#they’re so dumb they’re so perfect they’re so strange

[athymelyreply]

These stupid bastards… I love them.

[linos-luna]

Not so innocent ❣️

Felix x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Smut! Degradation, groping, slapping, dom/sub dynamic, rough sex, slight sadism?

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Felix has always been an incredibly sweet boyfriend: loving, affectionate, and always ready for a cuddle. You often find yourself wondering how you got so lucky. But in terms of intimacy, that’s it. While there’s plenty of cuddles and kisses, there hasn’t been much in the way of deeper intimacy. Despite dating for months, things just haven’t progressed further. He’s never pushed you for more, and neither have you…

After seeing a movie with your friends, something stuck in your mind. It was a silly film, but there was this awkward sex scene that got everyone laughing. Your friends started joking about how your boyfriend, was probably a secret freak in bed like the guy in the movie. It was funny at the time, and you just waved it off.

Later, after grabbing a quick bite, you came home to Felix, who greeted you warmly as you walked through the door.

“Hi, baby,” Felix said, his voice soft and affectionate.

“Hi!” you replied, slipping off your shoes.

“Did you have fun with your friends?”

“Mmhm!” You nodded, moving to sit beside him on the couch. “We just hung out and watched some dumb movie,” you added as he gave you a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Yeah? Sounds fun.”

“There was a weird sex scene, and one of my friends joked that you were probably a little freak like that guy,” you chuckled, throwing it out casually.

“Oh. Heh.” Felix paused, then gave a nervous chuckle, which immediately piqued your curiosity.

“Felix?”

“What?” he said, avoiding eye contact.

“You hesitated there,” you replied, raising an eyebrow. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

“Well, um…”

“Are you suggesting…?”

Felix blushed, clearly uncomfortable but not saying much.

“What, you like that sexual stuff?” you teased, leaning closer to him.

“Well—“

“Jeez, baby, why didn’t you mention it before? What kind of sexy fantasies do you have?” you asked, genuinely curious now.

“Oh, baby, it’s nothing. Nothing you’d like,” he muttered, clearly embarrassed.

“So you are a little deviant,” you chuckled awkwardly. “How do you know I wouldn’t like it if you never brought it up?”

“Well I just don’t know if you’re ready for what I like.” He smirked. “Might be a little much for a princess.”

You could tell he was teasing now, but you weren’t sure if you wanted to play along. Still, maybe it would be worth it.

“I’m sure I can handle whatever you throw at me,” you said, your face flushing as you tried to sound confident.

“Are you sure?” His voice dropped lower, sending a shiver through you as he leaned in closer. “Because I have many rules... and I don’t like it when they’re broken.”

There was a sudden shift in his demeanor, and the intensity in his eyes made your heart race. You could feel the heat rising in you, a sensation that was already making you wet and undeniably... aroused.

You were caught off guard. Who knew your sweet, innocent boyfriend had this... side to him? It was unexpected, yet strangely intriguing. Even though you'd never experienced anything like this before, a part of you was curious… maybe even eager to try.

“I think I can do it,” you replied, your voice filled with a hint of fake confidence, trying to mask the nervous excitement building inside you.

Felix’s grin grew, a devious spark in his eyes. “Is that so?” he whispered, his tone sending a thrill down your spine.

“Mmhm,” you nodded, feeling your heartbeat quicken.

“Alright then. Let’s establish the rules,” Felix said casually, his fingers gently stroking your hair. “First is the safe word.”

You paused, caught off guard by how serious he sounded. You’d never thought about having a safe word before. After a moment of thinking, you replied, “Hm… how about... flower?”

“Perfect,” he said with a soft smile. “Just say it whenever things get too much, okay?”

You nodded, a mix of excitement and nerves running through you as you wondered what else he had in store.

Felix took your hand and led you to the bedroom, guiding you to sit on the bed while he stood back, his eyes lingering on you with intent.

