#so yeah they both have their own inner demons :<< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[scribblestatic]

So, like, if you've read SVSSS far enough, you know about the Bingmei vs Bingge part. And there's all sorts of stories with Bingge (basically a PIDW Binghe, not SVSSS Binghe) finding his own shizun in various ways.

Well, what about if he manages to summon a Shen Yuan, but his soul is in Shen Jiu's body? Which, like, wouldn't really be a problem, except he's already been torturing Shen Jiu for a good while now and he's down an eye and all of his limbs are mostly stubs at this point. Thankfully he still has his tongue and penis, which, after so often demanding Shen Jiu be castrated, he's pretty jazzed that didn't happen.

Shen Yuan, being the absolute freak he is, probably wouldn't mind too much. After all, he'd read this part of the story and cheered it on. Just cause he's now experiencing it himself, doesn't mean the revenge was any less cathartic.

Though, well, the dreams he has about what Shen Jiu went through does dampen his enjoyment of his suffering (so many lives lost that he can do nothing about, so much torment that just cycled on because no one thought to seek help, because the world was built so firmly on cruelty)...

And perhaps he'd woken up sobbing at times, crying his apologies to Binghe as though he was the one who had done all those terrible things to him, but he didn't, but those dreams were so vivid and felt so real

The girls at the Warm Red Pavilion, were they okay? Shen Jiu never had sex with them, only kept company to avoid the boys when he couldn't sleep and trained them in the four arts and gathered information from them, gods, he'd misunderstood Shen Jiu and thought him a remorseless villain and enemy to women

Liu Qingge, fuck--

At least now he can help Binghe actually enjoy his life and perhaps stop the cycle of abuse from continuing. Besides, cool motive, Shen Jiu, still child torment. And though the results were quite drastic, it was the dog-eat-dog world of xianxia China, and life was generally unfair. No reason to make Binghe's life needlessly unfair on top of everything.

But yeah! Now that he's in Shen Jiu's body, he and Luo Binghe get to talk, and Binghe, for the first time in his life, experiences regret for his actions, because now his lovely new kind shizun can't card his fingers through his hair or twist little braids into it. Moreover, Shen Yuan somewhat mourns over the fact Binghe's hair is straightened--he loved reading about his bouncy curls.

So now, imagining that, after time, Shen Yuan becomes a more prominent figure in the empire, especially post-marriage. He has a lovely eyepatch and wears soft red, black, and gold clothes, heavy on the red and gold. This nearly limbless man helps Luo Binghe do his taxes and works out various tips on using beasts to the benefit of the empire and remembering small notes about other races that allows the Demon Emperor to be both magnanimous and fierce in whomever's eyes he meets.

Others can't decide if Shen Qingqiu's mind was utterly broken, if he was cursed to act against his own will, or if he was possessed by some strange spirit. Regardless, the realms have never been in such peace before now.

Moreover, Luo Binghe has started changing.

While he can never regain the height lost to a childhood full of suffering and a lack of nutrients, he can change in other ways. He actually eats healthier because Shen Yuan insists on having him eat as well. He steadily stops straightening his hair, letting his curls return until they're like clouds. His muscles grow in firmer and his chest broadens.

Also, as he and his kind shizun speak further, even though he explores the worst parts of himself and uncovers those dirty, evil deeds and the ways they truly hurt him, Xin Mo doesn't get the chance to latch onto them anymore. As painful as discussing those things are...releasing them is exceptionally freeing. So, a sense of inner strength and ease he never had before starts to settle in his body, and his qi, usually constantly battling, stabilizes more than before, his heart demons no longer so adamant or strong.

As a side-effect of both parts, he was already handsome, but now, he's even more so. A wise, secure man no longer so strongly gripped by hatred, lust, or greed. Someone unforgivable to many, but becoming okay with forgiving himself.

Indeed, what a man!

Which is kinda a shame for Luo Binghe's many wives, because he's been heavily trimming down on his harem. Political marriages are substituted for other exchanges, fervent troublemakers are sent back to their homes (the ones who dared to attack his A'Yuan are never heard from again, strangely), and wives who simply ask for divorce are granted them, receiving a hefty gift for at least being loyal whilst married.

So, previously, a harem once numbering into the hundreds falls to the tens, and the remaining ones are either ambivalent or antsy.

Then, as though to answer everyone's burgeoning questions, he names Shen Yuan his empress during a meeting and proclaims that they will make preparations for his crowning ceremony.

I feel like that'd really set off what remained of Cian Qiong Mountain Sect.

Hmm... I think I'll talk more about this later.

---

Part 1: here Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

Part 11+: links on Part 10

AO3

[sleepinthrumyalarms]

— to tame a demon

pairing: wednesday addams x fem!oni!reader

warnings: none

summary: a new mid-semester arrival in the face of the gloomy addams girl meets the resident demonic student who's all witty remarks and tusked grins, and something inhumane draws her in

word count: 4.8k

"There are many flavors of outcasts here," Enid began, hands behind her back as she guided Wednesday through the yard, "but the four main cliques are Fangs, Furs, Stoners, and Scales," she counted, pointing to the table where a group of neat-looking students sat, sipping at some bottled red liquid, "Those are the Fangs, a.k.a, vampires. Some of them have literally been here for decades."

The girl moved on, and Wednesday's unimpressed glare flicked to another group of students.

"That bunch of knuckleheads are Furs, a.k.a, werewolves. Like me!”

The fuzzy-haired teens sitting at the table howled at the mention, greeting their kin.

"Oh, you see that girl? That's (Y/n) (L/n). She's not a werewolf, but a close thing. An oni demon.”

The young woman was sitting at the table next to the Furs, hitting her werewolf friend in the shoulder to get him to stop with the loud noise. She didn't really stand out — the girl wore a set of the standard issued uniform, her jacket and a few top buttons of her shirt unbuttoned. But one thing about her appearance really did catch Wednesday's eye — her canines, both top and bottom, crooked at the ends and big enough to protrude from a small slit between her lips. Despite the effect they had on her mouth, the tusks didn't make her face look inhumane, and, as the demon looked up to wave at Enid, Wednesday noticed a pair of snake-like slits in her (e/c) scleras.

The ravenette caught herself thinking of how pretty those eyes were.

"A close thing?" She wondered out loud, making a show of gazing somewhere away from the face of the oni girl, as if she was asking the question out of sheer curiosity.

"Yeah, well, she doesn't exactly "wolf out", per se. Think of her as... a girl with unresolved anger issues who lets her inner demons out every Blood Moon. So like, basically all of us," the blonde said, giggling at her own joke, "Dunno if it affects her looks, though... No one has ever seen (Y/n) during one of her demon furies."

Wednesday looked back at the oni, catching sight of the girl talking with her friends, a small grin on her face as she listened to their energetic rambles with amusement.

What an interesting creature.

Wednesday wasn't extremely enthusiastic about botany lessons. Thanks to her mother, she was practically an expert in the field of carnivorous plants. But skipping just wasn't her style, and she walked into the classroom, hoping the disinterest she had in the subject was clear on her pale face.

As the girl looked around the class to find herself a seat, her eyes quickly traveled above the heads of her classmates. She noticed Enid next to Yoko, so sitting with a person she was at least a bit acquainted with was off limits. Wednesday felt far from sad about the fact - having to neighbor with the hyperactive blonde in the dorms was enough excitement in her life.

Her gaze then suddenly fell on the two half-empty desks in the second row. One of the vacant seats was right next to Xavier, and mulling her decision over she realised she would prefer to sit next to a wolfed-out Enid rather than the miserable artist. Quickly making up her mind, Wednesday walked up to the other desk, and felt Xavier's gaze on the back of her head as she sat down, taking her backpack off to place it at her feet. She still had a few minutes before the class started, she could indulge in some macabre reminiscings of hers before the actual torture began.

"Oh. Hey," the gloomy girl heard a voice call out on her right, and turned to look up at her neighbor. Her breath hitched as she realised it was the oni girl, her cheek leaning against her fist as she smiled at Wednesday lazily, her top lip rising to her gums slightly to bare the intimidating tusks. If she was trying to scare Wednesday away, it certainly didn't work, "You're Wednesday, right? Enid wasn't exactly secretive about her new sombre roommate. I was hoping I'd get a chance to meet you."

The girl offered a clawed hand as a greeting, "I'm (Y/n)."

Wednesday took a moment to look the demon over. Her (h/c) hair was put up in a messy ponytail, some of the locks falling in front of her pointed ears, framing her face, and her (e/c) cat-like eyes were staring down at Wednesday with a playful glint. She was wearing the same uniform as the rest of the class, and the undone buttons exposed the top of the girl's collarbones.

What an annoying habit. Didn't she know what formal dress code was?

“Huh. The teeth don't seem to affect your speech, despite their uncomfortable positioning,” the ravenette noted, shaking the taller girl’s outstretched hand, finding it rather warm in contrast to her own dead-cold skin. If the demon found the temperature or the rather rude comment off-putting, she didn’t show it, “I hope I didn’t intrude.”

“No, no, you’re good,” (Y/n) reassured, leaning her elbow back against the seat, “And those? Yeah, I’m not an orc, you know. You should see how big they get when I... on second thought, you probably shouldn't." She stopped her rant bashfully, cheeks warming slightly at the realization of a rather sensitive topic not being suitable when meeting someone new.

"Not a pretty sight?"

"Outrageous."

"Hm.” Wednesday looked away from the other girl’s face, staring at the board in front of the class.

“I think I'd love to see."

That made (Y/n) chuckle, “You do seem like the type to enjoy outrageous and hideous things.”

Their conversation came to an end when Ms. Thornhill entered the classroom, holding a big pot in her gloved hands, and both girls turned their attention to the teacher.

(Y/n) had to admit that hers had seemed to switch to her new intriguing neighbor a few times. She watched Wednesday from the corner of her eye, taking in the girl’s frigid expression as she listened to the lecture without any interest, and found it hard to refocus on the lesson again.

It was the early hours of morning as Wednesday walked to the dining hall, completely devoid of any appetite but having nothing to do in this ungodly time. Most of the students were still asleep, and the halls were empty, letting the gloomy girl enjoy her solitude, her platformed shoes the only sound accompanying her.

Seemingly enjoying the peacefulness too much, she didn’t notice another person coming down from the other side of the stairs, and bumped into them, the collision powerful enough to tear her out of her thoughts.

Ready to put the culprit into the hospital for the rest of the school year, Wednesday looked up, and her emotionless gaze met the (e/c) - colored one.

“Good morning, Wednesday. Up to tackle people to their deaths so early?” (Y/n) chuckled, straightening her jacket before looking the smaller girl up and down, “You alright?”

“Peachy.” Wednesday deadpanned and turned around without another word, continuing on her path to the cafeteria. Much to her disappointment, she heard the other girl follow her, catching up to her smaller strides with ease.

“Were you walking to breakfast too? What a coincidence. A perfect morning for an early snack, I’ve been feeling hungry myself.”

Wednesday didn’t answer, and it was silent again, for which the ravenette was thankful. She could even say she enjoyed walking in the presence of the demon, as long as the latter kept her snarky toothy mouth shut.

"So, do you prefer your human flesh rare or straight from the limb?" The smaller girl asked suddenly without looking at her companion.

"Why, you got some to share?" (Y/n) chuckled, "Nah. I'm more of an animal meat kinda girl. Some of my ancient ancestors did have their man-eating tendencies, but they didn't exactly wear uniforms or went to school either."

"Sounds about right. Otherwise Nevermore would be an all-you-can-eat restaurant for you. Maybe even the whole Jericho town."

The oni laughed at the statement, a loud rough guffaw that almost made Wednesday’s ears bleed. Except it didn’t.

Wednesday found herself standing in the center of the dorm of her demon friend, hands dutifully by her sides as she looked around, catching the smallest details of (Y/n)’s lair. Her bed was made neatly, and some of her notebooks and papers seemed to had been hastily put in a messy pile on her desk, an obvious last-minute measure to make her working space look presentable.

Before she left to get the textbooks she had forgotten at Yoko’s the last time she had a sleepover with the vampire, the girl pulled up a stool to the desk, inviting the other girl to sit down and make herself comfortable, then, before Wednesday could utter a single world, sputtered some nonsense about her awful hospitality and gestured at her own, admittedly much bigger and softer chair, kicked the stool away, and left the room as fast as she could, promising to be back in a flash.

The girls had agreed on studying for the upcoming exam period, and, considering Wednesday was in no need of preparation, let alone tutoring, she made it the most heartfelt gesture to help the (h/c) – haired demon not fail any subjects. The ravenette told herself that she had no choice, that the oni wouldn’t stop whining and pestering her about how much work there was to be done and how little time she had left, but in reality (Y/n) had to only ask once.

Wednesday agreed, but not without grumbling about how annoying and tiresome the demon’s presence was.

Addams moved to take off her backpack and placed it on the desk, taking some books out of it before she took a seat in (Y/n)’s chair. She looked up at the opposite wall, examining the different posters and trinkets hanging on it. A small bonsai tree was sitting on the table that stood against the wall, obviously tended to caringly every single day, if the flourishing green leaves were anything to go by.

Noticing a much more imposing decoration, the girl stood up to get closer to a stand where two samurai swords were displayed in a matching daisho set, a katana and a smaller wakizashi sword. The sayas were of black waxed wood, golden kashiraes mounting both in peculiar bows. Wednesday moved to take a closer look, noticing a face of an oni demon neatly engraved into the scabbard of the katana.

"Something caught your eye?"

Wednesday turned around and away from the sword stand to look at the oni who had managed to sneak up on the other girl, but didn't scare her in the slightest.

"It's nice craftsmanship." Wednesday deadpanned, staring up at her.

(Y/n) looked somewhat pleased with the comment.

"I'm glad you think so," her slitted gaze moved from Wednesday's face to the kake, and the (h/c) - haired girl sighed, her hands behind her back and her shoulders tense, "It's been a while since I've last touched the blade. Don't exactly have a reason to train right now. Peaceful times." She said, almost with a hint of sorrow.

"Why didn't you join the fencing club?"

"Because I deem my swordsmanship a resemblance of my bloodline's ancient traditions, not a sport or a hobby." She answered firmly, but her tone held no offence.

"Strange. I'd see it as an opportunity to be undefeatable at something."

And to outdo Bianca again, no less. What a pleasurable thought.

Wednesday watched the other girl chuckle sheepishly and move her hand up to scratch at the back of her head.

"Well... My thrusting speed has been slacking lately. I'm more into powerful crushing slashes, you know."

"Hm." Wednesday seemed lost in thought, her gaze distant, before she turned to the taller girl again, "You and I should fence sometime. To keep you in shape."

The demon looked taken aback, both at the proposal and the intensity of the ravenette's gaze that wasn't there before. Then she smiled, her eyes warm.

"That'd be an honor. And you know I how I feel about that thing."

Wednesday stared up at the top shelf, aggravated, as if the glare adorning her face would make the book budge and fall into her hands.

She was at the library, looking for the Nightshades book, or anything that would lead her a step closer to the mysterious society. She wished she had brought Thing along. Tall bookcases wouldn't be a problem for him.

Frowning deeper, the ravenette tried to raise her hand a bit higher and jumped, the tips of her fingers barely grazing the spine of the book she assumed was the one she was looking for. She huffed, crossing her hands on her chest and looking around the room for some stool or a ladder.

"Wednesday, good evening. Up to some late night reading?"

Wednesday looked up at the entrance of the library to see (Y/n) going down the stairs, a smirk on her toothy lips as she observed the scene in front of her.

"Yes, I am, actually."

"Which one do you need? I'll get it for you."

Wednesday pouted for a few seconds, then pointed at the top shelf where the dark - purple book was sitting, taunting her.

The demon raised her hand to reach for the book, "Honestly, how are you so tiny?"

"(Y/n), I'm at a perfect height for breaking your kneecaps. I won't hesitate."

"Mhm, I'm sure you won't," grabbing the book, the taller girl took it off the shelf, but didn't hurry to hand it over to Wednesday, "Now, what's the magic word?"

"I don't have time for -"

"Wrong, Addams. Try again." The oni grinned, clearly enjoying herself.

Wednesday glared at the girl, her gaze murderous, but after a few moments she complied.

"Would you give me the book, (Y/n). Please."

"There, was that so hard?" (Y/n) pressed the book into the ravenette's hands, and the shorter girl quickly looked over the cover, exasperated when she realised it wasn't the one she was looking for, "Are you up to a research or something? Do you need an extra pair of hands, maybe?"

"Why would you want to help me?"

"Isn’t that what friends are for? And maybe it's the lack of anything better to do."

"You're such a slacker. I have no idea how you're still in this school," She put the book on the first shelf she could reach for, then turned around and headed for the exit, "Let's go."

The (h/c) - haired demon shook her head with a small smile before moving to follow the busy girl.

"I want to punch Xavier in the face," (Y/n) grumbled, her hands folded on her chest, a brush covered in yellow paint sticking in between her clawed fingers as she stared daggers at the pair of young people a few feet away from her.

"Huh? Why?" Enid looked up from the boat she was painting on, crouched on the ground, confused at her friend's sudden violent statement.

"Because he's a creep and he has a stupid face with that pitiful look of his." The oni muttered, furrowing her brows as she watched the young man bother Wednesday, the ravenette's expression and body language doing little to tell whether she was irritated by his presence, which pissed (Y/n) off even more.

Enid followed her gaze and smirked when she realised what the source of the demon's sour mood was, "If you think he's giving her a hard time, why don't you come over and talk to him?"

"I'm pretty sure Wednesday isn't the type to be sly and subtle when someone's vexing her." The oni huffed in reply.

"Well, doesn't that mean that... On second thought, I shouldn't be the one to judge the situation," the werewolf quickly stopped herself, noticing (Y/n)'s scowl now directed at her, turning away to continue painting the boat nervously.

The (h/c) - haired girl sighed, "You're right, actually. Maybe that means she doesn't mind his company. Or maybe she doesn't want to kill a guy in broad daylight," the brush the demon was holding finally snapped under the pressure of her grip, and she gnashed her teeth, seething, "I could."

"That's the third brush today, (Y/n)," Yoko chided from Enid's side, clearly tired of the oni's behavior.

"Sorry," (Y/n) turned her gaze away from the scene she was watching, her eyes like that of a kicked puppy's as she sat on her knees next to the vampire, taking a new brush from her outstretched hand, "Thanks."

Yoko hummed and resumed painting, "You should really talk to her, you know. Before it's too late and she's snatched from under your nose."

"Yoko's right. You jealously watching her like a hawk won't do either of you good. It's kinda weird that Wednesday herself hasn't noticed the heart-eyes you constantly have whenever she's around."

The demon grunted, trying to busy herself with lining out a yellow cat eye on the side of the boat.

"Seriously, (Y/n). Tell her. What's the worst that could happen? You don't seem like the type to be afraid of rejection," Enid grinned at her friend, winking, "Personally, I'm rooting for you. I’m sure you can make my roomie happy, well, to an extent, you know.”

Except the demon was afraid of rejection her whole life. And considering Wednesday wasn't the type to give any signals, (Y/n) wasn't sure where she and the gloomy girl stood.

She tolerated her presence, at least. That was a start. But she seemed to tolerate Xavier’s, too. God, what an enigma Wednesday Addams was.

The Rave'N Dance was at its peak. The music was loud, and most of the students had long since hit the dance floor, enjoying their time in groups and pairs.

Wednesday herself was feeling rather out of breath, the collar of her black vintage dress clinging to her neck uncomfortably as she stepped into a closed-off room to escape the noise of the party for a bit.

She was alone as she sat down on one of the couches, a sigh of relief escaping her mouth as she felt the pressure leave her sore feet.

Well, despite the abruptness of it all, Wednesday would lie if she said she wasn't having at least a bit of fun.

“Hey.”

Wednesday looked up to see (Y/n) come into the room, moving the blinds out of her way carefully. She smiled at the smaller girl, and the ravenette realised she was seeing the oni for the first time that evening.

The demon was wearing a black and white haori over a crisp white high-collared blouse paired with black hakama pants, and the combination of formal wear in different styles made the girl look very dapper. She had winged eyeliner on her face, (f/c) eyeshadow framing her lids gorgeously, and her lipstick was smudged on her canines just a bit, no doubt from all the talking and drinking the oni had done throughout the evening.

(Y/n) walked over to take a sit next to the smaller girl, letting her back slump over the couch with a grunt.

“Out of your notorious inhumane stamina already?” Wednesday asked teasingly.

“Uh-huh. Thought the girls were gonna dance me to death. I needed a breather,” the oni opened her eyes and straightened in her seat, looking around the small closed-off space, “Where’s your date?”

“You could say I needed a breather too. These shoes are killing me, and not in an enjoyable way.”

The demon hummed, her eyes moving from Wednesday’s legs up her face. Their gazes met, and (Y/n)’s didn’t falter.

“You look deadly beautiful yourself, Wednesday. Very much so.” She muttered quietly with gentle admiration, and Wednesday felt her stomach flip.

I couldn't tear my eyes away from you this whole evening, was what the demon wanted to say. I wish I was the one to share the dance with you, wish I could tell you how much I adore you, and how badly I want to hold you close, to feel your touch. Me, not anyone else.

The girl averted her gaze again, moving to stand up, "Gotta go before they think I've ditched them. No patience with the vampires. Ironic, huh?" She smiled, though it didn't reach her eyes, and went to the exit, looking back at Wednesday one last time.

"Have a good night, Addams."

"Is there something on your mind? You've been very quiet for the past hour, I've gotten a lot done. It's getting unnerving."

(Y/n) smiled slightly, huffing out a laugh through her nose, her elbows resting on the stone railing of the balcony as she turned her head to look at the ravenette, "Nothing much. Just... things, I guess."

"Are they bothering you?"

Never. When I'm thinking of you, it's never a bother.

"I think I'm in love with you, Wednesday."

For the first time ever, (Y/n) saw the gloomy girl get caught off guard. Her eyes were wide open, but she didn't say anything. Her gaze traveled up to the face of the demon girl, and she stared at her, unblinking, like a hunting cat expecting a sudden attack.

"You'll get over it."

"You think so?" (Y/n) chuckled, looking out at the dark scenery in front of her, "I never thought I'd get to say that you might be wrong."

It was silent between them again. Wednesday seemed to be lost in thought as she observed the side profile of the taller girl, noting all her features lit by the dim moonlight.

"When have you started to feel this way?" She asked at last, as if a doctor examining her sick patient.

"A while ago, I guess."

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"I was afraid of... how you'd react. And I didn't want to overwhelm you. You seem to have a different type of obsession going on." (Y/n) looked at Wednesday, eyes gleaming with honesty.

"I hate you." Wednesday deadpanned, unconsciously moving closer to the taller girl.

"Really? Why?"

"I hate the way you make me feel. Your mere presence is what constantly overwhelms me."

Barely any inches were left between them as their gazes met, electicity going through the sudden connection.

"Do you want to stop feeling this way?" The oni whispered, barely audible through her heart thumping in her ears.

"No."

(Y/n) froze, and Wednesday leaned forward on her tip toes to meet her, pressing her plush lips against the demon's. The kiss was soft and warm, and (Y/n)’s stomach was instantly swarmed with butterflies, the heaviness leaving her shoulders. She felt the hand of the smaller girl move closer to hers, and Wednesday pressed a finger on top of her palm gently, before the cold touch engulfed the whole hand of the oni as their fingers entwined.

“It’s been an hour already, Wednesday.”

“I know.”

“It’s getting late. We should get to bed.”

“Do as you wish, (Y/n). I’m not finished yet. Good night.”

The demon groaned at the words, standing up from the bed to walk over to the smaller female where she was typing away, the clicking sounds almost enough to lull (Y/n) to sleep. But she couldn’t, not without the presence of the other girl.

Draping herself over Wednesday’s shoulders, she watched the typerwriter print the letters at a steady pace, Wednesday’s brows furrowed in focus.

“Come on,” the oni whined quietly, “This can wait until tomorrow. You have to rest.”

“(Y/n), I’ll suplex you out the window if you don’t stop bugging me.”

(Y/n) sighed, burying her face in the smaller girl’s shoulder, “You’re so mean. You know I can’t sleep without you.”

The typing paused, and Wendesday turned to face the demon who was still mumbling something into the fabric of her sweater, blunt tusks scratching at the clothed shoulder as her mouth moved. The shorter girl exhaled tiredly before turning back to the typewriter, finishing her last sentence and taking the paper out before putting it into a neat stack next to the device. Then she turned to (Y/n) again to press a light kiss on top of her head.

“Fine, you big baby. Let’s go to bed.”

Raising her head, the demon smiled, straightening her back and taking Wednesday by the hand, pulling her up and to the bed they shared now that (Y/n) was allowed to sleep next to Wednesday instead of the hardwood floor. It was a long process, but the ravenette was able to get used to the presence of the other girl, comfortable enough to push her boundaries to an extent.

“Want me to do your hair?”

Wednesday nodded, and (Y/n) sat down on the bed, taking a black brush from the nightstand before motioning for the smaller girl to sit between her legs. When they were situated comfortably, the demon started to unbraid Wednesday’s dark hair, careful not to tangle her claws in the tresses, before brushing it gently. Wednesday closed her eyes at the feeling of the oni’s hands in her hair, goosebumps raising up her neck as she leaned back into the bigger girl’s body.

This was nice. She could get used to this.

Skipping was never Wednesday's style. She was a responsible student, dutifully attending every single class and never missing on her extracurricular activities. Not like she'd ever want to, anyway. She liked spending time with the bees, even if the girl herself would never admit that.

So what was Wednesday doing, away from her class during school time, hidden inside a barely lit broom closet as she pressed her mouth against the resident demon's, kissing her feverishly and licking over her tusks?

Oh, if only her parents could see her right now. They'd probably be ecstatic.

"Fuck, Wednesday," (Y/n) sighed against the smaller girl's mouth, hands on her waist as she pressed the ravenette closer to herself, wanting to leave no space in between them.

"Make no sound," Wednesday scolded the (h/c) - haired girl, biting at her lower lip and sliding down to place a chaste kiss along her jawline, "We don't want to get caught, now do we?"

The only response she got was a quiet whine, and she smiled against (Y/n)'s neck, pressing a few kisses there, right by the jugular, and feeling her pulse quicken under the cold touch, the demon's clawed fingers digging sharply into her hips.

The ravenette moved away, and the taller girl breathed in sharp sighs through her mouth, skin tingling and positively on fire.

Wednesday kissed her again, just for the lovesick look in her eyes.

"I'm afraid we have to go before someone notices our absence and thinks I've kidnapped you to torture for fun."

The oni girl huffed, running her hand through her (h/c) hair both to fix it and to relieve the tension that was clearly still there, her other hand resting on Wednesday's waist, rubbing her thumb against the cloth of her uniform affectionately.

"You're such a tease," she sighed, lowering her face a bit, slitted eyes glowing and hopeful, "One last time?"

Wednesday pressed her palm against (Y/n)'s cheek and got on her tip toes to gently kiss the other, lingering there before pulling away completely, leaving a small but noticeable mark of her dark lipstick color.

"There. Let's go."

The oni grinned, cheeks still red, and Wednesday couldn't fight the warm feeling bubbling in her stomach at the way the taller girl looked at her.

"Let's hope Ms. Thornhill doesn't get too mad," (Y/n) chuckled, moving to open the door of the closet, letting some bright light in through a small slit. Then she closed it with a sharp twist of her arm, eyes wide and panicked.

"Wednesday, we've skipped the whole period here."

"And?" The ravenette deadpanned.

"The class is over!"

"And?"

"What do you think! The halls are filled with people right now. There's no way in hell we're getting out of here unnoticed."

"Why would we need to do that?"

The demon girl tore her gaze away from the door, looking down at Wednesday as if she was mad, making the ravenette roll her eyes.

"You're stupid. Come on."

Grabbing (Y/n)'s hand, she opened the door and led the girl forward, tugging when she felt resistance and heard the oni groan.

"I can't believe you sometimes," (Y/n) muttered, embarrassed.

"For someone who seems to always act so cocky and aloof, you care too much about what others think. Besides," she turned around to glance at the frustrated girl, a small smirk on her lips, "the color looks good on you."

(Y/n) didn't answer, too busy avoiding the amused stares of her fellow students passing by.

Oh, they were certainly not going to let her live.

[impale-me-radio-daddy]

Reddest Flags, Longest Nights

⩙ Summary: The year is 1989. The Berlin Wall has fallen, and Nintendo have just overseen the release of the Game Boy. The first ever episode of Baywatch has just aired, and Ted Bundy has just been executed by electric chair. Vox's relationship with the Radio Demon is on the rocks. Their solution? To add a third person to their bedroom: you

⩙ Warnings: Explicit sexual content, Vox X reader X Alastor, Radiostatic is a committed relationship (well, they're trying), Reader is a girl and she has a pussy, tentacle sex

⩙ Other notes: This is set in a sexy alternate universe for the characters in @bapple117's Bluest Monday

“I'm not for sale,” you say. It's a truly stupid, suicidal thing to say, with the Television Demon's talons wrapped around your arm, and his associate the Radio Demon watching with amused interest as Vox pulls you into their private booth.

