An American Werewolf In Denial
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When he’s up at the top of the hill, when his ex falls laughing onto some scrawny newcomer, something about it is irresistible. He has to get in there and fuck it up.
Series
- Part 1 of An American Werewolf In Denial
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He knows it’s below him. Johnny looks at LaRusso, at that shit-eating expression, at the shoulder he just got checked with. (Late at night he sometimes wonders if LaRusso needs this as much as he does.)
Series
- Part 2 of An American Werewolf In Denial
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LaRusso’s cries of pain are almost as loud as the blood rushing in Johnny’s ears. Thinking back on it later, he’ll be proud of Bobby’s endless stream of apologies, and even more for the resolution with which he throws his belt at Kreese’s feet afterward. In the moment he’s trying to repress a clench of what feels awfully like envy while Miyagi cradles and comforts Cobra Kai’s number one rival. It’s fine. Everything is fine. Johnny will win like always and LaRusso will scram back to Jersey and everything will go back to normal.
He enters the ring telling himself that. He doesn’t look at where LaRusso’s taking all his weight off one leg. He doesn’t look at his stupid Bambi eyes. He bows once, twice, and fights like his whole world depends on it, because it does.
Series
- Part 3 of An American Werewolf In Denial
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Jimmy sighs. “We’ve lost him.”
“In la la land,” snickers Dutch. “La, la, LaRusso.”
Johnny snaps back to the present and the goddamn clock is ticking too loud. “What?”Series
- Part 4 of An American Werewolf In Denial
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The sand gives way under his feet. It’s not as good as running on packed dirt, but it adds a layer of challenge that thrills him. Daniel keeps pace impressively ahead of him. There’s maybe ten, fifteen feet between them, not enough to diminish the smell of sweat and exertion, but Johnny can’t find any hint of real fear. Adrenaline, the satisfaction of escape, tension across his muscles, a rabbiting heart pushing oxygen around to keep the whole wonderful machine going, but none of the acrid overtone that comes from intimidated freshmen or the occasional cat. Nothing to indicate prey. Just a boy—a stupid, incredible boy—laughing into the wind as he runs.
Series
- Part 5 of An American Werewolf In Denial
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God, he can taste the moon, seeping through his skin, down to his toes, to the ends of his hair, up along the tissue of every organ and muscle. The pads of his fingers are buzzing. He listens to Daniel’s slow, echoing heart and times his breath to every eighth beat.
Series
- Part 6 of An American Werewolf In Denial
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Johnny sticks to shadows as best he can, not that his horrendously high-maintenance goldenrod color would blend, but still. The smells are stronger in town and several times he finds himself distracted trying to trace something tasty back to origin. No, he reminds himself. He’s doing something very important. He feels it in his teeth, the pads of his paws, from his nose to his tail. He runs and he runs.
Series
- Part 7 of An American Werewolf In Denial
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“I wonder if we should get letterman jackets,” Johnny says, and Tommy snorts.
“You just want to see him in something that says ‘LAWRENCE’ in big letters.”
Series
- Part 8 of An American Werewolf In Denial
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Would you offer your throat to the wolf with the red roses? by thembonesthembones
Fandoms: Karate Kid (Movies)
12 Mar 2023
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Johnny thinks of Daniel sprawled out on the sand under him, panting and nearly smiling and smelling like heaven, and he feels himself flush pink. Then he thinks of the time he and his guys beat him nearly unconscious against a fence outside his home. “I shouldn’t have put you in a position where you had to make that choice. Doesn’t matter if you wanted it. I wasn’t thinking straight and-”
“It matters to me,” Daniel hisses. “It matters to me a fucking lot, Johnny! Okay? I did want it and I do want it, so either you need to stop blaming yourself and give it to me or you need to tell me right now that you don’t feel this, too.”
All Johnny can do is choke. Of course he can feel it. He’s felt it since that first night at the beach, since the tournament, since he was so moon-drunk he didn’t realize it was kind of a bad idea to tackle his nemesis into the sand and devour him. He doesn’t know what to say, so he says nothing.
Series
- Part 9 of An American Werewolf In Denial