more into the ether with each percussive beat. He followed the beat, his steps marching in time as if dancing to a stranger's most intimate song. Like a doting partner, he let the song lead him, each beat bringing him closer and closer to the unwitting musician.
There he stood, a quaint two story home before him, its sage green siding looking at home within the menagerie of plant life growing wild around it. As he scanned the building, his eyes fell on an open window. He smiled. It seemed the people of rural towns found a certain safety here as well.
With the utmost care, he heaved himself up, sliting the screen along its edge as he climbed through the window. He paused, taking in a deep breath as he perched on the window sill. Closing his eyes, he drank in the smell. A scent, smooth and sweet filled his lungs, so tempting it made his breath hitch. His hands shook, and his heart pounded with anticipation- His more desperate instincts calling on him to rush towards that effervescent scent and abandon all rationality. Patience. He steadied his breath, letting his urges feed his excited anticipation.
A woman lay right there beneath him, her chest rising and falling in rhythm with her heart. Bathed in the pale light of the full moon, he marveled at her ambrosian beauty. Under the glistening light, her soft and subtle skin looked as though she was made of milk and honey, her nectarous lips full and blushing, the sight of their colour teasing hints of that… vigor that flowed so closely beneath her skin.
And her neck-
He found himself baring his teeth involuntarily, his body begging for him to drink.
She lay with her head to one side, such an innocent position filling him with such a potent hunger, as if she left herself open and vulnerable just for him. Adrenaline and hunger mingled together, dizzying in their intensity. His own heart thrummed alongside hers, beating much more wildly- a symbiotic dance between predator and prey, the thrill of the hunt intertwining with that ever-present dread of being caught.
He couldn't wait any longer.
Silent as the dead, he descended on her- his movements fluid despite their uncanny speed. The call of her heart beckoning him, compelling him to indulge.
Indulge he did.
His teeth sliced into the flesh of her neck, her soft skin offering no hint of resistance to his bite. He suppressed the urge to groan.
The taste - he shivered.
She tasted like life.
On his tongue, she was a reprise. Her warmth filling him- her blood rejuvenating and invigorating. His mind felt dizzied, dancing on a drunken high he never quite understood. He felt a stupor come over him and welcomed it, riding out the bliss as he drank.
An oasis is she,
So sweet on my tongue,
If I could drink my fill I would drown-
He gulped with a primal desperation, his gluttony feeling boundless.
Such an insatiable creature am I,
You, the ambrosia my lips pursue
Dear, my hunger consumes me,
please, let me consume -
Her breath hitched.
Suddenly, the night was no longer still.
In the blink of an eye, his world shifted- or more accurately, flipped- as gravity suddenly ripped him away from his indulgence. His mind reeled, desperate to understand what was happening.
CW: Mentions of blood, Adult language, Dehumanization, Fearplay
“Well Aedes,” June tries to keep her voice even, but she can feel herself growing frustrated at his dodging of her questions, “What were you doing in my bed?”
He bristles- for a brief moment his entire body goes rigid. A look of sheer panic crosses his face, and she watches as he clenches and unclenches his fists, fidgeting anxiously. To her dismay, June notices he’s shaking. With his back still firmly pressed against the wall, he slides down to a seated position, burying his head in his hands. June considers asking a second time, but before she can, Aedes speaks,
"I... I was…" he racks his brain, desperate for something, anything to say. He stares at his blood smeared hands, refusing to look up at her. "...feeding."
What?
The sense of unease that she had initially felt when encountering him returned all at once.
The snarling.
The smear of blood on his lips- Her blood.
Her hand slowly and shakily reaches up towards her neck. He… he bit her? She feels the colour drain from her face… feeding… June feels nauseous. Had he-
“On me?” She says, her voice feeling hollow. He flinches at her words, ears drawing back. He says nothing. Remaining seated with his head in his hands. She sees his body hitch. His first words echo in June’s mind.
Please don't hurt me
Was this why he’d been so afraid?
“Like… b-blood… to drink?” June stammers. For a moment, he continues his silence, the only sound coming from his heavy breathing.
"...Yes." His voice, worn down by fear, comes forth in a raspy whisper. "I- I need blood." He avoids her gaze. June feels her mind buck against the absurdity of the word that slips into her mind, yet she says it aloud regardless,
“Like... a vampire?”