“Come now, dear, that surely isn't true.” It's not Vox who speaks, but Alastor, his tones the same genial, cheerful ones he uses for his broadcasts. “Everyone has a price, after all.”

“Everybody fuckin' wants something, yeah.” Vox agrees, releasing your arm once he's convinced that you won't immediately bolt away. He's not slurring his words, but his movements are clumsier than you would expect. He's drunk, you realize. Both of them are. “People want power. Money. Control.”

“Sex,” says Alastor, flashing a grin at Vox, who makes a noise like someone just tuned him to a dead channel, his face filling briefly with static.

“Shh-yeah, some people want sex, Al. That's a normal fuckin' thing to want.”

Alastor's smile grows, a little smug, a little cruel, and his red eyes turn to you. “What about you, dear? Do you want sex?”

“Al! You can't just fuckin' ask a girl that!”

“Last I checked I was better informed on etiquette than you, old chum,” Alastor's smile slides sideways. “And besides, if our interests align, there's a deal to be had.”

You hadn't come to the club intending to sell anything, but the two demons are adept negotiators- Alastor assuring you that no, he doesn't need your soul per se, just your services, services of a personal, private nature, and aren't you inclined to give those, isn't it in your own best interests? All the while Vox is giving a more direct incentive, the front of his boxy face focused on you, entirely you, dexterous talons skating over the exposed skin of your forearms with enough pressure to make you shiver, with the implied promise that he could touch you in less socially acceptable places, if only you would agree to what the Radio Demon was offering.

You're tempted. You're so, so tempted. You know that this is a bad idea, that these two are bad news to be around, that you should just go back to your normal sinner life, but instead you find yourself leaning in to listen more closely to Alastor's solicitations, and Vox, still touching you, grows bolder, his hand dropping below the table to stroke your thigh.

The top of your thigh at first, skating the seams of your clothes, then dropping to your inner knee, Vox's claw drawing a daring line from your knee and up your inner thigh to your panties.

Your breath hitches, and Alastor tips his head at you, expression amused. “You seem distracted. Would you like me to repeat that last part?”

“Would ya like me to repeat that last part?” asks Vox, his grin as wide as his face and lecherous.

“I can make him stop, if you'd prefer,” says Alastor, with a casual menace.

It's hard to listen to the full terms and conditions with Vox's fingers massaging the fabric of your panties, and maybe that's the intention, but you can't bring yourself to ask him to stop, or even to ask Alastor to ask him to stop.

“What've you got to lose?” says Vox, his heavy box of a head nudging against your shoulder as the pads of his fingers press against your now slick-drenched gusset. Your thighs press together, his hand trapped between.

“Of course,” says Alastor. “If you'd like to think about it-”

“Oh, she's thinkin' about it, Al,” says Vox, his tone laden with filth.

“I'll do it!” you blurt, and both of their faces light like pinball machines. “I mean, yes.”

“Splendid,” chirps Alastor. “Now, as a rule, I will close a deal with a handshake, but for this-”

A kiss.

You've never imagined kissing the most terrifying demon in all of Pentagram city, so you have no idea what to expect, but Alastor's hand on your cheek is a feather light touch, a swirl of green magic around you. His lips on yours are chaste, brushing rather than prying, in stark contrast to Vox, who takes the opportunity to push your panties to the side with his fingers and stroke a slow line along your slick-coated inner lips. You whine against Alastor's mouth, and he slides his hand to the back of your head, holding you there as the deal is sealed.

That’s how you go home with them, Alastor holding the green chain that fastens to the shackle around your neck. Vox drives uptown, away from Voxtek, away from the Radio Demon’s broadcasting tower, and you end up in a quiet, well-appointed apartment in the most nondescript tower block that you have ever seen.

You note the shoe rack; the way that Vox’s shiny black dress shoes are stacked up next to Alastor’s bespoke deer-soled boots, and it occurs to you that this isn’t just Vox’s playboy apartment, as you’d expected. The two of them live together. There is only one bedroom.

“So, what now?” asks Alastor, holding out a gentlemanly arm for you to lean on as you remove your shoes in the entrance. “I believe your suggestion was to try new things, yes?”

“Jesus, Al.” Vox’s sigh is heavy. “We’ll just go to the bedroom, undress, and, uh, see where we go, yeah?”

“See where we go?” Alastor’s voice inflects upwards into his upper registers, the sound of a capacitor about to burst, and you realize that you are in considerable danger.

Alastor is grinning, but his body language is stressed, his ears back, lips pulled back over his gums to show the most of his teeth. In your second possibly suicidal move of the night, you squeeze his arm, where you have been holding him since taking off your shoes.

Alastor’s gaze snaps to you, eyes dangerously red, but there’s uncertainty in the corners of his smile. He kissed you, back in the club, you reason, so he can’t find you entirely objectionable. You lower your gaze, sliding a hand up his forearm, and his ears shift, subtly. He exhales, a little of the tension going out of his chest, and you slide your hand to his upper arm, pushing him back against the coat rack behind him, pressing him against an electric blue shell jacket, and he just lets you.

If Alastor were half a foot shorter you would kiss him, but as it is he stares down at you, his smile a question, until finally he gets what you’re trying to do, and bends his knees fractionally so that you can stand on tiptoes and press your face to his.

You can feel his smile under your lips, parting as you dare to pry, your tongue finding his teeth, and then the tip of his tongue, cautious against yours. You can feel the little shiver of his breath, his hand down your back. At first you think he’s about to slip his hand under your waistband, but instead he spreads his large hand under your ass, cupping it, and lifts you off your feet.

You feel a moment of vertigo, and a swoop in your stomach that is definitely not vertigo as Alastor holds you with your face level to his and slips his entire tongue into your mouth. You took him initially as a conservative kisser, but perhaps he was holding back before. You groan against his lips, feeling heat spread into your lower half as his tongue explores your mouth, the tip probing the roof of your mouth, the soft flesh of the insides of your cheeks. It’s not just the kiss but the feeling of helplessness that it brings, of being held aloft by a being so much more powerful than you. Your knees press the coats either side of Alastor’s waist as he cradles your ass, your tongue lapping against his, eyes closed, arms locking around his shoulders. By the time he breaks the kiss you are gasping, heart pounding in your chest, and Alastor gives you an appraising look.

“You are very small,” Alastor comments, his face a little flushed from the kissing. He doesn’t set you down, however, shifting his forearm under you as you wrap your ankles around his waist, his staff in his other hand.

“Ah, she’ll do fine, Al,” says Vox with a glance over his shoulder, unbuttoning his shirt as he stalks through the living area and into the bedroom. Alastor follows, carrying you as if you weigh nothing.

Seeing the bedroom only serves to solidify your impression that the two of them live here together. There is definitely Alastor’s side of the bed, with red deer themed slippers poking out from underneath, and Vox’s side of the bed, with a digital alarm clock and a special pillow with a square cutout for his head. Two powerful demons, together in secret. It’s enough to make your head spin as Alastor sets you down, gently, on the his side of the bed.

“Alright, let’s fuckin’ do this.” Vox clambers onto the bed, shucking off his shirt, a pause before he reaches you, his hand on your knee. “You too, Al.”

“Must I?” Alastor gives a sideways sort of smile.

“You don’t say that in front of a girl!” barks Vox, and you get the impression he would be pulling his own hair, if he had any. “You’re gonna hurt her feelings or some shit. And yeah, Al, you gotta join in. Otherwise it’s just me fuckin’ a girl on the bed in front of you, and that’s not really a fuckin’ threesome now, is it?”

Alastor smiles thoughtfully. “You did say we would see where we go. I could read a book.”

“Fuck my life,” Vox mutters, flopping back, his boxy head hitting the duvet heavily.

You tug on Alastor’s sleeve again, catching his attention. “You don’t have to do anything.”

“I’m aware,” says Alastor, expression guarded, smile thin. He pauses. “Are your feelings really hurt?”

Your smile is wry. You’d be lying if you said his reticence didn’t hurt, at least a little. “My ego, maybe?”

“Ah.” Alastor looks down at you, and you are caught for a second by just how red his eyes are, like rubies, or pools of fresh blood. His fingers whisper across your cheek, pushing away a strand of hair. “We can’t have that now, can we?”

Tossing his staff onto Vox’s supine form, Alastor climbs onto the bed. He cups your face in his hands and kisses you for the third time that evening, all pretense of propriety gone as he pushes you onto your back, your head onto his pillows and his tongue snaking its way into your mouth. It takes your breath away; you can feel nothing else, only the dance of your tongues and lips, slick with saliva, Alastor’s hands sliding down to your jaw and your neck with the barest pressure. He traces the lines of your arteries, almost absently, and you moan into his mouth as you feel your body respond to him, your pulse growing insistent between your legs. You spread your knees without even thinking about it, your cunt level with his navel as you lie shameless and gasping and red-faced beneath him.

“Now we’re talkin’” Vox grins sidelong at the two of you, propping himself up on his elbows. “You are such a fuckin’ tease, Al.”

“Mm…” Alastor looks down at you, his lips parted and shiny with spit. “I do hope that’s a compliment.”

“Thank you,” you breathe, and Alastor presses a finger lazily to your lips, his eyes narrowing fractionally as if to say no thanks needed.

Vox, meanwhile, is removing your panties. He’s not shy of the Radio Demon’s body either, his hand on Alastor’s flank as he makes the space he needs to get them off. In short order you are naked, your clothing peeled away and the sheets warm against your back, though with the gazes of the two men on you, the room feels far from cold. Vox is down to y-fronts, which his cock strains against valiantly, while Alastor keeps his trousers and shirt, his tie and waistcoat discarded beside the bed.

Vox kisses your breasts, not even trying for your face, Alastor sitting back to give him better access. Vox’s lips are strange, part of the curvature of his front glass and yet not, warm and staticky against your skin, supple as his lips curve around your nipple and suck. His tongue is stranger yet, its sensation alien as the buzzing of fluorescent lights as he traces a circle around your areola and brings your nipple to a shivering point. Vox repeats the action with your other breast, Alastor stroking the vents on the back of his boxy head, his expression unguarded and fond.

“Al-” Vox makes a frustrated noise, his breath hot on your breast. “Pay attention to the girl.”

Alastor smirks, his expression almost flirtatious. “I was,” he says, his eyes meeting yours briefly, “But you and your big head got in the way.”

“Oh for crying out loud, Al.” Vox pinches the top of his frame with two fingers, his other hand on your breast. “There’s plenty to be done here-” Vox’s hand moves down your body, over the softness of your stomach and to your sex, a reassuring squeeze on your hip.

Alastor looks at you, your pink cunt spread open for him, and his brow knits slightly. He’s still touching your leg, hand stroking your shin where it rests against his waist. He’s nervous, you realize. Afraid of fucking up. Afraid of spoiling things.

“Wait-” Vox’s face is thoughtful as he reaches the same conclusion. “You’ve never eaten a girl out, have you?”

“I’ll have you know,” says Alastor, his spine straightening a little. “That I ate two ladies just last week.”

“No, fuck- I mean… eat pussy, Al.”

Alastor raises an eyebrow. “Certainly not!” he pipes. “The taste is revolting, the fur gets stuck in my teeth, and they have too many small bones.”

Vox gives a growl, and you find yourself holding back a laugh. Alastor catches your eye again, his eyes narrowing, red and beautiful as he bends to kiss your knee, a brush of his thin lips. “As my friend here has surmised, I am new to the neighborhood,” he says, his smile a little embarrassed as his gaze travels your inner thigh. “If you would be amenable to showing me around?”

You had expected the Radio Demon to be dominant in the bedroom, to take charge and fill the room with slapping, squelching sounds, but instead he is quiet, his gaze intent as you nervously spread yourself for him. You don’t know what directions he might want, so you hesitate, shrinking back as his eyes seem to drink you in.

“May I?” he asks, and when you nod, he drags a finger through the wetness that seeps viscous from your cunt; a slow, deliberate touch that seems to set every nerve ending in its path aflame. He pulls the finger away, his expression fascinated as a clear string of slick stretches between his finger and your cunt. “How interesting!” he exclaims, before popping the finger in his mouth, eyes closing as he savors your taste.

Vox rests Alastor’s microphone across his knees, impatient. “Al, you’re meant to put your face down there.”

“I’m building anticipation,” says Alastor, his lips a thin smile. “And if you had an ounce of natural showmanship, you would understand that.”

Vox shakes his head, his hands and mouth going back to your breasts, your shoulders and your neck. Vox’s head is too large to comfortably fit in the crook of your neck, but his tongue more than makes up for that, slithering bright across the sensitive flesh of your throat as his claws gently knead your breasts. The biggest side effect of this is that Vox’s large head blocks your view, and you cannot see what Alastor is doing.

There is a cannibal overlord between your legs is the first thought that registers as Alastor’s lips move glacial up your inner thigh. He kisses, he sucks, and he tastes, his fingertips ghosting feather light over your hips and stomach, tracing lines from your navel to your mons.

Vox finally deigns to kiss your mouth as Alastor reaches your cunt. Alastor parts your labia, his long tongue stroking between your folds as Vox’s tongue slips into your mouth, the doubled sensation delicious in its intensity. Alastor’s movements are hesitant, almost conservative, but your cunt is sopping wet enough that even the stripes he licks up your inner labia have you moaning into Vox’s mouth, your hips bucking needy into Alastor’s face.

Alastor’s fingers squeeze into the flesh of your ass, holding you firm as he tends to you, his face pressed firmly into your cunt, lips dragging across slick pink flesh as his tongue probes, a breath of pause between each attempt, his hands weighing how much each teasing lick makes you strain against his grip. His nose brushes your clit, which makes your entire body twitch, and he repeats the action more deliberately a second time.

It’s not long before he has found the most sensitive parts of your anatomy, along with the pattern of touch that best makes you arch your back and cry out. Alastor’s tongue moves back and forth, sweeping hot and wet and divine over you as you spread your knees as wide as they will go, your stomach tightening as you arch your back.

“Holy fuck.” Vox breaks your kiss to look impressed, one clawed hand kneading your chest. “Al, you’re gonna make her cum.”

Alastor doesn’t answer, a primal growl into your cunt, and you cannot answer, the only noise in your throat a mewl of helpless pleasure as Alastor, a man who has spent decades in Hell inflicting pain on souls attacks your nerve endings with a furious precision. You’re going to cum, and you don’t have a choice about it, not with his grip steely on your hips. You want to beg, but your lips can’t even form words as Alastor’s tongue robs you of sense, of language, of decorum, each movement of his mouth sending you hurtling towards the edge. Vox’s hands on you are marginalia to the treatise on pleasure that Alastor’s mouth writes.

It occurs to you, as your orgasm hits, crashing over you and shattering you into pieces, that Alastor might have ruined sex with other men for you. Alastor carries on, tongue pressing into too sensitive flesh through your aftershocks, even as you whine and try to twist away, until Vox touches his shoulder and stops him.

“She’s done, Al,” says Vox, his claws gentle in your hair, and you whimper against the warmth of his chest as Alastor releases you. “Hey, babydoll,” murmurs Vox, the proximity of his screen making the hair on the top of your head stand on end. “You good?”

“Y-yeah.” You swallow, language returning to you in bits and pieces, and look at Alastor, who kneels between your legs still, his face glistening with your juices. His eyes are uncertain, and you reach out to him, catching his thin wrists and pulling him to you.

“You’re good at that,” you say, looking up at Alastor as you lie sandwiched between the two of them, Vox’s strong arms around your waist, Vox’s cock pressing into your lower back.

Alastor kisses you, tasting of you, and pulls back, looking pleased with himself. “It’s a lot like torture,” he says, eyes half lidded. “All I need to do is listen to your screams.”

“God fuckin’ damn it, Al,” grouses Vox. “It’s always the horror show stuff with you.”

“God forbid a man have hobbies,” Alastor’s head tilts, but there’s no venom to his reprise. “And for your information,” he adds, a glance at you. “It’s not always torture. I also enjoy dancing.”

You laugh into your hands, the afterglow of your orgasm filling you with a pleasant kind of warmth, and Alastor steals another kiss, grinning all the while.

“What now?”

“Now?” Vox grins, dangerous. “Now it’s your turn, Al.”

Alastor’s smile becomes fixed. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” Vox’s smile grows wider, and he disentangles himself from you, a crackling kiss to the side of your head. “C’mere.”

Alastor gives an undignified squeak as Vox leaps and tackles him into the bedsheets, dexterous claws on the buttons of his shirt and his fly.

“Impudent! I can undress mysel- mm!” Alastor is silenced as Vox catches his chin and kisses him, open mouthed, long blue tongue lapping your juices from Alastor’s chin, and you watch as Alastor melts for the Television Demon, his shoulders going slack, his shadow splaying itself across the pillows. Alastor’s shirt comes off without complaint, and you crawl over to touch him, your hands on his narrow chest, his shoulders, his arms, as Vox undresses him the rest of the way. Alastor’s heart is beating fast; you can feel it through your hand on his sternum, like a butterfly’s wings beating futile against a glass windowpane, but it slows as Vox kisses his back, and Alastor places a clawed hand over yours. “I suppose you both mean to fuck me,” he says, a little sulkily.

“You tryna say you don’t want that, Al?” Vox’s teeth glow as he grins. “You don’t want me to fuck you as the lovely girl here sucks you off?”

Alastor’s smile purses, but he can’t bring himself to say no, not with you staring up at him prettily and Vox growling sweet nothings into his neck.

His cock stands at attention, the tip red and angry, and you take him in your palms before you get on all fours and take him in your mouth, feeling the quiver that runs through his stomach as your mouth envelops him.

“F-fuck,” Alastor hisses, filter failing, his hand in your hair as Vox’s talons circle his narrow waist. He’s sensitive- you can tell that much from your first few sucks, his precum salty and organic tasting, each movement of your tongue drawing soft noises from his throat. Part of that might be Vox working him open, your position in the bed lowering fractionally as Vox pushes Alastor’s knees apart.

“See, you want it, don’t you Al? Gettin’ completely fucked.” You feel Alastor’s talons tighten in your hair as Vox pushes into him, Alastor’s cock twitching against the back of your mouth, and you breathe through your nose, enjoying the feeling of Alastor coming undone.

“Vox!” Alastor’s voice is tight, high in his register, and Vox slows, stroking him and easing him through sensation, the two demons’ hips moving in tandem as Alastor ruts into your mouth, a strangled noise in his throat.

“Say you like it, say we fuck you good,” Vox growls soft, but the only things coming from Alastor’s mouth are obscenities, his senses overwhelmed by the two of you working together.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Alastor’s chest heaves, his eyes screwed shut, his lip bleeding where he has bitten it, his cock hitting the back of your throat with every roll of his hips, a lewd little whimper escaping his lips with the apex of each of Vox’s thrusts.

“There you are,” Vox breathes, seeming to sense Alastor’s imminent climax before Alastor himself. You feel Alastor’s cock swell in your mouth, his grip tightening. “We got you, Al. Let go.”

“Don’t -ngh- tell me what to do,” says Alastor, emptying his load into your mouth, hot and salty. He gasps, and you swallow it down. “Shit.”

“Oh, you’re so good, Al. So fuckin’ good.” Vox’s voice is a groan as he presses his face crackling into Alastor’s hair and starts to fuck him in earnest.

You move your face from Alastor’s cock, and it would be the easiest thing in the world to lay back on the pillows with Alastor’s microphone and watch the show, but instead Alastor grabs your wrists and pins you under him as Vox pushes him to all fours, and Alastor kisses you, unreserved and passionate. He tastes of you, and you of him, small whimpers still escaping him as Vox fucks him. Your fingers are in his hair, over his ears, over his antlers, his thin back, and he holds you to his chest, lips locked with yours as Vox finishes inside him, the three of you shivering with it, the room still in the aftermath.

“Ngh.” Vox’s screen shows a test card for a good twenty seconds. “Fuck.”

“Yes,” Alastor agrees, a slow exhalation as Vox withdraws from him.

The three of you are side by side in the bed for a moment as Vox drops to the sheets. Vox’s breathing is labored, Alastor’s more controlled, and neither of them speak.

Alastor rolls onto his back, turning to Vox. “You’d best wash up.”

“What?” Vox narrows his eyes. “Why?”

“It’s rude,” says Alastor, with a coy smile. “To keep a lady waiting.”

“Oh.” Vox stares at you as if he’s just remembered you are there, face coloring. “Oh. Shit. Yeah. Keep her warm for me, Al.”

Alastor takes his staff back in one hand, and pulls you to him with the other, your head nestled nicely against his bony shoulder as you watch Vox disappear into the bathroom, water running. It feels as if you could both drift off like this, comfortable and satiated, and you almost do, until Alastor’s fingers start tracing a slow line from your knee to your thigh, and your eyes flicker open.

“He’ll be pissy if he finds us asleep,” says Alastor, his tone amused. “So, unless you want to see him blow a fuse-”

You swallow as you feel him part your labia with his fingers, careful with his claws as he drags the pads of his fingers through the slickness that seeps from you. “Is this really the best way to stay awake?”

“Probably not,” admits Alastor. “But it is one of the more entertaining ones, don’t you agree?”

“Very,” you agree, your breath hitching as Alastor’s finger graces the base of your clitoris, drawing a small circle, pressing your flesh against the bone of your pelvis with his fingertips. “I am very entertained right now.”

“A performer is nothing without his audience,” quips Alastor, but his smile seems genuine. You’re wondering how he’s going to manage his claws if he fingers you when he extrudes a long black tentacle from his back. “Open wide now.”

Your legs spread, Alastor strokes your knee, the back of your calf, the arch of your foot, and his tentacle slithers, wrapping fully around the meat of your thigh before its tip teases at your cunt.

He doesn’t penetrate you right away, which is a good thing; ready and willing as you are the tentacle is girthy. Instead, Alastor teases with it, his smile relaxed and his ears pricked as he listens to your breathing, your sighs. Your words, when you are able to use them.

“There, there, just there,” you tell him, and your reward is a squeeze of his hand on your ankle, his breathy voice in your ear, telling you what a good audience you are tonight, how supportive, how participatory. The tentacle moves in tandem with his hand, the tip twirling at your entrance as he strokes the folds of your cunt, dragging slick from your hole up over your clit, coaxing it from its hood, his touch so light that it makes you hold your breath, and then firm, a pressure that has you gasping, moaning so loudly that he holds his microphone to your lips and asks you to repeat yourself.

When Alastor’s tentacle pushes its way into you, you are ready, more than ready, speechless at the girth of it and giving heady little gasps as you feel yourself stretch around him.

“You’d better not reach the climax before Vox gets back,” says Alastor, a soft murmur in your ear as you whimper, senseless against his chest. “He really will blow a fuse if you do that.” He’s enjoying himself, you realize. He’s playing with you, his smile relaxed as he manipulates your body to his liking.

But you are already mounting the summit, your body helpless in Alastor’s clutches. He barely needs to use his fingers, not with the tentacle pressed into you, an obscene squelching noise as he curves it in and out of you; Alastor simply holds his fingertips over the tip of your clit and lets the motion of the tentacle do the rest of the work, each brush of contact with the exposed nub of flesh like a lick of flame across your nerves that makes you cry out, over and over, until your throat is hoarse with it.

You cum as Vox returns, a spasm through your body, your cunt fluttering around Alastor’s tentacle, and the Radio Demon grins at Vox.

If Vox’s eyes weren’t just images displayed on his screen, they would be bulging right now. He stares. Alastor grins at him.

“Al.” Vox’s lips are an annoyed line as he watches Alastor pull his tentacle out of you, your cunt fluttering around nothing. “How the fuck am I meant to compete with that monster?” His cock is well proportioned to his frame, but it’s nothing compared to the tentacle. You look between the two demons, hoping they’re not going to fight.

Alastor’s grin widens. “You’re a resourceful man, Vox. I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”

Vox shakes his head as he climbs back on the bed. “You’ve always gotta fuckin’ upstage me, huh.”

“That’s why you like me so much,” says Alastor. “Isn’t it?”

“Ah, fuck you, Al,” says Vox, all bark, and Alastor beams at him.

Alastor pulls you on top of him, your back to him, and hooks his chin over the top of your head, so that you both face Vox when he climbs atop you, on his hands and knees.

Vox kisses you, softly, hand cupping your face, and you feel Alastor’s sound of approval through your back, the low hum of an electrical appliance.

“You ready, babydoll?” Vox asks, and when you nod, he pushes into you.

You feel him. Your orgasm has made you tender, Alastor’s tentacle has made you tender and you feel every inch of Vox as if your cunt were just made yesterday, shipped direct from the factory.

“Oh fuck, that’s nice babydoll.” Fragments of test card float on Vox’s screen as he pauses, in you to the hilt. “You feel fuckin’ nice. Fuckin’ soft, god.”

You feel Alastor huff into your hair with amusement, and he reaches for your legs, pulling up your thighs and then your knees, pulling your legs flush with your chest; a mating press for you and Vox.

Vox grins, his hands joining Alastor’s on the underside of your knees, and he fucks you in earnest.

That his cock is smaller than Alastor’s tentacle doesn’t matter one bit, not when you’re pressed like this, his cock able to reach the deepest parts of your tender cunt with ease. He fucks you, and you cry out; not the mewling whimper you had before but a full throated cry that escapes you at the apex of each thrust, your throat already sore, your voice cracking, but crying out regardless.

Vox’s monologue is all sweet, sweary nothings- you’re doing so good babydoll, so wet for me, so soft, so good, so fuckin’ good and Alastor’s commentary is drier- do you think you’ll be able to walk again after this? Now that’s a scream worthy of my studio, all the while you are crying out, tears in your eyes, a pressure in your abdomen, Vox hammering into the most sensitive parts of you, over and over and oh.

Your cunt flutters again, Vox growling a good girl before his seed floods into you in hot, pulsing waves.

You lie there, boneless, seeing stars, the three of you breathing hard. Vox drops his face onto your chest, and you stroke his hot vents, as you’ve seen Alastor do. Alastor lets go of your legs, a kiss to the top of your head.

“Fuck,” murmurs Vox.

“Seconded,” you croak.

“Mm,” buzzes Alastor. “Quite.”

Vox rolls off you, and you roll off Alastor, the three of you side by side on the bed, points of contact between you; your leg crossing Alastor’s thigh, Vox’s arm across your stomach.

It is a long, hazy moment before Vox sits up, digging through the dresser on the Vox side of the bed, and pulls out a pack of cigarettes.

“In the apartment?” Alastor complains, sleepy.

“It’s a fuckin’ special occasion, Al,” says Vox, leaning over you to place a cigarette between Alastor’s smiling lips. Alastor takes it, and Vox lights it, before offering the box to you. “You smoke?” he asks.

If you didn’t already, it was a hell of a time to start.

[gasolinerainbowpuddles]

𝙲𝚑𝚛𝚢𝚜𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚖 · · · · 𝚅𝙸𝙸𝙸. 𝙼𝚊𝚛𝚌𝚑 ║ ⓒⓗⓐⓟⓣⓔⓡⓔⓓ

𝙲𝚑𝚛𝚢𝚜𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚖 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 || 𝚗 𝚊 𝚟 𝚒 𝚐 𝚊 𝚝 𝚒 𝚘 𝚗 || 𝚏𝚒𝚌 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 | PAIRING(s): Joel Miller x fem!OC/reader

| RATING: explicit material | 18+ | CHAPTER CONTENT: POV switching, existential crisis about relationships and self-worth, insecurities, relationship growing pains, one step forward two steps back type shit | WORD COUNT: 10.6k

| CHAPTER SUMMARY: Who needs enemies when you've got inner demons?

“Oh fuck,” you choke.

“Yeah?” Joel pants, pressing the fronts of your thighs even deeper against your chest as he drives into you. “Right there? That where you need it?”

“Right there! Right there! Keep going keep going keep—”

Sweat drips from the tip of his nose onto your shimmering skin, drenched from the almost hour long session you’ve had. You’ve lost count of how many times you’ve come already. He manages to draw them out of you repeatedly, even when you feel boneless and floaty and like you couldn’t possibly produce another climax if you wanted to. You have no idea how he hasn’t come yet or how he manages this sort of stamina. It has to be powered through sheer will alone. 

“Give it to me,” he commands in a near growl that ignites something in your spine and has your body obliging within seconds. He finally joins you with his own bliss, letting out a ragged moan as you feel the kick of his cock against your quivering walls. His motions finally begin to slow, and you both hiss at the heightened sensitivity of him easing out of your warmth.

You blink lazily as you watch him deftly unsheath his softening length from the condom, tie it off, and toss it into the trash. He sinks into the space next to you in bed with a little wince and groan that you immediately clock.

“You okay?” The euphoric fog quickly dissipates as you hone in to him.

He gives a dismissive wave at your fretting and instead tries to pull you against his sticky, warm frame. “S’nothin’,” he insists.

“But you made a face, and—”

“Just mighta tweaked my back a little there at that last bit,” he admits a little sheepishly. 

Well, maybe his stamina and force were impressive for his age, but there were still things that showed it. The age difference between you wasn’t something often discussed, but you’d gleaned from comments here and there that Joel seemed a bit more bothered by it than you did. It frankly wasn’t an issue for you in the slightest, and any opportunity to reinforce that to him was one you’d make good on.

