#i struggled at first to find full body references

[chitinleg]

got him off-balance!

[punkshort]

i know who you are | 7. the week

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter Summary: Joel is on a mission to win you back. You struggle with your feelings and visit an old friend for some perspective.

Chapter Warnings: language, angst, pining, sad!Joel, amnesia, slow burn, physical violence, wounds/blood/injuries/gore, vague reference to suicide (Joel remembering his incident after Sarah), alcohol consumption, non-descriptive smutty memory, mentions of murder (adults and children), mentions of pregnancy (not reader)

WC: 7.7K

A/N: I took some liberties with the background of the Fireflies, it's not exactly canon.

Series Masterlist

Somewhere in Northern California

It took two days.

Two full days of freezing temperatures and frigid wind as he traversed up and down mountains, through snow covered forests with little to no shelter, but he finally made it. Right before nightfall, he approached the edge of the town you grew up in. The town your parents still lived in ten years ago. The town that holds a history of you and everything you hold dear.

It was too dark and he was too tired to enter the town and go any further, but fortune smiled upon him for the first time since he left Jackson when he spotted a dilapidated woodshed tucked into the forest. It was small, no bigger than a bedroom, but it would do. It would be the first time in two days he would get to sleep with a roof over his head, and he desperately needed it.

He grossly overestimated his ability to survive out in the wild. He did it before, of course, but life in Jackson made him soft. Made him complacent. Made him weak.

Time took its toll on his body. His age was an offensive reminder every time his knees creaked or his back twinged. He wasn't as fast as he used to be, nor as strong. But he was determined and stubborn, two things that would never change.

With hands trembling from the cold, he jabbed his knife into the lock and broke it with ease, a small triumph in an otherwise unforgiving journey. The shed was mostly empty, save for a pile of wood and an axe. Plenty of room for both him and the horse.

After he scattered some oats on the floor, he grabbed his rifle and marched back out into the snowy tundra to do a perimeter check, knowing he would fall asleep the moment he allowed himself to slow down. By the time he deemed the area safe, he retreated back into the woodshed and lit a fire in the tiny furnace to warm up a bit.

Once he got feeling back in his fingers, he cracked open some stew and ate it cold straight from the can, too impatient to warm it up and too eager to get some rest. The wind howled outside, practically screaming at him with every gust: How could you say that to me?

The horse nickered softly, her head lowered, one back leg cocked as she began to doze off. He laid on the wooden floor, partially resting inside his sleeping bag, ready to strike if there was an intruder. The back of his wrist laid against his forehead while he stared blankly at the ceiling, wondering for the umpteenth time if what he was doing was even going to work. If he would even be capable of finding your house in this town, let alone finding any pictures still in good enough condition to bring back to you.

But it was all he had.

You had mentioned to him when he was sick, after you saw the photo of Sarah, how you wished you had pictures of your family. You looked so somber and distant and he was once again reminded that even though you lost them ten years ago, in your mind you only lost them months ago.

He couldn't imagine losing Sarah twice. Waking up one day, thinking she was alive and healthy and late for school just to be told she was killed mercilessly ten years prior and died in his arms. You were so much stronger than him. You always were. You were told your whole world changed, your family gone, and then tossed into a house with him, pressured by everyone every damn day to regain your memories and become a completely different person when he knew deep down if the same had happened to him, his answer would lie at the end of a barrel. But unlike before, he might not flinch.

You really fucking hurt me, Joel.

He rubbed his face aggressively, the pain and anguish in your voice haunting him. This trip left him with too much time to get lost in his thoughts, too much time to wallow in his grief and replay every single painful memory from the past several days.

Sighing, he dropped his hands to his chest and tried to think about something else. Letting his eyes drift shut, he let his mind wander back to before. Before your accident, before he fucked everything up, back to a time when you were happy and stupidly in love.

"What's cookin', good lookin'?" he heard your voice behind him.

He grinned as he stirred a pot of sauce on the stove while you wrapped your arms around his midsection, burying your face against his back.

"My accent rubbin' off on you now?"

You giggled and let go, walking over to grab the bottle of whiskey and pouring you each a glass.

"Maybe."

You handed him his glass and clinked them together before taking a sip.

"How was patrol?" he asked, turning his attention back to the pasta.

"Boring," you replied, hopping up onto the counter next to him, swinging your legs back and forth. "Jesse has a lot of work to do. He's not seasoned enough to be out there without one of us."

He nodded thoughtfully and lifted the spoon up to your lips to taste the sauce. "Needs lemon," you said, licking your upper lip while he snatched a lemon from a basket in the corner of the kitchen and sliced it in half.

"Yeah, I know, but he's got potential. Just gotta get him to focus a bit more. Gotta be more aware of his surroundings."

You hummed and rubbed the back of your neck with a wince.

"You hurtin'?" he asked, but you shook your head immediately.

"Just tired."

"You sure?" he said while he strained the pasta. "I can rub your neck later."

"Oh, well in that case, yes. I'm absolutely aching over here," you said with a smile.

"Don't tempt me, baby," he told you, setting down the pot before wedging himself between your knees, his hands rubbing over your thighs. "Might not stop at your neck."

"Is that right?" you teased, pulling your lower lip between your teeth playfully.

"Mhmm. First it's your neck, then shoulders," he said, pressing a gentle kiss against your lips, "then your back," he dragged his hands up your back and pressed you forward, nearly pulling you off the counter.

"Then what?" you asked breathlessly, arms loosely draping around the back of his neck.

"Before y'know it, you'll be pullin' at my belt, tellin' me you got an ache someplace else 'n you need me to stuff you full of my cock." His hands dragged up and down your back, his mouth nipping gently at your throat as you tipped your head back with a gasp.

"You know me so well," you murmured, a lazy smirk spreading across your face when you felt the urgency behind his touch.

"Yeah I do, baby," his words getting lost against your skin, "know you like the back of my hand. Know what makes you tick. What makes you feel good. Know what makes you scream my fuckin' name." His lips slotted over yours urgently, the pasta cold and long forgotten as you wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him close.

"Take me to bed, Joel," you begged after you pulled your head away, breaking the kiss and then quickly latching onto his neck. "Need you. I want - shit!" you cursed when one of you accidentally pushed a plate off the counter and it smashed into pieces against the floor.

"Leave it, don't care," he said, picking you up and pulling your attention off the shards of ceramic littering the floor. "I'll clean it up later."

His eyes popped open, the echo of your giggle from that night bouncing around his skull. It was almost laughable now, thinking he felt lonely before compared to how he felt in the middle of fucking nowhere with only a sleeping horse to keep him company.

He wasn't stupid. He knew he would need to do more than bring home some pictures to convince you to forgive him. But it was a start, and maybe, just maybe with time, you would come to understand what you meant to him.

And if he was really lucky, he might end up meaning something to you, too.

It was stupid and it didn't mean anything.

That's what you kept telling yourself ever since Joel left and you found yourself curling up in his bed at night instead of yours.

His bed was more comfortable. His room didn't store the bad memories of your fight. It was simply easier to sleep there.

It certainly didn't have anything to do with the way the sheets still smelled like him. Like the soap you both used combined with the outdoors and a hint of his sweat. And on the third night when you picked out a flannel of his from the closet and wrapped it around yourself, it was only because it was a particularly frigid night.

You didn't miss him.

Well, you missed having another person in the house, sure. But you didn't miss him on some deeper level. Maria and Ellie were wrong. They had no idea what they were talking about. They had no idea what was going through your head, what you were feeling, what you were struggling with.

There was no possible way you could have feelings for Joel. Not after everything he did and said. Not after the lies and the cheating and the deception.

But then why, when you were struggling to fall asleep at night, did your mind always wander back to the way he looked at you in the meadow, or the way his arms felt wrapped around you on the back of the horse, or the way he made you laugh when you played Monopoly?

And why did it feel like a part of you left with him that night?

"Pathetic," you muttered to yourself, pulling the sheets tighter and rolling over onto your side, his soft, worn flannel like butter against your bare skin. You squeezed your eyes shut, forcing the memories from your mind and instead, replaying what he told you about the hospital.

He almost killed you. He was seconds away from putting a bullet in your head and only after presumably begging for your life did he let you go, and then he had the nerve to keep that information from you not only once, but fucking twice.

He was protecting Ellie.

But he still shouldn't have lied.

With a groan, you rolled onto your back and stared up at the ceiling, sleep so far out of reach you didn't even feel like trying anymore. Then a thought occurred to you:

You weren't the only one he let live. There were two other people in Jackson who were there, who were shown mercy and didn't appear to hold any resentment towards him for it. In fact, they seemed rather happy with the second chance they were given.

You hadn't seen Ben or Lisa in a long time. The opportunity never presented itself for you to seek any perspective from them about that day.

Perhaps it was time to change that.

It took him a few hours to scope out the town and venture out of the woods, but by late morning he was heading down what looked to be one of the main thoroughfares in town, eyes squinting against the blowing snow as he tried to pinpoint the location of town hall.

All he remembered was your street name but he had absolutely no idea how to find it, so his plan was to break into the town hall and find a map. From there, he prayed Ellie's drawing was truly accurate enough to narrow down your parents' house.

He was freezing. His face was numb and his back was fucking killing him from riding so much, but he was so close. If he was lucky, he could find your house, get what he needed and head out all before nightfall. Maybe he could even spend another night in the woodshed. It wasn't so bad. At least he was warm.

As he continued to steer his horse down another road, he couldn't help but think Tommy was right about the storm. It was providing him some cover, just in case there were survivors around that wouldn't take kindly to his intrusion. He just hoped it would blow through in a day so his ride back would be clear.

After another thirty minutes of wind whipping at his face, the cold penetrating his coat and several layers underneath, he finally saw it. It was a smaller building than he imaged it to be, but the sign was clear. Hoping that the town size was as small as the town hall, he steered his mare down the drive and through the parking lot, making sure to take in his surroundings, confirming he was truly alone before he slid down from the saddle and trudged through the snow to the front doors.

He wiped away the snow from the window, peering inside before heading to another one and doing the same. It appeared to be empty so he tried the door, unsurprisingly finding it locked. He pulled out his knife and worked on the lock, his fingers stiff and his ears so cold he could barely feel them anymore. Finally, he broke the lock but when he shoved the door, there was something blocking him on the other side.

"Shit," he muttered, glancing around, kicking and dusting snow off the surrounding area, looking for a brick or a rock. Giving up, he grabbed his rifle from the saddle and angrily made his way to the nearest window, smashing the butt of his gun against the glass repeatedly until it shattered. He gasped for air, not realizing how much energy he was exerting before he continued, knocking out as much of the glass as he could.

Sticking his head inside, he looked around. The place seemed empty. It was quiet, covered in dust and debris. Untouched dust was good. It meant nobody had been there in a while. Human or otherwise.

He crawled through the window, taking great care to not catch on any jagged edges. He held his breath, ears straining for any noise that might give someone away, but all he heard was the howling wind outside. This is your fault. Still, he kept his guard up. He walked room to room, finding his way to the lobby and searching the front desk for a map.

"You gotta be fuckin' kiddin' me," he grumbled as he opened and shut each drawer in the desk, only pausing to snatch up an old protein bar and shoving it in his pocket.

With a sigh, he looked around the room. There were a couple benches, chairs that were moved and tipped over, papers scattered about but his eyes were drawn to the portraits on the wall. There were a few paintings of men he would never recognize, unknown sheriffs and mayors, and some framed pictures of the staff, but the one that really drew his attention was the large map on the wall next to the front doors.

It was a road map of the town. Simple, but it was all he needed. He rounded the desk and shined his flashlight over the map, studying it, searching for where he was before looking for your street.

"Grant Street."

"Grant?" he repeated, his fingers lightly skirting up and down your bare back.

"Mhmm," you confirmed, eyes closed, a small, satisfied smile tugging at your lips as you buried your face into his neck.

"That's funny," he said, his hand wandering past your waist and over your ass.

"Why's that?"

"Grant's my Mama's maiden name."

Your eyes opened and locked onto his. "Maybe it's fate, then."

Maybe it was.

Grant was only four blocks north. It didn't look like a very long road, either.

He could do this.

He was so close.

Lisa answered the door with the same look of surprise as before, although this time she was clutching needles and yarn in her left hand while the fire quietly crackled behind her.

"Hey," you said, arms wrapped around yourself as the snow storm continued to swirl behind you. "Can I come in?"

"Oh! Of course!" Lisa said, stepping back, "how rude of me. Can I get you something warm to drink?" She closed the door behind you and took a step towards the kitchen. "I just boiled some water for tea, it's still hot."

"Tea sounds lovely, thank you," you said as you hung up your coat and scarf, trying your best not to make a mess of melted snow all over her floor.

She told you to make yourself comfortable while she prepared your tea, so you wandered into her tiny living room, the space seeming a little larger now without your two imposing men.

"Where's Ben?"

"Working," she said, setting down a teacup and saucer next to hers. "I put a little sugar in it."

"Oh, thank you, that's perfect. I like it sweet," you replied, sitting down on the same couch as before and bringing the cup to your lips.

"I know, I remember," she said, and when she sat down and fixed her billowy top, you noticed for the first time the small bump protruding low on her hips.

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise and she followed your gaze.

"Oh, yes," her tone soft, "I'm due this spring."

"Wow. Congratulations, Lisa. That's wonderful, I had no idea. I thought I would have seen you from time to time at the infirmary," you explained, setting down your tea.

"Nick agrees to see me after hours, sometimes he makes house calls," she said, picking up her needles again.

You titled your head to the side. "Why do you want to be seen after hours?"

Her lips pressed into a thin line, eyes fixed on the yellow blanket she was making. "I still find it difficult sometimes to face some of the others in town, I suppose. I know I shouldn't but the guilt sticks with me."

"Guilt?"

Her eyes flicked up to yours and she shifted her weight. "I know Ben mentioned the Fireflies to you." She held out her wrist, showing you the small moth-like symbol tattooed there. "I'm not sure how much you know or remember-"

"Actually, that's why I'm here," you said, taking a deep breath. "Joel told me everything. About the Fireflies. About the hospital."

Her eyes widened, the needles abandoned in her lap.

"Oh."

"Yeah," you said, chewing on your lip and glancing at the fire. "He told me what he did there. Told me he spared us, let us go."

"Yes, he did," she agreed softly.

"Can you tell me more about that day?" you asked, dragging your eyes back to meet hers. "I'm having trouble understanding how I could have known this before and still managed to fall in love with him."

She frowned. "What do you mean?"

You laughed dryly and shrugged. "I mean he almost killed us. He killed countless innocent people, friends of ours I'm assuming, and I'm expected to believe I just looked past it? We just looked past it?" You motioned between the two of you. "He's a murderer, Lisa. He-"

"We're murderers," she corrected, and you fell silent. "We killed innocent people. We helped lead a revolution that resulted in hundreds of deaths, and where did that get us? Nowhere! People weren't any better off. In fact, they were worse. Friends and family killed, caught in the crossfire, tangled up in this idea of freedom and safety and giving their lives to an empty cause."

You swallowed as you watched Lisa's face, her eyes fiery and her tone hardened, transforming into a different version of herself before your very eyes.

"What Joel did..." she trailed off as she thought back to that day. "We did bad things. So did he, but he single handedly cut the Fireflies off at the legs. He stopped the insanity, stopped the war, stopped the ridiculous experiments and half baked ideas to save the world, regardless of the lives lost along the way. You don't remember, I understand, but allow me to explain."

"Please," you begged softly, "please tell me everything."

She rested a palm against her swelling stomach and leaned back. "We realized we made a mistake pretty early on," she began, "but we didn't have anywhere else to go. We had been living in the wild for so long. We were tired and hungry and weak and we fell for it. Fell for the sales pitch when they found us. We were told we wouldn't have to fight, but they didn't tell us what they expected us to do."

"W-what did we do?" you stammered, sitting on the edge of your seat.

"We killed people. Innocent people, point blank. FEDRA soldiers. Civilians who ratted out our location for extra food for their family. Children-" her voice wobbled a bit as she looked down at her stomach. "Children who were experimented on, vaccine prototypes tested on, who became horribly disfigured a-and screaming in pain, begging to be put out of their misery-"

"Okay," you said, cutting her off and taking a deep breath, unable to hear much more. It was becoming clear why Joel kept this from you, and although you had a right to know, you were beginning to understand his motivation. He was trying to protect you.

"Anyway," Lisa continued, flicking a tear from her cheek, "we planned on getting out. We couldn't do it anymore. Then, Joel showed up."

You held your breath, waiting for her to continue.

"We were doing perimeter checks. Loosening a spot in the gate so we could sneak out later that night. Then we heard the gunshots. And at first, we thought some infected got in. It was the perfect distraction, so we grabbed our gear and made a run for it."

She paused to take a sip from her tea, her eyes looking miles away.

"We almost made it. We were in the parking garage loading up a vehicle when he snuck up behind us. Told us to lay face down on the ground with our hands behind our heads. We never saw him and it wasn't until later we found out he was all alone. The whole time we were convinced it had to have been a group of men. It seemed impossible for one man to do what he did, but somehow..."

She trailed off again and cleared her throat.

"He gave us a second chance when we didn't deserve it," she said solemnly. "You and Ben dealt with the weight of what we did far better than me. I still struggle with the guilt, I can't..." she looked up at you, "I hope you never remember."

A chill went down your spine and you nodded.

"Try not to hold it against him," she said, offering you a small smile. "We've all done terrible things. It's not all black and white."

It ain't black and white.

"Yeah, okay," you replied quietly, standing up from the couch, your mind reeling. "Thanks," you added, motioning to the tea before she walked you to the door, "and congratulations again."

"Thank you," she said, rubbing her belly, her green eyes sparkling. "I'm glad you stopped by. The truth is sometimes ugly, but that doesn't mean you don't deserve to understand the whole picture." You nodded and bent over to shove on your boots. "Joel's not a bad man. I'm sure he was just trying to protect you by leaving some things out about our past. He would have told you eventually."

When the whole goddamn world ends and all you got left is one or two people you care 'bout, you'll do whatever you gotta do to protect 'em.

"Yeah, I'm starting to realize that now," you said, shrugging on your coat with a wry smile.

The whole way home, you practically kicked yourself for not visiting Lisa sooner. Maybe it would have made a difference, maybe not. But it finally felt like a missing puzzle piece was back in place and you could begin to make sense of your confusing feelings for Joel.

Ellie was incredibly talented.

He needed to make sure to remind her of that when he got home because even through the blowing snow, in near whiteout conditions, he was still able to figure out which house was yours because Ellie's drawing was so detailed, so accurate that it almost felt like he had been there before.

He was eager and impatient. He just wanted to get inside and get what he needed and leave, but before he did, he peered inside the windows and did a walk around the whole house three times, just in case. It was a small brick ranch and if the snow wasn't so thick, he would be able to see the black shutters framing the front windows, just like in the drawing.

He shouldered open the side garage door first, a pile of fluffy snow spilling over the hard concrete as he stumbled in and shimmied open the roll top door so he could bring his mare inside.

He pat her between the eyes, murmuring his thanks for being so damn tough and sprinkled some more oats on the ground before slipping inside the house.

The door from the attached garage led right into a kitchen, which, by the looks of it, was rifled through on more than one occasion. No doubt some survivors had come through over the years and turned the place upside down for anything useful, but that didn't matter to him. What he needed wouldn't be stolen.

Glancing at the fridge, he paused when he saw some photos stuck to the door. He leaned his rifle against the wall and shook his head, curls flinging melted snow over the dusty floor, then bent over to examine the pictures. Most of them didn't have you and he began to worry he was in the wrong house after all, but then he saw it: at the very top was a picture of four people, all wearing summer clothes and Mickey Mouse ears with the Cinderella castle in the background. A middle aged man and woman bookended a young man, lean but muscular with his arm draped around your shoulders.

You were younger, maybe still in high school, and your hair was longer and lighter, but he would recognize that smile anywhere.