His head slowly raises to look at her, and for a moment he only stares, not understanding the word at first. As some kind of realization slowly sets in, a tiny bit of surprise flashes across his face as he processes the word. Slowly, he nods again.
"Yes. A vampire. That's... what I am." The word seems to hang heavy in the air between them, suspended in time. Without warning, the woman breaks the silence- erupting with… laughter??
Why was she laughing? What about this was funny to her?
He scowls.
June can't help but laugh at the sight of his disdain. His serious expression contrasting the absurdity of this whole situation.
This… this is crazy.
"W-What? What's so..." Aedes sputters, his sentence trailing off as June's laughing only increases. Between gasping breaths, June attempts to stifle her chuckles.
"Of all the things you could have told me…" June trails off, unable to contain her giggling, “A vampire??"
Aedes stares at her dumbfounded. His silence seems to sober her from her amusement, finally managing to contain her laughter.
"You- you're really serious?"
He meets her stare with his own, brow furrowed in a mixture of confusion and what June could only assume was offense. She bit her lip. He certainly looked serious. Even though she’s been the one to say it, part of her had expected him to scoff- to deny it- to offer some sort of explanation…
"I'm sorry. I just- I didn't think vampires were so…um" she laughs again, however this time nervously, "small…"
Aedes feels as scowl as it carves its way across his face. It was humiliating. The very thing that was the cause for so much fear to him was just… funny to her. His means of survival… his size… Resentment seemed to brew under his skin. The thought of being so small yet being tied to a being so much like him yet so much more just to survive was a cruel twist of nature. He grit his teeth.
Seeming to sense his offense, the colossal woman fruitlessly tries to wipe the grin from her face. He sighed. This felt almost degrading… Humiliating as it was, teasing at his expense was a far better alternative than being seen as some sort of leeching pest. Swallowing his pride, he wills himself to join in the levity.
“So what?" He asks, trying to keep his voice light, "Are you laughing at my height or my…. profession?”
"Both or... Neither? I didn't expect to find a little man today, and I certainly didn't expect him to be a vampire!" She chuckles, shaking her head. Her words have a strange effect on him. Being called a little man feels patronizing. He knows he's small. So does she. There was no need to point it out. But… she'd called him a man- sure, a little man… but still, a man…
In the midst of his non response, she leans closer. He feels himself tense, but doesn't move.
"I mean… this is ... pretty fucking wild."
He eyes her carefully as she leans closer, steeling himself at her approach.
“What are you doing?” He asks, though he can guess.
She's curious he tells himself, almost for his own reassurance. Her gaze feels heavy. Despite her keeping her hands to herself, he feels the weight of her gaze as if he's firmly in her grasp. Her enormity was staggering. Despite what, in theory, was quite the distance between them, her closeness felt invasive- far too intimate at her size. As she leans in, he once again sees his own reflection in her eyes…
He looks… so very small.
Before he can voice his grievances at her closeness, she seems to catch herself; suddenly pulling back, face flushed a deep red. He blinks in disbelief. Had he… had he made her blush?
"I - " for a moment her eyes no longer take him in as a whole and seem to focus directly on his gaze, before quickly looking away, "Sorry."
He feels his breath rush out, tension melting away with a genuine chuckle. There was something at play here, something so familiar yet so foreign in this bizarre setting. The flush on her cheeks, her fleeting gaze…
Fuck it.
“Do you want to take another look?” The ease in his voice surprises him.
Her eyes are back on him in a flash; eager and excited. She nods, and her cheeks deepen even more red.
"Can I -uh.. can I touch you?"
Her question catches him off guard and he hesitates before answering. His instinct is to immediately deny her request, but… He was not expecting the human to ask in the first place. She clearly didn't have to ask- if she wanted to, she could have done so. She wanted his permission. Aedes finds himself wanting to reward this behavior with the goal of reinforcing it. It's simply training a desirable behavior. Nothing more. After a moment, he nods.
“Fine. You may touch me.”
He watches as her eyes widen slightly, but says nothing. As she reaches he finds himself taken aback by the paradoxical sight of her hands shaking…
Was she that excited?
Or was she that nervous?
He most certainly was. His heart pounded against his ribs at her approach, begging for him to run. With no small effort, he resisted the urge, rationalizing that a pest, not a man, would run from an incoming hand.