So, you reverted to what you and Joel had always shared: a sense of humor.

“Wow, dicked me down so hard you injured yourself. Now that’s commitment,” you joke. 

He chuckles lightly at your toothless teasing and rubs an open hand along your hip. Encouraged by his reception to your ribbing, you double down. 

“Here I was thinking ‘blow their back out’ meant something else, but what do I know,” you titter. 

He laughs earnestly at that and pretend pinches your thigh. “Always got jokes after but never during. Never got jokes when you’re too busy tryna take this dick,” he poses with an arched brow, stilly cocky somehow even with a pinched back.

“Yeah, you got me there,” you giggle. You snuggle closer and let out a deep breath. “How about you lay on your belly. I can rub your back a little bit as a thank you and a sorry all rolled into one, okay?”

“Ugh, I think I’d prefer bein’ heckled over bein’ pitied,” he protests. 

He rolls over like you asked, but the sentiment of his veiled remark lingers: you wanting to take care of him must somehow be rooted in feeling sorry for him. It’s as untrue as it is unkind, and you want to squash every last hint of it.

“I’ve got some catching up to do, you know,” you challenge. “The least I can do is return the favor every now and then.”

He makes a questioning, muffled sound into the bedding.

“I was kinda thinking that it’s just what we did these days – looked out for each other. Besides, I think a back rub after making me come 500 times is the least I can do.” 

You don’t point out all the countless ways he’s stepped up for you, often without even knowing just how much it mattered in the moment. He laughs again and finally relaxes into the sheets. It feels like a victory over his doubtful mind, and you get to work kneading deep strokes into the taut muscles in his lower back. He sighs at the palliating sweep of your hands, and, after a few moments pass in silence, you realize he’s fallen asleep. You smile to yourself and keep massaging.

Kenzie: i turned down the double phoenix acct Kenzie: they offered it to me but i didnt want it Kenzie: not worth it Kenzie: not worth losing a friend over :( Kenzie: plz text if ur ever ready Kenzie: bc i rly want to talk

You push out a long, sharp lungful of air and lock your phone. Kenzie may be a lot of things, but nobody could ever accuse her of being half-hearted. You can’t recall a time when anyone has pursued reconciliation with you to this degree, and, although it might be colored by wishful thinking, it seems like she is genuinely remorseful. The fact that you also have your own misdeeds to address makes the idea of responding to her all the more compelling.

There was no way around your rotten conduct that night. You’d left a partially drunk Kenzie with two fully unsafe men, and it was wrong. She’d let you down immensely – had left you feeling betrayed and upset on top of everything Logan had done to you – but it was no excuse for how you’d acted so far out of your own character. The blame wasn’t squarely on anyone’s shoulders in the situation, and it made the entire ordeal a giant, confusing mess.

You sigh again, maybe a little too loudly, because Joel peeks a head out of his office and calls your name.

“Everything okay?”

“Um….”

Tell him. 

Tell him tell him tell him.

Tell him!

“You got a minute?” You know his calendar is clear for the rest of the afternoon, but it still felt impolite to assume you could just waltz in there whenever you wanted.

“C’mon.” He jerks his head towards the door and summons you to step inside. “What’s wrong?” he probes the second he closes the door behind you.

“I... need your advice,” you hedge.

He motions for you to proceed, and you take a deep breath before starting. “Okay, you remember my friend? The one I used to work at the grocery store with? The one from New Year’s Eve who sent you all those pictures of me?”

He nods along to your questions and flushes slightly at the mention of the pictures, one of which he’d set as his home screen almost immediately only to get caught the next day by your curious eye. “Yeah, Carrie? Er… Kiley?”

“Kenzie,” you gently correct with a short lived smirk. “Yeah, so, I was thinking about– I dunno, I guess meeting up with her? Talking stuff through?”

You’ve never told him everything that happened that night, and it leaves him at a disadvantage to understanding the nuance and extent of your falling out. You’d thought about just being upfront about the whole thing, sure,  but any time you’d get near discussing it, you always talked yourself out of it. 

Joel looks thoughtful, considering your words and all your unspoken tells, before responding. “What made you consider talkin’ it out?”

You aren’t really sure how to answer that one. “I dunno. She just keeps texting me, and… I dunno. I think she means it when she says she’s sorry. And I have stuff I should apologize for, too. I guess maybe we both need to speak our piece to clear the air or whatever, and I dunno from there to be honest. It’s just… complicated.”

“So, is meeting up to talk what you want to do or what you feel like you should do?”

There he went again with those laser focused questions that cut through all the bullshit. He was getting better and better at that, and truthfully it made you a bit nervous, like he could see right through you.

“I think I want to, actually. As much as it makes me nervous thinking about it. Confronting it all or whatever. And, I just– I really miss talking to her, you know?”

“Well, if you think it could help you decide a path forward one way or the other, then I think it might be worthwhile to set it up,” he reasons.

It sounded so simple how he put it. Was it really that simple? Or was it just Joel bringing that quiet confidence to a situation and letting some of it rub off on you? Either way, it felt good to finally have someone to discuss these kinds of things with. It didn’t feel like such a massive dilemma with him helping you weigh the pros and cons. 

With nothing more than one short conversation, Joel had you feeling worlds better about the situation than you had in months. The inherent comfort he brought was a slippery slope, one that had your foothold wavering on the determination to keep things to yourself. The urge to divulge more and more, to unpack all the things that weighed you down, grew each time his steady, gentle sense of calm cradled you.

Bringing him onboard with the Kenzie situation was a small step forward in your effort to open up to him, but it felt like you might’ve finally turned a corner.

It’s a relief to find the coffee shop isn’t too crowded. You aren’t sure how this reunion is going to pan out, and you don’t much care for an audience to the possible spectacle of it all. The paper to-go cup – your chosen alternative to the ceramic mug in case things went south – glides against your fingertips as you nervously rotate it back and forth. The rapidly cooling brown sugar caramel latte slips across your tongue and down your throat quite effortlessly despite the nerves wracking your body as you await Kenzie’s arrival.

The bell above the door peals to signal a new customer. Kenzie drifts through the frame and pauses at the front counter, surveying the cafe for you. You pop a hand into the air to get her attention, and eventually her line of sight pans your direction. She straightens up when she spots you, but it’s not the confident posture she normally assumes. She is noticeably nervous as she heads your way.

You stand to greet her out of habit, bumbling halfway through when you realize a hug might not be welcome – or even what you want – and you awkwardly settle back into your seat just as she reaches the section. She doesn’t hesitate at your awkward body language, instead just plopping into the chair across from you and sitting quietly for longer than you’ve ever witnessed. Her gaze alternates between the tabletop and the large window several booths away. She shakes her head, sighs loud and long, and finally meets your eye.

“Can I go first?” she asks, sounding a bit on edge. Grateful that you don’t have to figure out how to start this conversation, you motion for her to speak.

“I know I’ve said it a million times in texts — and I’m sorry for blowing up your phone – but I want you to understand that I am, like, actually sorry. I really am sorry.”

“Yeah, I gathered as much,” you yield. “I don’t think you’re the type to keep saying it if you didn’t mean it.”

“No, totally,” she affirms. “I wouldn’t be trying so hard if I didn’t mean it. I wouldn’t be trying to– I don’t know– I wouldn’t put so much effort into something I didn’t care about.”

“It’s– I can see that. I know it’s…”

“Listen, I can’t take it back, which fucking sucks, but it’s true. As much as I wish I could go back to that stupid event and make different choices, I’m stuck with the ones I made. I acted like a terrible friend, and I understand 100% why you were upset. You had every right to be upset with me.”

Her eyes close for a moment, arms firmly crossed against her chest, before she continues.

“The next morning I woke up and couldn’t even look at myself in the mirror. I didn’t know who the fuck was looking back at me because I didn’t know that person. I didn’t know I was somebody who would act that way in that situation. I’m, like, I-I pride myself on being this ‘girl’s girl’ or whatever, but then I went and—”

She stops abruptly and waves a hand in the air before tucking it quickly back into her elbow.

“—and I’m fucking rambling right now. Ugh. I don’t know why I didn’t step up and be the friend you needed, but I do know that every fucking day since I have kicked myself for it. I acted like my whole entire life was on the line or something, like defending you was going to cost me my entire future career, and it was so, so stupid. No job is worth that. No opportunity or whatever is worth risking….”

Her lips press together in a tight line, and she looks off to the window again. “It wasn’t worth losing you as a friend,” she finishes somberly.

You allow yourself the passing moments to digest everything she shared, also affording her a moment to collect herself. Seeing the unshed tears shimmering in her eyes almost has you forgiving her right then and there, but this was a necessary sort of pain. The circumstances deserved to be acknowledged by you both in your own way, no matter how uncomfortable or upsetting it was.

“It’s really nice to hear you say that, Kenzie. I– That night, I just… it hurt so fucking bad. I didn’t expect it, and I think that’s what made it hurt worse.”

She turns to you again, hastily blinking tears away, and nods. “I get it, babe. I do. I really do. I didn’t even know I could be the kind of person I was that night, and it has been so fucking eye opening for me. It peeled back a layer, and I saw a side to myself that was so ugly. I’m glad I know it’s there now because I can– I don’t have to let it make my decisions for me, you know? But it’s– The cost of losing you has just been…”

She swallows hard and tips her head back, trying in earnest to not cry in the middle of the coffee shop. “Shit,” she sniffs and squeezes her hands together on the tabletop.

You’re reaching over and grasping her hand in yours before your brain has entirely caught up with your decision to give this friendship another try. “Hey, I need to apologize, too,” you say quietly.

“What?” she balks.

“No, Kenzie, I do. I might’ve had a bad encounter with Logan, but I left you with him and Charlie all by yourself. You wanna talk about the morning after and wondering what kind of person you are? I felt so much guilt for leaving you after knowing what I’d just gone through with Logan. You could’ve been hurt so bad, and I left you there to fend for yourself,” you huff with obvious disdain for yourself.

“Nothing happened,” she assures you. “I left pretty soon after you did, and they were both at the bar taking more shots.  I wasn’t even there for more than, like, 20 minutes after yo–”

“That’s not the point,” you interrupt. “The point is: I left you in a bad situation because I was upset. I could’ve been upset with you and made sure you left the unsafe situation, too. It wasn’t an either or choice.”

“I guess,” she sniffles and shrugs. “I probably would’ve done the same thing, so it’s not like either of us is perfect.”

“No,” you agree with a strained exhale of a laugh, “we’re not.”

She shoots you a small, watery smile, and you feel the tension dissipating in real time. “Can we… Do you think we could try again? To be friends?”

It hurts your heart to hear the uncertainty and vulnerability in her voice. “Yeah, I think so. I definitely think so.”

She wraps you into a hug and squeezes way too tight before settling back into her chair and demanding you catch her up on your life. You smile into your drink, knowing full well how much you’re going to savor her reaction when you tell her about you and Joel.

You hold your tongue from all the anxiety ridden thoughts that threaten to spill over when Joel finishes zipping up the medium size duffle bag full of basic workwear and little in between. You want to go with him. You don’t want to be away from him. You hadn’t realized how comforting it’s been knowing that he lives a few streets away from you and that he’s there. It’s all a bit delusional and unrealistic, but it’s where you’ve landed more often than not as of late.

Keep it simple. Keep it neutral. Don’t be needy. Don’t be clingy. You keep repeating it to yourself like a self-help mantra, but it does little to make you feel any less self-disparaging about the pathetic mindset you’ve somehow let wholly encapsulate you. You’d spent your entire life without Joel Miller and had taken on anything that came your way. Now suddenly you’re acting like a little lost puppy at the first inkling of being away from him for a few days.

You had always known yourself as the strong fortress, ready to shield yourself and Calum from whatever you could, but these days it felt like the foundation of that tower was crumbling from the ground up. Every genuine connection and slip of warmth and kindness and sincerity from Joel was another stone falling away from your intricately, expertly fortified mental stronghold.

It was terrifying, and you couldn’t make it stop. 

Sometimes you’d even been surprised when simply being with Joel made you want it to crumble. But you didn’t know that person. You didn’t know the version of yourself who’s not afraid to come down from the high defense and unlock the door at the base. You didn’t know the version of yourself who wants to pull that heavy door and have Joel pushing from the other side just so he can get in sooner. So you can let him in sooner.

But most of the time, you’re at your post in the tallest peak of that tower. Ever the vigilant sentinel for hurt and destruction because there’s never not been a time where ruination hadn’t been lurking on the horizon. A watchful eye for the anger and violence and malice disguised as love, a Trojan Horse meant to deceive and destroy you from the inside out should you ever let your guard slip.

All the while berating yourself for being too clingy despite keeping anyone and everyone at arm’s length. A devilish whisper in your mind echoing that you’d end up driving Joel away if you didn’t maintain the buffer that made you more palatable. Ensuring you were lacking any of that pesky complexity that made people nervous. Because being with you wasn’t easy. Because someone getting to know you was never going to be easy. Because you were work. Your existence meant effort for everyone around you – and a lot of it. Because you’re a burden. Because you’d always been those things and didn’t know how to be anything else.

Because the effort required would never be worth the reward of truly knowing you.

“How many days did you say?” you ask again for the millionth time. He answers graciously, of course, and makes no mention of how he’s already told you.

“I dunno. Three, probably. Hopefully. Don’t wanna miss much here and definitely don’t wanna sleep on that back killer sofa of theirs multiple nights in a row, but I don’t wanna leave her and Ben to take it up with that asshole landlord of theirs, either. So, hopefully three? Gonna leave Wednesday afternoon as soon as I finish up with the Williams Project permits.”

Three days to address the damaged cabinets in Sarah and Ben’s apartment kitchen. Their landlord had discovered their blunder before she and Ben could get it sorted, and now he was apparently trying to charge them an exorbitant amount to have a “professional assess the damage and make the necessary repairs.” Luckily for Sarah and unfortunately for her money grubbing landlord, Joel was a licensed contractor, and repairing a few kitchen cabinets was light work in his world. They lived far enough away that a day trip wasn’t feasible, so Joel allotted a day on each side of a solid workday for traveling there and back.

“I guess that’s not that long,” you muse with a sullen frown. For a fleeting moment you think about how he didn’t even care that Sarah had messed something up in the apartment. He wasn’t angry with her about it, and he didn’t even seem to mind that he was now having to take time off work and make travel plans to help fix her mistake. It was a given that he’d do that for her. The thought of it makes your throat tight and your eyes hot. Keep it simple.

“Hey, don’t be like that,” he tuts. He strides over to where you’re slumped against the headboard watching him pack and sidles up next to you. “I already told you not to worry about makin’ it up to the office. You have the house key and you got what you need set up here. Whatever else can wait until I get back.”

“I know that,” you huff. “But you won’t be here.”

Keep it neutral.

“No, I won’t,” he concedes softly. He runs a warm palm up your thigh, and you shiver at the simultaneous electric and calming surge it sends through your body. “But, you just hole yourself up here, and I’ll make it up to you when I get back, alright?”

“But I don’t sleep good now unless–” You cut yourself short and flick aimlessly at his bedspread. 

Don’t be needy.

You know you’re being sulky about his very short trip away from you, but you can’t snap out of it. All those thoughtful texts and sweet goodnight calls had built upon themselves to the point that it wasn’t even just a habit anymore – you were pretty much dependent on those interactions from Joel every night if you wanted anything close to a peaceful night’s rest. Your brain felt jetlagged and erratic without the soothing and settling check-ins from Joel, and god did it feel so easy and good to just keep doing it. He was so easy to rely on.

You see him most days of the week, and even still the couple of days you’re physically away from him feel strange and empty. Those Monday morning kisses and hugs are mandatory for your nervous system to regulate itself and flatten into a smooth, rolling wavelength. It was the sort of instant salve you’d always longed for but never thought would be true. Now here you are feeling tangled and all sharp edges without his presence and immediately set right when he’s there again.

The altered brain chemistry he’d caused felt permanent at this point, and it was frightening to know you couldn’t change that. There would never be a time again in your life where you’d be okay without him.

Don’t be clingy.

You lift your gaze when Joel hasn’t responded yet, and you study the odd look of contemplation on his features. He senses the weight of your stare and turns to you again.

“What if you could stay here while I’m gone? Would that make it easier on you?”

“Joel, I’m just being—”

Stupid. Demanding. Ridiculous. You don’t get to pick which demeaning label to slap on yourself because Joel moves right past it.

“Tell your old man that we’ve got an out of town conference, and the guy that was supposed to help keep us organized had to pull out last minute. Say it was offered to you next, and you wanna make a good impression so you said yes. Be ‘outta town’ while I’m at Sarah’s. Stay here.”

What you wouldn’t give to sleep in his bed and have the scent of him lingering on the sheets to help the days pass quicker. But life was never easy like that, not in your experience at least. It couldn’t ever be that simple.

“I dunno, Joel…”

“No, listen,” he says with more emphasis now, propping himself up across your middle so you have to lean back into the headboard to make enough space for him. “A commute that’s just a walk down the stairs? Got whatever you need in my kitchen, and I can order you somethin’ if it isn’t. You can take up the whole couch every night and watch whatever you want. The whole house to yourself. Walk around naked if ya want.”

His grin widens when you laugh and roll your eyes. You aren’t sure why he seems so urgent about it all the sudden, but it convinces you to at least consider trying to pull it off. It would be nice to feel closer to him while he’s gone…

“I guess it couldn’t hurt to try,” you admit and try to hide that burning ember of hope in your voice.

For some reason it felt like you needed to manage expectations – yours or Joel’s, it depended on the day – just in case this all went awry. As if curtailing and containing the explosion of feelings pouring out between you two would somehow make it all hurt less should this not work out. But it was painful to think like that, and you were sick and tired of living in pain and fear and doubt.

“There’s my girl,” he beams, and you feel on cloud nine when he acts like this over you. Like it’s some big favor you’re doing for him by taking over his house and using up his resources while he’s gone.

“Yeah yeah, no promises. Still have to run it by my dad,” you remind him pointedly. “Anyway, you need to finish packing so we have time to fuck.”

“Oh, is that right? Got me a little to-do list with your name at the bottom, huh?” His arms snake around your body in a way that is most definitely not the type of movement that’s going to lead to packing, so you give him a playful push to finish his task.

“Alright, I’ll hurry up.” He stands and rifles through the empty outer pocket of his bag. “Hand me that extra charger on the nightstand, will ya?”

“Sure,” you reply and shimmy over to the flat surface where no extra charger is to be found. You glance down at the floor to make sure it hadn’t been knocked off at some point, but there’s nothing there either. You lean forward and slide the small drawer open to look just as Joel makes a strange noise that you think is meant to halt you in your search, which is puzzling up until it’s not. 

There’s no charger in sight, but there is Kenzie’s dress and tights crudely shoved to the back like an afterthought. Your bra is a little further back as well, but your panties from that night sit front and center in the immediate opening of the drawer. Unlike the rest of the garments, they look like they’ve been taken out and put back several times over, and you have a pretty good idea why.

“Joel Miller,” you gasp with an amused, scandalized grin. “What exactly are these doing right next to your bed, all tucked away in here?”

You’re certain if you held a hand close enough to Joel’s cheeks right now you’d be able to feel the heat rolling off them in waves. His mouth opens and closes dumbly while he stands there speechless. Getting caught red handed looked pretty damn good on him.

“It’s not what it— I didn’t — I’m not a pervert,” he sputters. “It was just a coupla times, I swear.”

“Oh, you’re not a pervert, Joel,” you contend with a honeyed, low voice as you crawl on the bed towards him. “You’re a deviant.”

His shoulders relax a bit when you start to giggle furiously, clearly amused at discovering his little secret. “Quit it,” he appeals weakly. “S’embarrassing.”

“It’s only embarrassing,” you amend, quickly standing and wiggling out of your jeans, “if the thought of you masturbating to my used panties like some dirty little secret wasn’t so hot.”

His pupils swell as he watches you tug your panties off and put your jeans back on. His gaze follows your hand as you unzip his duffle bag and drop them right on top of all his items before zipping it back up.

“So from one deviant to another, those are on the house,” you say and pat the duffle bag where the brand new used panties rest inside. “You know, for all your travel needs.”

You give him a playful wink and plant a little kiss on the tip of his nose.

“Nothin’ but trouble,” he huffs in a laugh. 

All the worry about whether or not your dad would buy the story of heading out of town last minute for a work convention was pointless because he barely even listened as you stuttered through the lines. You hadn’t been that bad at lying in a long time, and you think it might be that you wanted this so badly. You got to see Joel almost every day of the week in person and through video calls on top of that, and the idea of him suddenly being gone even when you knew he’d be back made you feel jittery.

The universe finally took pity on you, it seems, because your dad was so wrapped up in winning over Denise’s family that he didn’t even seem to care that you’ll be “out of town.” One less thing for him to manage, you suppose. You wonder if having an empty house was preferable in the event Denise or her family wanted to stop by or have a nice dinner. If you were out of town, he wouldn’t have to decide whether or not he should acknowledge your existence to them.

Regardless, once this effort of making a good impression passes, you’re sure he’ll double back to you and start something over you up and leaving. As if you could control things like last minute business trips, even if it was all made up anyway. It never mattered if something was literally impossible to control. It would still be your fault somehow.

But for now it meant enough wiggle room to get out of the house for a few days. It meant freedom to exist in Joel’s space while he was away. It meant a calm, quiet, and serene night – every night. You felt like you could cry from relief.

The day had finally come to head out to Sarah and Ben’s. It’s not been more than a few hours since he kissed you goodbye, and he already misses you like crazy. He’d anticipated it, of course, but not so soon. Not like a little lovesick schmuck, glum and pitiful without their special companion. At least he didn’t have to worry about you staying in your own house while he was gone. Your dad bought whatever line you fed him about traveling for work, and Joel’s chest relaxed the moment you told him. You staying in his house with his things around you was the closest he could get to keeping an eye on you in person.

He’s just under 30 minutes out from Sarah and Ben’s when a text notification from you pops up. He needs to stop for something to snack on anyway, so he pulls off the highway and into the closest convenience store parking lot. He swipes on his phone until your text thread fills his screen, and his eyes bug out at what’s staring back at him. 

You’re propped up in his home office chair with your legs spread wide and knees hooked over the edge of the armrests on either side. You’re wearing one of his t-shirts and nothing else. One hand is lifting the hem of his shirt up just above your mound, and the other has fingers dancing close to your bare pussy. He doesn’t even think twice before clicking it open and zooming in, groaning a little at what he wants to imagine is a little wetness spreading between your folds. It takes him a solid 5 minutes of staring to realize you’d texted a caption with the picture.

You: a benefit of wfh → no bra no pants and no panties 🤭 You: miss you ❤️this shirt smells like you the most so I decided to wear it

“Fucking christ,” he mutters under his breath.

He doesn’t know where this emboldened version of you came from, but he always knew something was trapped under the surface of all your guarded demeanor. Now it’s like a switch has been flipped, and he’s grateful to see you so open if not a bit of a handful. He likes to think he can keep up with you, but you keep knocking him on his ass with this sweet, sexy confidence you’ve had as of late.

Joel: Holy shit I stop for gas and see this? 🤯 Joel: You look so fucking good wearing my shirt. Joel: Both of us just might have to have a work from home day if that’s the dress code. 🥵

You: wanted you to know I was thinking about you You: and maybe give you a reason to think about me too Joel audibly laughs at that. The notion is entirely ridiculous that you aren’t constantly in his thoughts, that he isn’t incessantly thinking about how to spend more time with you.

Joel: I’m always thinking about you!

Joel: But now I’m thinking about you while I’m in the middle of a parking lot trying to decide if I can do anything about this hardon you gave me. Lol. 😵

You: show me

Joel adjusts in his seat and fiddles with the angles for a minute or so before finally settling on a straight down shot of his hand palming the tent in his jeans. He sends the picture and waits.

You: looks good, baby You: want it right here

His cock jumps when he sees the accompanying picture of your pussy close up, being spread by your pointer and middle finger in a wide V. It’s definitely wetter than in the first picture. He doesn’t even need to zoom to see it. By the time he’s saved your photos to his camera roll, another text from you has come through. His cock and heart both jump this time when he sees it’s a video file. He taps the play icon and hunches over the screen, already fully absorbed in whatever you’ve sent.

The video starts on a closeup of your mouth with your middle finger bobbing in and out. You spit more saliva onto it when you remove it, and you let it make a long, slimy trail that connects from your fingertip to your tongue. You guide the camera down to your pussy and press your wet finger against your clit. Joel turns up the volume and rewinds the clip about 4 seconds just so he can hear any noise you make when you finally touch yourself.

It’s the smallest little dreamy sigh, and it makes his erection borderline painful. He has to take it out of his pants when he realizes the slow, deliberate motions you’re making on your clit are spelling out his name, almost like a little game between the two of you at this point. He peers around the lot and breathes a sigh of relief that it’s not too busy. There’s no occupied vehicles nearby, but that doesn’t guarantee someone won’t be walking to one of the empty cars around his truck, either. He considers digging into his bag for a half second after the worn panties you’d tucked inside, but he decides against it. He was already in enough trouble as it was keeping himself poised.

Joel: Can you send one of you putting a finger in there for me, sweet girl? Joel: Miss that sweet pussy already. Joel: Had to take my dick out it was pressing on my zipper so bad.

You: not as much as she misses you ;( You: sorry about the zipper You: hope this helps ❤️

The next video you send makes him grip the base of his cock to keep it from making an explosive mess everywhere. He grabs up some napkins and spits into his hand before tapping the play button and stroking himself. He can’t quite tell what you’ve got the phone propped on, but you’re on the ground with your ass in the air and a hand reached around from below you to slowly pump two fingers in and out of yourself. He can see your asshole pucker whenever you hit a spot that feels really good, and then his brain is thinking about if you’d ever want to try that with him.

“Yeah, just like that,” he whispers to no one as he tries to discreetly jack off. “Stretch it for me, sweetheart.”

He’s already blowing his load about six strokes in, the divine song of your whimpers and moans making it happen quickly. He’s panting, eyes darting around to ensure no one has seen him, and he doesn’t come down

before you’re locking eyes with the screen with a little smile and stopping the recording. He cleans himself up with the dry, rough napkins he’d thankfully had stashed in the console and sends a reply.

Joel: Literally just jacked off in the middle of a parking lot because of you. Joel: You make me crazy. Joel: 😰🍆✊💦😵‍💫🛻

You: feelings mutual, baby 🥰 You: just came really hard thinking about you

He hopes to god that what you’re saying is true and that you feel as strongly for him as he does for you because he doesn’t know if he could take it if the opposite were true. He saves the video to his phone for later, thinking of an opportunity to watch it again with the panties you’d tucked into his bag, all crammed against his nostrils and mouth. He feels like a dirty old man, and it makes him laugh to himself knowing how much you’d love that.

Joel made it back in record time and without having to even push the speed limit that much. It did little to quell his antsy mood, though, still eager to get back to you. Even Sarah had taken note of his distractedness and at one point even made the comment “who are you smiling at?” when she’d caught him grinning at his phone like an idiot over a dinner selfie with a cheesy little pun you’d sent him. He’d done a poor job of shrugging off her needling, and thankfully she dropped it after a little while. It didn’t stop her from making another comment about getting back home to “take care of things” and looking triumphant when he’d confirmed her suspicions by doing a piss poor job of hiding how flustered it made him.

He throws the truck into park and slings his bag over his shoulder, bounding up the front steps and wiggling the key into the lock as fast as he can without scratching the plate. You hadn’t replied to his text from an hour ago about how he’d be home soon, and it made him all the more anxious to see you. The house is quiet and dark even though it’s not far past five o’clock. He calls out, but there’s no response. He checks the living room, the home office, the guest bedroom. He finally finds you in his bedroom.

You’re curled into a little ball with his bedding twisting around your limbs. Your breaths are small and even, and you look so serene it makes his chest hurt. You look perfect here in his space. It could be your space, too. Maybe. One day. He doesn’t bother analyzing and correcting the clamorous, insistent draw to keep you closer to him and more often. He wonders if you’d ever move in with him. It’s all tricky, of course, because of the age difference and because of the work relationship and for a million other reasons that are never enough to make him slow down. It’s too much too fast, but he can’t find it in himself to care.

He wants you close. He wants to take care of you and keep you safe and make you feel happy and loved. He wants to cook for you and spend lazy afternoons together watching movies. He wants you to pick a paint color for the downstairs bathroom. He wants you to choose decor items to put all around the house so you mark your claim here. He wants your clothes sitting in the washer so he has to move them over to the dryer before he can start a load of his own. He wants to pull down two coffee cups every morning instead of one. Hell, he’d even shop around for that nasty caramel flavor syrup you love so much that it makes him gag from the sweetness. He’d learn just how you like your caramel coffee and make it for you every morning.