He carefully plucked the photo from the fridge and brought it closer, his eyes raking over every detail of the picture, from the brightness in your eyes to the cotton candy pink sky behind you.

You looked so happy.

Nothing like the way you looked when he last saw you: broken and bruised. Ruined and dejected. Because of him.

You spared my life just to break my heart.

He blinked and pocketed the photo before turning around. The living room was in worse condition. It appeared someone must have stayed there at one point because the couches were shifted around, an armchair wedged in front of the door, cushions flung around haphazardly.

He had to move furniture out of the way, dig around a bit through broken bookshelves, but he managed to finally unearth an old photo album. Resting on one of the couch cushions with a huff, he took a few moments to flip through it, smiling now and then when he saw an especially cute picture of you. The wind outside was howling so loudly, the old house creaking with every gust that he couldn't hear when footsteps slowly crept up behind him and knocked him unconscious with the butt of his own rifle.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

He knew better. He should have scoped out the inside of the house before getting distracted. But he was too excited and too eager to get what he came for that he forgot his own rules. And he took for granted the snowstorm would hide his tracks.

Now he was hunched over on the living room floor, leaning against the wall with his wrists tied behind his back while five raiders went through his things.

"Hey man, don't you like peaches?"

"Fuck yeah I do, give it here."

Joel groaned, the back of his head throbbing, thick, sticky blood slowly trickling down the back of his neck.

"He's waking up."

"Hey, princess, how's the head?" one said with a sinister laugh. Joel ignored him.

"You got some nice shit. Wanna tell us where your camp is?"

Joel opened his eyes and glared at the man in front of him, wearing a leather jacket and leather gloves and a black bandana pulling his dark, wiry hair off his scarred face.

"Fuck you."

The punch came fast and hard across his jaw, making him see stars for a moment. The other men chuckled and got back to dividing up his things.

"You wanna try that again?" the first man asked, crouching down in front of him. Joel tugged on the rope holding his wrists together. The knot was tight but it wasn't foolproof. He just needed a little time to loosen it up.

"Don't got a camp."

"Bullshit," the man barked, spitting against the wall next to Joel's head. "Ain't nobody out here with this kinda gear and a goddamn horse roughing it all alone. Now, just tell us the city and we'll take it from there. We'll even let you live."

He heard one of the other men scoff but the rest remained quiet, and if Joel wasn't already convinced they were planning to kill him either way, he definitely was now.

"Boise."

"Boise?" he repeated, and Joel nodded, twisting his hands behind his back, feeling the coarse rope burn against his skin. The man in the leather jacket sighed and hung his head before landing another blow, this time across the mouth. Joel's lower lip got snagged on his teeth and tore. Blood trickled down his chin as he angrily whipped his head back towards the raider.

"I told you what you wanted!"

"You fed me a bunch of bullshit is what you did," he said, kicking Joel in the ribs. He gasped for air, doubled over against the wall, coughing and spraying blood across the faded floral wallpaper. He wondered if your parents did the wallpaper themselves, if your mom picked it out, or did the house already come like that?

Joel tugged harder on the rope, feeling it start to give. He needed to stay focused. He needed to make every move count if he wanted to get out of this alive.

The raider pulled a revolver from the back of his pants - Joel's revolver - and flipped it over in his hands. Back and forth, back and forth. Then he leaned forward and pressed the barrel against Joel's forehead.

"I'll give you one more chance, asshole," he said, his dark eyes boring into Joel's, "tell us where your camp is or else I shoot you in the fucking head."

"What the hell was he doing here anyway?"

"Shut up, Mike," the guy in the leather growled, eyes still trained on Joel.

"No, but seriously. There's nothing in this house worth taking. We've been through this neighborhood months ago."

The raider's eyes flickered around the room and Joel tugged harder on his restraints when he looked away. Then the man spotted the photo album lying face down on the ground.

"What's this?" he asked, lowering the gun and picking up the album. He began to flip through it and Joel felt the rope finally give. The raider let out a low whistle and slid a photo out to look at it closer. "Don't tell me you came out in the middle of a storm just to find something to jack off to," he teased, holding up a photo of you in a yellow bikini by a pool. He flipped the picture back around and grinned. When he went to stuff it in his pocket, his attention momentarily diverted, Joel took his opportunity to strike.

In the blink of an eye, he snatched the revolver from the raider's fingers and shot him in the temple, his body immediately falling limply to the side. Wet, sticky blood sprayed all over Joel's hand but he just tightened his grip on the gun, taking aim and bringing down another one of the men while they were still too stunned to move.

"Fuck!" one of the remaining three men screamed as they scrambled for cover. Joel ducked behind the couch and held his breath, straining to hear the scuffling of their boots, trying to pinpoint where they were in the small room. When he heard one of them accidentally knock against the kitchen table, the wooden legs scraping against the linoleum, he straightened up and took aim, taking out another man with a bullet right between the eyes, but unfortunately one of the last two men got a shot in as well.

The bullet grazed against his left bicep. Joel hissed and ducked back behind the couch. He would deal with it later.

"Come on, man, we can work something out," one of the men called out after a minute. "Let's just go our separate ways. Act like this never-"

Joel jumped up and shot the man in the cheek, the bullet traveling through his mouth and out the back of his head, leaving brain matter that looked like globs of gelatin dripping down the kitchen cupboards after he fell lifelessly to the ground.

Joel stepped towards the kitchen, now only one on one. He got cocky. He was feeling too confident with how quickly he took out the group. He didn't even see it coming when the knife lodged into his side, just above his hip. Without thinking, he yanked the knife out, twisted around and jammed it into the final raider's throat, watching as he fell to the floor, choking on his own blood, and didn't look away until he stopped twitching.

Adrenaline still coursed through his veins and he used it to his advantage, his left hand pressing weakly against his wound, the wound in his arm preventing it from being very effective while he searched the dead bodies of the men for anything useful. He had brought some first aid with him when he left Jackson but he was too far from home, he would need antibiotics, at least, if he was going to make it back.

Of course, he came up empty, so he snatched his first aid kit from the table and stumbled down the little hallway, searching for a bathroom. He knew it was a lost cause, the raiders already admitted to clearing the place out months ago, but he had to try.

He flung open the medicine cabinet with a grunt, the pain beginning to set in now. Pressing his bloody fingers against the stab wound as hard as he could, he rummaged around the cabinet, leaving paths of red everywhere his fingers touched, then tried the drawers under the sink.

Nothing.

"Fuck," he muttered, collapsing onto the cool tile floor as he began to sort through his first aid kit. There were no towels left but he was sitting on an old bathmat. He groaned in pain when he lifted his hips to pull the bathmat out, shook out the dust and dirt, then pressed it against his side, bringing his knee up to hold it in place.

With trembling fingers, he threaded a needle. He wiped the blood from his hands on his shirt, but they were stained red. Ripping open his jacket and flannel, he lifted the two other layers he had on underneath and lowered his leg to get a look at the wound.

It was deep and he was losing a lot of blood, but he was fairly certain the knife wasn't long enough to knick any organs. His stomach wasn't swelling, that was a good sign.

He only had a small bottle of antiseptic, so he used most of it to clean the wound and then the needle, saving a little bit to use on his arm later.

He took several quick breaths in, hyping himself up, then paused when he first shoved the needle through his skin. Tears sprung up, blurring his vision, but he blinked them away.

Focus. Focus. Focus.

In and out, in and out, he slowly stitched himself up. The angle was awkward and the stitches were ugly, but it got the job done: the bleeding stopped. His heart was hammering in his chest, sweat poured from the sides of his head, mixing with all the blood drying on his face and beard. He slumped to the ground with a pained groan, lying flat on the floor in a pool of his own blood, staring up at the ceiling. He just needed a moment to rest, a moment to catch his breath and then he would go.

Would he ever see you again? Would you ever even know why he came out there? Would you always wonder what happened to him? You told him you cared about him, but was that even true anymore? After what he did?

"C'mon, baby, gimme a sign," he whispered to himself, "gimme a sign that I still got a chance in hell 'cause if I don't, I'm not sure I got the strength to make it home." Tears welled up in his eyes again and this time he let them fall. He sniffled and waited. For what, he wasn't sure. Divine intervention? Genius to strike? A brilliant idea to form? But all he heard was the blowing wind outside.

The tile felt so cool against his burning hot skin. A small voice in the back of his head told him the longer he stayed there the weaker he would become, but he was just so tired. He rolled his head to the side, his eyes about to slide shut when he saw it: a dusty, opaque orange bottle rolled all the way against the wall underneath the sink.

Blinking a few times, he wondered if he was imagining it.

He wasn't.

Stretching his arm out, he slowly reached underneath the vanity and pulled out the half empty bottle. Holding it above his face, he squinted at the letters on the faded sticker.

Penicillin. Use as directed by your dentist.

His breath caught in his throat when he read your name on the label.

He finally got his sign.

"What happens when we die?"

"What?"

You rolled over onto your side to face him, wrapping your arm around his waist. He looked so peaceful, lying in bed like that. His eyes closed, face relaxed. You repeated your question.

"Don't know," he said, cracking open one eye to look at you. "Haven't died yet."

You giggled and he smiled, pulling you closer. He smelled so good. Like the rain and sex and smoke from the fire.

"I mean... do you think there's a heaven?"

He hummed and kissed the top of your head, his fingers lightly trailing up and down your bare arm.

"Yeah, I do."

You swallowed nervously and drew invisible circles into his skin, making him shiver.

"Do you think..." you trailed off and he froze, picking up on your tone.

"What, darlin'?"

"Do you think we'll make it? To heaven, I mean?"

His eyebrows pinched together. "Why wouldn't we?"

"You know why," you replied softly, "we've done bad things, Joel."

"Yeah, but we ain't bad people," he reminded you, then rolled over, pushing you onto your back so his arms caged you in. One knee slotted between yours and you spread your legs, hooking your ankles around the backs of his thighs.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure," he said, dipping his chin down and pressing his lips firmly against yours. You sighed, your shoulders finally relaxing. "Besides, this is heaven right here," he murmured against your mouth, feeling you smile.

"Ain't nothin' better than this."

You awoke with a gasp, your heart fluttering wildly in your chest. That was the first time you had a dream about Joel, and something about it made you uneasy.

You had slept in his bed the entire week, wrapped in his clothes, and today was the day you had expected him to come home. Shrugging off the dream to no more than your subconscious fixated on his return, you forced yourself to get out of bed, fixing the sheets so it wouldn't look like you had been sleeping there and then headed to your room to change and freshen up.

The past couple days you had secretly hoped he would come back sooner but you refused to let it show. If Ellie or Dina or Maria asked you about it, you played it cool, or at least you thought you did. But every night you stayed up as late as you could, curled up on the couch all alone, waiting. Every time someone walked by, your body stiffened and your pulse raced, expecting to hear his heavy footsteps walking up the porch, but they never came.

But today was the day. The seventh day. His note said a week, and you knew if Joel was alive, he would stick to his word.

His absence afforded you a lot of time to think. Time you didn't realize you desperately needed, and now that you were able to process everything clearly without his overwhelming presence muddying the waters, you felt confident you knew what you wanted now.

All day at work, you were distracted. Nick had to call your name repeatedly to get your attention on more than one occasion, and by the fifth time you felt guilty. He didn't say anything, though. He understood. By then, most of the town knew Joel had left. Word spread like wildfire, especially once the storm passed through. It didn't take a genius to figure out how difficult it would be to survive all alone in those conditions.

Then the rumors started.

You tried to ignore them, but it was hard. When people began drinking and getting loud in the dining hall, it was impossible not to hear.

When you heard a man claim he saw Joel's horse frozen in a river during patrol, you stopped going to the dining hall to eat.

It was dark, it was just a deer, Tommy had told you later after he went out to the river to check, but it still shook you up.

When the sun set on Jackson on the seventh day and Joel still hadn't returned, the fear began to take hold. Your stomach churned, making it impossible to eat the following morning. You had hardly slept, the bags under your eyes dark and heavy. Nick begged you to take the day off but you insisted you needed to stay busy, although it didn't help much. On your lunch break you tried to casually walk by the main gate, the one near the stables, hoping to catch a glimpse of him returning, but you had no such luck.

So you went back to work. You kept your hands busy, tried to keep your mind occupied, but it was impossible.

I'll spend the rest of my life makin' it up to you.

You couldn't get those words out of your head. The guilt was weighing you down as you grew worried that was going to be one of the last things he ever said to you.

"Went on a date the other night."

"With who?"

"Cindy, from the kitchen."

Ricky laughed heartily and Andrew smacked his shoulder with the back of his hand.

"Shut up, man. We're on watch, we can't be giving ourselves away."

"It's the middle of the goddamn night and we haven't seen any infected in weeks. It's too cold for them, they're all frozen somewhere waiting to thaw in the spring," Ricky said, shouldering his rifle.

"Yeah, but still. You never know. There's more than just infected out there."

Ricky chuckled and shook his head. "Tommy telling you ghost stories again?"

"Raiders ain't ghost stories, asshole," Andrew shot back.

"And raiders never make it this far up the mountains, asshole," Ricky replied, mocking Andrew's tone.

Andrew grumbled under his breath and strolled away from the tower, towards the gate, his eyes scanning the treeline. He couldn't see a damn thing. It was pitch black and deathly quiet.

He turned on his heel and began the slow walk back towards the tower where he could see Ricky unwrapping a granola bar and pulling a paperback book from his back pocket.

Just as he was about to chastise him for letting his guard down, he heard twigs snapping in the woods. He whipped around, bringing his rifle up so he could get a better look with his scope.

"What the hell was that?" Ricky's whisper materialized in his ear.

"Dunno. Something's out there."

Ricky lifted his own rifle and scanned the trees as well, both of them holding their breath, waiting for another noise.

"Maybe-"

Then they heard more twigs snapping and pine trees raking against fabric. Louder this time.

"Fuck," Ricky muttered nervously, his palms growing sweaty inside his gloves.

"There," Andrew said lowly, and Ricky followed his aim. Something was approaching in the dark. Something big.

"I got it."

"No, just wait a second," Andrew said, squinting through the scope. Then his jaw went slack when he realized what it was.

"It's a horse."

"What?"

"It's a fucking horse, bro," Andrew repeated, his voice rising a little.

When it finally emerged from the forest, they saw the rider slumped over, covered in snow, their face buried in the horse's mane.

"Holy shit," Andrew said, slinging his rifle over his shoulder and racing towards the ladder. "Radio Tommy!"

"W-what do I say?" Ricky stammered, fumbling with the radio dial.

"Tell him it's Joel!"

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[kozachenko]

Finally decided to play around with my old lineless style again! Also figured out a way to draw Reimu that I actually really like!

Artist's Notes;

I've mentioned in a few earlier posts that I've been wanting to draw in my lineless style again for a while as a way to test what I've learnt from my previous style in regards to lighting. I did the face first and then for a while was thinking about doing a full body illustration of Reimu just to draw her outfit again. I'll talk about the face first since that's the first drawing I did in this batch.

For the longest time I really couldn't find a way to translate Reimu's face into my style. I was able to make her clothes work out well, just not really her face. I did like elements of how I drew her face a few other times, namely the tiny eyebrows and her pupils, but they didn't really feel like Reimu to me, or at least how I imagined her in my head. I then realized that it was less of a problem with the entire face and moreso the eyes, and it took me quite a bit of trial and error to make something that I was happy with. Also, as much as I thought the tiny eyebrows were cute, it didn't really make sense with her character. Like, from what I know about Japanese history, plucking your eyebrows was something that nobles (rich people) would do, and since Reimu is...neither of those things, I decided to just give her some thicker eyebrows instead (I will be saving the plucked eyebrows for another character though, so they will return). After I got to a face I was happy with, my next challenge was the hair. I did the front part first and liked that enough to continue, and then after more trial and error I realized that deep down I was a short-hair-Reimu-is-best-Reimu-truther this whole time because once I gave up on the long hair and gave her shorter hair something just clicked in my brain. And so, after drawing her outfit in again (this time without the yellow tie which is kinda sad but I'll find a way to incorperate it into future designs because it just was not making sense to me in context with the rest of the outfit) and finnicking around with the bow, I came to a version of Reimu's face that I actually liked. I thought that it made more sense for her character to have her cut it short, mainly because she's doing a bunch of Youkai extermination and she has to keep her hair out of her face somehow. I still wanted to make it kinda messy though, as Reimu is probably too lazy to clean it up herself. I think another reason I like it so much is because in Forbidden Scrollery, Moe Harukawa gave Reimu short hair and that really suited her, so I guess that was just a subconcious reason as to why I liked it so much. I also think that the shorter hair helps to separate her a lot from Marisa, as I think Marisa looks really good with longer hair. Speaking of, now I wanna do a drawing of her and Reimu together to really solidify how I draw them (unlike the previous version where it was just them standing). As much as I do like the face, I am concerned if she looks too much like how I drew Keiki now, but that might just be a product of the stylistic choices I made with her eyes and I might just be overthinking it. I am hyperaware of same face syndrome so that's probably the reason I'm so concerned about it lol.

Now for the fully body drawing. I was struggling to think of a good pose for her, so I just took a picture of myself and used that as a reference while still making slight adjustments for readability's sake. This is another case of, "I've looked at this too long and can spot every single issue with it" but this time I'm still happy with the final product mainly because this was a test drive for how I want to develop my lineless style in the future and for what it is I am more than pleased with the result. The main reason I deviated away from my lineless style was mainly because I was having a hard time with the lighting and making it interesting, and I am so glad that I've finally found a way to make it work! I'm especially happy with the clothes, as I think clothing folds are really fun to draw. I was somewhat inspired by the works of J.C. Lyendecker and the way he draws clothes, though admittedly it is not a one to one, since I mainly wanted to try implying the shading of the clothing folds with shapes (I do really want to do a study of his style one day as his art is incredible). So for the sleeves, I drew in a bunch of triangles where I wanted there to be a strong highlight, roughly coloured in the inside, and then blended them all so it looks like a more subtle. On both of these drawings, I also added in a noise filter to give it some texture (as that's what I used to often do with my drawings) and while I do like it, I might want to experiment with making it more subtle in the future, as it's pretty noticeable in both these drawings. Overall, I'm really happy with the lighting and colours of this drawing, and while I could nitpick several aspects of it (her hand holding the gohei looks too tense, I tried making her look like she was standing on the balls of her feet but the positioning of her Gohei's trail of papers ends up making it look weird, and I could've put more effort into the hair and bow and so many more things), this is more of a piece for me to experiment with my style again, and I'm excited for when I get a new idea for a piece, as I really wanna try some more stuff out with this style!

[heretherebeturtles-comic]

Hello! Many people have said this but ill say it too, I LOVE YOUR COMIC SO MUCH ( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡

I really wanted to ask you about how you do the backgrounds? (Something i struggle with) whats the process? Like from start to finish, also, to do the rise backgrounds do you use reference from the show and generally real photo of ny? Or do you come up with them? And last question- The shadow and light on the background- Like HOW

i know it’s a lot of questions but i’m just so curious qwq and wanna learn to be better, thank you again in case you read this and respond, in case you don’t, i hope you have a nice day and a wonderful life uwu keep up the great work! (≧◡≦) ♡

Backgrounds are a really broad subject and I'm always a little overwhelmed when asked this question. Just like drawing the human body, backgrounds take time, repetition, and practice!

My answer got a bit long, so it's going under a read more :) but if you digest info better in video format I found this on youtube

It pretty much goes over everything I wanted to say, but in a much better way. I wish I had found it before writing all this out lol

ok, first of all, I'm not a teacher nor was I built to be one of those cool helpful art tutorial people who do a full coloured tutorial filled with illustrations. This is just going to be a messy "how I do backgrounds / environment layouts from start to finish." kinda thing.

... lets start with a sight tangent.

Sketch from Life!!!

If you want to get better at backgrounds I recommend doing some sketching out in the real world!

When I was first getting into doing backgrounds I went to cafes and parks to just sketch the buildings and objects. Sketch rocks, flowers, clumps of grass, garbage cans, bottles, tables, street signs, etc. If you are drawing a tree observe how the trunks twist, how the bark flows, or how the leaves are bunched.