More gently than he would have thought it possible, she took his wrist between her thumb and forefinger, eyes fixated on his hands. He avoided looking at her face. Not only her touch, but her scrutiny made his skin crawl. Instead he found himself staring at her fingers. Her nails almost resembled his own clawed fingers, and he found their glossy pink colour surprisingly pretty, like dew on rose petals. He watched in awe at the sheer difference in size as she placed the pad of her index finger under his palm. She grazed her thumb over the top of his hand, prompting a shiver to run down his spine. He swallowed. His feeding had been cut short, and the remnants of his hunger left her smelling so dangerously good to him. A sweet and creamy scent… almost comforting.
To his great surprise, he finds his muscles relaxing.
Well, this was unexpected.
He clears his throat.
"Are you satisfied?"
She smiles, and to his horror, his heart flutters.
"Not quite yet…" she whispers, a playful lilt in the hushed rasp of her voice; teasing, though not like before. This was warmer. Her words seem to linger in the air as her finger tip traces a delicate path up the length of his arm, her touch gentle and deliberate. He… he hadn’t anticipated actually enjoying her touch, or the way it seemed to be awakening sensations he had long forgotten. Never in his adult life has he been touched this tenderly. Her soft caress ignites something within him, as if a current surged beneath the traces of her fingertips. It felt… almost… good.
He casts his gaze upwards, suppressing a flinch at the sheer closeness of her colossal form.
“And what exactly are you feeling for?” He asks, his smirk down right audible in his tone.
He watches in awe as her face flushes again. Was - was this actually happening? Despite his fear, those reactions fed into a growing curiosity toward this woman. His mind bucked against the thought. This… is dangerous isn't it? Stupid even…And yet…
He liked it. A lot.
She cleared her throat, a bashful smile crossing her lips.
"You're uh-" she gives an awkward chuckle, "pretty sturdy."
There's a momentary pause as his brain registers her words.
He laughs. The sound comes forth full and hearty, surprisingly genuine to his ears.
"What?" He scoffs, "Are you testing my structural integrity?"
Above him, yet oh so close, she stares down at him, face pink as can be. His breath hitches. The sight of teeth softly pressing into the plush flesh of her lip stirs something in his chest, and he feels heat rush to his ears.
His attention is pulled away from her face as she moves her hand. Her index finger lazily tracing up his arm and onto his chest. He swallows.
Could she feel his heart race?
Her finger came to rest at the center of his chest. At the pause in movement, he once again cast his gaze upwards to her and was met by a coy smile.
Without warning, she pushed.
He couldn't help but grunt at the unexpected increase in force. Her touch, moments ago soft and tender, held a newfound firmness as she pressed her finger tip into him. He stood, unmoving, unsure of what was happening. He knew the uncertainty should have been terrifying, and maybe in a way, it was, yet there was an undeniable thrill in not knowing. There was a playfulness to her touch, a teasing curiosity he couldn’t quite tell if it was innocent in nature. Could she tell what her touch was doing for him?
"What are you doing?"
Her face feigns an innocent expression.
"Oh? I'm just testing your-what was it?" she pauses, pretending to search for the words,"structural integrity." She nearly purrs the words. Her voice smooth and thick, like honey; sweet and silky - like her blood. If he closes his eyes he can nearly taste her on his-
She pushes him again.
He falls back, face hot. Before he can get up her finger finds that familiar spot in the center of his chest. There's no way she can't feel his heart now. Her touch and the beating of his heart is all he can feel. Her finger tip rises up from his chest, tracing his neck and coming to rest under his chin. At his side, he can feel his hands shake as heat fills his face, with even the tips of his ears burning. The air feels too thin, and she all at once feels far to close, and much too far. There's a strange tension between them as he speaks,
“And… what exactly are you doing now?” He struggles to keep his voice even, desperate to maintain control of his reaction if nothing else.
She leans in, her face consuming the entirety of his field of vision.
"I want to see your face."
For a brief moment, he swears his heart stops. The intensity of her gaze feels overwhelming- nerve racking. His mind feels as if it's racing and blank simultaneously; The only constant being the woman… the human woman.
"Well" He rasps, his voice far more forced than he would have anticipated, "do you like what you see?" He raises his head, craning his neck to give her a full view of himself. He feels a grin tugging at the corners of his lips.