He wants your shoes to pile up by the front door because you kick them off the second you get home. He wants to argue with you over what to set the thermostat at, only to give in to whatever you want it to be. He wants to have a Saturday morning routine where he teaches you to drive until you feel confident enough to take the test. He wants you to bug him about landscape ideas you have for the backyard. Bug him to the point that he’ll spend hours breaking his back over, all to find it was worth it in the end when you’re sat together on the deck out back on warm summer nights as you watch fireflies. 

He wants to take you to a botanical garden so he can learn your favorite flowers and get you bouquets of them frequently. He bets you’d be so good at the corn mazes they set up during the fall festivals around town, and you could ride the ferris wheel afterward. He wants you to rope him into some random community center adult class about pottery or watercolor and tell him what a nice job he’s done even though yours will look way better. He wants to make a fuss about getting a real tree for Christmas because you like the smell. You probably won’t remember to water it, but he’ll remember to water it. Because you want it and because you like it, so he’ll remember. Because he’d do anything to make you happy and to make you his.

You stir at the recognition of someone else being in the room. He snuggles into the bed beside you immediately and warms at how even through a sleep drenched brain you place who he is. You sling two sluggish arms around him to draw him snug against you. You say his name in a little surprised, breathy whine that makes him chuckle and grin.

“Hi, sweet girl,” he murmurs quietly into your ear. “You takin’ a little nap?”

“Got my period and got super tired,” you mumble back. “Aw, Pluck,” he coos. He turns you to your side and presses a warm palm against your lower abdomen, working it in gentle, firm circles. You sigh at the welcomed ease to your achy middle. He would never wish for you to feel unwell, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t looking forward to being able to take care of you the rest of the night. The best part of it was that you were finally letting him take care of you. Trusting him with it. And he’ll be damned if he wasn’t going to rise to the occasion.

“I think Rachel is working today. She usually works Fridays,” Kenzie explains as she holds the door to the Electric Pony Sex and Erotica Shoppe. 

“You seem pretty well acquainted,” you snort.

“Ugh, this place saved my life,” she declares with such sincerity you know she really believes it. “Dry spell for months. Would’ve gone insane - like, clinically - without their help and recs.”

“Fair enough,” you concede. 

The dull pink neon glow gives the blacked out entrance lobby a friendlier feel. There’s a perky looking woman with a sparkly nose ring flicking through a Muscle Bear Monthly magazine at a plastic window that reminds you of a bank teller.  Her eyes lift to you and Kenzie before lighting up in recognition.

“Kenz! Hey, girly pops!” She motions you both over and waves off Kenzie’s ID. “You’re fine. Need to see your friend’s, though.”

You dig your state ID card out of your backpack and slide it under the opening toward her. She scoots it back to you and buzzes you into the main area. Your eyes dart every which way as you take in a whole slew of products. You weren’t a prude by any means, but being surrounded by so many toys and accessories and outfits and performance enhancers felt a little bit intimidating. It was a lot different than looking at a few things online and inevitably closing out of tabs when you were reminded of the fact that you had little to no privacy in your own home and therefore could never justify getting anything for yourself.

“So, what’re you lookin’ for? Anything in particular or just browsing?” Rachel asks, mostly to Kenzie.

“I’m actually still good from my last haul, but my friend needs a few things.”

You jump in before she can blow your spot up completely about why you’d made this trip. “Yeah, I just, um, sort of wanted to step my game up a little, I think.”

“Oh, perfect. We get that a lot, so we can definit–”

Kenzie cuts Rachel short and adds, “Her boyfriend is older and more experienced and has a nice dick, so she wants to match his energy a little bit. Right now she basically just needs help with riding dick and giving blowjobs.”

“Kenzie!” you hiss.

“What?! You do! You said you still can’t really fit him that far into your mouth!”

“Okay, I think we can figure something out,” Rachel laughs in an easy sort of way that makes you feel a touch less embarrassed after Kenzie’s disclosure.

You grumble under your breath and follow Rachel’s lead to a large wall of toys. Kenzie has the sense to look a little chastised and trails behind. You’re staring down row after row of dildos and plugs, and you try to ignore your nerves and remind yourself of why you came here. You’d only just begun your physical relationship with Joel, but this being your first of that kind with a male partner had you noticeably lacking apprise of anything beyond basic technique. Neither of you were dissatisfied with anything, but you couldn’t shake the blow to your self-confidence that came with having such a competent partner.

“So, let’s just start with the basics, okay?” Rachel begins. “Have y’all been together for a while or is this something newer?”

“Newer. Like, brand new, sort of. In a lot of ways.”

“Okay, that’s fine. Just asking to see if this is a learning a new partner situation or trying out new stuff to spice things up type situation,” she explains. “Okay, so. Kenz mentioned some oral stuff and positioning techniques. Is that where you’re looking to get into or were you thinking a different direction?”

“Um, no. I guess… Yeah, just…” you stumble.

“Listen, we’re super chill here and just wanna make sure everybody leaves and has a good time when they get back home, okay? So no pressure and definitely don’t feel embarrassed.”

You weren’t sure how to explain that you weren’t really embarrassed, per se. You’d just never had this sort of chatty girlfriends dynamic where you talk about your sex life and your love life and all the nitty gritty in between. You’d always been the listener, and now being the talker was different.

“No, I’m good. I just, you know, I’m new with guys for a partner. So it’s just kind of, like, I’m figuring it out as I go along, and I’m not always sure what to even ask,” you admit.

“Well, luckily for you, guys for the most part are pretty simple in my experience,” she says encouragingly with an amused grin. “The main thing is just being into it, you know? Whatever it is that you’re doing, if you seem like you’re having a good time and he’s turning you on and ‘ooohhh oh my god’ you love his cock and all that, nine times out of ten they’ll be happy.”

“Well I’m definitely into it, so that’s not a problem. Like, very into it. He’s, um, he’s really good in bed.”

“You said he’s older and probably got more experience, right?”

“Yeah, definitely. He’s not complaining or anything. I just– this is just me wanting to…”

“Show him you’ve got a top tier pussy that he’ll want to lock down?” she offers.

“Yeah, something like that,” you exhale in a laugh.

“Okay, got it. I think first thing is we gotta see what we’re working with. Certain things just don’t work as well with, like, if a dick has a strong curve to it or if it’s on the bigger side. So take a look at the wall over here and try to find something similar to his size and shape.”

Kenzie instantly perks up at this and is practically glued to your side as you peruse the offerings. After a few minutes you find one that is pretty close to Joel except for slightly more of a curve. Kenzie’s mouth is theatrically agape as you pull it off the shelf and hand it to Rachel, who raises her eyebrows and purses her lips.

“Well damn. Good for you, honey.”

The following half hour is crammed with more information about how to be on top, what sort of lingerie would be cute but still comfortable, throat training, and everything in between. Like two best friends helping you prep for the biggest exam of your life, Kenzie and Rachel work in tandem to personalize and curate your education.

It was about the point where you were supposed to be mimicking a hip motion while straddled atop Kenzie for practice that you started to feel more overwhelmed than ever. After promising you were going to practice reverse cowgirl on a pillow in the mirror, they let you take a break from the symposium. 

“Okay, so the outfit pieces and throat training sequence kit bring you to…” Rachel trails off as she punches a few keys on the register. “$212.53.”

You choke back the panic of spending money on yourself and pull out some bills from your secret stash. It would be worth it in the end. You knew that. At a price like that, it had to be, right? With your new collection of things you’d have to figure out where to hide, you and Kenzie bid Rachel an excited goodbye and head out.

Joel was most definitely trying to get you to tell him where you went shopping and what you bought. His fabricated reason for closing up an hour early so he could “check something at his house before dropping you off” didn’t make any sense. He was clearly chomping at the bit for you to tell him. It’s like he somehow knew the contents within were for him. Never one to indulge – especially on yourself – your purchase had him hovering around like a moth to a flame trying to catch a glimpse.  

“You never said where y’all went,” he mentions casually as he pointlessly arranges and rearranges the dishes in his kitchen cupboard.

“Oh, nowhere, really. Just a few places Kenzie wanted to browse,” you supply with feigned disinterest that Joel doesn’t buy for a second.

“Mhhmm. Awfully bright pink bag with a flirty lookin’ pony on it. Can’t imagine what sorta store that was,” he hums with a little amused grin. “Find anything for yourself?”

“A few things, maybe,” you admit with a coy smile.

“And am I ever gonna get to see those few things?”

“Maybe if you’re really, really nice,” you tease.

“Right,” he snorts. “I’ll be on my best behavior.”

You giggle and aimlessly flip pieces of mail on the counter. “So, um, speaking of Kenzie, I never got to thank you for helping me with that. Giving me advice and the push I needed to meet up with her so we could try to work things out.”

“No big deal. Just wanna help you.” He shrugs it off, but you sense there’s more he wants to say. Suddenly turning serious again, he says, “I’m here for that kinda stuff, you know? If you need me. ‘Cause I need you to understand that. Whatever you wanna talk about or just have somebody listen to you think out loud. Whatever it is. I’m here for you.”

“I know. I’m not really the best at sharing stuff,” you admit. “It’s just… hard.”

He nods and leaves his pretend task of straightening dishes to settle next to you and circle your hand in his own. “I get that. Sometimes, though, it’s– you gotta– you don’t hafta drown in it, you know? If there’s somebody offerin’ a hand to pull you out….”

You aren’t so sure you’re still talking about sharing milder problems like rocky friendships. You play dumb and keep the conversation away from his unspoken insinuation.

“I know. I just like to try to handle my own problems, you know?” you offer up weakly. “I feel like if you can’t solve your own problems then you’re just putting the strain on everybody around you. And besides, me and Kenzie ended up having a good conversation that day. Neither of us even cried in the middle of the coffee place, so that’s a win,” you chuckle nervously.

“So, I mean– I never really got all the info on that, I don’t think. What was the main issue that was causin’ a problem?”

His gaze is steady. He knows this is the most direct he’s ever been in asking about your private life. He knows whether or not you choose to answer might just determine if your attempts to be more open with him are going to hold up or if you’re going to shrink back into yourself and push him away.

Tell him. 

Tell him tell him tell him.

Tell him!

“I.. don’t … I’m worried it might upset you,” you answer truthfully. You knew he’d be unsettled by Logan’s inappropriate advances at that New Year’s Eve event. Joel looks surprised at the disclosure, like he hadn’t ever considered it would be something that would involve him somehow.

“I’m not gonna be upset with you,” he assures you.

If only you could explain that’s only the half of it. Even him just being “upset at the situation” would probably be enough to spark all your nerves alight and reduce you to a neurotic, frazzled mess. But he was always so calm and collected. He never seemed ruffled no matter what you threw at him. Maybe you could tell him what really happened. Maybe this could be the soft launch into finally revealing the truth about your dad.

So, you give him a rough setup about Kenzie’s college degree almost being completed, how she landed this internship that could mean really great things once she graduates, and how New Year’s Eve was supposed to be her big foray into taking on a client on her own with the company. You don’t sugarcoat the first impressions of Logan and Charlie, and a knowing look catches in his eye. He understands where this story is headed.

Your heart hammers as you recall the unreciprocated flirtation on the dancefloor that was followed by Logan stalking you to the bathroom and putting his hands on you. Joel’s jaw muscles flicker as his indignation builds, and you have to remind yourself repeatedly that reaction is not directed towards nor intended for you.

You finally manage to finish recounting the terrible night, but you don’t feel any weight lifted now that the truth is out there. Joel looks confused and angered. You thought he might’ve felt happy to know the truth finally. If anything, he seems more agitated than ever.

“Have you seen him since? Does she still talk to them? Work with them?”

“No, she dropped the account. She doesn’t see them, and I haven’t seen either of them since.”

He sits in silence for a moment, turning over all the new information in his mind and reframing his past knowledge. Then–

“So.. when you… that night when we.. was that just….”

“No, no,” you object. “It wasn’t just some reaction to all that. I-I really had feelings for you already. You really made me feel… you made me feel better. Safer. I felt safe with you.”

“Not safe enough to tell me what had happened,” he points out a bit glumly.

“Joel, don’t be like that,” you beg.

“No, I just wish I’d been more– I dunno, I wish you could’ve seen me as somebody to trust with that. I wish I’d been that for you when you needed it, and I wasn’t. I let you down.”

“It was just a lot that happened really fast, Joel. I hadn’t even– I’d barely had time to process any of it. It wasn’t because you aren’t trustworthy. I’m telling you now, right?”

“Yeah, you’re tellin’ me about this…..” He trails off and shakes his head before leveling you with a hard stare. “But all it makes me think is what else you’ve got under wraps because I haven’t done enough to make you feel like you can trust me.”

The hairs on your neck feel prickly at the sudden change in tone. He’s dancing right on the edge of what you’d been avoiding the most the entire time you’ve known him. Your mouth opens and closes a few times without result other than your tongue feeling like sandpaper.

“Like how come you can’t tell me why you really went to the office on Christmas Day,” he says flatly.

You swallow hard and shake your head, your chest heating to a million degrees.

“Or why your dad is so weird with all these rules and say so over your bank account.”

“He’s always been like that,” you argue. It’s not lost on Joel that you didn’t actually address anything with that statement.

“Yeah? He always been gettin’ into fistfights with Calum, too? That just how he’s always been?” he levels at you.

Your spine draws up and straightens your entire body at the unambiguous remark. “I’m not getting into all this right now, Joel.”

He huffs an unamused laugh and pushes himself from the counter, hands on hips as his head drops and shakes side to side in disbelief. He looks back at you with a look you’ve never seen from him before: disappointment. “You can’t even tell me what Calum’s deal is?” he lobs. “Just fuckin’ shows up and goes through your stuff without you knowin’, and next thing I know you’re loaded up in the car with him? Just off to god knows where? And I’m not allowed to ask or anything. I gotta just act like that’s normal and I’m fine with it.”

All nerves siphon directly into prickly anger at the mention of your brother’s role in all this. “That’s none of your fucking business,” you snip.

“Yeah? And what if I wanted it to be my business, huh? What then?”

“Then I’d say you needed to take a step back and get a grip.”

“Unbelievable,” he grumbles. He paces the floor a few times before approaching you again. “So, is that what our relationship is gonna be like? You just get to hide stuff from me and leave me worried about you? And I don’t get to ask any questions or have any say in it?”

“I’m not some fuckin’ project for you to work on and fix, Joel,” you snap. “And what you feel about the boundaries I have aren’t any of my business at the end of the day.”

“So that’s it? You just get to have all these rules and all these walls up, and I just gotta take it or leave it? Pick up the pieces only when you let me and not when you need me?”

“Need you? What exactly is it about me that makes you think I need saving so bad, Joel? Huh? What, because I’ve got a–a more difficult home life or whatever? A bad family dynamic? A mom that didn’t give two shits about us and walked right out without a second glance back?” you fume. “In case you weren’t aware, I’ve been handling whatever comes my way my entire life just fine. I don’t need you and your weird fucking savior complex making things into something they’re not.”

“Wow,” he scoffs. “Savior complex? S’that what you call bein’ worried sick over somebody you care about and wanting to help them? You ever think about that? That maybe people are just tryna be helpful?”

“Who says I need help? Who says I need anything or anybody? Who says I need you?” You regret it the moment you say it as you watch Joel’s face crumple for a split second before he straightens it out again.

“Yeah, you don’t need me or anybody else, huh? You just got it all figured out.”

The air is heavy as you draw in tighter breaths. Joel stomps out of the room before circling back into the kitchen with glossy eyes.

“Dammit, why do you gotta do this shit?” he huffs. “Why can’t you just let me be there for you? I want to. I want to be there for you.”

“I don’t need your or anyone else’s help, alright? I’ve done fine on my own my entire life, and I’m not interested in feeding men’s egos anymore.”

His lips purse tight like they’re catching words between his teeth before they can become cutting projectile that would only make this conversation more hurtful than it has already devolved to. A muscle near his earlobe twitches, and then his face smooths out like a long wave washing along the shore, smoothing out the gritted sand to a flattened pane once more.

“If that’s how you feel, I know better than trying to change your mind,” he rebuts calmly and coolly. 

Despite the neutral mask he wears, the halo of a wounded heart wraps around every syllable, and your heart plummets. You did that. You made him sound that way. You made him feel that way. It’s all happened so fast that you can’t quite figure out how to undo it, how to go back those few precious seconds and stop yourself from lashing out. 

“I’m going home,” you whisper.

You snatch up your things and hurry out the door, ignoring the call of Joel’s voice begging you to let him drive you so you get there safely. That insidious voice inside your head bitterly reminds you there's no point in getting home safely when your home isn’t safe.

tagging

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@indiegirlunited @lyuir @gay4magnetobutfanfiction @ficrecreblo @gossipgirl-03

[shadowskulls-blog]

Carmilla Carmine x (gn or fem, doesnt matter) reader smut. Reader is vaggie's height. The two are already dating and one day, reader is being a bit of a brat, so carmilla pins them to the wall with her legs because why bend down when she can just do the splits against a wall and hold someone in place like that. However, it just makes readers brattiness go up and they kiss her thigh, long story short they eat her out while she's doing the splits standing uptight-

Only if you wanna write this, of course. But I think it's a funny and silly idea

Ohhhhhh. Yes... but yeah. It's gonna be a GN, so, yeah. I haven't written a lot of brat stuff, but I hope this is a good first try. I usually do smug, but hey, I will do the best I can. But my guess is they're like Velvett

*smut*

Carmilla Carmine x GN reader

"Carmilla, come on! Can you just tell me the reason why you wanted to keep this stuff secret!?" You ask loudly as you couldn't understand why keeping something as angels can be killed a secret! We could finally win against those angels and she wants to keep it in the dark!?

Carmilla sighed as she pinched her nose. You walked behind her until you both entered your shared room. With you closing the door behind you.

"I will not let this news get out and possibly put everyone into war." Carmilla said as she turned around, looking down at you. Seeing as you were still pissed.

"Isn't that what you sell guns for? I get it ain't war, war, but. It's fights and everything. You have guns that can kill demon royalty for Satan's sake! That's war, ain't it?!" You shouted at Carmilla, walking up as you kicked a stoll out from the vanity, then kicked it in front of you. walking on top of it to be at a sum what eye level with her.

"While angels, the monsters that could have killed you or our daughters! You didn't want the fact that their own weapons could kill them. For fucks sake. I would have told people!" You said as Carmilla glared down at you for a moment but walked away as you followed her until she was facing the wall with a portrait of her and her daughters. She noticed how you said "our daughters"

"Then what would happen? We all go into war. A massive war, if that happens, do you have any idea how many we could lose? We could lose over lords. People we love. I could lose my daughter's and you along with it! We both know how fights go, I will not have war come down and kill every last one of us!" Carmilla explained as she turned around and looked down at you. She will not have this be brought down and have people killed, and during extermination. anyone could be killed!

She will lot let her friends, daughters, or you die because of something she did that brought war up. She holds everyone she loves dear to her. If she lost you or her daughters, it would mean the end of the world for her

"But with the weapons that can kill them, we have a chance! By my logic, it seems like you want people to die -" you shouted back, but Carmilla had finally had enough of you, kicking you against the wall and slamming her leg up above you. You groaned a bit as you looked up at Carmilla, the shadows making her red eyes glow as she stared down at you

"You know that isn't true. You have known me for years, and you know I'm not that type of person. If anyone should know that it's you! And I will not let war be brought down on us. If you're too dense to understand that..." Carmilla said as you breathed heavy, you moved your left hand up to gently crease her thigh. Feeling the angelic steel along with her clothing

Carmilla stopped talking as she looked down at you, wondering what you were doing. You laughed a bit as you looked back up at her, leaning your head a bit to the side

"I get it. But...didn't think I fired you up enough to pin me with your legs..." you said with a smirk as you leaned your head against her inner thigh, giving it a kiss as you smiled against her clothing.

Carmilla's eyes widened slightly as she couldn't understand this sudden change. One minute ago, you two were fighting now. You're getting turned on by being pinned to the wall by her leg...

"If anything, I can tell this is bringing stress on you," you said as your hand slid up going from the her thigh to her pussy. Your sharp nails set on her clothing, ready to tare it off as you looked up at her with a smirk

"What are you doing?" Carmilla asked as she looked down at you in confusion with her blushing a bit. Your fingers rubbed against her clothed pussy as you continued to smirk up at her

"I'm just saying. You've been stressed out, and...your teasing me by putting your legs in my face." You said as you dug your nails into her clothing, taring away the clothes that covered her pussy.

Carmilla groaned as she felt the warm air hit her now unclothed pussy, as you dropped the fabric to the ground. You chuckled a bit as you saw she was a bit wet.

"See. You like this as much as me..." you chuckled as your fingers went to go crease her wet flaps gently, your fingers getting wet by the touch as you heard Carmilla moan by your touch. Her leg tensed up against your body as she relaxed again.

You smirked wider as you shoved your ring and middle finger into Carmilla, her moans getting louder as her hand went on the wall for support. her fingertips gripped onto the wall. You noticed that. You were always amazed at how she could even stand in those shoes in the first place but...

"I'm gonna make sure you lose your balance in those shoes," you said as you connected your mouth to Carmilla's pussy, your fingers still inside of her as you moved your fingers inside of her. Your tongue hitting against her clit slowly

Moans filled the room as Carmilla's free hand dug into the leg that was supporting her up, her moans and groans getting louder as she felt your tongue run across her clit as your fingers rubbed inside of her.

"I don't get... how you could go from a brat...to this, " Carmilla said, stopping so she didn't moan out loud. You smiled as you opened your mouth, licking your lips as you looked up at her. Seeing her glowing red eyes and flushed face as sweat started to form around her face.

"Like I said. Tease me with your legs, I'll take it.." you said with a smirk as you went back to eating out Carmilla, your tongue hitting her clit faster as you twisted your fingers around, spreading them every two seconds as Carmilla's moaned became louder a more rough. Making her leg push more against you

You moaned into her as your fingers began pumping in and out of her. Your tongue pushing into her wet folds as you sucked and kissed, tasting her bit of her as your fingers kept pumping in and out, pushing further up each time.

Until you pumped in again, hearing Carmilla moan out louder and her back arch as her nails clawed into the wall.

"Damnit!... right there!" Carmilla moaned out as her hands kept clawing at the wall, her back arching as you kept going. Your fingers worked around her spot as you moaned into her. Your fingers then pushed down into her as that was enough to make her reach her limit

Carmilla then used her free hand to put on your back, making sure you wouldn't pull away. her fingers clawing into your back as she yelled out in pleasure, her climax hitting her as she came around your fingers with your tongue being coated in her cum.

Carmilla breathed out in moans as she pushed her right hand into the wall making sure not to lose her balance as she opened her eyes to look down at you. Seeing you pull away as you breathed heavy with a groan escaping your lips as your back muscles tensed, feeling Carmilla's claws in your back

Carmilla pulled her hand away gently as your blood was on her fingers. You gasped as you felt her claws leave. You licked your lips as you chuckled a bit as Carmilla tried to stand without shaking.

"I got you tall, Mama." You said as you put your hands on her hips, giving her support as you walked her to the bed. Setting her down as she breathed heavy. Taking a minute to catch her breath as she looked at you with an annoyed glare.

"Sometimes you annoy me," Carmilla said with a groan as she looked down at you. You only smiled as you chuckled a bit

"But you love me~" you said as you smiled, walking up to Carmilla and smiling. Carmilla sighed but smiled as. It was true.

**

Well, since it's valentines Day. Happy valentines Day special.

[aquaquadrant]

from eden, part IX (act I)

Word count: 11,504 Warnings: Blood/injury, violence, death, animal death, temporary dismemberment, dissociation, self-deprecating thoughts (not really, Jimmy’s just a listener and doesn’t know it), strong language, fictional racism/xenophobia, panic attacks Summary: The Double Lifers have successfully thwarted the invasion by Hels Tek, but not unscathed. Now that Tango’s been outed as Bravo’s doppelgänger, the remaining threads are starting to unravel, and Jimmy suddenly finds himself fighting to save Tango from his own inner demons. Can their love survive the fallout?

A/N: This took a ridiculously long time to write and got way longer than I’d originally intended so uhhh happy belated holidays? There’s a lot in this one that I’m excited to show y’all so I really hope u enjoy it, pls reblog/comment if u do, it means a lot.

Also this chapter has been split into two parts bc Tumblr is a hoe with a paragraph limit, link to the second half at the end. And as always, this is part of a series, so the previous chapters can be found on my au directory here. - Aqua

~*~

from eden, part IX (act I) - no tired sighs, no rolling eyes, no irony

~*~

Somewhere in Double Life, a player kneels in a bloody wheat field.

Jimmy’s senses are flooded with iron. He’s regenerated enough health that his nose isn’t actively bleeding anymore, but he’s sure it’s still all over his face. As he finally pulls away from Tango, he realizes he’s smeared plenty of it on Tango’s shoulder. The blood on Tango’s chin and claws hasn’t fully dried yet, either. And through his slightly parted mouth, Jimmy can see it’s stained his teeth.

(Did you see what he did back there?)

(He was like an animal.)

(How long do you think he’s been keeping that in?)

Jimmy pushes the thoughts away. Focus on the here and now.

To be fair, though, the ‘here and now’ is a horrible place. The ranch is burning behind them. His eyes are burning from the tears and the smoke in the air. His throat feels tight and scratchy. He’s physically and emotionally exhausted, the weight of it dragging him down, sinking into the trampled soil beneath him. The singed edges of his wings are still stinging, but it’s an easily forgotten pain among everything else.

Jimmy hates crying. Especially in public. Really, nothing makes him feel more useless and pathetic than crying. But he has to admit, he’s at least a little calmer and more clear-headed. Now that he’s cried himself out, his awareness is gradually returning to the conversation going on around him.

“What in’a world was that about?!” Bdubs cries out, sounding absolutely flabbergasted.

“Yeah, who were those guys, anyway?” Etho asks, knitting his brows together. “How’d they get here?”

Joel makes a distressed noise. “They shouldn’t be able to open a portal here, this is a private world!”

“I know, I know, okay,” Grian gripes, “I’m workin’ on it. Hang on-”

“And what was all that nonsense about doggelpangers?” Scar pauses. “Uh, dop- doppabang-”

“Doppelgängers?” Cleo calls over wryly.

Scar hangs his head. “Dang it. Yes, that.”

“I dunno, but what if they come back?” Joel asks nervously. “What should we do?”

Isn’t that the question?

Jimmy takes quick stock of his surroundings. Grian is standing a little way’s off from Jimmy’s huddle, head bent down as he furiously scrolls through his communicator, the screen reflecting in his tinted glasses. Scar is hovering next to Grian, peering keenly over his shoulder, his bow held limply at his side. Both of them look a little roughed up from the battle, but alright for the time being.

Etho, still crouched at the spot where Bravo died, is searching through the dropped items. Joel is pacing in front of the broken portal frame and casting anxious glances at it, one hand gripping his sword while the other rakes through his hair, antennae twitching with agitation. There are a few scrapes and gashes between them- mostly superficial and likely to heal on their own.

Pearl’s wolf pack has been considerably thinned out- something Jimmy notes with a pang of guilt- but there’s still plenty of them milling about the place. With blood-matted fur and tucked tails, it’s clear they took a beating. Pearl herself must’ve gone, from the way they sniff and look around aimlessly, giving plaintive yips and whines. Scott is conspicuously absent as well, another hint as to the bonded pair’s fate. Jimmy’s sure they’ll be along soon.

Bigb and Ren are also nowhere to be seen- likely more casualties of the battle. Ren makes for a rather large target when in wolf mode; he probably drew a lot of enemy fire. And of course, Bigb would’ve gone with him. Box is quite a way from the ranch, Jimmy recalls, so it’ll take them a few minutes to get back.

Martyn is busy mining up the rest of the portal frame, seeming none the worse for wear. Cleo sits a couple yards away, one leg stretched out in front of her. The other one has been chopped clean off at the knee, and is clenched in their hand- but wait, it does that sometimes, Jimmy reminds himself before he can panic. The detached limb isn’t even bleeding, and she’s already pulling some string from her inventory to stitch it back on, seeming more inconvenienced than anything else.

Bdubs, across the field, looks no more beat-up than he always does. He’s fussing over his horse, snatching up stray bits of wheat to heal as it struggles to get its legs under it. Impulse’s horse, devoid of rider, has wandered off towards the barn- perhaps hearing the other horses inside. Impulse himself is crouched beside Jimmy and Tango, his golden eyes intently studying the collar that’s been locked around Tango’s neck.

Tango is still completely silent. He doesn’t move or give any indication that he’s at all mentally present, just kneeling idly in the dirt, expression blank, eyes distant. Nothing but static through their soul bond. He doesn’t seem to be seriously injured- most of the blood stains aren’t his. That realization isn’t as relieving as Jimmy wants it to be.

Grian clears his throat. “Right. First thing’s first, are we all still here?” he asks, scanning his communicator. “No one went through the portal?”

“Nah, all good,” Martyn calls over his shoulder as the final obsidian block pops onto the ground.

Etho has his communicator pulled up too. “Yeah, uh, just looks like Scott and Pearl got killed,” he reports. “Ren and Bigb, too. I’ll shoot ‘em a message, see if they’re alright.”

“Right, okay.” Grian chews his lip, wings ruffling. “And all the other fellas are gone?”