If you can't leave the house the same still applies! Sketch the interiors of your house, the walls, or common objects like chairs and bookshelves. How are objects stacked? items on the floor?

If you aren't comfortable with drawing outside or in public you can take some photos to draw from! They are good for practice and you can use them again as references later. Alternatively you can find pictures online of buildings and objects to sketch as practice.

All spaces have objects in them, it becomes easier to draw those kinds of spaces when you already have spent time observing and sketching them.

ALSO! They don't have to be good sketches! It's just to build out your mental catalogue and strengthen your perception of perspective.

now the actual thing...

BACKGROUNDS

(the pictures used for this are my own. I dug them out of my 2022 folder)

Backgrounds have slightly different rules based on what you are making them for. Videogame Environment Concept Art vs Animation Layouts vs Comic Backgrounds vs Illustration backgrounds.

They all follow the same basics, which I will go over here, but the intention and function of those designs are going to be different. It's all about how you set up the scene and what it's purpose is!

Brainstorming and Thumbnailing

I like to think about a location as though it is a character. An abandoned old house with creaky sagging floorboards is very different from a futuristic space ship with sharp metal floor panels. A gas station has a very different feeling from a library.

I usually start by asking what is this location's story? Why was it built and for what purpose? What kinds of things does this room need to fulfill that purpose? You don’t need solid answers, but its good to be thinking about it while you are working.

Next, sketch some ideas for how this place is going to look. For me, this usually involves drawing the idea from multiple angles and then making lists & small sketches of the objects I think should be filling the space.

Example: The main character of my original work is a Wanderer. They collect a lot of things on their travels, but those items have to be small enough to be easily carried in a backpack. I wanted his room to be in the corner of an attic, walled off by curtains, and filled with trinkets. You can see some of my brainstorming above.

References

I only look for references after I've done some sketching and planning; this is to solidify my idea first so that I don't accidentally copy anyone else's work. I will make a moodboard with pictures of lighting, colours, items, rooms with specific ceiling beams, old chairs, etc. basically whatever I feel fits the vibe.

Honestly, I don't use references as much as I should. For ROTTMNT fanart I look at backgrounds and screenshots from the series to study the style. I also reference actual photos of NYC to get a feel for how Rise condenses the visual information.

In general, it's good to have references of real life objects/locations, because there are so many details like cracks in pavement, stickers on polls, crowning on buildings, fancy fencing, weird chair legs, etc. that you might not think of. It's the imperfect details that can make a location feel more alive.

Perspective

Once you have your chosen sketch we move to.... the infamous perspective boxes. Doing backgrounds is just learning to be comfortable drawing So Many boxes and carving items out of them.

Many better artists than myself have made videos on perspective, vanishing points, and all the technical bits. Videos like THIS ONE and THIS ONE are helpful (this post is great too!!). There are probably a lot of classes to be found on Skillshare or Schoolism. I learned a lot of this in my college art course, so I can't give you a specific video which helped me.

You can get by and be a good artist without learning this stuff. There are quite a few successful artists who have admitted they never bothered to learn perspective (one of these people even made a whole graphic novel series).

I personally avoided properly learning this stuff until I was in my 20s because I thought it would be boring and difficult to do. tbh I really wish I had learned it earlier because it's so much fun to make those silly little boxes imo. It looks scary and complicated but, just like drawing humans, it just takes time, repetition, and practice to develop the knowledge and skills.

Cleanup

You have your boxes and lines! Cool! Now to make a scene out of it. Fill in the details, get everything placed were you want it! Generally, the lines of each item will point back towards the horizon line, but they can have different perspective points.

Generally you would want to clean it up and get your room completely sketched before doing the lineart. I tend to combine the steps (not recommended)

Lineart

I've mentioned how I do this before. Closer objects have thicker lines and more detailed inside. Further objects have thinner lines and less detail. I didn't quite achieve that balance with the image below, but it's close enough.

Colours and Shading will have to be a separate post. In the meantime, I highly recommend the book "Color and Light" by James Gurney. I used to borrow it from my local library and a good chunk of my knowledge was learned from it :)

[l0standn0tf0und]

Remus John Lupin headcanons pt.2

pt.1

@hedonisticeiram I think I did my worst of the worst

TW: a lot of angst, mentions of smoking, food, grief, self-loathing, survivor’s guilt, loneliness, depression, self-destructive thoughts, trauma, and references to suicidal ideation.

Remus "Moony" Lupin, who blushes furiously when complimented, always brushes it off with a joke.

Remus "Moony" Lupin, who can never turn down a chess game.

Remus "Moony"  Lupin, who skips meals in the Great Hall after full moons. He can’t stand the startle on first years' faces and the way they glance at his hands, limp, and scars but avoid his eyes.

Remus "Moony"  Lupin, who always smiles wildly, even though he tries not to, when the wooden door swings open and Prongs bursts into the dorm, filling the space around with laughter, Pete barely holding back a giggle as he struggles with a mouthful of pumpkin pasties, followed by Sirius, grinning ear to ear with a teetering plate piled high with food they brought for him, as they always did when Remus couldn’t bring himself to join them at the Great Hall.

Remus John Lupin, who forgets to eat for days. He tells himself he’s just too busy, but deep down, he thinks his body isn’t worth the effort. And even deeper down he hopes the door will open again, and the space will be filled with laughter.

Remus "Nothing will come between me and my cigarette" Lupin, who always has a bar of chocolate with him.

Remus "Nothing will come between me and my chocolate" Lupin,  who always has a pack of cigarettes with him.

Remus "Moony" Lupin, who secretly loves bad romance novels—the ones with absurd plots and too-perfect endings.

Remus "Moony" Lupin, who loves thunderstorms. The steady drumming of rain against the window is one of the few things that truly calms him.

Remus John Lupin who hates thunderstorms. The lightning dragging him back to the flashes of curses during battles.

Remus John Lupin, who skips his own birthdays, because it feels like celebrating another year of survival.

Remus "Moony" Lupin, who saves every handwritten note and letter. Even the smallest ones, like James's quick scrawl, "We're waiting for you at dinner!".

Remus John Lupin, who skips Christmas Eve, because he sees no point in celebrating without the people who once filled his world with light.

Remus "Moony" Lupin, who treasures every gift he’s ever received. A now-broken quill from Lily, a mixtape from Sirius, a poorly drawn doodle from Marlene.

Remus John Lupin, who locks himself in his room on any other holiday, lights a cigarette, and looks through old photos, tracing faces that feel both painfully close and unbearably far, until he cries himself to sleep.

Remus "Moony" Lupin, who has all memorable trinkets tucked away in a box he opens on bad days to remind himself he is loved.

Remus John Lupin, who has all old trinkets tucked away in a weathered box he opens on bad days to remind himself he was loved.

Remus "The prefect" Lupin.

And "Moony, our prefect" for first-years whose fear melting into familiarity as they grow used to the scars. 

Remus "Moony"  Lupin, who counts every scar and bloody bite on his body.

Remus "Moony" Lupin, who wears his friends’ clothes without asking. He throws on James’s jacket or  Black’s fancy-schmancy scarf like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Because "if you don't want me to take your staff, stop throwing it all over our dorm"

Remus "Moony" Lupin, who can’t look at the moon. Even when it’s not full, it's a constant reminder of what’s coming. It feels oppressive.

Remus "Moony" Lupin, who loves autumn. The crisp air, the changing leaves, the excuse to wear his coziest sweaters, and hours of walking through the backyard, breathing in the smell of damp earth and fallen leaves.

Remus John Lupin, who'd better look at the moon and think what a horrifying beast he is, than has his mind free for thoughts about his friends that always find their way to come up and draw him to the depth of countless what-ifs

Remus "I don't need a wand, I just need my hands" Lupin. And it relates to everything, from broken stool, to someone's broken nose.

Remus "Moony" Lupin, who prefers morning tea instead of coffee. Because it’s gentler on his frayed nerves, but the truth is that he loves the quiet ritual of brewing it. Sirius teases him for being an old man when he insists on the perfect steep time.

Remus John Lupin, who drinks coffee. Only coffee. Because he doesn't want to hear "you're such a grandpa", but in his head now.

Remus "Moony" Lupin, who always ends up with ink stains on his hands, no matter how careful he is.

Remus John Lupin, who writes letters he never sends. Letters to James, Lily, Peter, and Sirius.

Especially to Sirius.

Remus John Lupin, who writes to Sirius in Azkaban.

Remus John Lupin, who forgets about everything while he folds his letter. A faint, wistful smile softening scars on his face.

Remus John Lupin, who forgets about everything while he carefully tucks the letter into an envelope. He writes to his old dearest friend.

Remus John Lupin, who forgets about everything while he seals an envelope with dark red wax. He feels relieved after sharing his burden with the closest person.

Remus John Lupin, who knows Sirius will never see the letters, knows he’ll never get a response, because he'll never send them. But he writes anyway. He needs to take a break, at least for a few moments to pretend that nothing happened. That everything is fine. That he is fine. So he writes, pouring out everything he’s too afraid to say aloud. He writes, pouring out everything, fears, griefs, and confessions he has no one to say.

Remus John Lupin, whose fragile moment of peace ends with the weight of endless loneliness returning heavily to his shoulders as he watches the letter curl, blacken and turn to ashes in the fireplace flame.

Remus John Lupin, who still wears mismatched socks. He finds it funny. The tiny bit of chaos that still draws a faint, fleeting smile to his face.

Remus "Moony" Lupin, who never leaves without a book in his bag. No matter where he’s headed, there’s always a novel tucked away, just in case he finds a quiet moment to read.

Remus "Moony"  Lupin, who presses wildflowers between the pages of his books.

Remus "Moony" Lupin, who has the warmest hugs.

Remus John Lupin, who has the warmest hugs.

Remus John Lupin, who can’t forgive himself. For being bitten, for every time he’s let the wolf take control, for each scar that mars his skin, for not seeing the traitor, for the danger he didn’t stop. He should have known. Should have acted. Should have saved them.

Remus John Lupin, who can’t forgive himself for surviving when others didn’t.

Remus John Lupin, who hates the sound of his own heartbeat.

Remus John Lupin, who wishes he had died with the rest of them.

 masterpost

[biting-miguel-ohara]

Plaid Flannel Shirt - Logan Howlett x ftm!Reader

A/N: I drew a lot from my own struggles with dysphoria for this, which is why it’s a little more specific than my other fics. I hope it’s still relatable. Let me know if I missed any warnings

Written for this request

CW: clothing issues; Reader is implied to be smaller than Logan; gender euphoria mentions; clothes stealing/sharing; cuddling; Logan smokes cigars in this; Reader is called handsome several times; language; praise kink; explicit sexual content; smut; grinding; Reader’s parts are referred to as dick and hole; dirty talk; mentioned mirror sex; manhandling; mentioned multiple rounds; mentioned nudity; maybe ooc Logan

673 words

It starts and ends with a shirt. One of Logan’s, to be exact.

You’ve always had an issue with clothes. They’re too tight, or too feminine, or too expensive. It’s always something with clothes.

So when you first steal the shirt from Logan’s closet, it’s a bit of a deal. Until you put it on.

Standing there, in front of the mirror, gazing at yourself in Logan’s shirt, you look a bit silly. Silly, but not feminine.

It’s something about the drape of the shirt. The particular shadows of the fabric. Something about the shirt. But it’s perfect.

You look like a guy. You are one, you know this. But you finally look like one.

That’s how the whole shirt stealing starts.

Logan seems to find it cute. At the very least, he doesn’t stop you. In fact, you’re pretty sure he’s left his room open on multiple occasions right during the times when you stop by to steal his shirts.

Whatever his reasoning is, he seems content with what you’re doing.

So when he asks about your reason for doing it one day, you don’t think anything of it.

The two of you are cuddling in his room. Door shut, window open so he can smoke in peace. He’s on his second cigar and you’re all content and happy.

“You like wearing my shirts, huh?” He plucks at the fabric of the plaid flannel you’re wearing. It’s his, of course.

“Mhmm.” You don’t open your eyes, head resting on his chest. You can hear his heartbeat, low and steady.

“Any particular reason why?”

“They make me feel good,” you mumble. “Like a man. All rugged and fierce.”

He chuckles quietly. “They make you feel like a man?”

“Mhmm.”

He hums thoughtfully. “You look good in them. Handsome and shit.”

Your face heats up. Sure, he’s complimented you before, but he’s never directly called you handsome.

You lift your head, resting your chin on his chest. “Say it again?”

“Say what again?” He glances down at you, taking a hit from his cigar.

“That I’m handsome.”

He studies you for a moment, then smirks. He leans closer. “You’re the handsomest goddamn man I’ve ever met.”

It goes straight to your dick, sending heat flooding throughout your body. Like a shot of pure lust.

“Again?” Your voice comes out raspy.

He chuckles and stubs out his cigar. He pulls you up, kissing you firmly on the lips as he guides you on top of him.

“My handsome. Fucking. Man.” He punctuates his words with kisses, sliding his hands down to your hips. “Thought I was dreaming when I first saw you. So sexy and fine as hell.”

You moan into his mouth, shifting to grind against his hardening cock. You’re ridiculously wet, just from his words.

He nips at your lower lip, thrusting up against you as well. “And then you, fuck, go walking around in my shirts. Making me go wild. Can’t tell you how many times I had to excuse myself ‘cause you looked so goddamn hot.”

You smother him in kisses, sliding your hands into his hair. You lick into his mouth, tracing his teeth with your tongue as you practically hump his dick. “Logan…!”

“I got you, handsome.” He groans back, rocking up into you. “Gonna fuck you so good after this. Stuff that delicious fucking hole of yours so full you can’t breathe. Maybe even do it in front of the mirror, so you can see how fucking handsome you really are.”

It’s enough to send you toppling over the edge, and oh do you cum hard. You fist your hands in his hair, crying out his name as white hot pleasure seeps into your bones.

Logan gives you one moment before pulling you up into his arms. To manhandle you into place so he can fuck you like he wants. He makes good on his promises, fucking you twice on the bed and once in front of the mirror.

The only piece of clothing you have on? His plaid flannel shirt.

[oh-koenig-my-koenig]

painting his nails

(cw: age gap 25/41, size difference; talking about König's occupation being a soldier, scars from his injuries, military stuff; tickling, smut, nsfw, mdni)

part before: waking up in his bed

“Hold still.”

“This is much more tedious and annoying than I thought it would be.”

I swipe at his lower lash line again, leaving more eyeshadow there. He is blinking excessively, his eyes watering.

“You’re a big baby.”, I tell him, wiping some of the excess away that fell onto his cheekbones.

He shoots me a look. “I just wanted you to paint my nails.”, he grumbles. When he asked me if I could bring some nail polish to paint his nails (black, of course), I was surprised at first. He always wanted to try it, but he didn’t know how to do it properly, so it looked like shit when he did it himself (his words). And I was more than happy to oblige, and then some.

“I got distracted.”, I defend myself. I couldn’t resist coaxing him into putting on some smudgy eyeliner because I knew it would look hot on him. And of course, I am right. I hand him the make-up compact that has a little mirror.

“I look like I didn’t wash off my eyeblack properly.”, he mumbles, critically eyeing the make-up in the reflective material.

“What’s that?”, I ask.

“It’s uh- like black grease paint? Body paint? For like the eye area that still shows in balaclavas.”, he explains.

“Oh, I see.”, I say, getting the gist of it, but still wondering why that was necessary. I tuck that information away for later, to maybe look it up myself, as I open up the little flask of nail polish.

I take his hand in mine and like every single time I’m astounded by the size difference. Yes, he’s like two heads taller than me and over twice my weight. And I don’t think I’m that small. But compared to him I feel tiny. Like right now with his hand splayed out on my thigh while I paint his nails.

I admire the tattoos on his hands, while I paint the first nail. I always try to not pay attention to the parts of his skin that are disturbed by cuts and scars, because they remind me of how he got them. That his work isn’t some kind of accountant desk job. His comment about the eyeblack showed that as well. How different his frame of reference is from mine, even when it comes to small details like that. And how I still don’t know that much about him.

The questions swirl in the forefront of my mind, unsure of how to phrase them, until I finally start to speak. "What's your work like?", I ask carefully. "What... are you like at work?”

He just shakes his head, avoiding eye contact. "I don't..." Opening his mouth, hesitant to say something more.

"I'm sorry, I just- Sorry for being nosy again, just forget about it.", I deflect, painting his middlefinger’s nail next, my eyes darting up to him, smiling apologetically.

He shakes his head again, this time more like to himself. "No, it's okay. I understand.", he says, the smile struggling to form on his face, the emotions in his eyes illegible to me. "I just don't think that you would like me very much at work."

"I don't believe that.", I say softly, even though I’m not so sure myself, with the way he said it. But I couldn’t leave his comment that seemed like a jab at himself like that.

He scoffs. "You'd probably run away screaming if you saw me in my get-up alone.", he grumbles. And I get it. A 6'10'' 300 pounds hulk of a man in full tactical gear sounds scary. Most of the time, I think he would want people to cower when they see him. But there surely also had to be situations where he didn't want to come off as intimidating, but he still might. Like with me.

"You got a picture?", I ask, carefully, adding quickly: "Uh, you don't have to show me though, of course."

At first, he just looks at me, then he sighs and reaches for his phone. "Maybe… I have to look for one.", he mumbles, scrolling on the little screen.

It doesn't take long, and he finds one. I can tell by the way his brows furrow in discontent, but he turns the device to me anyway. It doesn't have the best quality, yet my eyes scan every little bit of it.

He’s huge, duh. Dressed in tactical gear. Protectors on his shins and forearms. A bulletproof vest. Beige cargo pants. A helmet on his head. A rifle in his hands, but don't ask me what kind, because I have no fucking clue.

And he does look scary and intimidating, for sure.

The most surprising part is the mask on his face, not one of those usual masks you would see, but a hood that looks – selfmade? From a shirt or something similar, hiding his whole head and his neck, almost falling down to his chest. There are stains on the front, reddish streaks right under the eyeholes.

My eyes shoot up to look at him, the question on the tip of my tongue. “The mask?”

He shrugs. “Most of the guys at work wear one. And I have worn a similar thing, ever since I wanted to become a sniper. They didn’t let me join the squad because I was too big for that.”, he explains, and I can feel that there is more to the story than he lets on. “I used to wear some type of mask whenever I went outside. Even when I was on leave. But I don’t do that anymore.”, he adds on.

“I see.”, is all I say, my eyes still scanning the pic. Trying to connect his two faces in my mind.

The man I see on the picture is so different from the one whose lap I’m currently sitting on. But I can see bits of both of them, right here before me and also on the screen. Like the band of red beads around his wrist. The big burly stature, dressed in dark clothing. The certain attitude that shows in his posture. The broader than life stance mirrored in the way he’s sitting on the couch.

“My Oma always hated the mask thing, but then again, she didn’t like me joining the military anyway.”, he says then. ('grandma')

“Because?”, I ask curiously, continuing to paint his nails.

He shrugs. “I mean, I understand it, I- it’s difficult to explain. With Austria’s past and what my grandma knew of war… I understand why she wasn’t thrilled that I wanted to become a soldier. As a career.”, he explains, putting the phone away again.

“Oh, right, I didn’t think about that.”, I say, squeezing his fingers lightly, while I move to his other hand, pulling it onto my thigh. His fingertips dig into the softness, as I start to paint his left thumb.

“Yeah... That was probably the only time we ever really argued. About my work.”, he says, his voice calmer than the look in his eyes.

“How did you even know you wanted to be a soldier?”, I ask him then.

“How did you know what you wanted to do?”, he asks back.

“I don’t know, I was kinda good at it and it paid money.”, I say, shrugging my shoulders.

“Exactly. I was in compulsory military service and when we ran drills for the first time… it just made sense, it clicked. The simplicity of it. The structure.” He stops talking for a second, like the list could go on, but something’s keeping him from listing it off. I’m not interjecting, just listening.

