Random BL One-Shots

Lunar Awakening

The city sprawled beneath a star-strewn sky, its luminous skyline contrasting starkly with the shadows that cloaked its hidden depths. Amidst this vibrant metropolis, Arion, a young werewolf wrongfully exiled from his pack, navigated the labyrinth of urban sprawl with a heavy heart and an unyielding spirit. The Crescent Moon Pack, once his family and refuge, had cast him out in the wake of a devastating fire that had laid waste to their resource supplies. Despite Arion's desperate attempts to clear his name, presenting evidence of sabotage and the scent of an intruder, the pack's leaders had chosen to blame him. Their decision, driven by fear and the need for a scapegoat, had left him alone in a city that offered little sanctuary.

His first days of exile were a blur of confusion and despair. The city's chaos was a harsh contrast to the relative order of pack life. Arion found himself adrift, his usual sense of direction obscured by the towering buildings and neon lights. He sought refuge in derelict warehouses and abandoned buildings, places where his presence could go unnoticed but where he still felt the sting of loneliness and hunger. His werewolf senses, once a source of pride, now heightened his isolation. Every sound seemed amplified, every shadow a potential threat, and every moment was a reminder of the comfort he had lost.

One particularly frigid night, as the city wind howled through the cracks of an old warehouse, Arion huddled in a corner, clutching a makeshift blanket for warmth. The emptiness of his stomach matched the emptiness he felt inside. He had been scavenging for days, but food was scarce, and hope seemed like a distant memory. Just as he began to succumb to despair, a sudden noise startled him. His heart pounded in his chest as he prepared for a possible confrontation.

A figure emerged from the darkness, and Arion's instincts told him to brace for a fight. But the figure, a man in his late twenties with a rugged but kind demeanor, approached with an air of calm that seemed almost surreal in the grim setting.

"Easy there," the man said, his voice steady and soothing. "I'm not here to fight. I just saw someone who looked like they could use a hand."

Arion's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "And why should I trust you?"

The man extended a hand, his expression genuine. "Name's Miles. I've seen you around and thought you could use some help. I know what it's like to be on your own."

Arion hesitated, but the sincerity in Miles's voice made him reconsider. He took the hand, allowing Miles to help him up. They made their way through the dimly lit alleys to Miles's loft, a modest yet inviting space that offered a stark contrast to the harshness of Arion's recent days.

Inside the loft, the warmth from the crackling fire was a comforting balm. The flickering light illuminated the room in a cozy glow, and the aroma of cooking food filled the air. Miles, ever the host, prepared a simple meal with a practiced ease. As they sat at the small table, the quiet of the loft offered a reprieve from the chaos outside. The scent of food was a welcome distraction from Arion's hunger, and he allowed himself to relax for the first time in weeks.

As they ate, Miles broke the silence. "I used to belong to a pack," he began, his voice carrying the weight of past sorrows. "We were attacked by the Nightshade Clan. They're known for their ruthlessness. They came in with such force, and the attack left no room for mercy. I lost everyone—my family, my friends, my home. After the attack, I tried to rebuild, but the loss was too overwhelming. I decided to leave my pack behind and became a loner."

Arion listened intently, his heart aching for Miles. "I was exiled from my pack. They blamed me for a fire that destroyed our supplies. I tried to show them it was sabotage, but the pack leaders wouldn't hear it. They needed a scapegoat to appease the members, and I was the easy choice."

Miles nodded his gaze distant. "It's not just about losing your home. It's about the betrayal, the sense of abandonment from those who were supposed to be your family. I thought isolating myself would be my shield, but it only deepened my solitude."