Etho nods. “Yep.”

“Okay-”

“G,” Scar cuts in, tugging on Grian’s sleeve, “you gotta respawn before that injury sets in.”

Grian shrugs him off. Only now does Jimmy realize he’s holding one of his wings closer to his body than the others, the one that took an arrow during the fight. “Gimme a second-”

”Um, guys?” Martyn says suddenly, pointing at the ranch. “Fire tick is on, yeah?”

Grian looks up at that, sucking in a breath through his teeth. “Hoo boy. Yeah, we need’ta get a ditch around the ranch, okay, or else the whole forest’ll go.” He casts a sidelong look at Jimmy, expression apologetic. “Tim, do you mind…?”

Jimmy shakes his head. “No,” he says hoarsely, “no, no, by all means. Whatever you need to… oh gosh, it’s all gonna go. It’s gone, isn’t it? It’s-” His voice breaks, and he quickly looks away, fresh tears welling in his eyes.

It wasn’t much, the ranch.

Only two floors- three counting the basement- and a bit tight on space. It wasn’t the most impressive build, not by a long shot. Certainly not when compared to the other builds on this world. It was something that would’ve taken two actually competent builders nothing more than a dedicated afternoon to put together. Plainly decorated, and comprised mostly of wood and stone variants. Nothing that’s particularly hard to obtain. And in all honesty, it was just a starter base; they were going to outgrow it sooner or later, anyways.

But it was theirs. 

It was the scorch marks in the wood from Tango’s blaze rods, in the moments where his emotions got away from him. It was the rocking chair where Jimmy liked to do his embroidery, when he needed to unwind after a busy day. It was the auto-sorting storage room that Tango spent weeks fine-tuning. It was the small but cozy living room that Jimmy decorated with potted flowers. It was the kitchen that always smelled faintly of charcoal, and the wool rug in the foyer that came from their own sheep, and the bedroom that they shared with an east-facing window to let them watch the sunrise together, on the rare days when Tango was awake early enough to see it.

The ranch is burning, and there’s nothing Jimmy can do about it.

(Great. Gonna start crying again, are you?)

(What exactly is that going to accomplish?)

(Man up! Don’t be so pathetic.)

A gentle hand on Jimmy’s shoulder makes him look up. Martyn is there, sympathy glimmering in his eye. “We’ll save what we can,” he promises.

Jimmy manages a grateful smile, blinking away his tears. “Thanks.”

Martyn nods before straightening back up. “Etho, Joel, you got water buckets on ya?”

“Oh, yeah.” Etho puts his communicator away as he and Joel start toward the ranch, buckets in hand. “Yeah, here, let’s make an infinite source..”

“Right. I’ll get the ditch started, then,” Cleo chimes in, rising to their feet now that both legs are once again intact.

Grian makes an appreciative noise, still tapping away at his communicator. “Okay, so that’s done-”

“Grian,” Scar says again, more insistently. “You gotta-”

“Hang on!” Grian huffs. He looks up to meet Jimmy’s gaze. “Okay, so uh, I can’t ban them… but what I’m gonna do is lock the world down,” he explains, taking a few steps over. “No one goes in or out… not even through a backdoor portal. This is just a temporary solution, but it should do the trick for now.”

Relief washes over Jimmy. “Thank you,” he murmurs.

(Good thing Grian is here to clean up your mess, huh?)

“Hey, guys?” Impulse speaks up, making Jimmy startle. “Um, Tango… he’s not lookin’ so good.”

That’s putting it kindly. Jimmy’s heart tightens. “Right. We should prob’ly get him inside, um…” He trails off as he instinctively looks at the ranch, which is on fire.

Right.

Impulse gives him a comforting look. “C’mon, you guys can crash at our place.” He rises to his feet, calling out, “Bdubs, would you bring the horses over?”

“Yeah, gimme a sec,” Bdubs shouts back. He’s finally gotten his horse standing again, glancing around for Impulse’s. “C’mere, stupid- hey! No, don’t wander off…”

“You finished, Grian?” Scar asks impatiently, notching an arrow.

“Okay, okay, hang on…” Grian presses a couple more buttons before putting his communicator away. “There, it’s done. Now, I’m gonna do some diggin’ and see what I can find out about this. But, um…” His gaze sweeps over Tango, expression pinched. “As soon as Tango is up for it… we all need to have a serious chat, okay?”

The wording immediately puts Jimmy off. He can feel his feathers bristling, his wings flaring out almost unconsciously to block Tango from view. “Wh- hey, this wasn’t his fault!” he protests.

Grian holds his hands up. “Ey, I know, I know,” he says lightly. His lower wings sweep out and flatten into a sort of fan as he crouches; an appeasing gesture. “None of us think that, okay? But clearly those guys came here for him, so we need’ta figure out why and how if we’re gonna figure out how to stop it from happenin’ again. Alright?”

Jimmy takes a breath, letting his feathers smooth over again. “Right. You’re right, sorry,” he mumbles.

(Wow, so defensive.)

(Like you could protect him, anyways.)

(Have you no faith in your own friends?)

Grian glances at Impulse. “You got them, Impulse?”

“Yeah, don’t worry,” Impulse assures him.

Scar draws back his bow. “Any day now, Grian…”

“Okay.” Grian turns around with an exasperated sigh. “Alright, Scar-”

He disappears in a puff of respawn smoke. Scar immediately follows him, his bow clattering to the ground amidst the shower of other items.

Impulse exhales in what might’ve been a laugh, if he didn’t sound so tired. He turns to Jimmy. “Can you stand?” he asks, holding out his hand.

(Look, they all think you’re weak, too!)

Jimmy feels himself flush. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he says, his tone short. Ignoring Impulse’s hand, he struggles to his feet unaided, wings flapping about to help keep his balance.

And then he feels incredibly silly about it. These are his friends, for goodness sakes.

“Thanks,” Jimmy adds, to soften it. “But Tango, I dunno if he… I mean, normally I’d carry him, but right now, I think- I think I’d drop him,” he confesses. Already, the effort of just standing on his own is starting to fatigue him.

Impulse just nods, a knowing look in his eye. “Yeah, no problem.” Slowly, he crouches down next to Tango again. “Hey, Tango, buddy?” he calls softly. “Can you hear me? It’s Impulse. I’m gonna pick you up now, if that’s okay?”

Tango doesn’t respond. Carefully, Impulse gathers Tango into his arms in a cradle hold- which Tango doesn’t react to besides curling in on himself a little more. His breathing quickens for a few seconds before he settles down again.

“Sorry,” Impulse whispers.

Jimmy swallows. He’s never known Tango to be so quiet, so still. It’s incredibly disturbing to see. And gosh, he knows Tango’s pale, but right now he looks about as white as quartz.

The events of this afternoon were a lot for anyone to handle. Jimmy’s still only working with bits and pieces, of course. He knows that Tango originally came from a terrible world called Hels, escaped from that creepy scientist guy Dr. Atlas, and has been hiding out on Hermitcraft ever since. So it’s not surprising that Tango got a nasty shock when his past suddenly came knocking at his door- literally, in Bravo’s case.

But Jimmy also knows that Tango is quite tough. He’s not the type to shut down in the face of hardship- in fact, he’ll often go the opposite direction, with manic bursts of frantic energy. So for a reaction this extreme… either that collar they put on him is having a more drastic effect than Jimmy realized, or there’s something more to the story he isn’t aware of.

Before the collar dampened their soul bond, the fear Jimmy felt from Tango had been damn near overwhelming. What could those Hels players have done to him to elicit such a strong reaction? Jimmy dreads to think of it.

The sound of hoofbeats pulls Jimmy out of his musings.

“Here I am!” Bdubs announces loudly, leading a horse by each hand. “Got the hawsies all ready t’go- oh, hey, waugh- what happened to him?” he gasps, his horrified gaze falling on Tango, wide eyes going even wider. “Wha’ th- is he okay?!”

Impulse gives him a tired smile. “Bdubs, I know we’re outside right now, but indoor voice, please? I’ll explain later.”

“Oh, okay!” Bdubs immediately drops into a stage whisper, ducking his head sheepishly. “Right, right, right, right, right, sorry.” He eyes Tango nervously for another moment. “Jeeze, they really… okay, okay, okay, right. Let’s go.”

With an appreciative look, Impulse moves beside one of the horses. Shifting his hold on Tango, he hikes one foot up into the stirrup and swings onto the horse’s back, forked tail lashing through the air.

Bdubs follows suit, climbing onto his own horse before glancing down at Jimmy. “Uh- you wanna ride wi’ me, Jimmy?” he asks, still whispering.

“That’d be great, thanks,” Jimmy says gratefully. Just the thought of walking or flying to their base makes him feel like all his bones have turned to slime.

His own attempt to get on the horse doesn’t go anywhere near as smoothly. With someone else already in the saddle, it’s a clumsy maneuver, his flailing wings more of a hindrance than anything. In the end, Bdubs grabs the back of Jimmy’s shirt and helps haul him up. That only makes Jimmy feel worse. Bdubs is so much smaller than him, how did he manage that?

“Okay…” Bdubs glances over his shoulder as Jimmy gets settled. “You alright back there?”

“Yep, yep, I’m good,” Jimmy says quickly. He clears his throat. “Can we- can we get goin’?” He’s anxious to leave this depressing scene behind and get Tango someplace calmer.

Bdubs nods. “Okay. Uh- hang on tight, and you’d better keep those wings folded or else you- you’ll be blown right off’a this thing!” He turns to Impulse. “We go now!”

“Alright, let’s go.” Impulse urges his horse forward, and Bdubs swiftly follows.

The horses gallop away from the ranch.

Jimmy does as he’s told, leaning forward to put his arms around Bdubs’s shoulders and tucking his wings tightly against his back. The jostling of the horse’s stride isn’t kind to his aching muscles and bones, but he’s not about to complain. Right now he feels completely out of sorts- like a stranger in his own skin.

As exhausted as his body is, his mind is absolutely racing. He can’t stop thinking about what Bravo said, that Tango was to blame for his being in Hels. And Tango hadn’t really denied it.

From what Jimmy can recall from today’s chaotic events, Tango used to be in Hels, and then a portal appeared. He went through it to Hermitcraft, and somehow, that got Bravo sent to Hels. That seems to be the conclusion they’ve come to. And Tango didn’t know about it at first, but he’s known about it for a couple years at this point, and said nothing.

(How selfish of him.)

But it wasn’t Tango’s fault! He didn’t intentionally send Bravo there, and he only kept his knowledge secret because he was afraid he’d get sent back himself if he revealed the truth. That’s… really upsetting. If Tango didn’t trust the Hermits enough to tell them, after spending nearly a decade getting to know them, it’s no wonder he didn’t tell Jimmy.

Has Tango spent this whole time feeling like a fugitive in his own home?

And what is Hels, really? What kind of world doesn’t allow portal travel in and out? The way they’d spoken about it, it almost seemed like a prison. But created by who? And why?

What exactly is a Hels player? What does a ‘doppelgänger’ entail, exactly? Because if Tango is supposed to be an evil version of Bravo, Jimmy is clearly missing something, ‘cause he doesn’t buy that for a second.

Do all players have a Hels counterpart? Does Jimmy? Oh, now there’s a disturbing thought. Is there another Jimmy running around in a prison world somewhere, locked away from the rest of the universe?

Now that he’s aware of the possibility, he isn’t sure this is something he can just forget about.

But he knows his questions will have to wait. Tango is hardly in the condition to be discussing any of this- getting him recovered from his shock is Jimmy’s first priority. He’s about to ask how far away they are when two figures appear in the distance.

It’s Scott and Pearl, on the way back from their respawns. Pearl is preoccupied, intensely scanning her communicator as she walks. But Scott spots them immediately, nudging Pearl with his elbow and lifting a hand to wave them over.

Impulse glances over his shoulder at Bdubs and Jimmy. “Guess we’d better go see what they want,” he says as he steers his horse towards the pair, Bdubs following suit.

Pearl looks up at their approach. Her respawn must’ve taken care of any injuries she sustained from the battle, because she seems like her usual red-eyed self. But there’s an unmistakable air of anxiety about her- one that Scott seems to share, based on his terse expression.

“Impulse!” Pearl shouts, as soon as she’s within proximity hearing range. “You seen Tilly ‘round?”

Impulse eases his horse to a stop. “Oh, uh- she’s the one with the dyed collar, right?” he asks, knitting his brows together. “Yeah, yeah I’m pretty sure she was back at the wheat field.” 

Pearl exhales heavily. “Oh, thank goodness. I- I lost so many dogs, I wasn’t sure…” She puts her communicator away, looking them up and down. “So uh, is everyone alright? Are… you guys alright?” she asks uncertainly, quirking a brow.

“We’re fine,” Impulse assures her easily. He jerks his head back in the direction they came from. “The others are dealing with the ranch right now, it’s uh… it’s a pretty big fire, I’m sure they’d appreciate some help.”

Pearl follows his gaze, eyes widening at the plume of smoke still visible above the trees. “Oh gosh, yeah, we’d better get goin’, then.”

“You alright, Timmy?” Scott speaks up suddenly. 

“Huh?” Jimmy startles at being addressed. “Oh, yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Mmm.” Scott doesn’t look convinced, his sharp eyes studying Jimmy’s face before flicking over to Tango. “Is Tango alright? Where’d tha’ thing on his neck come from?”

Jimmy’s heart jolts. “Um…” He isn’t sure how much he should be sharing with the others, while Tango’s incapacitated like this.

Luckily for him, Impulse cuts in. “Don’t worry,” he says gently, “we’ve got it covered. You guys go check in with the others, okay?”

It’s not a very subtle hint, but Scott allows it. “Alriiiight,” he drawls, holding his hands up. “Just remember you’ve got help if y’want it.”

“I appreciate it,” Impulse hums, but Jimmy catches the flash of relief in his eyes as he turns his horse away.

“Yeah, ‘preciate ya!” Bdubs echoes as they ride off.

They ride in silence for a few moments, until they’re out of proximity range, before Impulse clears his throat. “I just think Tango would appreciate some privacy right now,” he explains quietly. “You know everyone else- they’d all want to help and see if he’s okay, but a big group would probably freak him out.”

“Ah.” Jimmy nods. “Good thinkin’.”

(Gee, Impulse is really taking charge, huh?)

(You’re basically useless.)

(He would’ve been a way better soulmate for Tango than you.)

The thoughts make Jimmy flinch. He hasn’t often felt insecure in his relationship with Tango, despite having known him for a much shorter time than the Hermits. But right now, his general lack of knowledge and experience in how best to help Tango has become glaringly obvious.

Thankfully, before he can spend any more time feeling sorry for himself, Impulse and Bdubs’s house finally comes into view.

They’ve added another floor since Jimmy was last here. Floor-to-ceiling windows made of light gray panes curl around one side of the building, continuing with the sleek mid-century modern design. The front yard has received some landscaping as well; a wide, circular path that frames a small cluster of custom trees and shrubbery before leading to the dark oak door, framed by neat flower beds on either side.

As they come up on the house, Impulse and Bdubs turn their horses along a branch of path that veers off from the main circle, taking them towards a small structure built against the house’s side. Made only out of diorite wall posts and a flat, deepslate tiled roof, it creates sort of an overhang, divided into two compartments with warped stem fence posts. Its purpose quickly becomes obvious as Bdubs hops off his horse and pulls a lead from his inventory, leashing his horse to one of the posts.

Jimmy swings his leg around to slide off the horse, dropping onto the ground with an ungraceful grunt. In the stall beside them, Impulse has carefully dismounted from his own steed, still cradling Tango in his arms.

The longer Jimmy looks, the more his chest aches with longing. So he looks away.

“Alright, let’s get inside.” Impulse’s voice is soft. He turns back towards the front of the house. “This way.”

Bdubs finishes hitching the other horse to its post. “Right behind ya!” he chirps. He pats Jimmy on the arm as he passes- an encouraging, or perhaps comforting, gesture.

Either way, Jimmy appreciates it. He knows Bdubs tends to diffuse tense situations with humor, or by maintaining an energetic demeanor. It might be mistaken as inconsiderate, in some situations, but he seems to know where the line is. Genuinely, Jimmy thinks he’d feel worse if Bdubs was suddenly walking on eggshells around him.

Pity is a suitor that won’t take a hint, no matter how many times Jimmy turns it away.

He follows Impulse and Bdubs around the front of the house. Bdubs has already scrambled ahead to open the door for Impulse, whose arms are, of course, full of Tango. He ushers Jimmy in after them with a wide sweep of his arm.

They’ve moved their bedroom upstairs at some point, it seems. The main floor is now a dedicated living space with a modest kitchen in the back, overlooked by a loft from the second floor. An L-shaped lounge made of quartz stairs is built into the conversation pit occupying the center of the room, surrounding a small fireplace. The glass panes encasing it go all the way up to the ceiling, but the sight of fire makes Jimmy flinch anyways- which he immediately kicks himself for.

(Jeeze, man, get a grip! What if Tango saw that?)

If Impulse and Bdubs noticed, they don’t comment on it. Impulse silently leads the way up a spiral quartz slab staircase, which opens up into the loft. Bdubs’s interior work is clearly showing here, with cozy seating nestled beside a custom bookshelf-console unit. Straight ahead past the loft is a short hallway with a couple doors on either side.

Impulse stops at the first one on the right. “We got a spare room here,” he says, nodding his head at the door.

“Not finished yet!” Bdubs adds hastily, though still making an effort to keep his voice low. “Or uh, heugh- furnished. I’m gonna- I was gonna do the interior, I swear.”

Somehow, the fact that Bdubs is concerned Jimmy will judge his lackluster interior decoration- despite everything else going on right now- makes Jimmy crack a smile. “Well, beggars can’t be choosers, ey?” he jokes.

“Oh, very freaking funny!” Bdubs huffs, but he’s grinning, too. He opens the door for them, and Jimmy lets Impulse carry Tango inside before following.

The room is, as expected, fairly bare bones. Quartz walls and a dark oak floor carry over the mid-century modern theme from the exterior, but there’s no furniture other than a double-wide cyan bed against the wall. A couple of haphazardly-placed torches on the walls provide the room’s only lighting.

“No windows yet, either,” Bdubs mutters, clicking his tongue as his critical gaze sweeps over the room. “I need ta- I- I still gotta figure out how to place ‘em, with the exterior wall and stuff.”

“It’s alright,” Jimmy assures him. Windows would make him feel a bit too exposed right now, if he’s being honest.

Impulse carefully sets Tango down on the bed. “Okay, Tango, here we are.” He straightens up, running a hand through his hair as he exhales heavily.

Bdubs crosses quickly-but-quietly over to Impulse, wrapping him in a hug. “You okay, sweetie?” he asks softly.

Impulse smiles down at him. “Yeah, yeah, I’m good. Don’t worry.”

“Okay.” Bdubs goes up on his toes to kiss Impulse’s cheek- and even so, he barely makes it. “I’m gonna go check on our boys, then, and see if the others need help with th- with the uh, the ranch. D’you- is there anything you want me to tell ‘em?”

“Yeah,” Impulse says thoughtfully, “maybe just let them know that we’d like to give Tango and Jimmy some privacy right now? We’ll let them know if we need anything, and we’ll chat more once everything’s calmed down.”

“Right, okay.” Bdubs glances at Jimmy. “That- is that good? For you?”

Jimmy is taken aback by the amount of consideration he’s being given. “Oh yeah, that’d be great, thanks.”

“Alright.” Bdubs casts one final look at Tango, trying but failing to hide his worry from those big eyes of his. “Alright, I- I’ll be back in a little.” 

He slips out the door, leaving them alone.

Before an awkward silence can descend, Impulse clears his throat. “So uh, looks like someone got you pretty good,” he says, gesturing to his face.

“Huh?” Confused, Jimmy brings a hand to his face- only to jerk away as his fingers brush against his nose. Now that he’s actually paying attention, there’s a dull ache of pain radiating down the bridge of his nose, and underneath the still-sticky blood, he can feel a prominent bump where there wasn’t one before.

“Oh, right,” he murmurs. “Forgot about that.”

“Yeah, looks broken,” Impulse says sympathetically. “Need a respawn?”

Jimmy pauses. It’s difficult to tell when an injury will result in lasting damage- no one’s really cracked that particular scientific riddle yet. But generally, it’s understood that the sooner the respawn, the better the outcome. That’s why things like creeper explosions hardly ever leave a mark, since the death is usually instant.

More so, superficial wounds tend to be less likely to scar than deeper, more structural wounds. A simple gash will almost always go away after respawning- if it hasn’t already healed on its own- but things like broken bones can linger in the form of scars, joint deformities, and chronic pain. If he’s being smart, he really should get a quick respawn in, just to be sure.

But they’re on the Double Life world, and right now, his life isn’t just his own.

Jimmy looks Tango over. None of his wounds are serious enough to warrant a respawn, he only got a little scuffed up in the initial attack. In his current state, it’d probably do more harm than good.

“No,” Jimmy decides, “I… I can’t do that to him, not right now. He’s disoriented as it is.” He shrugs a shoulder. “Besides, I think it’s just the cartilage. Either it’ll heal on my next respawn, or it won’t, and it’ll just match the rest of my face.”

Impulse doesn’t laugh at the self-deprecating joke, simply offering a sad smile. “Alright. I’ll see if Martyn can bring some healing potions by once they finish up at the ranch, I’m pretty sure he’s got a brewing set-up.”

Jimmy’s throat tightens. “Right, thanks…” He smoothes a hand over the bed’s cover, setting his spawn anyways, before he eases himself onto the mattress. “Tango…?” he ventures. “Are you alright? Can you hear me?”

Tango has yet to move at all from where Impulse deposited him, back against the wall with his knees tucked to his chest, arms limp at his sides. He doesn’t acknowledge Jimmy at all- which isn’t anything malicious on his part, of course, but god does it hurt.

Taking a deep breath, Jimmy tries again. “Hey, Tango? It’s me, it’s Jimmy.” He puts a gentle hand on Tango’s shoulder, watching him all the while for any sign that he’ll startle or panic. “It’s over, you’re safe now. Are- are you hurt anywhere? Do you need anythin’?”

Still nothing. Somewhere behind Jimmy, Impulse makes a noncommittal noise. “Jimmy, buddy, I don’t think that’s gonna work right now…”

Jimmy ignores him. “Please, Tango,” he pleads, feeling his eyes sting, “can you just…” Idly, he lifts his other hand to wipe some of the blood off Tango’s chin. “Can you look at me?”

Unexpectedly, that gets Tango’s attention. He lifts his face almost robotically to look at Jimmy, eyes and expression still devastatingly blank.

The sudden movement startles Jimmy, his hand jerking back. And as it does, Tango lets his head drop back down.

An image flashes in Jimmy’s mind; Atlas, the doctor with the blood red gloves, grabbing Tango by the chin and tilting his head up.

(Oh, that’s messed up.)

(You’ve really done it, now.)

(Brilliant, just brilliant.)

Jimmy’s stomach turns. He scrambles back, away from Tango, his heart starting to pound. “Sorry,” he whispers, even though Tango gives no indication that he’s hearing it. “I’m sorry, I didn’t…”

A hand lands on his shoulder, making him jump. Impulse gives him an understanding look. “I… think he just needs some time to come out of it,” he says quietly. “Y’know, alone. When he shuts down like this, there’s really nothing to do but wait.”

Jimmy finds his voice again. “Wait, you’ve seen it before?” he asks, creasing his brows together.

Impulse winces. “A couple times, yeah.”

“Oh.” Jimmy swallows, glancing back at Tango. “I dunno, I- I don’t wanna just leave him like this…”

“We can stay right outside,” Impulse says reassuringly, folding his arms. “It’s just… when he gets like this, I’m not sure he’s fully processing what’s going on. It’s like a defense mechanism. So he’s not gonna come out of it until he feels safe, and um… well…”

It’s not hard to catch his meaning. Jimmy bristles. “What, are you- are you sayin’ he doesn’t feel safe with me?” he snaps, which is so unfair because Impulse has been so helpful and so kind and he’s actually sort of right, but Jimmy can’t help it.

Impulse holds his gaze. “Not if he doesn’t recognize you.”

That sobers Jimmy a little, his wings sagging. “Oh. Oh, yeah, good point. You’re right.” Ducking his head, he swings his legs off the side of the bed and rises to his feet. “I guess he’ll be okay in here,” he relents. “But um, can we- would you mind if we put out the lights? It’s just…”

“Tango feels safer in the dark,” Impulse finishes, realization dawning in his eyes. “Good call.”

“Yeah.” Jimmy fidgets with his hands as Impulse collects the torches.

(Wow, he really knows Tango, huh?)

(Thank god someone knows what to do.)

(What exactly are you even here for?)

With the room now sufficiently darkened, Impulse holds the door open for Jimmy. Jimmy gives Tango a final look-over, his blank face now lit by the dim glow of his dampened blaze rods.

“We’ll be right outside if you need us, Tango,” Jimmy says in parting.

Tango remains silent as Impulse closes the door behind them.

As soon as they’re back in the hallway, all of Jimmy’s fatigue seems to hit him at once. He sways where he stands, shoulder bumping against the wall- the dull pain is easily ignored in favor of the black spots dancing across his vision. He squeezes his eyes shut, biting back a groan.

Fortunately, Impulse is there to steady him. “Woah, easy there.” He quickly guides Jimmy over to the loft to sit down. “Just breathe, okay?”

Jimmy takes a few slow, deep breaths- in through the nose, out through the mouth. When he opens his eyes again, the room is no longer spinning around him, so that’s a plus.

“Here,” Impulse presses something into Jimmy’s hand, “you must’ve worked up some hunger.”

It’s a golden carrot. “Thanks,” Jimmy murmurs, immediately starting to nibble on it. He probably does have food on him, somewhere in his inventory- cooked steak, most likely- but the extra saturation helps.

Seemingly satisfied that Jimmy isn’t going to pass out, Impulse sits down in the chair next to him. “How you feelin’?”

“Better, thanks,” Jimmy murmurs, shifting to fold his wings a bit more comfortably. He feels awkward and just… so out of place here. And Impulse is a nice guy, sure, but it’s a little embarrassing to have to be taken care of like a child. If it weren’t for Tango’s sake, he probably wouldn’t have accepted Impulse’s offer of help in the first place.

“Good.” Impulse looks him up and down, brows pinching together. “Jeeze, they really did a number on you. I’m sorry we weren’t there sooner, chat was chaos and we thought they’d be at spawn ‘til we saw your SOS.”

That comforts Jimmy a little. At least he managed to do something right. “It’s alright, not your fault,” he assures Impulse. “I mean, if you guys hadn’t come when you did…”

“Yeah.” Impulse nods solemnly. “That, uh… would’ve been pretty bad.”

Jimmy studies Impulse for a moment. Now that they have a second, there’s a question that’s been nagging at him. “So…” he starts, “how much did you hear, of what Bravo said?”

“Eh, bits and pieces.” Impulse shrugs. “Something about Tango being an evil doppelgänger from Hels.”

He says it so casually, like he’s talking about the weather. Jimmy’s stomach cinches. “Impulse…” he says carefully. “Did you… did you know?”

“What?” Impulse looks at him in surprise. “Oh, that Tango was from Hels? No. No, I never knew anything about before he came to Hermitcraft. But you know, I always kinda knew there was something… not great in his past. I mean, there were signs. I just figured he’d come from an anarchy server or something.” He knits his brows together. “I guess you… never saw what he was like, when he was still new, huh?”

Jimmy frowns. “Wha’d’you mean?”

Impulse makes a noncommittal noise. “It’s not my place to get into all that. But let’s just say… he’s come a long way since then. So um, looking back, it kinda makes sense.”

“So then…” Jimmy hesitates. “D’you believe what Bravo was saying? About what Hels are like?”

Impulse actually laughs- though not unkindly. “Oh, no, not by a long shot,” he assures Jimmy. “Don’t worry about that. I mean, there are players who think non-humans are bad, right? Like, there are still public servers out there that’ll ban Cleo soon as she joins, just for being a zombie.” He shrugs a shoulder, his forked tail idly flicking through the air. “Or me, for being a demon.”

“Oh.” Jimmy blinks, feeling stupid. “Right. It’s… so easy to forget, sometimes, that some folks still feel that way.”

Impulse tilts his head. “Well, not when you have to live it,” he says lightly.

“Oh. Oh!” Jimmy smacks his forehead. “No, no, right, of course,” he adds hastily, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it’s easy for you specifically to forget. Just, in general, I guess. ‘Cause most players don’t have that problem with avians- I mean, sometimes they think some of our traits are weird, sure, but uh- but it’s not the same thing, cause we aren’t hostile mob hybrids. Obviously. And- and none of my friends feel that way, either, so I just…” He trails off, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m sorry, I’m not makin’ a lotta sense.”

Impulse gives him a gracious smile. “It’s okay, I know what you mean.” He leans back in his chair, his eyes thoughtful. “I’ve gotten so used to Hermitcraft, sometimes it catches me by surprise when I travel to public servers and people act scared, or… distrustful of me. And that’s without even seeing me in ‘full demon’ mode. So uh, even though I don’t know anything about this Hels world, I don’t believe that just being from there would automatically make someone evil. I know Tango better than that.”