“And the prospect of even getting paid for it long term kind of sealed the deal.”, he says instead. “The sniper thing didn’t work out, but somebody of my height and build… well, it took me far as a specialist to break into things. Got out of Austria pretty quickly. And at that time, I also started to use König as a name.”

I perk up when he drops that last bit of information. “I thought that that can't be your real name.”, I smile up at him, before I look down again to make sure none of the colour spills.

He laughs a bit, but it's not a happy laugh. “Yeah, I went through some stuff.”, he says, kinda flatly, and then he sighs. “Got over the need to constantly hide my face, even when I'm not working. But König stuck. Must have quite the ego to call yourself king, hm.”

I’m surprised at the little self-deprecating stab. Well, I guess, his ego fits his stature, but… “I never thought that your ego was overinflated.”, I simply say. Silence falls over us, for just a moment.

“You're not gonna ask about my real name?”, he asks then, the tone in voice unreadable.

I stop my movements, looking up at him. “I might be nosy, but I feel like I already asked too many questions today.”, I answer, a serious expression on my face, needing him to see that I’m being genuine about this: “And I know a boundary when I see one.”

“Right, sorry, I didn't mean to imply-“, he says, breaking off in a curse.

“Don't worry.” I press a quick kiss to his lips, to shut him up. “I don't need to know your ‘real name’ to…” I stop for a moment, trying to find the right thing to say. “If you ever decide to tell me, that's fine, and if you don’t, that's fine too. Okay?”

He nods, the little smile on his face as he looks down at me finally seeming genuine again. “Okay.”

I would have never known that the simple act of painting his nails could be this intimate. But I guess, our closeness, how I’m sitting on his lap, music softly playing in the background – I think, he put on some Pink Floyd Best Of vinyl. The repetitive act of painting nail by nail, picking up colour with the little brush and then coating them carefully. The warmth of his hand on my thigh. His voice filling the space around us, as he tells me about his work. At least the parts he wants to tell me. And I’m soaking everything up, learning more about the man. The man whose real name I might never know.

I can feel how careful he’s being with how he's wording things. Holding himself back a few times. Like he's afraid about telling too much. I'm not naive. I don't know the exact details, but I still know what he does for a living.

I get that the soft version he is with me isn't his default setting. And I know that he is trying so hard right now, not letting that other side shine through too much, because I might see him differently then, while still giving me bits and pieces of himself.

I admire my paint job, the black nails fitting the rest of his left hand. DIE in big bold letters on his knuckles, the lettering pulling up into the skull that spans the back of his hand. The cold dead tree that adorns the inside of his arm sprouts its roots in the eyeholes.

His palm still rests on my thigh, his fingertips softly digging into my skin, like he is holding on.

“You’re done.”, I tell him then. He lifts his giant hands to look at them as well, a grin stalking onto his face, and I miss the warmth of his touch already.

“Thanks.”, he says and presses an almost chaste kiss to my lips.

“You’re very welcome. Even though I needed to use half the nail polish to have enough for your plate-sized nails.”, I comment tongue-in-cheek.

“I’m gonna buy you a new bottle.”, he answers simply.

“Oh, don’t worry about it.”, I wave it off.

“And? How do I look?”, he asks, almost striking a pose.

“Good.”, I answer, grinning at him. “Real goth.”, I add jokingly, and we laugh a bit.

I lean against him, my fingers tangle in his shirt, and silence falls over us. He presses me against his chest, his arms wrapped around me. His cheek nuzzling the top of my head. I feel how he’s moving, like he wants to start to speak. Like he is looking for the right words.

“I hope you’re not afraid of me.”, he finally says, mumbled into my hair, so quiet I almost can’t understand him at first.

“I’m not.”, I simply say, knowing that a more elaborate answer wouldn't have convinced him any more. Snuggling into him even, my cheek pressing against the soft pillow of his chest, the palm of my hands caressing over his back. Holding him for a moment.

I pull back a bit, to look up at him, not letting him hide away in my hair any longer. “Uh, btw…”, I start, trying to hide the giggles that want to escape me.

"What?", he asks as he sees the sparkle in my eyes.

"Did I ever tell you that I have a mask kink?", I say, fully grinning from one cheek to another, which pulls a little laugh from him.

“Of course you do, Fräulein.”, he says, but I can see the heat in his gaze, as he quips: “I’ve seen the bands you listen to.”

I playfully smack his bicep. “Rude!”

He just laughs again, grabbing me and pulling me into him again.

“Nooo, your nails are not even dry!”, I wail, giggling, as he peppers kisses all over my neck. I try to escape his grasp, to escape his tickling touches, but it’s like fighting against iron restraints. When he lets go of me, I reprimand him for messing up his nails, and paint those again where some colour came off.

He makes sure to apologize properly, carrying me up to the bedroom, where he strips me naked and sets me on top of his face, telling me to ride it. His hands grab my thighs, letting me admire how good his hands look like that, with the tattoos and the freshly painted nails.

I’m sitting on his face, properly sitting on it, because he wouldn’t accept it any other way. “If I go out like this, so be it. Now, please, sit on my fucking face.”, he rather orders than begs.

His mouth, hot and warm against my wet pussy, is working me tirelessly. His hands steering the pace of my hips that grind against his lower face. His fingers toying with my holes, while he sucks on my clit.

He doesn’t stop until he’s satisfied and his face sufficiently soaked with my juices. He lifts me off his mouth and onto his dick – after getting a condom, of course. I sink down around him, relaxed and so wet, until I’m seated on his lap, his cock filling me to the brim.

I chuckle as I look back and see how his eyes are fixed on my ass, watching it move up and down his length, my pussy swallowing him up, again and again and again. His mouth fell open a little, and it almost seems like there isn’t anything on his mind right now, other than me fucking him reverse cowgirl, with a prime seat for looking at my butt.

“You wanna take a picture? It’ll last longer.”, I taunt him, lifting myself from his lap slowly, making sure he sees every inch slipping out of me.

His eyes snap up to my face, a clear ‘watch it’ written on his expression, until his slack jaw turns into a smirk. He leans forward, catching my wrists and securing them behind my back, with just one hand. My back arches as he jerks me down onto his cock, my asscheeks hitting his groin in a slap. My mouth forms to an O, a moan being pulled from my lips.

“You were saying? Hmm?”, he teases me, pressing kisses to my neck that send shivers down my spine. The little ‘hmm’ a soft growl.

“Nothing.”, I breathe, my eyes rolling back as he starts to fuck me like this. Fucking up into me, his tip hitting me deep in this position, pushing up against my cervix. The intense sensations have me screaming, pulsing around his dick.

And when it would be time to pack my stuff and go home after spending the whole weekend together because I have to work tomorrow, I just don’t. It’s late already, so I stay another night, sleeping next to him in his bed, like I did the past two days. Using him as my personal heater because that huge burly man gives off more heat than any radiator would, and it’s impossible to flee his grasp.

next part: on the phone with👑 or more stuff in the Masterlist ~

a/n: this chapter has been brewing for a long time (it was the second scene i ever started, i think) and there's a lot of stuff in there that keeps rumbling around my head when it comes to könig in general and mh!k specifically some of it is canon-diverging headcanons about how he came to be a soldier (you realistically can't really join the austrian military before 18), what that must have meant to him and the people who were close to him, especially his grandma, who was the most important person in his life (also in the context of austria's past) mh!k is a much more toned down now at his age, better adjusted, not the much wilder younger version; he still very much is a König, but he got better over time at not letting his work dictate his every minute, especially when he is on leave he doesn't have the best image of himself, because he knows how he is, how he can be and what he has done, while at the same time being just fine with it all the same, because that's just who he is with reader, it's a little bit of a different topic, because he kind of doesn't want her to see him that way while he also understands her curiosity you see, lots of thoughts xD anyway, thanks for reading <3

[zorrasucia]

Promptober 22. Costumes

from @carmenberzattosgf list

Reader x Carmy Berzatto (The Bear FX)

Rating: Mature (1k)

Tags: Many References to Pretty Woman (1990), Established Relationship, Roleplay, Dirty Talk, Smut, Cut to Black, Both Carmy and Reader have a bit of a praise kink

It was past midnight when you returned from your Halloween party. Carmy usually got home late from The Bear, so you weren't surprised to find the lights on when you opened the door.

You left your bag on the counter and walked towards the bedroom.

"Getting ready for bed?" you asked, catching a glimpse of Carmy shirtless.

"Yeah," he said. "How was the party?"

"Really fun. Lots of dancing. I just hope I never have to drink a Halloween themed cocktail ever again," you sighed and Carmy smiled. "Thanks for letting me borrow this, by the way."

You took off Carmy's blazer, slightly boxy on you, and handed it to him. Except he didn't take it, he was frozen, his eyes fixed on your outfit.

"Baby, what the fuck?" he mumbled softly.

"Oh!" you remembered you hadn't actually told him about your costume. "Have you ever watched Pretty Woman? It's, uh, Julia Roberts at the beginning of the movie..."

"No, I can see that," he rasped, not moving.

His gaze traced the edges of the old tank top and jean skirt you had sacrificed to make her outfit. The cutouts framed your waist and your thighs were in full show, your boots reaching up to your knee. He frowned - was he upset?

"Carm... You okay?" you asked, unable to decipher his expression.

"What?" he looked up, breaking from his trance. "Yeah, good, great," his face was red.

"Are you mad or something?" you tried to guess why he was acting so strange. He had never cared about what you wore so this was definitely out of character. "A friend drove me home, if that's what you're worried about."

"No, I know you can handle yourself, baby," he chuckled nervously. "Just, uh... You look good."

"Thanks!" you blushed at the compliment and when you looked down you saw he was hard inside his jeans. "Oh."

"Sorry. I'm like a fucking loser teenager," he rubbed his face. "I'll take care of it while you get ready for bed. You must be tired."

You stopped him from leaving by hooking your fingers in the belt loops of his jeans.

"I'm not that tired, Carm," you giggled and got closer, your noses almost touching. Then, you prompted in a teasing tone: "So you have watched Pretty Woman."

"Nat was obsessed. Watched it at least once a month," his voice was choked and his hands hovered above your body, unsure of where to touch. You smirked.

"Did you have a thing for her? Julia Roberts?"

"Uh, kind of," it looked like he was struggling to concentrate, his eyes landing on your body every few seconds. "Just- Fuck. You look so fucking good in it."

It was your turn to get tongue tied. When you first started dating, you got shy when Carmy said things like that, the self conscious part of you not really believing it. After months of him worshiping every inch of your body, hands greedy for even the bits you were most insecure about, you couldn't possibly doubt him and you tried your best to enjoy it instead of question it.

"Come, sit," you pushed him gently to the edge of the bed. He plopped down on the mattress. "That way you can see it properly."

You did a slow turn so he could see the cut outs of the dress and your hair falling down your back.

"Fuck," he mumbled as you turned round to face him.

You moved to straddle Carmy's lap, placing one knee on each side of his thighs, agonizingly slow.

"You can touch me," you prompted, shivering when his hand went underneath the fabric that covered your spine, long fingers splayed all over your back.

He arched his neck, aiming to kiss your lips, but you swayed in his embrace so that his mouth landed on your jaw instead.

"No kissing on the lips, remember?" you teased.

"Is that a thing in the movie?" he asked, disoriented.

"Mhmm," you nodded.

"Right..." he frowned, still chasing your lips.

"You can kiss anywhere else, touch anywhere you like," you whispered into his ear, enjoying the feeling of Carmy writhing underneath you, a little frustrated that he wasn't getting exactly what he wanted.

"You're going to kill me," he groaned, nuzzling the length of your neck, tracing figures on your skin with his fingertips. You could feel his hard cock against you, feel his jeans against your underwear. "Can I fuck you like this?"

"Yes," you hummed in delight as you ground against his erection. "I'm guessing the costume stays on," you said breathily.

"Please."

You got off Carmy's lap only for a moment, just enough to take your underwear off, and went back to your place straddling him.

"Hadn't seen those on you," he mused, distracted for a second by the black lace panties thrown carelessly on the floor.

"They're new. Felt right for the character," you shrugged.

"You're a method actor now?" he teased.

You smirked and reached inside your boot, by the zipper, and took out a handful of condoms.

"She did this in the movie too," you explained.

"Were you carrying those around all night?" he asked, the corner of his mouth quirking up.

"Thought it would be fun. Sort of naughty trick or treat for my friends," you giggled at Carmy's embarrassed flush. "One of them left with a guy dressed like a werewolf. I'm doing a public service here."

He laughed, looking up at you lovingly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

"You sure I can't kiss you?" he insisted.

You shook your head. "I take dressing up very seriously," you said and offered him the array of condoms. "I think I ran out of flavored ones but there's a good selection still. Pick one."

He closed his eyes and pointed blindly.

"Oh, you're feeling lucky?" you reached for the button of his jeans, a textured condom in your hand, the rest forgotten by Carmy's feet.

"Tonight? Yeah," he said, groaning low when you lowered yourself on his cock. "So fucking lucky."

[deliciousangelfestival]

We're Not Okay - 2

Character: Bucky x veterinarian!Female Reader

Summary: Two people, each carrying their own trauma, find themselves in a place where they can begin to heal their wounds and mend their hearts together.

Words Count: 3,400

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 , -

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

By the way, I publish my book Arrogant Ex Husband in Kindle. 👉 Now available on e-Kindle Amazon! << here's the link.

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

After witnessing the strangest thing last night, you struggled to sleep once you returned to your room. The morning light crept in, and despite the restless night, you felt oddly well-rested. You made your way to the dining room, where you spotted Dr. Jane Foster, the other veterinarian at the conservation.

Jane, who also owned the place, had been a scientist before falling in love with animals—thanks to the influence of her husband, Thor Odinson. Thor, the tallest man you’d ever met and full of boundless energy, traveled across the country to rescue and care for animals.

Jane smiled and waved for you to sit beside her. You joined her at the table, and she leaned in with curiosity.

“So, I heard we got a new guest,” she said, referring to your latest arrival.

“Yup,” you replied, nodding. A flicker of realization crossed your face as you remembered Bucky hadn’t shown up for breakfast.

At that moment, Mandy, the cook, appeared with your usual breakfast: scrambled eggs, bacon, and potato wedges with mayonnaise on the side. She set the plate down without a word.

“Thanks, Mandy,” you said warmly.

She gave you a brief nod, her face as impassive as ever. Mandy wasn’t one for talking, but her actions spoke volumes. The fact that she brought you food without waiting for you to ask made you feel appreciated. She added in her thick Russian accent, “The new kid already grabbed his food and went outside.”

You paused mid-motion, the forkful of scrambled eggs hovering just before your mouth. “Really?” Turning in your seat, you glanced toward the window. Sure enough, Bucky was sitting in front of the wolf’s cage—the same as last night.

Quickly finishing your breakfast and draining your glass of water, you stood. “Sorry, Jane, I need to talk to him.”

“Go ahead,” Jane said with an understanding smile before taking another sip of her coffee.

Grabbing your winter jacket from the coat rack, you slipped it on as you headed for the door. The chill in the air hit you instantly, and you frowned when you noticed Bucky wasn’t wearing a jacket. Didn’t he feel the cold?

The thought worried you. If anything happened to him, the conservation could lose its much-needed sponsor. As you got closer, you saw Bucky sitting cross-legged on the ground, his gaze locked with the white wolf’s. You hesitated, watching the scene unfold. The wolf, normally skittish and aggressive, seemed at peace—almost transfixed by him.

How was he doing that?

You’d been treating the wolf ever since she arrived, but no matter what you did, she remained guarded and wary. Yet here she was, calm in Bucky’s presence.

Quietly, you approached them, your boots crunching softly against the frozen ground. Without saying a word, you draped your jacket over Bucky’s shoulders. He flinched slightly at the sudden weight but didn’t turn to look at you.

“She trusts you,” you said softly, breaking the silence.

Bucky’s head dipped slightly, and his jaw tensed as though he hadn’t realized anyone was there. His first instinct seemed to be leaving—his posture stiffened, and he made a slight movement to rise.

“Wait,” you said quickly, holding up your hands in a gesture of peace. “I don’t know why you’re afraid of me. Please… stay.”

He froze, his expression guarded, but his body relaxed ever so slightly. Though he didn’t move, it was clear he was still undecided. You noticed his shoulders shift as if weighing your words, but something made him stay rooted in place.

You took a cautious step closer, keeping your tone soft. “I’ve worked with her for months, and she’s never let her guard down like this. Not for anyone… except you.”

His eyes flicked toward you briefly before returning to the wolf. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to give you hope.

“It’s nice to see her looking more lively,” you said, gesturing to the wolf. “Do you want to help me feed her?”

Bucky’s expression softened, and for the first time, his eyes lit up. He nodded.

You grabbed a small bucket of food and motioned for him to follow. Together, you entered the enclosure, your boots crunching softly against the frozen ground. The wolf’s ears perked up slightly, but she stayed calm, her trust in Bucky unwavering.

As you worked, the sound of laughter carried over from a group of volunteers by the sea lion pen. Their cheerful voices and playful banter created a sharp contrast to the quiet atmosphere surrounding you and Bucky.

He glanced toward the volunteers, his steps slowing. You noticed the way his gaze lingered on them—on their laughter, their freedom. His longing was almost tangible, though he said nothing.

Pausing by the wolf, you broke the silence. “Everyone here seems so carefree,” you began, crouching down to check the wolf’s injured leg. “But we all have something in common.” You glanced at him. “Just like you.”

Bucky’s eyes shifted toward you, quiet but attentive.

You straightened and nodded toward Steve, a blonde volunteer who was currently lobbing a snowball at one of the others. “See him? He ran away from home because his father abused him.”

Then you gestured toward Natasha, the red-haired girl dodging the snowball with a grin. “And her—don’t be fooled by her friendliness. She’s trained in martial arts. She came here after breaking her ankle in a fight, which ruined her career and crushed her spirit.”

“And me,” you added quietly.

The air grew still. You hesitated, then met Bucky’s gaze.

“I’m what you’d call a bargain kid,” you said, a bitter edge in your voice. “My mom was a prostitute at the club my father owned. When I got older, I went looking for her, thinking I’d find some kind of connection. But reality doesn’t work that way. She didn’t even acknowledge me—just saw me as a way to get a green card.”

You paused, the weight of your words hanging between you. “This is why I prefer animals. Did you know a duck will adopt orphaned ducklings without a second thought?” You glanced at him with a faint smile.

Bucky’s brow furrowed, his lips pressing together. He didn’t respond, but his silence didn’t feel empty. You knew he was listening.

“How can a mother not want to meet her own daughter?” you muttered, more to yourself than him.

He remained quiet, his gaze fixed on you with a mix of understanding and something you couldn’t quite name.

You straightened and continued, your tone softening. “What I’m trying to say is… it’s not just you who’s been hurt here. All of us look okay on the outside, but we’re carrying deep wounds too.” You held his gaze. “I hope you don’t feel like an outcast. Just try—a little.”

Bucky didn’t say anything, but after a moment, he gave a small nod. It wasn’t much, but it was enough.

The white wolf nudged her nose against Bucky’s hand, drawing your attention back to her. Her gentle persistence seemed to be asking for more food. Bucky obliged, reaching into the bucket and handing her another piece.

You crossed your arms and smirked. “I’m so jealous,” you said, watching the wolf’s trust in him.

Bucky glanced at you, a faint flicker of a smile ghosting across his lips before it disappeared again.

🐺🐺🐺🐺

As time passed, the sky grew darker, and everyone gathered in the dining room. The warm glow of the lights reflected a sense of comfort as you entered and spotted Thor seated beside his wife, Jane. His large presence was hard to miss, his booming laugh echoing through the space.

You approached their table, a friendly smile on your face. “Thor, Jane,” you greeted. “Did you guys bring your son with you?”

Thor grinned broadly. “Yup, we did,” he replied, then paused, glancing around. “Wait… where is he?”

Before anyone could answer, the sound of a child crying filled the room. Mandy appeared at the doorway, holding the hand of a tearful Tom. The seven-year-old’s cheeks were red, and his cries were loud enough to draw attention.