It's as if his words break an illusion- she tenses, and pulls back. His grin feels much less forced as he watches her reaction, relishing in the power his words seem to garner. Yet a persistent feeling of longing sours the small victory; A longing to be overwhelmed again by her closeness… by her touch.
She fidgets with her hand as he speaks, and he finds himself imagining her fidgeting with him instead. Wait- he blinks the thoughts away, repulsed by the idea… Enticed by the idea.
"Well, you're a vampire, right?" He notices, to his dismay, she won't meet his eyes, "but you're so, um, small." Thanks. "... I wanted a closer look at um- your teeth."
He found himself intrigued by the eb and flow of her emotions; she'd essentially just been fondling him, yet suddenly now she was acting coy? Because of a few choice words? He reveled in how her demeanor shifted with his words, how her eyes darted away from his, how her cheeks dawned near permanent blush. She, a creature of such immensity, hung captive to his charm, his wit- as if his will superseded the physical reality. Without the weight of her hand to stop him, he sits up.
“I’d be happy to show you my teeth,” getting to his feet he makes a show of brushing himself off, “But first,” he turns his gaze towards her, eyebrows raised and a whisper of a smirk on his lips, “you’ll have to come just a little bit closer.”
He watches with delight as her eyes widen at his words. He was making her nervous. He likes that. Seeing her cheeks flush, he realizes he likes that even more. And when she listens to his request? He finds himself liking that the most. She leans in, closing what little space was between them, but instead of looming over him she lowers herself. Where once she was resting on her elbows, now she lowered herself so her chin rested on her hands, nearly flat on the ground.
She looked up at him.
Oh.
Did she have any idea what she was doing to him?
The way her eyes, bright green and innocent, looked up at him through her lashes suggested she definitely knew.
“Can… I see your teeth?” She’s so close he feels her warm breath on his legs as she asks again. He refrains from biting his lip. Instead, he imagines biting hers.
“Closer.” He repeats. There was nothing between them, save air and opportunity, and the scent of the blood still on her neck was quickly taking his breath away. She’d come closer and he’d drop to his knees and show his teeth far more intimately than she’d have anticpated; sinking them into the soft flesh of her lips-
The sound of her voice pulls him from his fantasy,
“Closer, huh?”
She draws nearer, closing what little gap still remained between them- so close her nose traces up his midsection to his chest. He steps back, and she rises, once again resting on her elbows, albeit this time, directly overtop of him.
“May I please see your teeth now?”
Looking up at her like this- he can’t deny the obvious intimidation he feels, and it's almost as if he doesn’t want to. Why would he ever deny himself of anything to do with her? The irony isn’t lost on him that what seemed like just moments ago he was so opposed to being seen as something to had- to being possessed, yet now he found himself wishing desperately to be hers. If she wanted to see his teeth, he’d gladly show her.
“I believe you may.” He says, his tone tauntingly flirtatious.
He smiles, lips parting to a wide grin. To his own shock, he closes his eyes. Was… was he beginning to trust her? Attraction was one thing. He was a man with needs, and she was a beautiful woman… a very large and imposing woman, but a woman nonetheless- but trust? That was a whole other beast. With his eyes closed, his skin bristles and tingles with each of her breaths washing over him. He feels his heart beating wildly, adrenaline coursing through his veins. He trails his tongue over his teeth and his ears twitch at her gasp.
“You… you really are a vampire…” she whispers, her voice laden with disbelief, “They’re so… sharp...”
He feels… smug? Confident? He can’t quite place the emotion, but he sure as Hell knows the source.
“Oh?” he muses, opening his eyes, “Do I scare you?”
She answers with a mischievous grin- a grin that a small part of his brain is screaming to run from. His heart nearly jumps into his throat as she reaches for him, her fingers lacing around his torso. He suppresses a yelp as she lifts him, slowly and carefully, off the ground and towards her face.
“I think a more appropriate question would be,” she begins, her voice a sultry purr “Do I scare you?”
Yes.
Fear courses through his veins as his mind spits out fragments of thoughts.
Caught.
Helpless.
Vulnerable.
Intimate.
He focuses on that last one. The softness of her skin. The wild energy in her gaze. The sweet and heavy scent of her.
She was terrifying.
“That depends,” he lies, “Have you planned what you’re going to do to me now that you’ve caught me?”