Jimmy’s throat tightens. “Right…”

Now it’s Impulse’s turn to give him a sideways look. “... you don’t believe what Bravo said, do you?” he asks, voice low.

“What?” Jimmy blanches. Despite himself, he feels his wings puff up with indignation. “Gosh no, no, that’s- not in a million years, mate, it’s utter nonsense!”

“Alright, alright, sorry,” Impulse chuckles, holding his hands up. “I didn’t think you would. But you know, I just had to make sure.”

“Yeah.” Jimmy sighs, letting his feathers smooth down again. “You’re a good friend, Impulse,” he says, glancing away. “Seems like you know what to do, here. He’s gonna need that.”

“He’s gonna need you.” 

That makes Jimmy look up. “What?” 

Impulse’s expression softens. “I’ve known Tango a while, now, and even though there’s been plenty of fun and good times over the years… this is the first time I’ve seen him truly content. Like, he just seems at peace in a way I’ve never seen before. You do more for him than you’ll ever know- probably ‘cause he’s too scared to tell you.” There’s a knowing glint in his golden eyes. “Emotional vulnerability, uh, isn’t exactly his strong suit.”

A bittersweet smile tugs at Jimmy’s mouth. “Yeah, I’ve noticed.”

Impulse claps him on the shoulder. “We’re gonna figure it out, okay? You guys aren’t alone in this.”

Warmth blooms in Jimmy’s chest. “Thank you, Impulse,” he says softly, “I appreciate it.”

“No problem.” Impulse returns his smile before sitting back in his chair. “Now, how about you get some rest?”

Jimmy’s heart jolts. “Wh- no, wait,” he protests, “I’m not gonna leave-”

“You can stay right here!” Impulse assures him easily. “Just close your eyes and rest a bit. I’ll keep an eye out, and wake you up as soon as Tango comes to, okay? But right now, frankly, you look exhausted. And I’m sure you’ll wanna be well-rested for whenever Tango’s ready to talk about stuff.”

“Ah…” Chewing his lip, Jimmy glances over at the door to the spare room- mere steps away.

Since he forewent a respawn, he has to admit some shut-eye would be quite welcome at the moment. The immediate danger has passed. And right now, there’s nothing he can do to help Tango but give him some time. Might as well spend that time resting.

“I… suppose you’re right,” he relents finally. “But you gotta promise you’ll wake me if anythin’ happens, alright?”

Impulse nods. “I promise.”

“Right, then.” Jimmy settles into his chair, folding his arms across his chest. He fights back a yawn. “Thanks again. I- I mean it though… any little thing…”

“I know, I know.” Impulse waves him off. “Don’t worry.”

“Famous last words,” Jimmy quips, closing his eyes.

Impulse huffs a laugh but says nothing else.

Silence settles over the room, filled only by Impulse’s steady breathing and the rhythmic tap-tap-tap of him typing away on his communicator. He’s probably updating the others on the situation, so Jimmy can rest easy. He’s considerate like that.

Jimmy would’ve thought it’d be hard to fall asleep. This chair isn’t exactly built for it, and as lovely as Impulse and Bdubs’s home is, it’s not the ranch.

The loss is still fresh. He already knows it’s gonna hit him even harder in the coming days. But for right now, the post-adrenaline exhaustion is finally sinking in, and before he knows it, he’s drifted off into the inky blackness.

~*~

A gentle hand on Jimmy’s shoulder startles him awake.

“Jimmy,” Impulse whispers, his golden eyes glowing in the darkness, “wake up.”

It must’ve been quite a deep, dreamless sleep, because while it seems to Jimmy that he only just closed his eyes, he can clearly see through the window that it’s been at least several hours. The sun has long since set; a half moon is rising in the night sky. That’s alright with Jimmy- he was afraid he’d have nightmares.

Rubbing his eyes, Jimmy squints at Impulse. “What’s goin’ on? Everythin’ okay?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Impulse scratches the back of his head. “I uh, I just heard a thud in Tango’s room so I went to check on him and- he’s fine, don’t worry!” he adds quickly, as Jimmy bolts upright. “He’s fine, he’s up, but he still seems kinda disoriented? Like, he’s conscious, but when I tried to go in… I guess I look a bit too intimidating,” he taps one of the curved horns poking out from his hair, “‘cause he growled at me.”

“Growled?” Jimmy repeats, raising his eyebrows.

(Well, that’s promising.)

(Round two!)

(Here we go…)

“Yeah.” Impulse gives a sad smile. “So um, I think you should go try and talk to him, if you’re up for it.”

“Oh.” Jimmy blinks. “Oh, right, of course.” He rises to his feet, shaking off residual soreness from his awkward sleeping position.

Impulse pulls a lantern from his inventory and holds it out to Jimmy. “Give a shout if you need anything.”

Jimmy takes the lantern. “Right, thanks.” Steeling himself, he creeps over to the spare room, knocking lightly on the door- which is slightly ajar. “Tango…?” he calls softly, poking his head into the room. “You okay?”

The bed is empty, covers strewn in disarray. Tango is crouched in the corner farthest from the door, his back pressed against the wall. Hunched over and breathing hard, he stares at Jimmy, his blood-stained face lit by the faint glow of his blaze rods. His pupils are dilated again, lips curled back to show his teeth. There’s no recognition in his expression at all.

(You cannot sleep, there are monsters nearby.)

Jimmy swallows. His heart starts to pound. “Tango,” he starts tentatively, holding the lantern up so his face is clearly illuminated as he steps forward, “it’s okay, I’m not gonna hurt you.”

Tango makes a blaze noise deep in his throat; a haunting, hollow sort of growl. It’s unmistakably a warning.

Jimmy hesitates, wings shuffling uncertainly. How to get through to him? General reassurances don’t seem to be working. He needs to remind Tango of where he is, to convince him that he’s safe- in a way that only Jimmy would know.

He takes a breath. “Hey, rancher.”

Tango falls silent. Surprise flickers across his features, mouth parting, gaze sharpening. For a moment he just stares, motionless. Then he squints.

“... Jimmy?”

Oh, Jimmy could cry. “Yes, there we go!” he says encouragingly. “It’s me, it’s Jimmy. You okay, Tango?”

Tango’s breath hitches. He takes a single, careful step forward- then he halfs runs, half stumbles towards Jimmy.

Jimmy rushes to meet him, catching Tango before he falls. “Oh jeeze, okay…” Setting the lantern down on the bed, he lowers them to the floor, shifting so he can wrap Tango in his arms. “It’s alright, it’s alright…”

“Jimmy, thank god.” Tango clings to him just as tightly, face buried in Jimmy’s shirt. His claws dig into Jimmy’s skin just shy of being painful. “I- I woke up,” he gasps, “and the quartz- I thought I was…” He pulls away enough to scan Jimmy’s face, eyes wide and frightened. “Where are we? What- how long has it been?”

Jimmy knits his brows together. “Uh- we’re at Impulse and Bdubs’s place, and it’s been… several hours, I think? Half a day?”

“God.” A shudder runs through Tango. “That- that really happened, didn’t it?” He starts to breathe faster, his voice straining into that faint upper pitch that Jimmy’s come to associate with panic. “Oh god, I- I- I don’t- hhh, I c- can’t…”

“Hey, hey, breathe,” Jimmy soothes, rubbing circles on Tango’s back. “I’m here, you’re safe. It’s over. Just breathe.”

They stay like that for a while, Tango curled against Jimmy as he rides out the worst of it. He shakes violently, eyes squeezed shut, breath hitching as he tries to get control of it again. Jimmy’s heart aches for him- he wishes there was something more he could do to help.

But he knows from experience that just being here is enough.

It’s not terribly infrequent for Tango to have nightmares. Sometimes he simply startles awake at night, apologizes for waking Jimmy up, and goes back to sleep. If Jimmy asks about it the next morning, he brushes it off as nothing; just silly nonsense nightmares, the kind that are terrifying at the time but seem utterly ridiculous in the light of day. Nothing more than that.

And all this time, Jimmy believed him.

(What a fool.)

Jimmy’s only ever seen a couple nightmares cause a reaction as severe as this. The shaking, the shortness of breath, the panic. What helped in the past was simply holding Tango- offering a few reassurances, but mostly silent comfort. And of course, Tango never wanted to talk about those nightmares, and Jimmy didn’t want to push too hard. He’d figured that Tango would talk to him about it when he was ready.

(Fool me once, shame on you…)

Gradually, Tango calms down. His tremors cease, and his breathing starts to grow deeper. He’s still holding onto Jimmy, but it’s less desperate, now. More familiar. Jimmy curls his wings around them, as if providing another barrier, another layer of security.

After Tango’s been still and quiet for a few moments, Jimmy softly breaks the silence. “How much d’you remember?”

Tango takes a shaky breath. “All of it,” he whispers. “E- everything, I was- it was like I- I was watching everything happen to someone else, like I was outside my body…” He looks up to meet Jimmy’s gaze, eyes brimming with tears. “Jimmy, I- I’m so sorry.”

“What?” Jimmy frowns. “Tango, what on earth are you apologizing for?”

Abruptly, Tango pulls away. “I burned you,” he grits out.

“No, you-” Jimmy almost grabs him by the arm, but then thinks better of it. “That wasn’t your fault.”

Tango stares at him incredulously. “Wha’ th- what do you mean? Of course it was!” He rakes his claws through his hair. “I- I lost control, I set the ranch on fire, and you got burned.”

“That’s not the same thing,” Jimmy argues. “You didn’t do it on purpose, you were just defending yourself.”

“Doesn’t matter!” Tango throws his hands up. “If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t have gotten burned, true or false?”

(True!)

(He’s got a point…)

(Why are you arguing this?)

Jimmy doesn’t answer. “Look,” he says instead, “honestly, it’s not a big deal. I’m fine!”

“Well, you don’t look fine!” Tango says bluntly. Distress flashes across his face as he looks Jimmy up and down. “Your poor wings- and oh, your face! What, did- we didn’t respawn?”

Jimmy ducks his head. “I didn’t wanna put you through that,” he explains, wincing.

He can actually see the guilt in Tango’s eyes intensify. “Ohhh no,” he breathes, dismayed. “You- why did you…” Shaking his head, he fixes Jimmy with a firm look. “Okay, you- you need to respawn, now.”

“It’s not important,” Jimmy replies, just as stubbornly. He holds a hand out, beseeching. “Tango, please, I- I’ve been worried outta my mind about you. So much happened- ”

“I’m fine,” Tango says shortly.

“No, you’re not,” Jimmy insists, working hard not to raise his voice. “I mean, honestly, I- I don’t even know what that thing ‘round your neck is doin’!”

Tango shuts his mouth with a sharp click and glances away. 

That sobers Jimmy instantly. Tentatively, he scooches a bit closer to Tango. His eyes trace the collar- it’s so deceptively simple, so innocuous at first glance. Just a ring of smooth, flat iron. But clearly, there’s a lot more going on; a single red light above the keyhole hints at a mechanism hidden within.

“Do you… know what it is?” Jimmy ventures, giving Tango a searching look.

Tango’s jaw tightens. “It’s wither rose.”

Jimmy blinks, taken aback. “What? But… we aren’t withering, we aren’t takin’ damage-”

“It’s not…” Tango makes a noncommittal noise, waving a hand in an aborted gesture. “They’ve modified it, somehow, I dunno. It- it’s not the full effect. All it’s doin’ is dampening my fire.”

“And our soulbond,” Jimmy realizes, his stomach sinking. “After he put it on you, I- I couldn’t feel your emotions anymore. It’s just… numb.”

Tango’s face is grim. “That’s what wither rose does,” he says lowly.

The certainty in his voice is… somewhat concerning. Sure, any player who’s been ‘round the block will have learned what it feels like to be withered, at some point or another. But due to the tedious and somewhat risky nature of obtaining the roses by way of a wither farm, most players don’t regularly encounter them. And as far as aesthetics are concerned, they aren’t the most appealing flower, so when they are farmed, they’re mostly used for mass-producing black dye or as the killing method in a mob farm. Not as decor or landscaping, where a player might actually touch the rose and be subjected to the wither effect.

Personally, Jimmy can’t remember the last time he touched a wither rose, as a player who doesn’t make a habit of farming withers or even taking on the boss fight. But the tone of Tango’s voice right now is the tone of someone who is horribly familiar with the sensation.

“Tango…?” Jimmy prompts quietly. “Is there… somethin’ I should know?”

Tango swallows. He’s avoiding Jimmy’s eyes. “I… I don’t wanna talk about it,” he whispers hoarsely. “Not right now?”

It’s almost a plea, and Jimmy’s heart tightens. “Okay. That’s okay,” he says gently, forcing down his disappointment; this isn’t about him. He rises to his feet, holding out his hand to Tango. “Here, come on, let’s… let’s get up on the bed, alright? It’s late, you need some proper rest.”

Tango hesitates, though he accepts Jimmy’s offered hand to help him up. “You need to respawn…”

“It can wait,” Jimmy says easily. He tries for a grin. “Honestly, I- I already knew I wasn’t exactly easy on the eyes, but I didn’t think it was that bad…”

“No,” Tango says quickly, “no, you’re not-” He makes a frustrated noise. “Your wings.”

Jimmy softens. “They’re just feathers. They’ll grow back.”

Sure, it might take a while if his follicles have been badly damaged, and his wings won’t be a pretty sight once all the burned feathers fall out. But most of his flight feathers are still intact, so in terms of places to get burned, it could’ve been much worse.

Tango huffs a breath, clearly still upset with himself. But he doesn’t protest further as Jimmy eases onto the bed, gently pulling Tango with him. After collecting the lantern so the room is properly dark again, Jimmy nestles under the covers, sweeping a wing out to lightly gather Tango beside him.

Tango settles against him, and it’s then that Jimmy realizes he isn’t as warm as he used to be.

He’s not cold, not by any means. But Tango has always run a bit hotter than the average player- a blaze hybrid trait that Jimmy’s quite fond of. It was the whole reason they first shared a bed, back in the early days of the world, and inadvertently plunged their relationship into new, terrifying depths. If it wasn’t for that moment, they likely would’ve danced around the issue for far longer, and been robbed of many precious days of happiness together. So even on warm nights, Jimmy will still cuddle up beside Tango. Even if he has to kick all the blankets off.

But with the collar dampening Tango’s fire, he’s been robbed of that, as well.

Jimmy swallows the lump in his throat and puts an arm around Tango, who curls into his side, head resting on his shoulder. Having Tango so close is immediately comforting. God, to think of how close he came to losing this, to never holding Tango again… 

It’s scary. It’s incredibly scary. There are few things in the universe that can really, truly cause lasting harm to a player. Injuries can heal upon respawn, death isn’t permanent- except for worlds where it is, then they just respawn on a different world and start again. But if those Hels people had succeeded in taking Tango through that hacked portal, into some isolated prison world that Jimmy has no way of finding… he’s afraid that would’ve destroyed him.

Jimmy turns his head to press a kiss onto Tango’s forehead, right between the dimmed blaze rods hovering around his temples. “Goodnight.”

“Night,” Tango whispers back.

The room grows silent. Jimmy stares up at the dark ceiling. His earlier tiredness has up and left him, his mind racing, plagued by thoughts of what might’ve been. It’s all he can do to reassure himself that it’s over, that Tango’s safe and still here with him.

That for once, he was lucky.

(For how long, though?)

He isn’t trying to stay awake. And he isn’t pretending to be asleep, either, just laying quietly with his thoughts. But at some point Tango must think he’s nodded off, because only then does he start to cry.

It’s a quiet sound. Just the sharp inhale and exhale of breath. Jimmy might not have even known he was crying if it wasn’t for the way his shoulders shake, and the sudden dampness seeping into Jimmy’s shirt. 

It takes all of Jimmy’s willpower not to console Tango, to hold him tighter and offer hushed reassurances. There’s a reason Tango waited until he thought Jimmy was asleep- he’s very much the kind of person who prefers to show emotion on his own terms. If he knew Jimmy was awake to witness this, he’d completely shut down again. And he needs this.

So Jimmy pushes down his own emotions and does nothing as his soulmate cries, trying not to move or start crying himself as the guilt for being so useless eats him alive.

(Sweet dreams…)

~*~

Morning comes, eventually.

At least, as far as Jimmy can tell by his internal clock. The room he wakes up to is still fairly dark- just a slim beam of light coming in from the hallway through the cracked door. Impulse must’ve done that to better keep an ear out for them overnight. Thoughtful guy. Tango is sleeping deeply next to Jimmy, and the sight is quite comforting.

It seems they’ve kept with their usual sleeping habits, even without a sunrise to greet them.

Carefully, without jostling Tango, Jimmy pulls up his inventory to grab his communicator. He can’t recall hearing it go off, but he wants to make sure there isn’t anything that urgently requires his attention. He’s surprised, however, to find a potion of healing; Impulse must’ve slipped it to him while he was sleeping.

A smile tugs at Jimmy’s lips. He’s long since regenerated his health, but the potion ought to help with his lingering injury. He downs the potion quickly, grimacing at the cloyingly sweet note of melon. It doesn’t take long for a cooling sensation to settle over his broken nose. When he gently probes at it, he can feel it’s still a little crooked, but at least the pain is gone.

Putting the empty bottle away, Jimmy digs out his communicator, squinting against the blue light. No one’s used chat lately or sent him any whispers- it seems they’re taking the request for privacy quite seriously. But there is the backlog from yesterday waiting for him. It takes him a minute just to scroll back to where it all began.

Bravo joined the game.

<Grian> ey??

AtlasSyn joined the game.

Tyrannicide joined the game.

Phantonym joined the game.

<Grian> EYY????

Helfyre_004 joined the game.

<PearlescentMoon> Ummm?

<Renthedog> What the heck??

CRIMETIME joined the game.

t3rr0r_b1te joined the game.

EbonyHelmentia joined the game.

baddomen666 joined the game.

<InTheLittleWood> WHO ARE YOU PEOPLE?!?

staluggmite joined the game.

PwrPlayz joined the game.

<PearlescentMoon> Hello??

XxSLAYERxX joined the game.

Vexed2theMax joined the game.

ApexGamer98 joined the game.

<Smajor1995> wait how is this happening

<PearlescentMoon> Raid?? D:

SheHelsSeaHels joined the game.

ne’er_do_hels joined the game.

<Grian> i don;t know??

Jaffu joined the game.

<Grian> theres no one at spawn???

<Etho> woah!

<SolidarityGaming> SOS RSNCH

<Smajor1995> oh no

<Renthedog> What??

<Smallishbeans> rsnch lol

<GoodTimeWithScar> G come pick me up

Tyrannicide was slain by Tango.

staluggmite was slain by Tango.

Phantonym was slain by Tango.

<InTheLittleWood> Wait WHAT?!?!?!?!?!

<Smallishbeans> NO WAY

<BdoubleO100> OHHHHHHH

<Grian> EVERYONE TO RANCH

<ZombieCleo> what is happening???

staluggmite joined the game.

Tyrannicide joined the game.

<Smajor1995> omw cleo

Phantonym joined the game.

<impulseSV> Etho, Joel, our place?

<Renthedog> BigB where you at??

<bigbst4tz2> coming

SheHelsSeaHels was shot by GoodTimeWithScar using [hOtgUy]

EbonyHelmentia was shot by Smajor1995.

XxSLAYERxX was slain by impulseSV.

CRIMETIME was slain by Wolf.

t3rr0r_b1t3 was slain by Renthedog.

Jaffu was doomed to fall by ZombieCleo.

SheHelsSeaHels joined the game.

ne’er_do_hels was shot by GoodTimeWithScar using [hOtgUy]

Tyrannicide was slain by Renthedog.

XxSLAYERxX joined the game.

EbonyHelmentia joined the game.

CRIMETIME joined the game.

Phantonym was slain by Etho.

t3rr0r_b1t3 joined the game.

ne’er_do_hels joined the game.

XxSLAYERxX was slain by Wolf.

Jaffu joined the game.

Helfyre_004 was slain by Renthedog.

Vexed2theMax was slain by bigbst4tz2.

Tyrannicide joined the game.

XxSLAYERxX joined the game.

Jaffu was slain by Renthedog.

SheHelsSeaHels was slain by Wolf.

bigbst4tz2 was shot by AtlasSyn.

Renthedog died.

Phantonym joined the game.

baddomen666 was slain by Wolf.

SheHelsSeaHels joined the game.

Jaffu joined the game.

PwrPlayz was slain by InTheLittleWood.

Helfyre_004 joined the game.

Vexed2theMax joined the game.

staluggmite was slain by Smallishbeans.

Helfyre_004 was shot by Smajor1995.

EbonyHelmentia was slain by Wolf.

PwrPlayz joined the game.

ApexGamer98 was slain by PearlescentMoon.

baddomen666 joined the game.

PwrPlayz was slain by Wolf.

Jaffu was slain by Wolf.

baddomen666 was shot by Smajor1995.

EbonyHelmentia joined the game.

Vexed2theMax was slain by InTheLittleWood.

PearlescentMoon was shot by AtlasSyn.

Smajor1995 died.

Helfyre_004 joined the game.

ApexGamer98 joined the game.

SheHelsSeaHels was slain by Wolf.

ne’er_do_hels was slain by Wolf.

baddomen666 joined the game.

Vexed2theMax joined the game.

Helfyre_004 was slain by Wolf.

baddomen666 was slain by impulseSV.

CRIMETIME was slain by Smallishbeans.

Phantonym was slain by Wolf.

Vexed2theMax was slain by Wolf.

t3rr0r_b1t3 was slain by Wolf.

ApexGamer98 was slain by BdoubleO100.

Tyrannicide was slain by Wolf.

EbonyHelmentia was slain by Wolf.

AtlasSyn left the game.

XxSLAYERxX was slain by Wolf.

Bravo was shot by GoodTimeWithScar using [hOtgUy]

Grian was shot by GoodTimeWithScar using [hOtgUy]

GoodTimeWithScar died.

Jimmy doesn’t know how long he spends looking at chat, reading it over and over again as he tries to make sense of it. All those Hels players came here with the express purpose of kidnapping Tango. But why? Dr. Atlas had said something about ‘getting back to work’ and a farm design, but what does that even mean? 

Speaking of that doctor fella, he seems to have been the only one to get kills on the Double Lifers- the rest of them must’ve been preoccupied with Pearl’s wolves. Gosh, to think what her chat must look like…

But that’s something worth noting. Atlas didn’t waste his time with wolves, he went for Pearl and Bigb. He must’ve realized the wolves were Pearl’s and targeted her because of it. And the fact he went for Bigb instead of Ren, who was racking up the most kills... that means he was able to put together that they were soulbound, and he used that to get rid of the threat more easily.

Out of these Hels players, Atlas is clearly the one to watch out for.

Well, him and Bravo, of course. Though Bravo technically isn’t a Hels, if Jimmy’s understood it properly. But he’s certainly just as cruel and bloodthirsty as those other guys were, and he’s got it out for Tango the most. Jimmy can’t recall the last time he saw such hate in a player’s eyes, for any reason. And this is the guy claiming he should’ve been Jimmy’s soulmate? Unbelievable.

As if Jimmy would ever go for such a dense, hateful, entitled piece of-

“Honey,” Tango says suddenly, sitting up on his elbows, “you okay?”

Jimmy jolts in surprise; he must’ve been looking quite cross with his communicator. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” he assures Tango softly, offering an apologetic smile. “Sorry if I woke you.”

It’s difficult to make out details in the scarce light from the hallway, but Tango looks much improved from yesterday. Even underneath the dried blood, the warmth has returned to his skin, replacing that sickly, pale pallor. His red eyes are sharp and alert- that’s a huge relief, as well.

“No, no, you’re good!” Tango says brightly. He leans over to press a kiss to Jimmy’s cheek. “Sleep alright?”

His tone throws Jimmy for a moment. Someone’s feeling better. Blinking, Jimmy puts his comm away. “I did, yeah,” he answers uncertainly. “You?”

“Yep!” Tango smiles at him; it seems a bit forced. “I uh- I’m all rest-ificated and ready to start the day. So, what I- well, I- I guess our first order of business, we should go take a look at the ranch, right, see what the damage is? Then we can do some resource gathering and start rebuilding, so we aren’t crashing at Impulse and Bdubs’s place forever.”

Jimmy pauses for a moment to process the words. “Umm… are you sure?” he asks tentatively. “I mean, we can go look at it if you want, but uh, are you- we should really focus on getting that collar off you first, don’t you think?”

Tango shrugs. He isn’t quite meeting Jimmy’s eyes. “Doesn’t bother me. Besides, we don’t have the key.”

Jimmy knits his brows together. “So what, we just... let it alone? Move on?”

Tango huffs a laugh- it sounds a bit faint. “Yeah, yeah exactly.” 

(What an abrupt change of character!)

(Lying again, it seems…)

(How suspicious.)

Okay, this is definitely strange behavior. Considering everything that happened yesterday, Jimmy would’ve expected Tango to still be physically and emotionally wrecked. But instead, he seems rather keen to just move on, like everything’s normal- 

Ah. Of course. Jimmy doesn’t know why he’s surprised.

“Tango...” he starts, “I don’t think-”

“Good morning!” Impulse hums as he pokes his head through the cracked door. “How we doin’, guys?”

Curse his timing. Tango, of course, immediately takes advantage of the distraction.

“Oh, hey Impy!” he says cheerfully. “Hey uh, sorry about earlier. You know, I uh, I was a little confused, and uh… you know...” He pulls a face; overdramatized. He’s trying to make light of it.

Impulse seems to share the same realization as Jimmy. “Hey, it’s alright,” he says easily, though he keeps his tone in a lower register- more serious. Not feeding into the fake energy. “No hard feelings. Here, I brought some food.”

Tango takes the offered food without even a second of hesitation; a stack of golden carrots. “Of course. Thank you, thank you.” He quickly starts crunching on one, conveniently busying himself so he doesn’t have to say anything else.

Oh well, at least he’s eating. Jimmy gives Impulse a tired smile. “Hey, Impulse. Thanks again for lettin’ us crash here.”

Impulse returns his smile. “Yeah, of course, no problem. So um, I’ve just got a bit of an update for you guys.” He sits down at the end of the bed, expression sobering. “The ranch situation is under control, they managed to get the fire out before it spread to anything else nearby. So your pastures, barns, and fields are safe. All your animals, too.”

It’s easy enough to pick up on what he’s left out. “But the ranch itself is gone, isn’t it?” Jimmy says quietly.

Impulse nods. “I’m sorry. Most of what’s left is just the stone. I think the basement is pretty intact, too, but everything else…”

“Yep.” Tango, finished with his carrot, shrugs a shoulder. “Yeah, I figured. That’s what we get for building with wood, even though I’m super flammable and stuff.”

Jimmy gives him a sympathetic look. “It’ll be okay-”

“So,” Tango interrupts, avoiding Jimmy’s gaze as he gives Impulse an intent look, “uh- anything else?”

(Ouch! Testy…)

Impulse rubs the back of his neck. “Uh, yeah. Grian wants to know if you guys are up for a chat. Nothing bad,” he adds quickly, “he’s just trying to figure out a solution and we’re just a little in the dark about everything. You can stick to the basics; if there’s something you aren’t comfortable telling us, that’s fine-”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Tango assures him. Despite his grin, there’s a hard edge to his voice. “Let’s do it. Call everyone up, we’ll have a nice chat at spawn or something. Let’s- let’s get goin’.”

Impulse pauses. “Well, if you want, we can have just Grian come over...”

Tango huffs. “No, why- let’s just get everyone on the same page, okay? Get it all over with at once.” He spreads his hands. “No point in delaying, or- or having to explain the same thing over and over again, right? I mean, everyone’s stuck here ‘til Grian lifts the lockdown, I- I’m sure they’ll wanna know why.”

Jimmy exchanges a look with Impulse. “I… I suppose,” he says hesitantly. “But are you sure you’re-”

“Yeah,” Tango says, “yeah, it’s fine.” 

Impulse purses his lips, clearly fighting not to let his frustration show. 

The sentiment is one that Jimmy shares. It’s obvious Tango is trying to downplay everything- and if that’s his way of coping, fine. But it really throws a wrench into the works when moving forward requires actually addressing what happened, and having an in-depth conversation about it. And this doesn’t bode well for long-term; they can’t just pretend everything’s normal, no matter how much Tango might wish it. 

“Okay, I’ll let him know.” Impulse rises to his feet. “The bathroom’s at the end of the hallway if you guys wanted to wash up.”

Tango actually makes a face at that, dropping the facade for a moment. He really doesn’t like water. “Wash up..?”

Impulse winces. “You’re um. Still covered in dried blood.”

(I was wondering when he’d realize that…)

Tango blinks. “Oh. Oh, right, of course.” Absently, he reaches a hand up to scratch at his chin. “I should probably wash that off, yeah. I mean, everyone knows I’m a vicious monster but I don’t have to look it, right?” he laughs.

Jimmy’s heart tightens. “Hey, Tango…”

“No,” Impulse protests, “that’s not-”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Tango says shortly. “Thanks, Impulse.”