“Huwaaah!” Tom sobbed as Mandy guided him forward.

Thor’s expression softened immediately, and he stood, scooping his son up effortlessly and placing him on his broad shoulder. “What made my big man cry, huh?” he asked, gently bouncing Tom to cheer him up.

Tom sniffled, his small hands gripping Thor’s shoulder. He pouted dramatically, his lip jutting out as he glanced between you and Jane. “I got ignored,” he said, his voice wobbling.

“Who ignored you?” Jane asked, her brows furrowing slightly as she reached out to smooth Tom’s hair.

Tom pointed with a small finger in the direction of the door. “Him. When I asked if I could touch the wolf.”

Thor’s booming laugh filled the room. “Buddy, I told you the wolf was off-limits,” he said, ruffling Tom’s hair affectionately.

Before Tom could argue, the dining room door swung open, and a gust of cold air swept inside, making everyone shiver. Standing in the doorway was Bucky, his figure silhouetted against the dim light outside.

Tom’s eyes widened in recognition. “That’s him! He ignored me!” he declared, pointing at Bucky with a glare.

The three adults exchanged glances, unsure how to approach the situation. None of them dared to criticize Bucky outright, given that he was the primary sponsor of the conservation.

Bucky’s gaze shifted to Tom. He hesitated, then slowly pulled out his phone. After a moment of typing, he turned the screen toward the boy. The message read: “I’m sorry.”

You stepped in to ease the tension, crouching slightly to Tom’s level. “Tom, his name is Bucky. And he can’t speak,” you explained gently.

Tom’s face fell in realization. He blinked, unsure how to process the information. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t know.”

Bucky shook his head and began typing again. When he finished, he held the phone up for Tom to see. “It’s okay. Do you want to play with the wolf tomorrow?”

Tom’s expression lit up. “I can?” he asked, his earlier tears forgotten.

Bucky nodded, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

You blinked in surprise. Bucky inviting Tom to interact with the wolf was unexpected. Then, he turned toward Thor and Jane, typing another message. He held the phone out to them: “My name is James Buchanan Barnes. But you can call me Bucky. I’m sorry for the late introduction. Nice to meet you.”

Thor’s grin widened, and he extended a hand. “Same here, Bucky. Nice to meet you!” he said, his voice booming with warmth.

Jane gave Bucky a kind smile. “It’s nice to meet you too,” she said softly.

With the formalities done, Bucky nodded politely before moving toward another table. His steps were hesitant at first, but as the volunteers murmured their quiet greetings and understanding glances, he seemed to relax.

You watched him from a distance, your heart feeling lighter. The change in Bucky’s demeanor was subtle but meaningful. It was as though the morning conversation between you had nudged him toward opening up, even if only a little.

You smiled faintly, reassured. It wasn’t just about keeping your promise to the Barnes family. Deep down, you also hoped that Bucky could heal from his pain.

🐺🐺🐺🐺

The next morning, Bucky kept his promise and brought Tom to see the white wolf. To everyone’s amazement, the wolf, usually wary and reserved, behaved almost like a domesticated dog. Her tail wagged gently, and she let Tom stroke her fur without flinching.

You stood nearby, watching in disbelief. “That’s… pretty impossible,” you muttered under your breath. “She’s a wild animal.” Yet, here she was, acting as though she’d known Bucky and Tom forever.

Tom giggled, his small hands brushing over the wolf’s soft coat. “She’s so nice! Can I name her?” he asked excitedly.

Bucky gave him a slight nod, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

Before you could respond, the static buzz of your walkie-talkie interrupted the moment. A voice crackled through, tense and urgent: “We’ve got a situation. The red panda is missing.”

You let out a frustrated sigh and pressed the button. “Understood. I’m on it.”

Bucky turned his gaze to you, his eyes sharp with curiosity and concern. The subtle lift of his brow asked the question his voice couldn’t: What’s going on?

You glanced at him. “It happens more than you’d think. People try to steal exotic animals all the time,” you explained, your tone heavy with resignation.

As if on cue, Thor appeared, striding purposefully out of the building with a shotgun slung over his shoulder. His jaw was set, and his expression radiated determination. He climbed into the driver’s seat of a rugged SUV, clearly ready for action.

You turned to Bucky. “Could you take Tom back to Mandy?”

Bucky nodded without hesitation. His gaze shifted to Tom, and with a small gesture, he guided the boy toward the dining hall.

You crouched to Tom’s eye level before they left, your voice softening. “Your dad’s going to catch the bad guys so fast, you won’t even have time to miss me,” you said with a wink.

Tom nodded, wide-eyed but reassured, gripping Bucky’s hand as they walked away.

With a deep breath, you straightened and sprinted toward Thor’s vehicle. The cold morning air stung your lungs, but you didn’t slow down. Jumping into the passenger seat, you barely had time to buckle in before Thor hit the gas, the SUV roaring to life.

A sense of urgency filled the air as the vehicle sped down the dirt road. You were fully focused on the mission, driven by your love for the animals and your determination to protect them.

Meanwhile, back near the enclosure, Bucky paused. His steps slowed as he watched you disappear into the distance, your figure growing smaller as you ran toward danger without hesitation. Something about your selflessness struck him deeply.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Bucky felt an unfamiliar spark. A desire to act—not out of obligation, but out of a need to help, to protect.

By the way, I publish my book Arrogant Ex Husband in Kindle. 👉 Now available on e-Kindle Amazon! << here's the link.

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[lilacevans]

𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐫𝐞𝐝: 𝐚 𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐞'𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞.

✧.*ೃ⁀➷ pete's place | the intro | opening night | the playlist ༊*·˚

✧.* : ̗̀➛ dark!ari levinson x female!reader (non-descriptive)

✧.* : ̗̀➛ word count: 475.

✧.* : ̗̀➛ warnings: verbal humiliation, ball-sucking, references to face slapping, dirty talk, filthy ari.

✧.* : ̗̀➛ requested by: anonymous

✧.* : ̗̀➛ notes: the big one is here!! this one was really fun to write; although i do need to get better at writing dirty talk as idk i just struggle with it but that's the whole point of these little drabbles. if u have any pointers pls don't hesitate to drop them in my ask box, i always welcome help!! anyway! enjoy my ari lovin' besties!! pls lemme know what u think & check out the main masterlist if this is the first your seeing anything of this series!!

*this is an 18+ space. minors are not welcome here.

*this is a dark au. there are no happy endings here.

Ari sat, propped up by an assortment of pillows against the headboard, head tipped back; long sandy strands clung to the sweat on his brow.

Soft amber glows from the setting sun snuck in through the glass panes, covering your naked body with a fading warmth as you laid between his legs. Red lipstick smeared over your lips, cheek and chin; the same red lipstick covered Ari’s thighs in pretty kisses smudging under your fingertips as you kneaded his thighs as you lapped at the skin of his balls, letting out soft, muted moans that made Ari reply with pleased hums and chesty grunts.

Heat burnt across your cheeks and the burning remnants of Ari’s heavy palms on your thighs blended together. The hues of red smeared across your face was complimented by the muted pink of your tongue, skilfully rubbing at the underside of Ari’s balls before your lips parted to suck one slowly into your mouth. 

‘’That’s it, Pup,’’ Ari groaned, slow and deep; hand stroking over your hair, his hand settling lightly on the back of your neck; the sudden softness from the heaviness of his hands earlier caused your head to spin. ‘’Such a good pup.” 

You whined at the sound of his drawled praise, pleasure filled and throbbing core. Your hips humped at the sheets below you, hopelessly trying to find enough pressure to relieve the ache between your legs. Ari’s chuckle soon brought you out of your head as you peered up to find his gaze locked on you, a smirk pulled at his lips. 

‘’Pathetic little Pup, humping the sheets like a bitch in heat. Live  for nothin’ but to be used— nothin’ but hole,’’ Ari taunted, hand now gripping the back of your neck, drawing you closer to his sack.  ‘’And you fuckin’ love it. You know you do. You’d waste days between my thighs, wouldn’t you, Pup?” 

A pitiful whine escaped your throat as you were forced to lower your gaze from his intense stare, trying to sink into the sheets while keeping your mouth and tongue running over his balls. 

‘’Tryna’ hide from me, Pup?’’ Ari teased, fingers finding your face to tilt your eyes back to him. ‘’Don’t go shy on me now,’’ Ari continued, teeth on show as he gleamed down at you. ‘’I know that slutty mouth can fit more than one in there; will stuff your mouth full if I have to.``

Ari’s threat made you push yourself, widening your mouth and using your fingertips to manipulate both of his heavy balls to settle against your tongue. Your eyes fluttered closed, moaning softly around the skin, spit gathering at the sides of your mouth; stuffed to the brim and overflowing with everything Ari. 

‘’That’s it, get ‘em dripping, pet,’’ Ari moaned into the open air. ‘’You fuckin’ love it,’’ Ari repeated breathlessly as a hand disappeared from your hair and moved to fist at his leaking cock. “Gonna keep you there forever.”

[allzelemonz]

Developing Powers: Clark Kent X Male Reader

Pronouns: he/him, Reader referred to as ‘boy’ and ‘man’ Physical Sex: AMAB Rating: M/Mentions of sexual situations, nudity Warnings: Characters are the same age, high school aged characters, awkward teenagers, pillow fights, farm boys being farm boys, showers, cold showers, accidental peeping Tom, mentions of masturbation Summary: Clark’s developing powers complicate things when his best friend stays over the weekend.

Clark’s pillow hits your head and you fall backwards onto his bed with a grunt. Before you can react, he’s on top of you with his hands pressing you down on your chest as he laughs in victory.

“Not fair, Kent.” You huff, struggling to reach for your pillow.

He grins, grabbing your wrist. “You started it.”

A knock prompts you both to look past the foot of Clark’s bed to the door. Pa Kent stands in the doorway, laughing lightly. “You boys are supposed to be in bed, lots of work in the morning.” He looks down at you. “And I won’t have your father thinking I ruined your work ethic, young man.”

Clark moves off of you. “Just messing around, Pa.”

“I know.” He smiles. “But I let him sleep over so you two could get to work early.”

“We’ll go to bed, sir.” You say, sitting up. “Sorry if we were being loud.”

“Just get your showers and get in bed, boys.” He turns to you. “We milk our cattle early, up by four.”

You nod. “Yes, sir.”

Pa Kent gives one last fatherly point before he closes the door and his footsteps creak over the floor towards his and Ma Kent’s room.

Clark tosses you a towel, hitting you square in the head as he giggles. “You can go first.”

You stand, giving his shoulder a light shove as you grab your backpack and disappear into the hall. Clark giggles to himself, just happy Pa agreed to let you stay the night to help with farmwork over the weekend. He flips through his homework packet, trying to find the energy to actually read the questions. He doesn’t. It’s Friday, his best friend is staying over, math homework can wait. He tosses the packet onto his desk, writing a note to do it on Sunday. With any luck, his developing super-speed applies to his math processing too.

When Clark looks up, he nearly jumps out of his skin. He can see you. His x-ray vision has slipped before and he’s been practicing his control on it, but it’s never caused him to glance up and see his best friend naked. Not just naked either, naked with water dripping over your skin and absolutely no limbs obstructing his view of your hanging dick.

Clark’s face turns bright red and he slaps his hands over his eyes. His skin has turned hot and his heart is beating a mile a minute. Sure, he’s been in a locker room with you and you’ve used urinals around each other but he’s never got such a full frontal in his life, there’s always been a wall or arm or folding pants in the way. Clark takes deep breaths, trying not to think, but when he looks back in the direction his eyes peer through without control. His breath hitches, he nearly chokes, watching your hands run over your dick. It's just scrubbing, just washing, but Clark’s mind wanders to images of you alone in your bedroom and he has to bury his face into the pillows of his bed to get his head back.

He’s sweating, face hidden in his pillow as he tries to breathe. He shouldn’t think about his best friend like that, he shouldn’t even be able to see you through the stupid walls. When Clark catches his breath and shifts to sit up, he freezes. The cotton of his boxers rubbing with the rough denim of his jeans, all making sparks of sensitivity shoot down to his toes by shifting against his now hard dick. Clark wants to scream. He just got hard at the mere thought and sight of his best friend touching himself.

The water shuts off and Clark scrambles to grab his stuff, holding it in front of himself as you walk out. His heart skips as you do, your hair still a bit wet and the pajamas clinging to your body from only just being put on.

You stop, looking at him strangely. “Uh, you okay?”

Clark nods, trying to hide his flushed face. “Mhm, yeah, just really need the shower.”

He rushes past you, disappearing into the hall. He closes the bathroom door behind him, breathing heavily as he tries to clear his head again. When the thoughts remain, Clark turns the water on cold and closes his eyes. The water washes over him, helping his erection die down in the icey temperature.

[electrozeistyking]

i think you guys might be underestimating how long this fella is? i mean, it’s okay if you struggle with characters like this and i’ll be totally understanding if need to draw them a bit shorter to fit your style. but i am still giving you a proper reference of how long i’m aiming for when i draw this fella.

here’s some additional notes “under the cut” or what have you. they can also contain spoilers, depending on where you are in the game and whether you’ve bumped into this instance (it’s not a major one story wise since you can miss it, but i still feel like i should warn you about that regardless :3).

“rotfrin” is currently at stage three of pourrir disease, as shown in the notes talking about it and its stages. rotfrin is much taller than everyone else in the party at this stage, though they do appear shorter due to being unable to stand straight up most of the time.

on account of being stuck in a time loop, siffrin finds themself fighting pourrir disease for clarity and getting much better at that. unfortunately, he never avoids succumbing to it; he can only hold out against it for as long as he possibly can, though it steadily becomes a even more of an uphill battle as the loops go on.

as siffrin grows stronger, the sickness seems to as well. as they becomes less clumsy and more coordinated, the sickness starts progressing faster and harder. fighting it for clarity becomes easier and easier over time, yet siffrin will always find be overpowered one way or another. unless they loop back to the start, of course.

this reference displays rotfrin during their earliest loops, before they’re able to properly fight against pourrir for clarity or stay lucid for long successfully. they’re unnaturally happy, full of unending love towards their party, and feeling incredibly cold; if odile hadn’t taken action the first few times siffrin reached this stage, he could’ve spread the sickness to the others without realizing it.

seeing as siffrin’s cloak was made to grow with him, it will continue to grow with rotfrin and hide a vast majority of their body. however, as they’re a being capable of movement, their body is never perfectly covered at all times; you’d have to lift their cloak up or take it off them in order to see their body (like in this reference).

strangely enough, siffrin doesn’t progress to any stages of pourrir disease every loop. both he and loop theorize that the sickness doesn’t always have time to progress very far, on account of how short some of the loops can be, but it doesn’t explain any of the other ones where he makes it to the end without it happening.

they only figure it out during later loops.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA for suggesting my girlfriend eats less?

(🫠 so i can find it later)

I know immediately it sounds insane but please I need advice. Also sorry it’s so long this is a sensitive topic and I want to treat it as such.

So my (24F) girlfriend (22F) has been trying to lose weight for about 9 months now. I let her offer up what info she wants but never ask because I don’t want to add pressure, and i’ve struggled with an ED and witnessed as my mom has struggled with her weight since I was born so I understand how hard it can be. But my girlfriend is as gorgeous as ever. And I know she’s been as active as possible so Idk why she’s so hard on herself.

My mom eats healthier than anyone I’ve ever known. When I was younger I watched her go through phases with taking on some weird diet that never really worked. She once told me she recognized her real problem is stopping when she’s “full” and not what she eats. She was insecure about that fact because she almost starved as a teenager. I tried to encourage her to accept her body if eating what she wants makes her happy. But she always says she isn’t happy when she’s not eating & only would be if she felt “sexy” again.

I’m starting to see a similar struggle in my love. She asked to go to the gym together, so I bought us a gym membership. We try to get there 3x a week for at least an hour each time. But she’s in her final semester before graduating so we stopped going as much about a month or two ago. She keeps talking about losing weight so her graduation dresses will fit better but I think they fit perfect. I zipped them myself. She never wears dresses or skirts, favoring baggy clothing and streetwear, so I think she’s just not used to the sensation of a form-fitting dress.

She joined a coed soccer team that would meet weekly for a month. I went to her games, she goes hard. She’s also started going for runs twice a week after work with a coworker. They did 3 miles one day! That’s still 3 days a week she’s been working out, plus the occasional day or two every other week we manage to get out to the gym.

She has taken to blaming me for us not going to the gym, not directly but will whine at me with a pointed tone, as if begging me to go to the gym after she told me we couldn’t go. I try to ignore it since I know she’s having a hard time and mostly venting. But if I agree and offer to drive us, she always has too much homework. Even if she’s been sitting on tiktok for an hour.

I do all the cooking for us. After she complained about not making progress I started serving us both smaller portions. Now she gets seconds after meals and will complain about being snackish or wanting a sweet treat less than 30 minutes after we’ve ate. If I stand firm on no treats (which is rare), she pouts. She refuses to get a treat without me, if I tell her she can go get one if she wants she won’t. If I give in, then later I feel guilty like I enabled her. And she’ll guilt trip me for it too. And then she’s unhappy about not losing any weight again and the cycle continues.

She’s got a broad build and a naturally curvy body. When she talks about being her ideal size/shape again, it’s always in photos of her at 14-17. I keep trying to instill in her that she can get muscular and fit but still might not look like that again because she was a child. She dismisses me every time and will compare her body to mine since we’re the same height, but I have different genetics and an overactive metabolism.

She’s active, healthy, muscular, and is maybe 30 lbs over the BMI for her height and age. I don’t believe in the BMI, just stating for reference reasons. Some of that “overweight” is definitely likely muscle since she said she gained weight after we first started going to the gym. She would not believe me when I said you gain muscle before you lose fat, even though she’s learned this in her major. In my eyes to have the kind of toning that she wants— and that athletes her shape have— she probably only needs to lose like 10-15 lbs. You can see the line of musculature on her thighs as she is. She eats way healthier than most college students because she’s a medical major and really cares about body health. I think a lot of her desire to lose weight comes from the athleticism of the PT’s she works with.

She continues to nitpick at her other behaviors (i.e. having a yasso icecream twice a week) that are far less “harmful” to her goals than overeating. But I fear it will cause a rift in our relationship if I try to suggest that to her.

I want to help her on her journey and the way she blames me makes me feel like I need to do more to help, but the only thing I can think to suggest is something I would never recommend on my own, let alone to my girlfriend who I think is beautiful as is. I don’t want her to think by me suggesting smaller portions that I have a problem with her perceived lack of progress. I only have a problem with being treated like it’s my fault she isn’t losing weight. When I tell her she looks amazing as she is she just tells me I’m biased because I love her.

I don’t feel it’s my place but Idk what else to do. So WIBTA if I told her that she should try to eat smaller portions rather than dieting since she’s already physically active and eats healthy?

[blasphemousclaw]

Let’s talk about Mt. Gelmir

Mt. Gelmir is one of my favorite locations in the game because of its striking environmental storytelling… the minute you start exploring the slopes of the volcano, you can just FEEL that something awful happened here. The imagery is so potent that I wanted to go through every detail of the region and explore how it supports and expands the story we’re told through dialogue and text. Let’s start with the text on the Mt. Gelmir sword monument:

“The Assault on Volcano Manor

The squalid, the sick, the blasphemous;

A wretched, unending war with no glory”

This dismal description refers to Leyndell’s attack on Praetor Rykard’s forces at Volcano Manor. After the Shattering war broke out, Rykard declared his intention to take up arms against the Erdtree itself: this was not just treason, but blasphemy, marking him as “an enemy, never to be forgiven.” We can conclude that Rykard’s blasphemy was so unacceptable that Leyndell made it a priority to silence him as quickly as possible, sending an army straight to his doorstep. I believe it’s implied that Rykard had the Mt. Gelmir Minor Erdtree burned as his first act of blasphemy; we find the tree destroyed amidst a smoking ruin:

The assault on Volcano Manor, introduced to us by Gideon Ofnir as “the most appalling battle in the entirety of the Shattering,” was the site of some of the most horrific violence in the entire story. Traveling around Mt. Gelmir, we can observe the gruesome aftermath of the battle and the remnants of the armies continuing to struggle — some scattered groups of Leyndell soldiers remain, while the only troops left to Rykard are his marionettes and iron virgins, since his knights have long since deserted him after his hideous transformation. (Side note: I love the detail that Rykard uses marionettes and avionettes, which were “crafted to serve the sorcerers;” it further cements his identity as a sorcerer and his connection to his Liurnian heritage.) Despite having no real soldiers though, Rykard’s grim constructs seem to tear through the remaining soldiers of Leyndell with ease, which we can observe in real time:

The death toll of this conflict cannot be overstated — the slopes of Mt. Gelmir are literally piled high with bodies.