“Alright.” Impulse lets the matter drop, turning to leave. “Come downstairs when you’re ready.”

As soon as Impulse is gone, Jimmy turns to Tango. “Hey, so-”

But Tango has already hopped out of bed and crossed to the door, calling, “Hang on, be right back!” over his shoulder.

Down the hall, Jimmy hears the bathroom door open and close. He sighs.

This is gonna be a fun conversation.

~*~

CONTINUED IN PART IX, ACT II

[hwaightme]

Cat named Mars (catboy!hwa hcs)

(masterlist) (perma-taglist)

😻 pairing: catboy!seonghwa x gn!reader 😻 genre: headcanons, fluff, crack, demon? to cat? to roommate? to lover? 😻 summary: the longest bulletpoints about what it would be like to have catboy!hwa as your bf - the whole story 😻 wordcount: 4.5k 😻 warnings/tags: editing? who is she, unhinged crack part nyah, catboy!hwa, cute catboy!hwa, soft and polite catboy!hwa- okay i will stop |, language, food/eating, mention of others not treating animals well, sweater paws, mention of adorable nerdy hobbies, domestic, cuddle, a surprise about how hwa ended up being a cat in the first place, both past and present tense used, mainly lowercase 😻 taglist: at the bottom of the fic~ 😻 a/n: let me drift in the soft and fluffy catboy!hwa lands until waterbomb strikes, for my own healing; my braincells are out of service but i hope you enjoy <3 all reblogs, thoughts and notes appreciated! big hugs!

once upon a time he was a cat

there was never a moment to think about anything except work, and maybe about groceries and bills (but even those things normally hit you at two o'clock in the morning, leading you to check your phone and make make amendments to your schedule in a panicked state). there was never any room for a cat. until there was.

of course there just had to be an adorable kitty, at most maybe a couple of years old, lean and with jet black fur that was surprisingly shiny for an abandoned cat, sitting square in the middle of a cardboard box on the side of the street that formed a part of your regular path and commute to and from work. in the morning, you had locked eyes with the cat, heart bleeding and hurting for the poor creature but secretly hoping that someone else would take it - you couldn't take care of it, could you? in the evening, you were huffing and puffing with the cardboard box in your hands and the cat happily meowing, its tail stretched out upwards into a chimney pipe, slightly tilted to the side at the very end. you read somewhere that it meant the cat was happy, so you were going to take that as a good sign.

sat on the floor at the entrance to your apartment, you eyed the beautiful creature as it kept on purring and trying to hop out of the box and towards you, while you were insistent on keeping it in, lifting a cardboard flap repeatedly in an effort to prevent it from jumping. so. now you had a cat. there was nothing in the box, and on the outside, in horrific scrawl was a message suggesting whoever took the kitty either "kept him, or throw him away, whatever". non-humans. "that's who your previous owners were, right kitty?" you mumbled to no one in particular, but it seemed that the cat picked up on your speech and inched closer to you, ears moving like disks to pick up signals. "so you are a he, yeah?" a meow. so you were right. at least the beasts from this cat's past got one thing right. "do you have a name? actually… you know what do you want a… new name?" you were fast on the attachment scale, you realised. it had been barely a few minutes and you were already trying to name the cat who you had not even checked for diseases, nor had any basic facilities to take care of him. but he was more than excited by the prospect, and mewled in what sounded like gratitude. you began to list off names, eventually boring the kitty, and he started to falter in his enthusiasm. all until one name rang a bell.

"Mars?"

and that was how you ended up with a black cat named Mars.

by the power of actually having to shake paws with a cat, and you promising to get him quality snacks, you managed to get Mars checked at the vet who confirmed everything was fine, and was equally as amazed as you that he was so well groomed and neat. while you knew you did not have much of a right to do this, your inner pride still swelled and, to yourself, you said that 'yes, my Mars is really neat and handsome'.

you took to addressing Mars as 'your handsome boy' and that seemed to wake him up and get him speeding towards you faster than anything else could. also 'the prettiest star' and 'my universe' and 'marvellous Mars' all worked wonders.

at the same time, he was shy, as if he did not want to disturb you with his antics. always tip-toeing around you as silently as a cat could (which was very silent, to the point where he jumpscared you a couple of times but that is okay because excuse me did you see his precious face????) and never taking up much space, even though… hello? Mars? you are a cat?? he would rarely ever hop on any surfaces unless you explicitly told him to do so - this had left you convinced that your cat was well-versed in human-speak. he never meowed for food until you had told him to vocalise and tell you if he was very hungry, and gave him a rundown of his eating schedule and how it was important that he drank water. he was the politest cat you had ever met, while at the same time his timidness made you wonder if you were in any way intimidating. not once did Mars ever enter your bedroom, even though you left the door wide open for him, preferring to crash on the couch or on the floor of some other room. the first couple of times you joked about it saying "are you scared you'll see something, Marsy?" but when your cat actually looked away and hunched over, you were convinced that you hit the nail on the head, and that you were probably either hallucinating or were slowly turning into Doctor Dolittle.

but you were persistent. and insistent. and you took the little blanket with kuromi decor on it from him (yes this was that extreme of a situation) and put it at the edge of your bed. climbing in and covering yourself in the many layers, you looked at the terrified figure hovering at the entrance to the room, boba eyes as wide as saucers. he kept on looking at the blanket, then at you, then again at the blanket, then again at you, probably wondering if he could snatch the thing and make a run for it. you were on the verge of giving up at this point. sleepy, with work tomorrow, you were not about to engage in a whole war with your cat.

"you know what, if you want to stay, you can stay. i promise i will not hurt you, nor will i push you out. if you want to come closer, do. if you just want to take the blanket and leave, you can do that. your choice. i won't be hurt. i promise. you are already super brave and i love you either way. okay, Mars?" he did not respond, frozen in place. "my handsome boy?" his head twisted towards you. "precious?" a blink. another blink. one paw in front of the other. "are you actua- wow! I am so proud of you my baby! my brave boy!" you were cooing praises at him like there was nothing else in the world that existed as soon as he hopped onto the bed, foregoing the blanket and making a beeline towards your face, as though that was his read source of comfort. he was afraid to look away, focusing on your every expression as you patted his head and let him nuzzle into you. "you are so so brave, you know that? i know this is hard, so if at any point you want to leave, you can, okay?" purring louder than a powerdrill was the response you received. along with kitty cuddles through the whole night. because apparently, your cat was a koala all along.

and even in his cuddles he was gentle. you did not think you had ever seen him use his claws… ever. except maybe on a few toys but as soon as you were in sight poof gone, soft Mars activated. he was like your personal heater, careful to wrap himself closer to you not to push you out, but to instead complete whatever curled up position you were lying in. if you were stretched out to the side, he would find a place. if you were in a ball? he would find a place again. if you were lying down straight for whatever reason? give him a couple of nights to get comfortable, and now you had the ultimate cat comforter either on you, or around your head. and yes, you were blessed with a cat who barely shed, somehow. some of your friends who had cats almost cursed you when they found out, but you only smiled, looking at your lockscreen. nowadays, even during the workday you were thinking of Mars at least a little bit.

maybe you were spoiling him a little bit, but it was too adorable to see him watching you play legend of zelda or animal crossing on your nintendo switch. and when he saw that you got a gift from a friend in the form of a lego set? well. you were literally afraid to open the box because of how hyper your cat got - perhaps not today…

you fell into the most pleasant routines with Mars, from waking up and going to bed together, to eating breakfast and then 'parting ways' for you to attend to human business and him to his 'cat business'. it was cute. it made your head sing. you were happier than you had ever been. all thanks to that one random day. one random box. and one black haired kitty who radiated sunshine.

it was the eve of the one year anniversary of you being the proud owner of, or how you preferred to say it, the best friend of 'L/n Mars', and you were as sure as his ears were pointy in wanting to go all out with your celebration - minus the guests (because the last time you had invited a male friend of yours over your cat turned into a whole other creature and then sulked for at least three days until you took a day off work and called it 'Mars day', but you just assumed it was some territorial thing). you had set up little themed decorations, found a cute little headband with the number '1' that is suitable and safe for a cat and would not hurt his head, got a matching, human-sized one for yourself, made a whole dinner for your favourite kitty from scratch - the ingredients all checked with the vet who you now casually called by first name because you did not dare ever give Mars anything that might harm him and would rather panic call the doctor.

you were sat at the coffee table, so that it would be easier for Mars to reach the food (you set pillows on the floor for extra comfort, for which he thanked you with a loud meow), and had your respective mini-cakes set out in front of either of you. you had given up on making him ever eat kitty food - another peculiar quirk of your cat, so the 'cake', which was more a protein gift than anything, was fully home made. but Mars was happy. more than happy. if cats could smile, that was exactly what he was doing, right at you, squinting his eyes, threatening to hop over the table. you told him to wait, and quietly whispered your gratitude to him. much to your delight, he waited and listened, clinging onto every word.

"you know, i really think you are an angel. before you i was quite… how do i say this… life was just passing by. and now i look forward to it. and to be able to see you every day, to have fun days with you, to talk with you… all of that brings me so much joy and i hope that i can make you at least a little bit happy too. i wish you could tell me what you want, of course, but i really do think you know what i am thinking, what i am saying. and i hope that i am right in saying that i can understand you a bit too. you really are the smartest, most precious Mars. light of my life. i love you so much, my gorgeous, and here is to many years more, cheers~" you clinked your glass with orange juice with his water bowl, and giggled when he took a couple of neat laps to match with your gulps, only to lick his lips and hop off the pillows and go under the table.

in a matter of seconds, he reappeared at your side of the table, and poked at your lap with his paw, looking up at you with his bead-like eyes that seemed to contain the whole universe in them. you pat him between his ears, scratched under his chin, delighting him, and then stretched out your legs, gesturing towards your legs to signify that lap-napping season was open. Mars did not need to be told twice, and soon enough you had a black cat curled up on your lap, purring away, mewling a couple of times when you started eating to remind you that he was hungry too.

"so you want me to feed you now, too? aren't you cheeky-"

as if you could refuse him. you would be lying if you said you could. so there you were, on the floor and feeding Mars, quiet music playing from your phone, not quite sure if you could be any happier.

"i love you."

quite the contrast to what happened the next morning.

suddenly he is a catboy

when you wake up, Mars is nowhere in sight, and even when you call him, to which he would reply with at least a meow, you are only met with silence. you are alarmed, but wait in bed for just a little longer to see if Mars would come to you. nothing. you call again, 'pspspsps' him, all to no avail. only the breeze and the birds outside, along with inexplicable rustling from another room in your apartment. you raise an eyebrow and prop yourself up on your elbows. more rustling. a door opening, which sounds like the closet where you kept your warmer clothes. what is going on? another door closing. footsteps? you are on high alert. grabbing your phone and the light saber model which you had made a while back and kept safe by your bed, as it turned out exactly for this kind of moment, you head out to face whatever, or whoever is the source of the sound.

you are stealth itself, rounding the corner with weapon in hand, ready to face the attacker - or so you thought. until you come face to face with the tall, young man dressed head to toe in your clothing, namely a tracksuit that you had accidentally gotten in the wrong size and then somehow ended up being refunded for without returning the item, and a beanie that he had pulled over his head. spikes of jet black hair are poking from under the hat in all directions, and his deep brown eyes are widened in shock as he freezes on the spot and stares back at you.

"so, what the hell are you doing in my clothes?"

"y/n- i-"

"HOW DO YOU KNOW MY NAME?"

"i can explain-"

"nope do NOT get closer what-"

"Mars…. i…. it's me… your uh… cat."

"what?"

he looks embarrassed beyond belief, and crumbles to the floor, sliding until his back is against the wardrobe. wrapping his arms around his knees, he is scared to look up at you, worried that you would never recognise him, never accept him. this is exactly what he has been dreading all this time, and was heartbroken when the curse was finally broken, despite him technically being free now. he does not want to be away from you. this is his home. you are his home. you are the one who showed him true love.

"if it is okay… may i take this beanie off for a second?"

"i didn't even let you put it on in the first place," he winces. you feel a little bad, but hold your ground. his eyes sparkle in a way that is a little too familiar, reminding you of a certain someone. the cat who he mentioned. your precious cat. Mars.

"okay… here goes…" he slides the material off, making you gasp. hidden under the beanie is a pair of cat ears, fluffy, the same colour as his hair, and twitching as he adjusts after having flattened them to minimise their visibility.

"yo what."

"i have… a tail too."

"WHAT?"

he is not joking. a black tail to go with the black ears, sliding out from under the oversized hoodie. you are not sure what happened next, but you wake up on the sofa with the man, who you are now guessing is some human cat hybrid version of Mars fanning you with a magazine.

"I AM SORRY, Y/N PLEASE WAKE UP I AM SO- oh you are awake thank goodness i missed you i am really so sorry…" he drops the magazine almost instantly, leaning towards you and wrapping you in a warm embrace, much to your surprise. you yelp, but the softness, as well as his ears moving in the cutest way while he hugs you make you accept the gesture, and return it.

you never thought you would hear a grown man purr exactly like a cat, but here you are. well, you never thought you would have a catboy in your apartment either, but this is already happening so...

"so, Mars?"

"yeah?"

"you have some explaining to do."

after what turned out to be at least two hours of you and him going back and forth about what had unfolded and what was the history of the young catboy's state, you find out that, in reality, his name is Park Seonghwa, and that he is a demon, of all things. that is right, a demon. set out to curse and haunt and spread sin. but no, he is cast out of hell because he is too kind and soft. and so he had been cursed to be a cat, until for a full year, someone could give him their whole heart, their full love. while he explains this to you with a fondness unlike anything you had ever seen before in your life (except in what you perceived from cat Mars's eyes), you begin to blush, realising that all this time, you were talking to and confessing to him. Seonghwa. this handsome man who was always by your side and-

oh. and he was sleeping in the same bed as you. just great. you flush an even deeper shade and cover your face. and he had been jealous, not territorial, when your friend had come over.

"are you okay?"

"so okay."

"hug?"

"i, uh-"

"you give really good hugs."

"Park Seonghwa do you really want to make me suffer?"

"I AM SO SORRY ARE YOU HURT? DID I SAY SOMETHING WRONG I AM SO SORRY?!"

"no you are too cute. come here"

catboy!hwa headcanons

is initially cautious because well… you got used to him being a cat and now suddenly you have a whole man with cat ears and a tail walking around your house. he catches on to the fact that you are kind of shy around him too, but he does not push it, at least not straight away.

because that would mean that he has to get over his own shyness towards you extra quickly, and that proves to be difficult when it hits him that, well, he is now a person too, and you are a person, and he fell in love with you, and you told him you loved him before - on occasion he just walks around blushing with his ears pressed flat to his head but don't point it out he is already struggling ;~;

you might have to be the one to initiate the contact again because he is literally too scared to overstep anything and everything - even when you bought him his own first few sets of clothes as a 'human edition anniversary gift'. you approach him to give him a hug and he groups up as if he is about to dive into a pool, hands to his chest, eyes wide. but is he moving anywhere? no. does his purring give him away? yes. after that the two of you gently reintroduce physical touch and it makes you realise just how much you miss Mars, particularly because Seonghwa is still a little distant for understandable reasons. But you both are trying your best.

if you massage his head and scratch behind his hears he will melt - his favourite thing in the world is having his head rest on your lap with his eyes closed while you ruffle his hair really slowly and run your fingers through it.

desperately misses the times when you would call him handsome and pretty and smart, and every single affectionate word in the universe so he tries his damn hardest to get you to do that again, first by trying to be nice and helping you around the house, and when the results are not to his satisfaction and when cuddle sessions are pretty much the norm, but words of affection aren't… he pouts and openly asks you why you don't call him that anymore. you squeak the words out but the reaction makes every next attempt easier than anything.

he is scared to approach your room again, though, and this time you say nothing because well, this is a whole other territory. a couple of months pass before you consider and that is because you find him sleeping on the floor a couple of times, curled up with is tail covering his face a little, and he said it was because "he is scared otherwise and here is safe". so you take out a futon for now, but he is more than happy with this progress.

he learns how to cook both from you and from tutorials online, and then starts remembering what he used to cook a long time before - you basically stop cooking altogether because now he is insistent on waking you up with breakfast, packing you lunch and greeting you with dinner. he sometimes gets a bit too experimental, but you do not mind it too much because at least he cleans everything up.

you think you can ignore the lego in the corner of your living room? no :) it is a date now. a lego building date. for four hours straight. on the floor. him running this ship like you run your team at work. and his focus, his professional approach to the matter is a little too attractive, you admit to yourself. and somewhere along the way that translates into you planting a kiss on Hwa's cheek. this is the only time over the whole four hours that he drops the pieces he is holding in his hands, gazing at you, not quite sure if what he felt just now was real or not.

but nope, judging by your attempts to avoid his gaze this was very real. so he gets real bold real quick and guess who finds themselves trapped by two tones arms on either side of you, back on the floor, a curious and mischievous face a mere inch away? that's right, you. wants to build a starship, accidentally builds a relationship along with it - a major win.

there isn't ever a platonic stage really. an extensive awkward stage? sure. a roommates-maybe stage? sure. two people who like each other? sure. and now, after many months of you settling into a new routine, two people who love each other and keep telling each other that.

he finds a job that he can do remotely, and in this way remains mainly at home and around the neighbourhood with his beloved hobbies and balancing you out. in this way he now starts to sneak support to pay bills and to buy you little gifts (as a little apology for taking your clothes sometimes - read often)

it is not Hwa's fault that he misses you very quickly. it just happens. then one thing leads to another and he is lying on your shared bed hugging a hoodie of yours. eventually that leads to him dragging a couple more items out of your wardrobe and making a little nest out of them - only then does his worry go down and he goes for a nap while curled up in a ball.

when he knows that you should be arriving soon he starts walking up to the window, then away then back to the window, and away again. cycle repeats itself until he can spot you from a distance, and then he just stays by the window.

he helps you redecorate and rearrange your apartment, considering that you now have a 5'10'' human cat instead of one you can hold with two hands, and shocks you with just how many details he remembers about you, down to allergies, what colours irritate you when it comes to interiors, what plants you had to give away to keep him 'in cat form' safe - even though yes, he would not eat them, but how were you to know that?

he remembers all your special days, and hopes you remember his, too. thankfully, he knows his own birthday and using cat mathematics, converted from demon to cat to human. and so, now you can celebrate him wholeheartedly, only this time that also involves you taking him to go have a picnic under the cherry blossoms.

you and Seonghwa go to pick out and buy him a phone together, and you spend a whole day teaching him how to use it. soon enough your own phone goes off with notifications from him. he sends you fun things throughout the day and if he is busy, he sends you a selfie or a heartfelt message.

likes to curl up and read poetry with you. doesn't matter if out loud of in silence. what matters to him is that you are close. and good luck trying to get away - he has a tail and it is wrapped around your leg like an alert system so that he can tackle you right back to the couch or the bed. because it is you and Seonghwa time.

occasionally sings you lullabies that he either overheard somewhere or remembers, breaking into a smile when you wriggle closer to him and fall asleep, stress melting away from your every feature.

overall you are now living with a catboy Hwa cast out of hell for being too nice, who also turned out to be a big nerd, with heart eyes for you, sweater paws instead of actual paws, the occasional feline habits still coming through (like him rubbing his face against your shoulder, or your own face, or him hissing when frustrated or threatened, or him having the widest stretch in the morning, or… actually he is still part cat so, you have to deal with it), and all the love to give. thankfully not in the form of something he hunted. he buys birds at a store now. meant to be cooked. human-friendly.

he brings you a limited edition starship instead. if you display it he will look at you like he is falling in love with you all over again - if that is even possible because that would mean stopping loving you now, and that is the one thing he cannot do <3

😻 taglist: @acciocriativity @justhere4kpop @byuntrash101 @shakalakaboomboo @starillusion13 @hongthoven @cqndiedcherries @uwuheeseungie @cheollipop @frankenstein852 @charreddonuts @miriamxsworld @mingigoo @michel-angelhoe @innsomniacshinestar @foxinnie8 @preciouswoozi @wooyoungjpg @nebulousbookshelf @wowie-hockey @hongjoongs-patience @ssaboala @jaehunnyy @kitten4sannie @maddkitt @pocketjoong-reads @lightinyreads @ren-junwrld @burnmepls @pyeonghongrie-main @archivesummer @little-angel-k @marsstarxhwa

thank you for reading! if you enjoyed, please leave a kind reblog, much love!

[circeyoru]

I imagine what would happen and what it would do for the reader to finally say "I love you" to Alastor (Maybe with a kissing scene, I don't know, it's up to you!) .. Like what scenario could this happen? And what would our yandere react?

Go to MASTERLIST for the works. This ask is for {Unwanted Souls}

Another wholesome one!!! AHhhh

I think you guys are gonna love this one

If you guys read all my writings for {Unwanted Soul} and I'm including the asks too since I treat them as trivia now, you'll know Reader/you are not one to declare directly about your love. The most you did was admit to yourself and tell Alastor you missed him before your slumber. For good reason.

(since there's yet to be a request for part 5 or story ideas, this might be a spoiler or reused for future writing but with more details. you are warned)

Now, what would it take for you to directly confess? There MUST be a trigger. Something that pushes you to the edge that you can't keep it to yourself. A previous ask already got the kissing part, you were not shy to show your affection to Alastor. It's the admitting and people's acknowledgement that makes you not establish a relationship.

So what would push you? Be that trigger? There's already 2 people that did that. Mimzy and Adam. What they both have in common is the way they treated Alastor. One was using Alastor for their own benefit and the other was going to take Alastor away from you. You're not on Alastor's level, but you having accept your feelings now won't stand by and let others take Alastor away from you.

The trigger needs a build-up, so there's a repeated element. Adam's dead, so that's a no. Mimzy isn't, so she's the one. Okay, Alastor has no idea that you went to have Mimzy a silent warning (firing a shot at her), he only knows you know Mimzy and her actions, since you never expressed your dislike of Mimzy to Alastor. You heard from Husk what type of demon Mimzy was and he was happy to provide.

What happened was Mimzy came to the hotel again, asking for Alastor. You stayed back watching while Husk asked why, she claims that she wanted to apologise to Alastor for her actions. Charlie being the kind soul she is, let Mimzy stay and wait till Alastor came back. You were just about to leave for your room, wanting to tell Alastor to delay his return or just not go through the hotel lobby.

"Hey, you're a new face!"

You didn't even need to turn around and Mimzy was already standing in front of you. You had a hand on a notebook was was strapped to the side of your hip, something like where one would put their swords or guns, then your quill was in your inner chest pocket. Everyone else in the lobby felt the tense aura around you, everyone except Mimzy who continued to babble on and on.

You got annoyed standing around and sat down, Mimzy following suit. If you were ever in doubt of why you hated interactions, yeah, she's the perfect example. You didn't even listen to what she was talking about, shutting her off. Everyone saw and noticed, it was off that you were humoring Mimzy when you could have left, but you didn't. Then they recalled that Mimzy was looking for Alastor, so they figured you stayed around to see the exchange between the two.

"Actually, this cutie here's always got smile's attention. He's like a puppy!" Angel added mid-conversation.

"Wow, you fell for him of all people? I mean, I wouldn't blame yeah, but he's not worth it!" Mimzy laughed. "Never will he even care about a little weak soul like you!"

When Husk saw the way your face scrunched up in disgust, he warned Mimzy to shut it. Naturally, she snaps back at Husk and says she's talking to you. Charlie comes over to defend Husk and you, telling Mimzy to back down. But she continues, laughed and sang how evil and cruel Alastor was to cut your chances. To you, it was so weird that while Alastor saw Mimzy as a friend, she didn't. That was too close to home for you. Way too close.

"Shut your annoying mouth!" You declared, standing up. Your outburst got everyone staring at you and Mimzy to shut up. "What do you know? You use Alastor's name to get what you want. You use your friendship with him to get what you want. What's wrong with you? In Hell, you're supposed to treasure what you have. Not abuse it."

"Wow, so you're one of those. So righteous, so good." Mimzy taunted back with a smirk. "It's because we're in Hell that we should use everything to our advantage." She got in your face as she poked at you, "You're very defensive of ol' Alastor. What, did ya actually fall for him?"

Without missing a beat, you spoke so clearly and firmly, "I love Alastor."

"What was that?"

"I said," Just for a moment, your eyes closed with a blink and you turned to the voice on impulsive, a glare prepared to direct at the demon, "I love you."

Your own gasp and shocked overshadowed everyone elses. Alastor. When did he come back? Your mind replayed what happened and you froze, you immediately teleported away with your pages and disappeared from the lobby.

Alastor's shock and joy were cut short when he heard Mimzy's laughter, sarcastically lamenting for your 'heartbreak'. His demonic form came out so naturally and his shadows swallowed Mimzy whole. No time to waste. He went to you and found you in your pile of pillows covered by your blanket.

He sat by your bed and placed his hand over your head, "Darling, I can forget I heard it." He's lying, he'll remember it. You defending him, you caring for him, and you declaring your love for him. In some sense, Mimzy was useful. But for you, he'll say he won't care. "You don't have to take the role or any responsibility."

Alastor almost didn't react fast enough when he was pinned to the bed post by you, a kiss on the lips made him all the more excited and downbad for you and your affection. His eyes droopy as he reached for you, that determined look on your face and that beating heart.

"No. Remember it and never betray my love. Alastor."

It's his now.

"Of course, My Love."

All his.

[depressedhouseplant]

🔞 Just Fucking Write 2k24 - Day 26 🔞

Prompt: Felix x Fem!Reader

Tags: Oral sex (f receiving), squirting, established relationship

A/N: For all my thirsty Felix stans

It had been one of those days. Everything that could go wrong at work had and I was looking forward to lazing on the couch with a glass of wine and watching whatever stupid dating show Netflix pulled up.

“Hey babe!” Felix called when he heard me open the door to our shared apartment.

“Hey,” I grunted in return, kicking off my shoes and dropping my bag by the door. “I thought you had plans?”

“Jinnie forgot he had practice because he forgot it’s Friday,” he replied. “You look exhausted.”

“That would be because I am,” I sighed. I wasn’t going to tell him that I’d been slightly looking forward to being home alone for a few hours. Slightly.

“Come on,” he gave me a quick peck on the lips and led me to the bedroom.

“Babe, I’m really not in the mood…” I started.

“You need to change out of your work clothes, don’t you?” he asked.

“Well yeah,” I agreed.

“Let me help,” he said. He unbuttoned my top, slowly running his hands up my sides before pushing it off. He unhooked my bra and pulled it off, careful to avoid my chest. I felt my panties start to get wet. As much as I liked to think of myself as a modern woman who was fully capable of taking care of herself, having Felix help me was a turn on. A big one.

“On or off?” he asked.

“Huh?” I asked. I was too stuck in my own head to realize he’d gotten on his knees, taken off my skirt, and had his hands on my hips over the top seam of my panties. He was looking up at me expectantly.

“What happens if you take them off?” I asked.

“That’s up to you, but if you were open to it, I’d like to eat you out and from this angle it does appear you’re amenable to it,” he grinned.

“Only you would say ‘amenable’ before you stick your tongue in my pussy,” I grinned back at him and ruffled his hair.

“So is that a yes?” he asked.

“Yes, please,” I replied.

“Get comfortable then,” he gestured to the bed. An embarrassing amount of slick came out when he took my panties off. “I didn’t know just undressing you was enough to get you that wet.”

“Now you do,” I lied down and let my legs fall open.

“I’ll keep it in mind,” he kissed his way up my inner thigh until he reached my pussy. He traced up one of my folds with his tongue.

“Fuck,” I groaned. I felt him smile against the already sensitive skin.

“As always, I expect you to let me know I’m doing a good job,” his lips moved against my thigh. I nodded right as he began sucking my clit. My hips bucked on their own. He carefully wrapped his hands around them and pinned me down.

“You’ve got to hold still,” he admonished, but we both knew I liked it when he forced me to hold still. I let out the most pathetic whines and whimpers as he licked and sucked. I’d given up on any kind of pride when his mouth was between my legs a long time ago. Then he plunged his tongue into my pussy and began to suck.

“Holy fuck Felix,” I gasped. If I didn’t know any better, I heard a giggle from between my legs. I felt my pussy begin to twitch and that unmistakable feeling like I was going to pee. He was trying to get me to squirt in his face. He was going to succeed, too.

“Come on, baby. I know you’ve got it in you,” he said, briefly pulling back and massaging my clit with his thumb. The bottom half of his face was shiny with slick. He was grinning at me like some kind of demon.

“You…” I began, not even sure what I was even trying to say.

“Should I let you come? I know you’re gonna make a mess on my face, but maybe I like to brag about it later,” he kept massaging my clit. I was teetering on the edge and he knew it. “I guess I’ll let you come.”

He stuck his tongue back in my pussy, sucked all of about 3 times, and I was coming. I’d panicked the first time I squirted thinking that I’d peed in my boyfriend’s face, but he’d assured me that it wasn’t enough to be actual pee. Also if he enjoyed it, who was I to argue? Now I just let the dizzying pleasure course through me and went limp when I finished. He reached for a towel I’d left by the bed this morning to clean his face before he kissed me.