Within a pit of corpses, we can find the spirit of one of Rykard’s men, who says this:

“Lord Rykard… If this putrid field of death is what your blasphemy would bring, then I can no longer abide. No one can.”

These unspeakable horrors are enough to make Rykard’s followers question if the cost of resistance is too high a price. Leyndell’s armies are just as badly affected — stranded on the mountain with no hope of reinforcements, we can observe several soldiers feasting on the bodies of their fallen comrades:

These soldiers have long abandoned any hope of achieving glory, and are little more than mindless husks at this point. Furthermore, if we return to the sword monument, something you’ll notice as you make your way over is that there are several Leyndell soldiers who are affected by the frenzied flame. At the same time, the troll soldier guarding the door to the Manor is also affected by the frenzied flame:

The frenzied flame is affecting soldiers of both sides of the conflict here, which tells me it wasn’t being used as some kind of weapon, but that it took hold independently… I believe that the frenzied flame was embraced by the soldiers here due to the sheer hopelessness of those who have experienced this uniquely horrific battle. The ethos of the Three Fingers is essentially that the world is full of unendurable pain, so it must all be melted away so no one will suffer ever again: “the Greater Will made a mistake. Torment, despair, affliction... every sin, every curse. Every one, born of the mistake. […] Those who gave me grapes howled without words. Saying they wished they were never born. Become their lord. Take their torment, despair. Their affliction. Every sin, every curse. And melt it all away.” (Hyetta)

The soldiers who fought on Mt. Gelmir have experienced untold suffering, the very worst of humanity… it makes perfect sense that such people would be susceptible to the essence of the frenzied flame; to want to burn this tormented world to the ground.

[fabricated-misslieness]

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: jake sully x male reader (+sully family)

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: There were many struggles that came with fatherhood—you must find a solution for each one.

ᴀɴᴏɴ: jake and reader are like the dads of the sully children, basically the sully's having gay dads??

ʀᴇ𝐐: yes ~ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 6565

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: mentions of death (lighthearted) never happens tho, swearing, much worrying about children, surrogate neytiri referring to your kids as hers too (idk just in case)

ᴍᴀʏʙ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: so. i've got a lot of things to say. that's why i'm putting a second a/n at the bottom. - two gays cannot have an avatar child if they can't have children therefore surrogate Neytiri <3 - my first attempt at writing a full sentence in Na'vi, y'all are probably not fluent in it but i hope it's correct. - regrettably, there's only one scene with Tuk and only one mention of Spider - less about the relationship between jake and reader, more about the children

☾⋆☆⋆☽

Neteyam was a blessing.

Him and Neytiri both.

When she agreed to be a surrogate for your children, you were both over the moon, over each of the three of Eywa'eveng.

Neytiri knew it best, the stress of having a child. Though it was all her, her body, her belly, her birthing, you and Jake stuck to her side and stressed with her. You could see her pain, in her eyes, and Jake said he felt it himself.

The musings did not help Neytiri through the pain.

Omatikaya welcoming ceremonies consisted of everyone in the village, close family, friends, acquaintances, everyone rounded up to welcome the newborn. But this one was special, for there was one mother and two fathers. Strange as it may have been, the three of you knew there'd be plenty more to come.

When Jake held him up towards the sky, calling the name, "Neteyam", you knew the name truly belonged to him, even if the newborn had yet developed characteristic traits.

The first year was not pretty. If it weren't for Mo'at and Neytiri–and thought it may be harsh, it is the truth–Neteyam would probably be dead.

Jake always knew there was a thing with babies. They didn't have a sense of danger. On Earth, some of the deadliest stuff they could find was a fork and an outlet. On Pandora, however, there were much worse things.

He was aware of this, both of you were, of the Hammerheads, Thanators, Viperwolves that each posed a dangerous threat to your child. Even herbivores, like Flathead Rams, could trample over your baby like he was nothing. He couldn't roam, either, for he didn't know the difference between a poisonous plant and a safe one, and the differences were scarce. Not to mention, they grew close to the ground. Even the carnivorous plants were huge enough to swallow him whole.

So you both watched him, most of the time.

When the hunt called, however, it was only one of you. You took turns.

Why? Because the mighty Toruk Makto, Olo'eyktan of the Omatikaya, once war chief of three tribes at once, was not exempt from taking care of the baby.

Besides, he kind of liked it. He liked looking at his boy, knowing that in all ways except biological, Neteyam was his.

He loved when the little baby wrapped his four little blue fingers around one of his five large ones. He was so tiny, so defenseless. He had to take care of him. Couldn't let him out of his sight.

He was also so, so cute.

Neteyam lets out a little yawn, stretching all his limbs except for the hand holding his father's finger.

"Aww," Jake coos. "dinner's in a bit. The game's not even here yet. You can sleep."

As time passes, and Neteyam drifts off in his father's warm, large arms that encompassed him, Jake gets lost in the sight and his thoughts. Neteyam was his child. He never thought he'd have one.

He doesn't register the sound of you propping your bow up on the wall, or your footsteps, or a portion of the fresh hunt being placed next to the fire.

In fact, he doesn't really notice you at all until you sit next to him.

You wrap your arms around him, one around his back, the other around his stomach below his arms and Neteyam, and settle your head into the crook of his neck.

Jake laughs lowly, your nose against his neck's skin slightly ticklish—he didn't think the Na'vi were ticklish, hadn't learned it until he was victim to your fingers. "Kxì, my love. Tired?"

"Ngenga pllertxe fura tawtute lì'fya... ‘Ìnglìsì. Tìftang si." (You're speaking that sky people language... English. Stop it.)

Ever since the first time, he's memorized the words, therefore knows their meaning. "You know I don't speak Na'vi well. Right? Or are you too tired to remember?"

"Perfectly conscious enough to remember." You laugh lazily, "Just love to tease you."

Jake presses the side of his head against the top of yours, the best affection he can offer with Neteyam in his arms. "Zola‘u nìprrte’. Happy?"

"Yes."

☾⋆☆⋆☽

Where Neteyam was yours, Lo'ak was Jake's.

But first, came the unexpected Kiri. A month after Neytiri affirmed that she would have your second child, Norm and Max called with a panic.

One morning, as bored eyes strayed from scientific screens and microscopes, Norm discovered a bump on Grace's avatar's body. There were many theories, but each was discredited. The tank was safe, you were all sure, even if you did not know anything of the amniotic fluid within it. It wasn't scratched, didn't show any signs of opening, it displayed nothing at all. So what could be the cause?

The answer went unanswered for another two months. Until, at the third month, Norm realized that the size lined up with that of a human pregnancy. It was already the size of a seven month old baby bump. Which meant... soon enough, the vacant avatar would be having a baby.

There was hardly a discussion of who would raise it. Jake knew that he was indebted to Grace, that even though he had yet another child on the way, whatever came of Grace's avatar was his to take care of.

Kiri was born first. Lo'ak was soon to be on his way. However, the season for the first communion with Eywa was approaching. Though having the three of them commune with the Great Mother at the same time would be wonderful, the first communion was not to be delayed.

While Jake helped Neteyam attach his queue to the Tree of Souls, you helped Kiri.

Her eyes, her smile, toothless even, her dilated pupils... She was elated. She was so happy, and you mirrored her smile too.

This wasn't your kid, wasn't Jake's either, but you would raise her as one of your own.

Lo'ak and Kiri... they both came out with five fingers and little eyebrows. It was a scary thing, to have children that looked different from everyone else. Jake knew that, with an Avatar body, it was possible. Seeing it himself, though...

Neteyam, being oldest, required a little less care. He slept by himself at his crib. The newborns slept with you whilst the two of you waited for Neytiri's hunt.

Lo'ak was cuddled up in his father's arms, Kiri in yours. Her fingers were wrapped around your smallest finger, what Jake would call his ring finger. "Five fingers.." You muttered to yourself. You'd counted them many times over.

Jake hears you. "And eyebrows."

"Just like you." You muse with a laugh. Jake laughs along too, but you notice the difference; his laugh lacks its usual humor.

"What is it?" You ask, concerned lace with his words like the weaving of a necklace.

"Nothing." He shakes his head. He couldn't worry you, especially because he wasn't even sure if these five fingers and eyebrows would make any difference.

"I can tell there's something." You remain stubborn, scooting even closer to him. It was one of the qualities he actually loved about you, as annoying as it could be. "You can't evade me, darling."

"Darling? You picked up the word?"

"Jake." You're deflecting.

"I know." He sighs, "I know. It's just... They're different, Kiri and Lo'ak, different from others their age. It's not something I want for them."

"You think it'll affect the way they are treated?"

"Yes."

"Darling." You repeat the pet name more stern now, calling for his attention. He lifts his gaze from his baby boy to meet your eyes. They're yellow, they're golden, just like his. "You were different. But now you are not. You're Olo'eyktan, one of the us; one of the people, one of the Omatikaya. These children are yours, and they are mine. They are part of the Omatikaya."

"But they–"

"Extra fingers, extra hair on their face. The eyebrows are expressive, lovely. The fingers are good, help with dexterity." You tilt your head forward, "They will be fine."

Just as the same as he yearns to hold you, he wishes he believed you. For now, however, he settles on your only point of contact being your lips, and his assured belief about these children being that you and he would love them to the ends of the Earth.

☾⋆☆⋆☽

The differences meant nothing to Jake, there would be no change in the way he treated them. Soon enough, he'd sort of forgotten, for the most part.

What couldn't be forgotten, though, were his Olo'eyktan duties.

The problem was, you were gone for a little while. The second problem was, Neytiri was taking care of Neteyam. Now that didn't quiet seem like a problem, but she was taking care of him before you left and before he realized he had important Olo'eyktan stuff to do. He couldn't just bother Neytiri to take care of his kids! The third problem was, they were his kids! He couldn't just leave them. They were hardly two months old.

So now, he was left with a dilemma. Baby carriers.

For humans, it was a little embarrassing to, as a father, be wearing one of them. But to the Na'vi, it was just another part of life, a necessity.

Jake was a Na'vi now. He had to get over human societal norms.

"Hanging in there, baby girl?" Jake asks Kiri–as if she can understand him–who unfortunately has to take the tight space on his back.

After getting the silent answer he was expecting, Jake begins his work. As expected, no Na'vi seem to pay him any mind. They greet him just the same as any other day, the only difference being the small coos directed at his children. He's just happy they love them.

As Jake checks his daughter is safe on his back for the umpteenth time, he hears something wrong.

Click.

He stares ahead, obviously disturbed. His eyebrow furrows as he finds the camera, with a diminishing flash, being held by the scientist he regrettably called a friend.

"Norm, don't you have shit to do?" The swear word doesn't faze him, for the babies were too young to even register the word.

The scientist adjusts his exopack over his shit-eating grin. "Research, Jake." He gives off a hint as his amusement with each word he speaks, "I’m capturing the Mighty Toruk Makto in his natural form. Which is adorable." He winks.

"Uh-huh." Jake replies; contrasting his friend, he remains unamused. "Kiss the dark side of my blue–" Out of the corner of his eye, he spots Mo'at. Shit, Mo'at. She knew English and he needed to talk to her.

"You are a lucky man, Norm." Jake turns on his heels, leaving Norm behind as he heads towards the Tsahìk.

When he does so, though, Kiri turns her head as much as she can to stare at the human scientist curiously. Norm takes the opportunity.

Click.

☾⋆☆⋆☽

Lo'ak and Kiri were, relative to their brother, the same age. They also looked the most like each other, excluding their father. They both had the characteristic traits of an avatar, traits that set them apart from the rest of the clan. Because of this, you thought they'd be inseparable, best friends. Instead, they fought, and fought, and fought.

It was weird, even, that Kiri often sought out her older brother's company over her baby brother's.

These peculiarities' origins, however, were solved when you realized the common point of these arguments. Lo'ak. Lo'ak was a troublesome kid in that he loved freedom, and even more, loved to be possessive.

Within seven years, many things were taught. Jake, for one, learned much of the Na'vi language. In fact, it was practically English to him. Sometimes he forgot what language he began the sentence with, and he would end up starting with Na'vi and ending with English or mixing in a couple words in the middle.

As far as the kids were concerned, it was gibberish. At least, for a couple years. After they dominated the Na'vi language well enough, they began to learn English. Their main teacher was their father, not their sempu, so when things like this happened...

"I hate you times infinity, Lo'ak! Penis face!"

It was his fault.

After the kids' argument was swiftly dealt with (the toy had to be threatened to be cut in half, and then they stopped), Jake places the toy in Kiri's hands. "Kid, go find your brother." He sighs, "You can play with him."

"I don't wanna play with him." Lo'ak crosses his arms, stomping his foot. "He's a sucker."

"Hey, now, that's not a good thing to say about your brother." Jake presses a harsh finger against his son's shoulder. "What would Neteyam think?"

"It's true! And he needs to know it!"

"If your sempu was here, you'd be–"

"Sempu's here." You call. The kids didn't really realize you heard the beginning of what Jake was going to say. Instead, they run to hug you. Kiri drops the much beloved toy they so desperately wanted earlier, in favor of wrapping her arms around your waist.

You scoop each of them up, each held by one strong arm. Even so, knowing that the position is weak, they steady themselves by wrapping their small limbs as far around you as they can. "Now, what was it that you needed me for?"

"Nothing, sempu." Kiri shakes her head, pressing her head against your shoulder. "Just a little dispute."

"Yes. A dispute." Lo'ak agrees with the wide nod of his head, though he pronounces the word much worse than Kiri does. Seems he slacked off on their latest English lessons and somehow ignored the word "penis" that Kiri vividly recalls.

"Ooh, dispute? Where'd you learn that big word, huh?" You coo, rubbing your nose into her hair. She laughs at the feeling, it's almost ticklish.

"Dad." She replies simply.

"Yeah, well, they also managed to learn the word "penis" from me." While you gawk dramatically at your children, Jake sticks his tongue out at them just as childishly. Little suck ups. He mouths.

Lo'ak sticks his tongue back out at his own father, to which you slap him gently on the hip. "What situation requires that," You think of a suitably negative word , uglily scrunching up your nose so that the children can have something to laugh at. "despicable word?"

"Lo'ak," Kiri is quick to tell, "was trying to steal my toy!"

"No I wasn't!" Lo'ak huffs. If he were on the ground, he'd have stumped his feet. Instead, they kick the air.

"Yes you were!" She retorts.

"Which one, the one so sadly on the floor?"

At the mention of its position, they both turn their gazes towards it. Kiri dares to mutter a little "uh-oh" as her eyes find it. Whilst they are distracted by the dread building up in their bodies, you look to Jake. Go find Neteyam. I'll deal with these two.

Silently, he nods, and slips away while the children begin to make up excuses. As he walks down the river bank, he hears a shout from the house. "You're a big fat liar!"

If memory served right, Neteyam wanted to visit Neytiri. Out of all of their kids, he took to her the most.

A part of him, at the back of his mind, wonders how all his children will react once they learn who their mother is.

He doesn't indulge in the thought. Instead, he focuses on the task ahead. The path from his home to Neytiri's was one he memorized, and he made sure when he built his home that it wouldn't be a long distance.

He doesn't expect to find the two of them, Neteyam and Neytiri, outside of the house. Neither does he expect his son to be so vigorously training even after training hours.

"That's it. Remember your stance." Neytiri advises Neteyam, patting his shoulder. "You're doing great."

"Hey!" Jake greets the two. The sudden call surprises Neteyam, which makes his shot fly off to the side.

The boy frowns, but his lips soon lift as he turns to greet his father. "Hi dad."

"Hello, my son." He nods. His smile turns a little more stern as he turns to Neytiri. "Hello, auntie Tiri. What's going on?"

Neytiri opens her mouth to speak, but Neteyam taps her thigh and mouths a little something. It's not hard to read his lips, nor had he tried to hid it so hard, but Jake looks away out of respect.

Auntie Tiri nods and looks back up to Jake, "I figured he needed some practice."

"He practiced this morning."

"I know." She raises one hand up in surrender, "Practice makes perfect." She ruffles Neteyam's hair. Though coming from his dad it was annoying, it is apparently endearing coming from his aunt. "Could I talk to you in the house?"

"Of course."

She hardly waits for him to reply before she pats Neteyam on the head again and says, "I'll be right back, keep practicing."

Neteyam nods excitedly. However, Jake stops him. "No, put that down." It dampens his son's spirits, but he nods. Both of them know that something could go wrong if Neteyam practices unsupervised.

Neytiri rolls her eyes, but doesn't protest. Instead, she heads inside, Jake close behind.

"What is it that–"

"Your son, our kid, " She begins with firmness. "he came to me asking me to help him improve."

"What? He's only seven." Jake reasons, "Why would he?"

"He's your oldest." She replies simply. "Your heir, the next Olo'eyktan. There's a lot of pressure that comes with that." She spoke with experience. Between you, him, and her, she had so much more experience. He wonders sometimes how they've come to this arrangement, if she could be a better mom than he, a dad.

"Yeah… I know. But I don't give him any pressure. I make sure of it." Does he really? Are each of his words premeditated, thought out?

"He's only a year older than Lo'ak and Kiri, but he already has it ingrained in him that he has to protect them." Neytiri crosses her arms, giving him a pointed look, "Like you said, he's seven. He still deserves to be hugged and kissed."

"I try to."

"You try to?"

"It's hard when, you know…" He sighs, "your parents coddled your brother more than you."

She purses her lips, thinks it over. "I may not know about you and your brother," She begins on a lighter note. "but I know that you can relate your experiences with him with our children, your sons. At least you know what not to do. Just make sure they know you love them, and that they are still children that should play, while you still can."

"Yeah." He nods, "I will."

☾⋆☆⋆☽

The children played with each other, for once not beckoning their parents into play or sparking arguments between each other.

So for the first time in a long time, you had some moments of peace.

"He reminds me a lot of Neytiri, Neteyam." You spoke in a hushed voice, wary of their young ears.

"How so?" Jake squeezes your shoulder, his arm wrapped around it.

"His smile. It's a lot like hers. Toothy, isn't it?" He was smiling right now. Though it didn't compare to some of his biggest moments of joy, his smile still displayed his growing teeth. It was adorable.

He only has to think of it for a moment before agreeing, "Yeah."

"He's good with his bow. Don't doubt that he'll make a great hunter one day. And his love for Ikran..." Your face lights up at the memories, "even though he doesn't have one."

"About that, love..." Jake begins solemnly.

You turn to him, away from your playing children, at his serious tone. "What is it?"

"Neteyam," He glances over at the boy. Thankfully, he hadn't heard him speak his name. He lowers his voice and continues, "Neytiri told me he's been trying to get better at using a bow."

"Hm, well, he's probably trying to impress us."

"And that he wanted to protect his siblings. He feels," He purses his lips, "like its his responsibility. It's what he worries about."

"Does he?" You huff, "He has asked a lot lately, about the dangers of the jungle. I thought he just wanted to look out for himself, but now that I think about it..."

"He wanted to know so that he could keep his siblings safe." Jake finishes for you.

"Hey, I wanted to play with it!"

"I had it first!"

Before either of you can act, Neteyam stands first. He gives you only the smallest of glances before pushing his siblings away from each other.

"What? Hey!" Lo'ak shouts.

"Go away, Neteyam!" Kiri struggles against her brother's hold.

At his sudden interference, the toy falls to the ground. Neteyam kicks it to his feet. "Stop fighting!" He hisses at the both of them, making them falter. "It's either one or the other. Got that? You can take turns."

"Me first!" The children scream simultaneously, Kiri finishes her sentence first by a millisecond.

"Ugh." Lo'ak groans, but he begrudgingly kicks the toy in her direction. "Fine, you can have it first. But you get ten minutes!"

Kiri grins, picking up the toy, "That's good enough."

With the argument over, Neteyam smiles. He turns back towards his own toy, but not before sparing a not so subtle glance in your direction. Seeing your encouraging smiles, his own grows larger.

"He didn't need to do that."

Jake nods, "But he did, anyway."

"You're right." You shake your head with a sigh, "We should wait for the right moment to tell him."

☾⋆☆⋆☽

That moment doesn't take long.

Lo'ak had grown restless at home, and even more at the village, so he proposed one thing: to let him and his siblings explore the jungle. It wasn't a surprising proposal, you'd allowed them to do so many times before. Neteyam, Kiri, and Lo'ak often explored the jungle; so, you allowed it without a thought.

The jungle was a beautiful place, one you were proud to call home, so you were happy that your children were falling in love with it too.

However, as curfew grows closer and your children do not return yet, your worry begins to grow.

The children had shown time and time again that they knew curfew, knew the way home, knew to come back safely. You trusted them to come back.

Your rapidly growing concern and restlessness burst, and you must find them yourself. As much as Jake had reassured you, as much as you wanted to trust them, something was clearly wrong. You had to find them.

As you mount your ikran, though, they emerge from the tree line.

Neteyam and Lo'ak prop Kiri up, helping her walk. They've got her arms around their shoulders. Together, the three of them, they're mismatched. Lo'ak wishes to run, Neteyam doesn't want to injure Kiri further, and she is weak.

You're quick to whisk Kiri up and bring her inside, whilst Jake grabs a hold of his sons and brings them in too.

You place Kiri down on your hammock, "Where does it hurt?"

"My side." She yells back, her eyes spilling fresh tears. She was scratched up everywhere, from her arms to her knees, but the most concerning gash was on her side. It was a long cut, spanning from her belly button to her chest.

"I got you, baby girl." You assure.

While you rush to patch up Kiri, Jake squats in front of his sons and questions them. "What happened?"

Neither boy wishes to speak, but between the two of them, the culprit is clear. Still, he knows that he has to wait for them to speak up. If Neteyam speaks first, Jake will know what the boy has burdened himself with. If Lo'ak speaks, he will know that the boy has the responsibility to admit his own faults.

Regardless, because none of them speak, Kiri does. She clearly wished to have the culprit, which inadvertently caused her injuries, be punished. "Lo'ak led us to a forbidden area!"

"No I didn't!" Lo'ak bites back.

"Yeah, I did." Neteyam steps forward and puts an arm in front of his brother in order to shield him from his father's impending scolding. "I convinced them it wasn't such a dangerous place."

There it was. Neteyam taking the blame. He took protecting his siblings so far, that he was willing to take the blame and the punishment for what Lo'ak did. Jake hated it, hated that he reminded him of his brother so much.

"Neteyam, you and I both know you know the dangers the most." Jake points a finger at him, "So step back."

The boy follows his instructions, but for once, not obediently. He looks down at the ground and backs off with a subtle scoff.

"Oh, so now you decide he's not to be believed?!" Lo'ak huffs, crossing his arms. "I didn't–"

"You did." Jake interrupts him, "And I need you to admit it."

"Fine!" Lo'ak shouts, "I did it! But I didn't think it would be so dangerous."

"I know that, son." Jake says, placing a hand on his shoulder. Lo'ak tries to shake it off, but he ultimately fails to do so. He settles on ignoring its heavy presence. "But you're still responsible for the consequences."

"I didn't mean for Kiri to get hurt." The boy mumbles.

"Tell that to her."

"I'm sorry, Kiri." He mumbles that too, but Kiri hears it anyway.

Though she rolls her eyes, something Lo'ak can't see because you cover her body with your own as you work away, and accepts the apology, "Fine." She hisses slightly, which Lo'ak mistakes as directed to him. The sound makes him falter.

"The two of you, listen to me." Jake places his other hand on Neteyam's shoulder, pulling the brothers close to each other.

"You should listen too." You tell Kiri. She nods.

"You should all to take care of each other, equally. That means protecting each other. Not just you, Lo'ak; not just you, Kiri," He nods in each of his kids' directions, "not just you, Neteyam. You got that?"

Neteyam nods immediately, while Lo'ak nods with a scowl and eyebrows knitted. He was displeased to be asked to act just like his stuck up brother.

"Hey." Jake shakes his son not so gently to make sure he is paying attention. "Lo'ak, I need you to protect your siblings. Because, in this world, it's not just you. It's all of us, it's this family. Your brother, your sister, they need taking care of. And if we're not there, who will do that? You. You have to."

"It's not an "if he can't do it, then I have to"." You cut in to add, "It's not a toy to be passed around. It is something you should all be doing, all the time."

"Today was just an example. Tomorrow," He gestures to the side with the nod of his head, "if things do not change, worse things can happen."

"Okay." Lo'ak nods. Though the solemn look on his face is new and different, it meant he was taking it seriously.

Jake nods too, "Good. Neteyam," Knowing that the boy will be much more affected by his words, Jake keeps it simple. "that means it's not all up to you. Don't take the fall for things you didn't cause."

"Okay." Neteyam agrees too.

☾⋆☆⋆☽

Auntie Tiri loved to visit the kids. Though she knew she wasn't their mother in the family sense, she still thought of them as her own children. You weren't one to complain, much as you teased her, because it meant you and Jake could have some time of your own.

"Second time this week?" You laugh, greeting Neytiri at the entrance. "It's only just beginning, too."

"If I birthed them, I at least get to raise them." Neytiri argues. The words don't make much sense to the children, thankfully, or else you would have a lot of explaining you weren't quite ready for.

You roll your eyes and let her in. As she passes you, you walk outside. Behind you, you hear screams of delight as the children see Neytiri.

After Jake says his temporary goodbye's, he follows you outside.

He lets out a sigh of relief as the even fresher air of the outside washes over his face. "It's been a while since we got to be alone, right?"

"Just two days, my love." You remind him. "Neytiri visited two days ago."

"Hmm," He snickers, "right."

He lets out a yawn, stretches his limbs far up into the sky. As he brings them down, though, one arm not so subtly wraps around your waist. Even less subtly, it pulls you close to his side. "Wanna go for a walk?" He offers nonchalantly.

You chuckle, placing a hand a on the one he's got around you. "Sure."

The benefit of being alone with each other often was that your children were not responsibility for the tiniest of moments. It also meant you didn't have to speak of them.

But usually, as your children are the light of your life, most things end up being about them.

"Your hair's starting to dread up, love." You remark, wrapping the end of one of his locks around your finger. It was just a little strand, but the hair above clumps together.

"Ah, well, I don't have the time." He sighs, "Between Olo'eyktan duties, giving advice to folk, taking care of the kids..."

"I could braid it for you." You offer.

"I heard that takes a long time." He says, but he's done more than hear it. He's witnessed it, seen your children slouched over themselves, falling asleep whilst your fingers still nimbly worked on their braids. "Don't know if I've got enough."

"Well, we can keep it dreaded." You shrug, "Whatever you like."

"What do you like?" He retorts.

You roll your eyes. "Whatever you like to wear will be what I love, Jake."

"That's an awfully sweet," He begins slowly, coaxing a soft smile out of your lips. "lie. Too uncharacteristic of you, my darling."

You laugh. The sound is... young. It sounds young. You've known each other for seven years now, been parents for most of that time, and you've matured so much since the first time he laid eyes on you. Those laughs, ones without the worry of your children or responsibilities, had seemed forgotten. He's glad it's still there.

The conversation falters and you fall to comfortable silence; but something picks at Jake, at the back of his mind.

"Is there..." He pauses, not too sure if he really wants to mention it. He's already started, though, and he does feel as though it is something that should be talked about. "anyone Lo'ak reminds you of?"

"Lo'ak..." You hum as you think, "well, Lo'ak is his own person. He's a special kid. There's no one quite similar to him. Why do you ask?"

"He reminds me of myself. My younger self." Jake says. It was the original thing he wanted to say.

"Oh."

"Reckless, quick to jump into a fight, defensive, couldn't take the blame... I couldn't take anything seriously." He lists off things, each one putting a dampener on his mood. "A child in a man's body."

His lowering spirits were affecting yours, so you stop your walk to make sure your next words are registered fully. You take his hands in yours and begin, "Some of those things aren't always bad. Defensiveness means, well, you're protective of your loved ones. And not taking things so seriously... you can always make me happy. You can lighten any situation. As for the recklessness, well, it was always funny when you failed at some Na'vi things."

"Hey!"

"What I'm trying to say is, you're still defensive, you're still humorous in harsh situations. These are both things of your younger self and the self that stands before me." You bring a hand to his cheek and he nuzzles against it. "They are part of who you are; and those same things, they're part of who Lo'ak is. If we tried to change them, Lo'ak wouldn't be himself. All of those traits are bad at varying degrees. If we teach him correctly, he can still be himself. Less reckless, more serious, but still himself."

Much as an annoying rascal he was now, it was the Lo'ak Jake still loved, has loved for seven years. He couldn't imagine his son any other way.

☾⋆☆⋆☽

Everyone loved Neteyam. It was hard not to.

Lo'ak and Kiri, on the other hand, often received many stares. It was harder for them to make friends outside of the family; harder to avoid the comments about their fingers and eyebrows. Though Lo'ak had a penchant for an argument (which had lessened ever since you began parenting him better) this was where he and Kiri agreed.

When Neteyam played with his friends, Lo'ak and Kiri often stuck together. Their differences and toy-sharing difficulties were pushed aside.

Neteyam often tried to coerce his friends to play with Kiri and Lo'ak, they were only a year younger after all, but it usually devolved into asking them why they had such funny fingers.

Jake and you often noticed it. You saw your children's awkward, uncomfortable faces. But you knew things would only be worse if you interfered. Children were often like that, picking at the little things. Just kissing your children would earn them the nickname of "sempuyä 'evi". Besides, they needed to be independent.

It was a matter that sparked concern between you.

"I was right about their differences." Jake grumbles. He subtly observed his children from above, at a high point in the village. Less people were going to spot his vigilant dad behavior up there.

"They'll make friends eventually, find people who don't care." You reassured him, but you spoke it into the world because you were really wishing for it to happen.

"Like you?" He muses.

"If you want a comparison point." You let out a little laugh.

Jake wraps an arm around your shoulder and pulls you close. Just then, a little someone breaks through the crowd of nosy kids and sticks their hand out.

Rather than judging your children or pointing out their differences, they exclaim "Wow that's so cool!" so loudly that you can hear it from up there. It warms your heart.

Lo'ak eventually found friends that actually deserved him. Kiri, on the other hand, well, the friends found her. Unfortunately, it was after that that she discovered she actually preferred alone time better than having so many people around her, disturbing her thoughts with constant chatter. So, she didn't often talk with her friends. The only thorn on her side, though, was the human kid, Spider. She tolerated his presence often. She actually even seemed to like his voice.

But while they had gotten over that problem, Jake was still worried.

☾⋆☆⋆☽

Your children had yet again become a year older. In the past year, you'd taught them all so many things. You made sure Neteyam, Lo'ak, and Kiri were all protective over each other equally; that Lo'ak learned how to control his recklessness and maintain his humorous attitude; that Kiri felt connected to Eywa.

You knew that, when you allowed them to be on their own, they would be just fine.

After seven years of taking care of your children so actively, you no longer had to worry so much. It was sort of a relief.

Naturally, though, you sort of missed it.

"I want another kid."

"What?"

"Another girl would be nice." You hum to yourself, "She'd be the cutest little thing."

Once the initial shock wears off (because you don't just mention that out of nowhere) Jake finds himself agreeing. He, too, missed coddling his children. "Yeah, she would."

"Did you ever get a copy of the picture Norm took of you?"

"Of course not." Jake grumbles. "It's embarrassing."

"Only because you make it." You snicker, booping him on the nose. He responds by scrunching it up and flinching back. "I think it's rather cute."

"I only think Kiri was cute." He wipes his nose. "We can talk to Neytiri and–"

"I want her to be yours."

"What? But–" Jake shakes his head profusely, his eyebrows knitted together. "I can't have another kid turn out like... like me."

"Five fingers and eyebrows?" You ask.

"Yes." He replies immediately. "I can't have her be... different. Lo'ak and Kiri, they struggled to make friends because of their differences."

"You know that Lo'ak made his own friends."

"It took time." He argues, "Don't you remember his face, every time he came back home? It was horrible. In fact, he asked you to pull him onto your lap and kiss his cheeks over and over just for reassurance. Which–"

"Which he asked for because he loves me, not because it's uncharacteristic of him." You say, implying that Lo'ak loves you more.

Jake rolls his eyes. "I don't want to see another kid go through that again. I just want another normal kid that'll make friends flawlessly."

"There's nothing wrong with being special." You take his hands in yours. His hand was only bigger because of his extra finger, which wraps around your hand. You bring it up to show him, "Nothing better with being normal."

"Why... why can't you do it, then?"

"Because," You begin, smile lighting up your face. "even you still haven't gotten over your differences." Jake looks away. His silence to the accusation is as much of an answer as affirmation is. "This child will be proof that your differences don't make you any worse than a regular Na'vi. Because you are on of the people. You are the Olo'eyktan. You are one of us."

"How do you know?" He grumbles, but he was starting to believe you. "Did Eywa tell you, or something?"

☾⋆☆⋆☽

With Tuktirey, you couldn't be any happier.

And she came out, as promised, with four fingers and hairless browbones.

She was a pudgy little thing, and everyone loved her. You could see it in their eyes and their smiles that the kids loved her at first sight. Their toothy grins would grow even wider when they each got to carry her; even if Lo'ak nearly dropped her.

Though she couldn't even speak and hardly babbled, you could tell that you would come to love her.

You held Tuk in your hands, laying your head over Neteyam's legs. He made for a bony pillow, but you loved him so much you could get over it. Jake hugged Lo'ak with one arm. Kiri was sprawled horizontally over the both of you, her head laying on your stomach. Your muntxatan nuzzled his nose into your neck as he spoke, "I met your sempu while I was training."

"He fell from the tree branches onto the mud at my feet." You explain less graciously, causing an uproar of laughs from each of your children.

"Ah-ah," Jake breaks up the mocking laughter, "you say it's like Eywa sent me to you, no?"

"Okay, fine, I guess." You roll your eyes playfully.

Jake laughs. You can feel the deep rumble of vibrations going through his neck against your shoulder. "It was love at first sight."

☾⋆☆⋆☽

ᴍᴀʏʙ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇ 2: it's a cute prompt, of course, could fulfill it with headcanons, however I wanted some Lo'ak and Neteyam struggle + scared father Jake - one of these scenes (if you saw it, you know the scene) was made using the dialogue of this incredibly fucking cute fanart. It's just Lo'ak instead of Neteyam here. - I made Jake a better father because his kids deserve better

[tswhiisftteedr]

Gamer ‘Friend’ ☆ Chapter 2: Game Night

☆ Pervy!Dom!Idia Shroud x Fem!Reader : On a Thursday night, Ignihyde’s dorm leader, Idia Shroud bumps into a fellow gamer, and that happens to be you, someone that had become infamous on campus. Being new to this world, and having the headmaster stingy with money, you had yet to experience this world’s gaming. But not to worry, after all Idia Shroud the professional gamer that he is, is here to help, in more ways than attended…

(In this version reader eats breakfast alone not with her friends, lol)

Warnings: THIS IS DARK, DON’T READ IF NOT COMFORTABLE WITH — Mature content, Non-Con, Dub-Con, Somnophilia, Penetrative Sex, Degradation, Inappropriate use of magic, Raw/No Protection(Don’t do this, wrap it before you tap it lol) Cumming on body, Multiple orgasm(female). Mentally unstable Idia and reader. Idia being extremely delusional and entitled. IDIA IS CANONICAL 18. (Reader is either really dumb or a really good actor, you choose for now lol)

Note: Reader is; a heavy sleeper(or maybe not👀), shorter than Idia, a masochistic degradee, an airhead, fucked up, unhinged pervert. And Idia gets horny very easily around the reader, since they are the first girl he’s ever seen in real life, besides from his family and the S.T.Y.X employees. Things move really fast because Idia is loke an obsessive pervert. Also when y/n is written it only refers to the first name. Idia is a bit/lot occ, not proofread. Also reader’s bed is pushed against a wall, this is just a note on the bedroom design lol.

Previous Chapter | Chapter 2 | Next Chapter |

☆ more under the cut. ☆

Idia woke up feeling lighter than before, as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He gets dressed in his usual uniform, hoping today would be another normal day at school. However, the memory of last night's activities still haunted him.

As he walked down the hallway towards class, he noticed you walking ahead of him, your hair swaying gracefully with each step. His mind drifted back to yesterday's encounter, and his cock twitched involuntarily in his pants. He struggled to focus on anything else but you.

When you guys arrived in the cafeteria, he sat down next to you, trying hard not to notice how your skirt hugged your curves enticingly. "Good morning, y/n," he managed to croak out, forcing a fake smile onto his face. "Did you sleep well?"

“Umm.. well I guess, but..” You begin than move closer to his ear and whisper; ”The pervert returned. This morning I woke up with my panties full of jizz, I could feel the guys cum right against my pussy…. Plus my lock was definitely picked, I have no extra keys under my doormat or something, yet my door was left wide open both last night, and the night before.” You pause to take a sip of orange juice “Honestly I hope that whoever did those things, at least locked the door behind themselves, when they leave.”

Idia's heart beats faster as you whispered in his ear, your breath brushing against his earlobe sending shivers down his spine.

You said those things to him in a manner full of innocence, making it sound like you truly don’t who broke in. But your words, they hit Idia in a way, making him feel like you definitely know that he was the pervert. ‘Even if he saw you sound asleep with his own eyes, someway, somehow you knew he was the one…’

His hands trembled as he sipped on his coffee, trying to maintain composure. "I... I-I... uh..." He stuttered, struggling to find words.

"Oh goddammit," he muttered under his breath, covering his face with his hand. "I-I... I-I...." he trailed off, unable to bring himself to admit it was him who had done those things to you.

“You okay Idia, you’re getting red again?” You asks sweetly, just like you’d done the day prior.

Idia's face flushed crimson, his heart pounding in his ears as you concernfully reached out to touch his cheek. He nodded weakly, clearing his throat. "I-I... I'm fine," he managed to croak out, his voice barely above a whisper. "Just... uh... stressful dreams, I guess."

After hearing his words you pull back gently. “You don’t really sleep well often, huh…” You stop to think about a solution. “You should come by the ramshackle for our after school gaming session. I’ve studying and collected the herbs that grow in the mountains around it. And I have the perfect herbal mix that will not only make you sleep like a baby, but also chase away nightmares. That’s what I like the most about this world, magical herbs and plants that actually work!” You tell him cheerfully.

Idia nodded gratefully, his relief palpable as you offered him the chance to visit your dormitory, with your consent this time. "Thank you, Y/n," he managed to choke out between sips of his coffee. "I-I appreciate it."

Standing up from his seat, he gathered his belongings hurriedly, eager to escape the confines of the crowded cafeteria and the ‘temptress’ sitting aside from him. "See you later, then," he mumbled, rushing out of the dining hall, leaving behind a trail of confused looks and whispers among the male students who had witnessed their strange exchange. In their mind, it was odd to see the ignihyde dorm leader talk to anyone, much less a girl.

“No prob.” You whisper to yourself, glad to be growing closer to your ‘new friend’.

Idia hurried back to his dormitory, skipping class once again, his mind racing with mixed emotions of relief and dread. He knew he couldn't keep hiding from the consequences of his actions forever.