“Strangely enough, you look less exhausted now,” he teased.

“Strangely enough, you relaxed me better than a glass of wine and Netflix,” I replied.

“Thank you for the ego boost,” he said before getting up and handing me my house clothes.

“Thank you for being my boyfriend,” I smiled.

“You’re welcome,” he laughed.

[izvmimi]

cw: hurt/comfort with like too much comfort. part of isekai au. reincarnation mention. don't look at me lmfao.

The gathering around the irori in the home you are staying at between missions has long since dispersed - Inosuke and Zenitsu deciding to go to bed after an unnecessarily escalated spat, and your friends themselves having turned in for the night - and now all that remains is you and Tanjiro, sitting around the charcoal hearth. Now that Inosuke will no longer pop out of nowhere to interrupt any attempt at affection (as he has the habit of doing for a reason unknown to the two of you), Tanjiro moves closer to your seated position, his chin pressing gently on your shoulder. You’ve been staring fixedly at the burning charcoal for a moment now, your knees pulled to your chest as the fire continues to crackle just before your bare feet, your filled cup of tea untouched. He glances at it for a moment, then lets his hand gently cover yours pressed against the wooden floor as he rests behind you.

“Are you okay? You’ve barely touched your tea.”

You don’t automatically let yourself sink in his warmth, so he contents himself with letting his arms settle around your waist and pressing close. You remain still, pensive.

There is a fierce wind that blows just outside this dwelling, ice and snow bated by the wooden walls of this home; you can barely hear or feel it this close to the fireplace, warmed by both the dutiful flames and Tanjiro’s body heat. The muted sound of nature feels representative of the inner turmoil of your mind as you continue to look within the flames with intent, as though you can divine your own future through them. 

“I’m okay,” you whisper. 

“Mm.”

He’ll accept that answer for now as he settles on just holding you close, not knowing that he’s holding you together at this moment, as in many other instances over the past year. Tanjiro keeps himself quiet, humming every so often as though to remind you he’s there, breathing and existing by your side always.

The coal burns odorless as you watch it, but you can imagine that if you ask Tanjiro, he’d be able to tell you the complex myriad of notes to be inhaled in the unadulterated smoke. In your own time, you recall a fireplace in your childhood home that you’d never used and purchased firewood your parents had set aside, truly just for show with no intention for use in favor of central heating. In this time period, the charcoal is indispensable or you’d freeze to death. 

Tanjiro was once a coal burner and it is apt for him, down to the very spelling of his name. Steadfast, warm, dependable, a versatile healing and nourishing resource borne out of destruction. He hums again, and you shift finally, letting out a drawn out exhale.

He can tell you’re ready to speak, having come up to a conclusion in your own mind. You’ve fought demons today successfully, you’ve grown stronger, and yet, you’ve still received no answers about how to return to your time. Your memories fade slowly day by day, but new ones are made every second. 

Like now.

“Tanjiro.”

“Yes, love.”

He calls you love now, any chance he can get, and it makes your heart rend at times. You want to go home so badly, to see your family and loved ones, but he is your loved one now and you need him. 

You swallow thickly, then let your hand rest on your belly on top of his, leaning into his touch. You can afford this for now, in fact you should before you can no longer.

“Where do you think the previous incarnation of me is right now?” you ask. 

He muses for a moment, then replies. “Hopefully somewhere safe and warm.”

You smile. As you’d expect, a sweet, straightfoward answer from him. 

“Yeah, probably living a simple but fulfilling life on another continent. Maybe not even human, a particularly well-behaved goat or something.”

He laughs and presses a kiss to your neck.

“I don’t think you’d be a goat, but if you were, I think you’d be the cutest goat.”

You’re warmed up again from the inside, but fight it off, turning to him so that you look him in the eyes. They shine, the flickered flames reflected in the irises. He doesn’t break his hold on you, only readjusting. Always readjusting to suit your flow, you practically hate how much he accommodates you. 

“There’s probably some karmic retribution for whatever’s going on here,” you murmur. You’re not sure you believe in reincarnation, but so many around you do, and if that were true, is there a you that exists in this world right now that will never know him? Is there a him in your own time that will never get to meet you if you stay?

If love is true, does it span time or does it rebel against it?

Despite this you let him tilt your head up and kiss you, while wrapping you in the warmth of a blanket you didn’t remember him bringing out. 

“What’s the punishment? For what crime?” he asks. The way he looks at you, he seems to pore into your soul, far too good to be human, far too good to be yours.

“I…” you trail off. Going from work assignments and weekend partying to slaying demons and losing everyone you know and the technology you’ve always taken for granted should be hell, but when you’re together like this, it feels more like a short-term purgatory with heaven in clear view, with the sweetest guardian spirit leading you there.

Your gaze lowers from his deep carnelian ones and you decide instead to let yourself rest against his chest.

“Never mind, I love you.”

You can feel his love for you swell. 

“I love you, too.”

You let yourself rest as the charcoal burns; he hums again, just slightly off-key but it’s music to your ears. 

[skayafair]

Hell Circles

Alright time for a soul-crashing post!

When I saw Edwin curling down on the floor in that room in Hell, trying to be as quiet as possible and not even trying to run when Charles found him, my mind faltered.

We know Edwin escaped Hell. So why did he look like he gave up? He hasn't been there for as long as the first time, I think even with hell's no-time he should have been able to feel this.

I explained it to myself in 2 ways, they aren't mutually exclusive and are both pretty painful to think about.

It was just this devastating to end up in Hell for the second time, and Edwin clearly didn't expect for anyone to come for his rescue. So his resilience and resolve weren't as strong as the first time or, rather, he felt broken by this sudden developement and didn't manage to bounce back from it yet (again, it wasn't very long this time). The boiling point of "I WILL get out of here again, everything be damned" wasn't reached yet. (As you can clearly see, I have no doubts whatsoever that he WOULD HAVE done this eventually, just after much more trauma and suffering. I'm so glad Charles came before all that.)

This is a psychological cycle. I often go through a similar one so I couldn't help remembering it. When you run as fast as you can and try your best to no avail until you're out of all the resources to go on, and so you give up. Curl up in the corner and hope the outside world won't notice you, give you some respite. The future seems bleak or non-existent. You give. up. It won. And then over time the inner battery charges, or the desperation reaches its breaking point, so you grit your teeth and get up. And run and try again and again and again. "Impossible just means try again". I thought Edwin must have went through similar cycles time after time. The first time he was dragged into hell, then the second. After every couple of "deaths". The worst thing about it is that while real life has at least one escape (not recommended but as a last resort it's at least always there if everything becomes too unbearable), Edwin has none. His only choice is either to tremble in the corner forever (and who said the doll-spider won't notice him even so?) or to run and be torn to pieces. Forever is a very long time. Only with running there's still this very thin, very subtle hope to escape, so in a way this choice is unavoidable. Oh, right, Edwin actually has another possible escape - into madness can you tell I'm fond of loveraftian horror. Locking himself up in his own mind might help, although I'm not sure it would have been effective enough. And honestly I'm glad he wasn't this broken after all.

So yeah that was fun to realize :')

Also Edwin doesn't handle change well, as we know from Charles' words. How jarring (beside the obvious) was it to be tossed from one demon to another? I bet the "punishment" changed, too. It must have felt devastating to figure out the way of handling one and get more used to it, more mentally stable, however horrible it might be, - just to be thrown into a completely new situation.

Let's add insult to the injury, shall we? Look at the corridors Edwin was kept in. The greenish hue, the dim light that makes even the most spacious halls feel claustraphobic. It feels heavy, weights on your mind. There are no windows, no outside, forever. It's suffocating. This place is a pure torture on its own, even without demon doll head spiders.

All in all, I didn't like Edwin much when I first started watching, but after completing the series and rewatching on top of that, I admire him. To go through all these horrors and get out of them is worth that on its own. But Edwin retained his kindness, compassion, moral compass and a will to help others in need. He didn't grow callous, didn't lock himself away emotionally from the world fearing to be hurt again - at least not completely, not even close. I really didn't expect to come to respect and admire a teenage series character like that.

This show has a heart in it, it's living and beating and big and kind, and its characters reflect that in full.

[diangelodork]

DBDA nightly analysis #17! (everything in color has to do with politics. please skip if you must. take care of yourself.)

i will be trying to catch up, but i make no promises. - count this as 11/5!!

however, i refuse to allow this world to stop me from creating so this will not stop.

my nightly analyses going forward will be free of talk of politics. they are a reprieve from that.

that being said, tonight’s topic is all about the blue and pink/purpley spaces within crystal's mind.

the first time we see this blue space is in E1 where she goes into the bathroom at the malt shop and walks out the door, bombarded by david the demon the moment she escapes. within this space, we see three eyes floating at the cieling as well as broken glass all over the floor.

he refuses to tell her where it is that they are, saying that she "should know," but these two factors solidify it for me.

this is her mindspace.

the three eyes make me think of her two eyes and an inner eye, all three turned in toward her and david.

this is both because she is percieving herself right now, looking into her own mindspace, but also because her eyes roll back in her head when having visions.

i don't think they turn white, i think they roll back into her head because she is looking into people's minds or into the memories the objects she is reading hold (the missing poster, becky's shoe, etc.). she has to isolate herself and the thing she is reading in order to fully see it. it would be impossible to look into something whilst also taking in the entire world around her.

the pieces of glass on the ground, on the other hand, is the shattered concept of the "looking glass self," a sociological concept coined in 1902 by charles horton cooley that introduces the concept of understanding yourself through the lens of others.

the reason this is shattered is that introspection is impossible for her at this point in time. she cannot look into something that is entirely empty, through the perception of others or not, which is why its shattered. her memories are gone, therefore, her understanding of herself is too. she has nothing to reflect on, so to speak.

the pink/purpley space that she discovers in E6, on the other hand, is her heartspace/soulspace.

it holds her sense of self--the tree--and her past and history--her ancestors--which can also be considered the roots of the tree. the reason she is allowed to bloom is because of all those that came before her (both in the literal and figurative sense. she would not exist if not for those that came before her, and she wouldnt have any powers if her ancestors hadn't either). this space is her. it is the concept of her soul and identity.

also, the fact that they are sharing food and are around the table reminds me of a home. a shared space with people of a shared history and culture. her soul is imbued with the heart of her history, her ancestry. "home is where the heart is," yeah, and this is quite literally her heart.

[the-martyrfication-of-the-matron]

Hey new to the aphmau fandom, like days old, and i was wondering what order to watch her rps as its kinda confusing to me

This is going to be such a long post because there’s so much to say! (There is a TLDR at the end if you don’t care about specifics and just want a watch order)

The inclusion of side-series and stuff just convolutes things a tad. But I promise, you will get an answer.

First;

I suggest a side series to start. Which isn’t to say that they’re all short, they’re just not relevant to the Big Two.

But, yeah, just dip your toe in the pool first.

Dreams of Estorra- never watched it. But it’s popular. It should be on the Aphmau Stories channel instead of her main one, if you can’t find it there. If someone can offer me a summary for it I would love you.

A Royal Tale- a weird mishmash of Disney and the Aphverse. A lighthearted fantasy show with some adult humour, Lo (< an icon), and romance. It will introduce you to some of the characters from the other series without overwhelming you with references you won’t understand. Aarmau, but they’re exes who hate eachother. It’s only a roleplay

Mermaids Tale- similar thing to ART, a mermaid au for Aphverse. Very Aarmau centric, there’s lesbian mermaids. I cant actually remember the plot but it got me into my train (the singer) phase. It’s only a roleplay

Mod Mod world- never watched it, but it did get a sequel that I’ll bring up later. Again, would love a summary from someone.

My Inner Demons- it’s one of the only non-aphmau centric shows and doesn’t include ANY aphverse characters. The main character is Ava, and it’s set up like a Harem Anime with a bunch of male demon love interests for her. It has quite adult humour, but it’s pretty cute aesthetically and deserves a second season. It’s only a roleplay

HeartPoint- a girl sees how much people like her platonically and romantically by little stats that appear above their heads. I believe Aphmau is the only Aphverse character, and whilst the romance is pretty obvious to me, I’ll leave who she ends up with blank as that’s kind of a part of the series… iirc. It’s only a roleplay.

There may be more… I’ll have to look.

Anyways.

So.

Onto the behemoths.

Minecraft Diaries is the first of the Roleplays to really get her popularity. It’s a medieval fantasy, with both roleplay and let’s play elements in it. It ran for three seasons, seasons one and two being 100 episodes each, however season 3 ended short. It was never completed. Season three is regarded as the worst season, and most either don’t consider it canon or haven’t watched it at all, but I consider it canon solely because it introduces us Lo, who I love. The two main ships when it was popular were Laurmau and Garmau, and if it weren’t for MyS, they probably still would be treated as such.

If you want to watch the main series in chronological order, I would watch MCD first. It is my favourite tho so maybe I’m biased. The lore can be contradictory and the quality slowly improves over time. It started to get remade with Rebirth, which you can watch before hand to get a general gist of the show before you dive into it, though it isn’t incredibly accurate to how the original is. Seasons 1-2 are on Aphmau’s main channel (I think), but season 3 is on Aphmau Stories. You don’t need to watch MyStreet but, you will probably end up watching it anyways.

Brief intermission: Void Paradox. The Mod Mod world sequel, is also a side series for MCD s1, and was made years afterwards. Very high quality, probably one of the better side series in general, and deserved a continuation. MMW isn’t required to watch it, but for context on Laurence and what’s up with him, MCD s1 is.

The next is MyStreet. It started as a modern Au for Diaries with the side stories and The Big Move, however began to be made into its own series. It begins as a slice of life, and is very light hearted with an Aarmau emphasis. It faces a genre swap for Season 4, before reverting to a slightly more solemn version of what it once was, before it goes back to a darker vibe for s6. Until s6, it existed in a separate universe to MCD, and you don’t need to watch MCD to understand it (though it does provide some context for s6)

There are prequels and side series (and a three episode sequel, which is fun). PDH is the main one, and because MyS was made first, they can contradict, however you will need to watch PDH S2 for context for MyS S4. Otherwise you won’t know the villain or understand what the fuck he’s doing. After them, there is PDH: Graduation days, and FalconClaw University. Neither are particularly important, but again, FCU offers some context for s4, so… you could watch it. It’s just not mandatory. There’s Aphmau’s year after s4, which is just a recovery mini-season, and there’s Her Wish which was released before s6, but set after it. And I will give them credit, they did preplan when they wrote her wish and watching it after s6 and realising everything they did to retain continuity… oh it’s good. Her wish does require watching MCD S3/late s2 though, it won’t make sense without it.

TLDR;

If a series isn’t Void Paradox, Mystreet, MCD, Phoenix Drop High or FalconClaw Uni, you can just watch it whenever.

MCD / PDH / MYS is my personal favourite watch order, because it’s all chronological. But just go with whatever you vibe with!

MCD is the OG and fantasy Medieval, but is a mix of roleplay and let’s play, and doesn’t have entirely consistent lore. It has a partial remake and it’s final, incomplete season, sucked.

PDH is higher quality and a highschool drama with fantasy undertones but less relevant, and is a prequel for MyS

MYS is the most popular and is a slice of life with more fantasy undertones, as well as very high quality, but suffers through genre swaps, and requires some context from the other two in later seasons.

[satancopilotsmytardis]

Please Tanco, can you tell us about Honeybee Dabi's backstory?

I didn't proofread this and it's 2am! If there are mistakes we kindly advert our eyes!! TW: Past torture, past sexual assault, for the most part none of this is in graphic detail, but yeah, there's some sad and dark shit in there. (I had to put a space between every bullet because Tumblr wouldn't recognize each one as its own text block otherwise, oops)

So Honeybees live in hives when they're growing up, and like adolescent succubi/incubi, the older members of their hive take care of them by bringing back energy from their feedings to give to the younger ones. When Dabi was twelve, he picked a fight with one of his hivemates who was set to become the next leader of their group, because he was thought to be too sickly and too bad at talking to others to be able to be in that position of power. Instead of just getting a stern talking to, or sent out of the hive, one of the older members decided they didn't want to risk him finding a new hive and taking over there and eventually coming back to oust their new leader while he was still developing, so he arranged for Dabi to be taken through the rift by Signetworks. 

Signetworks was a company that is an offshoot of a bigger corporation that has been around since before The Great Ascension. They had the capital and ability to gather more and more demons for study throughout the Ascension and wanted to experiment on them to figure out how to kill demons, how to weaponize/control them, how to use their abilities for humanity's gain, and how to contain them. They got most of their early test subjects by making underhanded deals with other demons who wanted their competition gone so they could have an easier time of progressing their own goals. 

So Dabi was sold off to this company at 12 and they did a lot of horrible things to him for many years. All because he was a rowdy kid. He never got over that, and never lost his attitude no matter how badly he was hurt. The marking across his body would have developed anyway once he was deeper in puberty, but one of the tests they ran was to try and harvest the bioluminescent cells from his tissue that resulted in a lot of pain and made the markings form in the blown-out irregular shapes that they are in now. 

The worst of all of the things that Signetworks ever did to him was when he was just finishing his transition into adulthood and his wings had finally finished emerging from his back. They didn't know how to handle a demon with wings like his. Most other demonic species who have wings tend to have bat wings or bird wings, and bat wings can be broken, and bird wings can be clipped, which tended to be their go-to. But Dabi's outer wings were hard shells, and they didn't have the anatomy that they were used to dealing with. So one day when Dabi was deliriously hungry and they sent in someone to feed him, they had him face down, and when his wings flared involuntarily, they tried to cut them off at the roots. It didn't work immediately, so they called in other people to hold them open as different tools were brought to try and carve them off of his back, but even though it hurt, he bled, and his skin was torn open badly, they couldn't actually find any human tool that could cut through the bone and inner connective tissue to sever them from his back. 

They kept his wings restrained for the rest of the time he was trapped with them, and when he was eventually freed, he was half feral, terrified of humans, mistrusting of other demons, and horribly malnourished with extreme trauma around eating. He nearly died before the people responsible for holding him until whatever the situation with Signetworks was managed to work out what to do with the demons they'd liberated, figured out that he could consume semen without having to be actively involved in the production of it. 

When everything with Signetworks went to court, both on the mortal plane and the infernal one, Dabi was given the choice to stay in the human realm or go back to the demonic one. He stayed on Earth because the demon who had traded him had somehow side-stepped any and all responsibility over the incident. He didn't want to go back and be cleaned up like a loose end.

Since he stayed with humans, humans assigned him a counselor to help him deal with all of that trauma, which ended up being Atsuhiro. He's been working with Dabi for six years, and after just six months, and far before Dabi was ready for it, it was decided that he would have to become a functioning member of society if he wanted to stay on this plane. He had no skills, was too jumpy to do anything, and didn't know what else to do, so when Ambrosia Cosmetics came and offered him a job, he felt like he didn't have any choice but to say 'yes'. (Dabi also met Toga going in and out of Atsuhiro's practice. She's a half-demon that her family hates because she was born of an affair, though it's unclear if an incubus impersonated her mother's husband or if she just straight up cheated, either way, she's not having a good time for entirely different reasons. She's the one who gave Dabi the firefly plush that he keeps in his apartment.)

He found out early on that whatever Signetworks did to him, made him produce way, way more venom and honey than the average bee, and that him being a good producer is all that the company cared about. He could make his demands and mostly get what he wanted so long as he was the best producer. But Ambrosia always pushed at his boundaries. He would always just be struggling to get by with a pollinator, not ever actually enjoying his meals because he never had any guarantee that they would actually listen to him or be able to control themselves when his hyper-potent venom got into their systems. Sometimes they would be okay for a while, but eventually they always got to a point where they would want to fuck him in a position he didn't like, or grab at him in a way that was too similar to what would happen when he was a prisoner, and he wouldn't be able to get them away from him fast enough for his instincts to not rear up and have him lashing out. 

He kept Atsuhiro on to try and get better about all of that, which is definitely part of the reason Ambrosia didn't give him the boot, but he never seemed to be doing better fast enough. He still tried though, making friends with the half-demon security guy who made his door a little more in his control for the first time in his life. He tried to do his job and be good. But it was hard, it sucked, and he never lost his attitude because he was constantly terrified that if he broke down the way he could feel sitting on the edge of his nerves, that he would fall apart and never be able to put himself back together again. 

Then in comes Tomura who kind of gave him the same measured, calm vibes as Atsuhiro, but different in the sense that he didn't hesitate to take control of the situation, tell him off for his attitude, and then demand in the most gentle way for Dabi to just let himself let go. He gave him his venom and he didn't turn mean, he didn't stop checking in or stop listening to him, he didn't hurt him, didn't abandon him when he started to fall apart. He just stayed and stayed kind. He took care of him, feeding him, made sure that he was alright, never moved too fast. It was easy to latch onto him, just for a little while, just until he got mean. 

But he stayed that good to him over time, and by the end of the first month that they were paired together, Dabi admitted that he could never fully relax and enjoy himself at the farm because he knew he wasn't ever really safe or in private there. At any moment, even with his extra lock, someone could just barge in. There were cameras to make sure that he wasn't going to kill anyone after his past incidents, he only ever got to leave the facility to go see Atsuhiro for his therapy, and the company didn't even like letting him do that. They tried to get him to switch to a therapist they hired, and when he wouldn't, they only let him go in a company car that had a very tight schedule so he could never go anywhere after his sessions and had to be stressed out the entire time he was there that he might go over. 

Tomura didn't tell him that this wasn't his business, that he didn't care about that stuff as long as Dabi was still a warm hole to fuck, he heard him, said 'They can't treat you like that', and by the end of the week had gotten Dabi a cellphone so he could call for cabs on his own, made sure that Dabi could actually see and more easily access the money that he was making from selling his honey, had gotten permission for them to go off-site for their sessions, and had... given him a key so that he could come to Tomura's apartment when he wanted to be somewhere else for a while. He'd apologized because he knew that wasn't exactly private, but he did have a guest room with a lock on the door, and he wouldn't ever, ever open it, not unless Dabi told him he could or the building was actively on fire or collapsing. 

Dabi essentially moved in as soon as he did that, and by the end of the second month, Tomura listened to him again when he said he didn't want to be doing the work he was for Ambrosia. He didn't ask what he would do instead, didn't demand that he have a new job, didn't threaten to kick him out, he just listened, promised that he would keep listening if Dabi thought this over and wanted to talk it out, and told him that he loved him. He didn't know that all he had to do to leave was write a letter. But he looked up how to as soon as his lover was out the door and wrote it. He called up Shuichi and Toga to help him get his shit together, and by the end of the day, he had all of his boxes in Tomura's spare room.

In a few more months, Dabi will be selling his honey to some club his lover used to go to, only when he feels like it, Tomura will still be sweet to him, and there will be a moth plush sitting on their bookshelf alongside his firefly. In a year Dabi will manage to tell Tomura that he loves him. In three, he'll be able to let Tomura fuck him from behind with his lips pressed against the scars that are carved into his back. 

[sepublic]

Given how much we roll with Samus having a ton of self-loathing due to the deaths of so many loved ones by the time of Fusion... Let's do even more with that.

The SA-X is terrifying, and part of that comes from it being a soulless, unspeaking, automaton; Samus without any of the soul. But we also know the X can copy memories, and granted it's possible the X never got to access Samus' brain, and wouldn't have those as the SA-X.

But what if they still somehow did? We know there's more than one SA-X; About ten, Adam calculates. So maybe one of them is cold and unfeeling... But what if another is Samus' own self-loathing personified, externalized?

The X are clever; What if this SA-X voices all of Samus' doubts towards her. Tortures her psychologically to throw Samus off her game, because the X know that self-doubt can cause more intelligent creatures to underperform. What if we have an SA-X that asks aloud all the questions that Samus hates about herself; If she's such a hero, why are so many of her friends and family dead? Why does she destroy everything she touches?

This plays into Samus' self-destructive action in blowing up the BSL with herself aboard, because she's convinced herself she can't do anything right, so it doesn't matter if this doesn't actually eradicate the X on SR388. And then Adam, this computerized copy who is supposed to be cold logic, actually speaks through to Samus by acting more objective and reminding her; There are other ways to do this, and you don't need to die. And then he begins to rediscover himself.

And it's like a parallel because computer Adam is also a clone copying the memories and personality of an original, albeit a manmade, digital mimic. And Adam and the SA-X start off as cold and unfeeling, but then rediscover emotions; In the SA-X's case, they're cruel and ultimately meant more as a parroted echo of Samus' self-hatred, for an ulterior, practical motive of defeating the enemy at any cost. For Adam, it's him learning to live and love again, and save a friend from the fate he technically already went through, and can't truly come back from.

But yeah, imagine the SA-X constantly guilt-tripping Samus... Bringing up her parents, and then Gray Voice. Not to mention Rundas, Ghor, and Gandrayda. The Metroids, especially the Infant. Zebes. Adam Malkovich. Belittling, dismissing, undermining Samus' achievements, insisting those she did help and save, like the Luminoth or Old Bird, will follow suit eventually. She became Ridley when she eradicated the Ing, who just wanted to survive, and left only one baby Metroid alive.

It gaslights Samus, which adds to the paranoia of not knowing what to believe, what's real, with the X mimicking things and the Federation lying to Samus; Plus her projecting Adam onto what she believed was just a computer. She's really going through it, and for a while it's actually working in throwing Samus off of her game, and she already lost all her upgrades!

It's basically Samus fighting her inner demons; Not just this caricature of her as something that is only a weapon and destroyer, but her own feelings of inadequacy, the guilt, the loneliness, the tendency to push others away for fear of hurting them too. And the suicidal ideation. And eventually she conquers both of these takes on her that actually go hand in hand, and comes out stronger with her identity rediscovered and reclaimed, hence the removal of the helmet to reveal Samus within, and her Fusion suit resembling the classic Varia color scheme now.

[sol-consort]

Omg do you think humans don’t vibe with the Asari as much as they do with literally every other species is because we know where we stand with everyone else?

We don't vibe with asari? I mean, I have personal beef with them bc of how they handled ME3, but besides that, the asari have been a little delightful, pretentious, but charming still. It's hard to stay mad at someone so pretty.

But you have a point, humans and turians mingle more often than humans and asari. Hell, humans and krogans seem to have much more fun. Even salarians enjoy our food and culture... but the asari are just there.

I think humanity's lack of "special" bond with asari is because...well, the asari can't exploit us in a way that matters.

LISTEN—listen okay. So, each species the asari are close with "lacks" certain things. Salarians with their imbalance 90/10 male to female ratio meaning a lot of them will never get married, Krogans inability to have kids because of the genophage, Vorcha with their limit 20y lifespan and underdeveloped society, Quarians living in poverty and requiring, expensive antibiotics, environmental suit and its maintenance costs to stay alive.

And the asari take advantage of that. Not always malicious, but they feel inclined to meddle within each species and attempt to fill the empty spaces in order to advance their own society.

Many salarians marry asari, said asari not minding since they'll outlive them.

Krogans who desperately want kids, the one thing the asari can give them.

The vorcha whom they actually enslaved and exploited for years, who couldn't defend themselves in court because the asari would just stall the case until the vorcha eventually dies, not to mention the fact they kept them illiterate and uneducated on purpose.

Swindling someone out of their money in Thessia is not a crime, there are zero laws to defend the customer, everyone is trying to scam everyone and quarians always get the short end of the stick and end up signing up for things they don't understand, drowning in debt until the asari sells them to a different company they must work for like a slave.

The asari are parasitic by nature. They find a weakness within a species and exploit it to advance their own. They're probably not aware of it, nor do it intentionally, but this is the reality of their existence.

A race that requires a different species to reproduce will always only prosper on the suffering of others. A Cuckoo is very beautiful, but it can't build its own nest, so it lays eggs in other birds' nest and tricks them into raising its own. A brood parasite. As the chick hatches, it will push the other eggs off of the nest, ensuring it's the only one that remains.

They can dress up their society as much as they like, swear by the goddess, adorn all the titles of justicar and else. Speak with eloquence and act with grace. They still are opportunistic parasites at their core.

Humans are self-fulfilling, everything the asari can offer us—both the good and the bad—we already have ourselves. Even our biotics research advancement reaches a stage in ME3 where the asari asks to have a look at it.

We like the asari, but we don't need them.

Not to mention the whole brainwashing thing to make themselves seem the most appealing to your brain, tricking you into viewing them as very similar to your species—yeah we glossed over that we too quickly.

It could also just be the Mass Effect storywriters keeping them a blank page on purpose, all the stuff about the asari intricate world, brutal capitalist society, inner conflict, civil wars as several groups demand isolation from the rest of the aliens, the fact they can easily birth bloodthirsty demon like biotics, or the whole racism issue based on who the father is, all of that is swiftly swept under the rug fot the "hot human-lite all-women alien species."

The turians are also a species that seemingly doesn't lack anything.

Sure, they can be a little uptight and too military centred, but they seem uh happy with their mandatory bootcamps for kids?

So them and the asari don't mingle much, they are on good terms but asari don't often go for turians, and it's true the other way around as well.

You see more human/turian couples than asari/turian ones in Mass Effect.