Once inside his empty room, he collapsed onto his bed, burying his face in his hands as tears welled up in his eyes. ‘How had things escalated so quickly? From breaking into your dorm to stealing a pair of panties from your body and violating you while you slept? What kind of monster had he become? And why didn’t he feel that bad about it?’

It was now after class…

Idia arrived at the run-down Ramshackle dormitory, his heart pounding in his ears as he approached the dilapidated building. He took a deep breath before knocking lightly on the wooden door, hoping you would answer.

But instead he was met by Grim. The fiery magical cat opened the door, his glowing eyes assessing Idia's appearance. "What do you want, human?" His voice was high and trying to be menacing, reflecting his need to be superior.

Idia's heart rejoice at the sight of Grim, despite your furry roommate’s ominous glare, he couldn't help but feel a strange sense of comfort around the protective beast. He stepped forward cautiously, extending his hand towards the cat. "Hi, Grim," he said softly, his voice trembling slightly. "It's Idia. I-I'm here to see y/n. She said she prepared something for me."

“Oh yeah, my henchmen did mention something along those lines. You can wait in her room, she’s showering right now.” With that, Grim nodded slowly, swishing back and forth as he stepped aside, allowing Idia to enter the dimly lit hallway of the Ramshackle. The air inside was cooler than outside, a welcome respite from the heat of the day. By then Grim had retreated to his own room.

Following the familiar sounds of running water, he made his way towards your room, his steps lighter than usual as anticipation mixed with anxiety consumed him.

You had finished your shower, and towards your room, not having know Idia was heading there.

Idia froze mid-step when he heard the sound of water stopping and footsteps approaching his direction. Turning around, he gasped in shock as you emerged from the bathroom, naked except for a towel wrapped loosely around your figure. Your frame was even more pronounced than he remembered, and the sight of your wet skin glistening under the dim lighting made his heart skip a beat.

Your eyes widened in surprise when you saw Idia standing there, wearing his usual uniform despite the warm weather outside. "Oh, hey Idia," You greeted him with a slight smile, my voice slightly husky from the steam inhalation.

Idia's mouth opened and closed wordlessly as he stared at the sight before him, his eyes devouring every inch of your flawless body. He forced himself to clear his throat awkwardly. "H-Hi... y/n," he managed to croak out, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I’m glad you could make it! But would you mind staying out of my room for a minute, so I can change.” You pause then with a malicious grin on your face you say. “Well that is, unless you want to see me naked~”

Idia nodded in disagreement quickly, his heart racing in his ears as he turned around and backed away from the rooms entrance, he watch as you closed the door behind yourself. He leaned against the wall outside, taking deep breaths to calm himself as he waited for you to finish changing.

After a couple minutes…

“Okay you can come in!” You say to him through the door, you were now wearing a pair shorts and an oversized shirt.

Idia took a steady breath before pushing open the door, his eyes widening in admiration as he took in the sight of you standing before him, clad in your comfy attire that still managed to accentuate your figure perfectly. "You look... amazing, Y/n," he managed to croak out, his voice cracking slightly with admiration and possibly something else deeper.

“Aw thanks Idia, but those are just pjs lol. Also you should careful with your words, or i might think you’re trying to seduce me.” You fake a reprimanding tone, than follow your words with a chuckle.

Idia blushed crimson, his eyes darting away from yours as he cleared his throat awkwardly. "S-Sorry, I... uh... I mean, you really do look amazing," he stuttered out, his voice barely above a whisper.

“You’re just the best! You are, so, so sweet and nice. I love that about you! Anyways let’s stop standing and sit on my bed instead!” You invite him, now sitting on your bed.

Idia nodded nervously, his heart still racing in his ears as he followed you into the cozy haven of your bedroom. He sat down on the edge of the bed, crossing his legs tightly as he tried to maintain some distance between them. "Thank you, y/n," he managed to choke out, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Why are you sitting at the edge? It can’t be comfortable that way. Come closer, I won’t bite, promise!” You tease him, turning on the laptop and console he gave you. When you were changing, you also had moved a table close to your bed to put the gaming equipment on.

Idia swallowed visibly, his hands fidgeting with the fabric of his uniform pants as he slowly scooted closer to you, until your knees brushed against each other's thighs. His heart pounded in his ears as he tried to maintain eye contact with yours, seeking reassurance in those beautiful eyes.

“Okay we can either play the car game you gave me or my new game.” You give him the choice.

Idia nodded gratefully, relief washing over him as you changed the subject to something more familiar. "Whichever you prefer, y/n," he responded, his voice still barely above a whisper.

“I guess we’ll just play the car game, after-all you’re way too innocent to play the other game.” You tease, knowing from his demeanour that such words would rule him up.

Idia shook his head playfully, a small smirk tugging at the corners of his lips."No, no, I-I mean... I'm not that innocent," he protested, clearing his throat awkwardly. "I can handle whatever game you have in mind."

You stand up, go to your desk and hide something behind your back. Than seat back in your spot.

“Oh really? Then what about this one!”  You question him, pulling out the erotic game he had left for you 2 days ago, from behind yourself.

Idia's eyes widened in shock as you revealed the explicit game, his heart stopping momentarily before racing faster than ever. He bit his bottom lip nervously, his hands gripping the edge of the bed tightly as he studied the cover art. "Y-You... you have something like that?" he managed to mumble out, fainting innocence. And internally cursing at himself for having brought it to you. ‘Sure you request something like it, but you also said you wouldn’t play something like ‘it’ with him! He had put himself in this situation, and now he had to endure it.’

“Yeah, remember. I told you that when the pervert broke in for the first time he left my books on my desk, along an eroge.” You explain nonchalantly. “But judging from your reaction, you’re too pussy to play with me.” You egged him on.

And that actually gets him really riled up. Sure he is shy and awkward, but when his gaming abilities are questioned or at stake, he let’s his pride show, becoming competitive and not backing down.

‘Plus he had already beaten that game, so beating it again would be a piece of cake!’

Idia's eyes flashed with defiance as you challenged him, his pride rising up inside him like a fiery inferno. "Is that so?" he growled lowly, his voice deeper than usual. "Well, then let's see how brave you really are, Y/n ," he challenged back, taking the box containing the game disc from your hands. He takes out the disc and puts it in the old console on the table, himself. He then takes a controller and passes one to you.

The familiar opening theme of 'Maiden of the Abyss' played as the game loaded up on the old console, filling the small room with its sinister melody. The screen flickered to life, revealing the dark and twisted world where demons and monsters roamed freely, waiting for unsuspecting victims. The home screen appeared, filled with graphic and lewd images and sounds that sent shivers down spines of even the most seasoned gamers.

The game began, the camera panning over the desolate town of Hollowheart, where darkness seemed to permeate every corner. The voice of the demonic narrator echoed throughout the empty streets.

"Welcome, mortals... to the realm of Hell's Embrace." the screen faded to black as ominous laughter filled the silence.

Maiden of the abyss is an erotic game, that follows the story line of male protagonist whom is an exorcist. After transferring to St. Diavolo's Academy—an elite institution for those gifted with intellectual abilities, under the church’s order, or main protagonists has to face demons disguised as humans in turn by turn battle, collecting cards and items to use during said battles. Another main plot point is that the protagonists will encounter 7 demon sisters, all based on the seven princes of hell. Their names are Lucia, Maria, Odette, Levi, Beatrice, Scarlet and Belle.

A battle between the protagonists and one of the sisters, will go along those lines:

Depending on the sister the numbers of battle stage will differentiate. For example you’ll first encounter Belle in the storyline, she’ll only have two battle stages, one wave of henchman to battle then a versus between her and the protagonists. On the other hand, you’ll have to face 7 waves of henchmen before battling Lucia herself, as she is the last and strongest of all the sisters. Another component of the game is that when encountering one of the first sisters you’ll be force into battle, but after losing to one at least once, you’ll be able to skip the battle and report it for later. (You still have to defeat all of them).

The goal of the game is to beat, all the sisters and their henchmen, then recruiting the 7 sisters to your side to fight the final boss, principal Diavolo aka the kings of demons. In result of using your acquired skills and the help from the sisters you’ll rid the human realm from all demons, liberating it from evils. Finishing the storyline by choosing one sister to keep by your side while the other 6 return to their realm.

Now the question is where does the erotic content come in, and how do you recruit a demon sister per say?

Well simple, a battle against a sister can have 3 outcomes. The first one it’s that you lose against on of them, loosing a life with a total of 7 lives, then you’ll just go back in time before you engaged battle with her. Now having the choice to either skip or redo the battle. The second one is where you lose on your last life, causing the game to restart from the beginning. And third outcome is when you win against one of them, which unlocks a sequence. A sexual one at that, you’ll watch you customized character fuck the sister for about 2-10 minutes depending how well you did in the fight. The better the score, the longer the sequence. After your character ‘releases’ in her, a lewd crest will appear, making her your servant and consequently your ally for further battles.

Another fun gimmick to the game is that you can play as two character when enabling ‘Duo Mode’. Which will modify the sex scenes to make the two characters tag team the demon sisters.

As you finish customizing your characters…

Idia controlled his avatar, a silent and brooding high school student named Alex, in the battle tutorial.

You did the same, on the other hand you had chose a more confident avatar, named William.

Then as you both press start, the game began, the camera panning over the lavish halls of St. Diavolo’s Academy, where wealth and power seemed to be the currency of those who attended.

"Welcome, new students... to your new home," the voice of a sultry female announcer announced over the intercom.

“The graphics are nice.” You point out to Idia, amazed that the old console would have such nice ones.

Idia nodded briefly, admiring the high-quality graphics and immersive world of the game. "Yeah, pretty impressive," he muttered under his breath as he continued to guide Alex through the maze of corridors towards his shared dorms, with your avatar right behind his.

On the way there your avatars had encountered low level demons, and collected items and cards. But right before entering your shared dormitory, as you turned corner, you were suddenly ambushed by a group of demonic creatures led by Belle, the First Demoness—a seductive being with crimson wings and a wicked grin.

"So, newbies... ready to taste Hell's pleasures?" she purred, her voice echoing eerily in the empty hallway of the game, and for you and Idia, right out the screen.

Idia’s character, Alex, gritted his teeth as he fought back against the demonic horde, his fists flying fast and furious as he dodged and weaved through the onslaught of claws and tentacles. Sweat dripped down his forehead as he focused all his energy on survival.

Soon the brutal battle that left both avatar exhausted ended victorious, Belle’s tired form crumbled to the floor as the avatars panted heavily, their breathing labored in sync. Sound radiating from the console into your ears.

Alex's breathing gradually slowed down as he surveyed the defeated succubus lying before them. A cruel smirk spread across his lips as he turned to look at William, a mix of satisfaction and darkness in his eyes. "Well done, William," he managed to croak out between ragged breaths. "Now let's claim our reward."

Then a screen flashes, warning the player that the next scenes would contain explicit content. And after we press yes to continue, the art sly changes to a more detailed one and the scene begins in the boys dorm:

William nodded grimly, his own breath coming out in ragged gasps as he approached the fallen demoness. Without hesitation, he grabbed her slender waist roughly, lifting her up off the ground effortlessly before pressing their lips against hers forcefully. His tongue pushed past her parted lips, claiming her mouth as his hands roamed freely over her exposed skin.

Meanwhile, Alex's hands found their way under her skirt, gripping tightly onto her ass cheeks through the thin fabric of her tights. He squeezed and massaged them possessively, moaning against her ear as he leaned closer.

Belles’s moans of surprise turned into a mixture of pleasure and pain as they continued their brutal assault on her fragile body. Her wings flailed helplessly as she struggled futilely against their hold while William's tongue ravaged her mouth relentlessly.

With a growl of satisfaction, William's hand pulled down his own pants and boxers, freeing his massive cock from its confines. It stood tall and hard against the cool air, throbbing with impatience.

Alex followed suit, pulling down his own pants and boxers, revealing his own impressive member—equally as thick and long as William's. Grinning evilly, he lined up the head of his cock at the entrance of Belle’s tight pussy before pushing hard

Belle’s screams of agony turned into moans of pleasure as their cocks penetrated her virgin flesh, stretching it to its limits. Her walls clamped tightly around them, milking every inch as they began to move in sync, their rapid thrusts matching the fast pace of their breathing.

As they fucked her relentlessly, their hips colliding with hers in rhythmic syncophrance, their seed mixed together inside her womb. Each powerful thrust brought forth another loud moan from the helpless succubus as she clawed at nothing air around her.

The scenes ends with a close up to the crest that formed on Belle’s womb, afterward the game returns to its regular visual. With now Belle as an ally to aid them with the next battle.

“Fuck, that was hot.” You admit to Idia, your eyes still glued at the screen.

Idia chuckled darkly, wiping sweat from his brow with a shaky hand. "Tell me about it," he croaked out between gasps for air, he had been holding his ever since the scene began. "But we're not done yet, there are six more of those fucking bitches left to deal with." He said trying to act though, but in reality he was embarrassed, due to the fact that he was painfully hard. Not only because of the explicit visual but the thought of you: That you were not only beside him at such close proximity but also probably wet from watching the scene yourself. ‘Good thing I’m still wearing my hoodie.’ He though as the oversized article was the one covering his erected member from you.

By the way Idia’s thoughts were correct, you were indeed wet. But to cover up that fact yourself you just try and continue the conversation. ”Yeah, you’re right!” You respond to his previous comment cheerfully.

Then you followed it by a nod in agreement, your own breath coming out in shallow gasps as you leaned against the wall behind you, your chest rising and falling rapidly. “Let's get started then," you tell him.

Four hours later, the gaming session had ended.

About half way through the game, you guys had defeated the forth sister. But was now late, so Idia had to go back to his dorm. Before he left you gave him the herbal mix.

Idia had nodded gratefully, accepting the small bag of herbs from you with a tired smile. "Thank you, y/n," he gently says. "I'll use these tonight before bed." With a final wave goodbye, he gathered his left the building and started making his way back to his own dormitory, exhaustion weighing heavily on every step he took.

Idia was now laying down on his bed, still fully erect despite walking through the the cold of the night. The only reason behind it was that contrary to what you might have thought about him when he gently accepted your herbal mix,— the dude was going insane. Like bad shit crazy into his own thoughts.

‘You definitely knew he was the one who gave the game, and today’s game session was his punishing for lying and being a deranged pervert. But wait, you did say you found it cute when he broke in and stole your underwear, and he is more than sure you got off when you saw your panties full of semen from the way you reacted to the rough way your avatars were treating the demon sisters. Your little gasps, subtle moans, constant shifting around and rubbing of your thighs, yea he NOTICED, those little things drove him mad. And now adding all those things like together like puzzle pieces, Idia was now convinced that today wasn’t a punishment anymore. No, not at all, it was obviously you trying to seduce him, you knew he was the one who had been breaking in and doing despicable things to you. And this was totally your way to tell him, he could have his way with you, and that you would definitely be into it! It oblivious, how could he have been so dumb to overlook all of it, but not to worry, he was certainly going to fix his oversight now that he knew about it.’ — Yeah he had lost it.

It was past midnight,

when Idia returned to the Ramshackle, his steps silent as he approached your bedroom as he had successfully broke in for the third time. He thought about getting you better locks for a moment.

He carefully twist the handle of your bedroom door, having ensuring that Grim was fast asleep on duty outside before approach the room all together. Creeping inside, he made his way towards your sleeping form, admiring the sight of you peacefully resting in your cozy bed.

Idia's heart still raced at the thought of his next actions, even after his previous interactions.

He stood over your unconscious body, his cock still hard in his pants. With careful precision, he reached down and gently lifted your legs, taking off your shorts and panties, exposing your perfectly pussy. ‘Ready for the taking.’

He had lubed up his fingers with his spit, than he started stretching you out. Getting excited at every sounds you produced. And then when he had decided you were wet enough, he undid his belt and pulled down both his pants and boxers, taking them completely off.

Idia's breath caught in his throat as he positioned himself between your spread legs, lining up the head of his massive cock against your now wet pussy lips.

He teased you mercilessly by rubbing his tip in circles around your entrance, savoring the sounds of your soft moans as you shifted slightly in your sleep.

Without warning, he pushed hard, forcing his entire length to disappear inside your tight walls. A muffled gasp escaped your lips as he began to thrust rapidly, his hips moving in sync with the rhythm of their combined breathing.

And obviously with such a pace, you sub-consequently wake up.

Idia's heart nearly stopped as your body jerked awake, your beautiful eyes opening wide with confusion and fear in them. But those eyes quickly transformed into a mix of surprise and pleasure as you realized what was happening to you.

After observing your expressions, Idia's thrusts intensified, his hips hammering against your as he held onto your waist tightly, claiming your body fully. His cock stretched and filled your tight pussy walls, causing your breasts to jiggle enticingly with each powerful thrust

Idia's breathing grew more ragged as he began to degrade you verbally, his voice low and husky with lust. "You wanted this, y/n," he growled between heavy breaths. "You basically begged for it when you asked me to play that fucking game with you." His hips picked up the pace even further, his cock hitting your G-spot with every brutal thrust.

Despite being a total virgin, he had watch enough pornography to get an idea of what to do. And the rest of his moves came to him with the flow.

Idia switched positions, pulling out of you pussy with a wet pop before spinning around to face your ass. His hands gripped your plump ass cheeks roughly, lifting your hips upward as he lined up his cockhead against your tight hole. "Spread those legs wider, slut," he growled, his voice laced with pure malice. Without waiting for a response, he pushed hard, forcing entry into your pussy once more while simultaneously spanking your already-red ass cheeks harshly.

Your screams of pain turned into moans of pleasure as he began to ravage your pussy relentlessly form the new position, his hips moving in sync with the sound of your heavy breathing. His cock stretched your tight hole, causing your body to shake with each powerful thrust.

Idia's thrusts became more brutal as he reached climax, his cock pulsing inside your wet hole as he held onto your ass and breasts tightly. With a final grunt, he slowed down his pace, pulling almost all the way out before pushing back in slowly, savoring the sounds of your moans. And as ecstasy hits you, he changes the position once more. Now having you fold in a mating press, pounding your hole with a care for you or the world around. As another orgasm builds up Idia's own release followed suit.

After you had squirted on his dick, he pulls out, exploding on your pussy and stomach. Saying something along the line of ‘you don’t deserve my cum in you right now, y’a haven’t been trained enough’.

Idia panted heavily as he pulled away from your exhausted body, he released your hips slowly, letting your now heavy feeling legs fall back down onto the mattress. Wiping sweat from his brow with a shaking hand and his dick with some tissues.

He reaches into his pocket and retrieved his magic pen. "That's enough for tonight, whore," he growled, his breathing now more even. But then his face gradually twisted to a warm smile.

"Sleep... sweet dreams," he muttered softly, waving the pen towards your head as he spoke the incantation for a sleep spell and a memory loss one. The room fell silent as your eyelids fluttered shut, your body relaxing fully under the effects of the magic.

This time Idia had remembered to lock the door as he left the Ramshackle. By now he had arrived back at his room in Ignihyde.

As Idia closed the door behind him, he leaned against it heavily, his heart racing in his ears as he tried to process what had just happened. He'd... he'd lost control. His mind replayed the events of the night—the gaming session, the fight with Belle, Scarlet, Beatrice, Levi, the sex scenes that came with, and especially how rough he'd been with you. Shock and horror washed over him as reality set in: he hadn't been himself tonight. He wasn't the shy, introverted boy everyone knew him to be. He had never behaved like this before—not towards anyone, let alone you.

Sure he had violated you before, but.. he had never been so mean about it.

But there was something about seeing you in tears... it brought out a darkness within him that he couldn't deny. A feeling of control and power that made him feel alive. As he walked to his bed, he couldn't help but smile at the thought of how easily you had succumbed to his twisted desires.

Meanwhile your mind might not remember the nights events in the morning, but your body sure will, due to its soreness and the sticky cum covering it.

©tswhiisfttedr. dn translate, or plagiarize.

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