His voice was calm but firm as he began laying out the rules, his demeanor a far cry from the sweet boyfriend you were used to. “You’re my submissive. My little princess. You will address me by my name or ‘sir.’ Maybe ‘master’ if I’m feeling… extra.” He grinned, his eyes glinting with mischief. “You’ll listen to me and speak only when I say so. Got it?”

You nodded quickly, but he cleared his throat, making you jump. “Speak.”

“Y-yes, Felix,” you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Good,” he said, clearly pleased. “Next, absolutely no touching yourself unless I give you permission. Your body is mine now. Got it?”

“Yes, Felix…” you responded, feeling your pulse quicken.

He continued, his tone even but filled with authority. “Good behavior will be rewarded. But bad behavior? That’ll earn you a punishment. And trust me, I don’t like bratty behavior.”

“Punishment?” you asked, a mix of curiosity and uncertainty in your voice.

“Mmhm,” he hummed darkly. “I have plenty of… toys… to punish you with.”

You chuckled nervously, thinking he had to be joking. “You’re lying. No way.”

But that smirk on his face told you he wasn’t. The devious glint in his eyes left you feeling nervous, yet undeniably more aroused.

“Disobey me, and you’ll suffer the consequences, Princess,” he said, his voice dropping lower, making you blush deeply.

Was it already starting? Was he already domming you?? Your thoughts were broken by one simple word.

“Strip.” He said simply, leaving to dumbfounded. This made him raise a brow. “Hey. I told you to do something.”

“O-oh sorry!” You said quickly when coming to. Slowly you removed your shirt then pants. He watched with a smirk, loving the sight of your body.

You were feeling a bit self conscious, you weren’t exactly the smallest girl around.

“You look beautiful, princess.” He said in a softer voice, reminding you that this was just an act.

You slowly removed your bra, stopping at your panties when he gestured to stop.

“Good girl.” He said as he got close to you. Felix moved you back on the bed, starting to get on top of you and gently kissing your lips.

A small gasp escaped your lips as you felt his hand between your legs. He rubbed circles on your clothed cunt, stimulating you ever so slightly; little jolts of pleasure making you twitch a bit.

Your boyfriend’s kisses got more aggressive as he bit your lip and inserted his tongue. His thumb pressed into your clothed cunt while his other hand squeezed your waist tight as he kissed down your neck. This had you whimpering.

From your waist, Felix moved his hand to under your bottom squeezing and pulling you into his hard cock that was prominent through his pants. Just the feeling had your cunt throbbing, making you hot and needy. You whined slightly, making him smirk.

“What’s wrong, princess?” He teased.

It was hard to speak as he continued pressing himself into your soaked underwear. “I asked you a question, doll~” he said in that deep voice, roughly grabbing your chin.

“M-mmhm— y-yes sir…” you whimpered in response.

Felix practically buried his face in your neck, kissing and biting at your neck. But it wasn’t nips. They were bites, the bites to leave marks. You nearly screamed, not sure if it was from pain or pleasure… or both.

“F-Felix—!” You gasped.

This only made him chuckle darkly as he moved down to bite around your collarbone. He squeezed your throat slightly as he marked you around your collarbone. Your heart was racing and you gripped his hand, digging your nails into his hand. Felix growled a bit and used his other hand to swiftly smack your thigh; it stung more than expected and made you cry out and let go of his hand

Felix stopped his biting and looked at you sharply, hand still lightly squeezing your neck. his eyes peered into yours, eyes full of lust.

“Causing me problems already?” He asked.

“I-I—” you barely managed to get out.

Suddenly a slap to your cheek had your attention. Instinctively, you tried grabbing your cheek before Felix slapped your hand away. “No!” He said sharply before slapping you again. “You answer me when I talk to you! Got it?!”

“Y-yes! Yes Felix!” You nodded quickly before he lifted himself off and suddenly flipped you on your stomach.

“Don’t move!”

Of course you didn’t. His sudden violent turn took you by surprise. What just happened?? You were still dumbfounded. You lay there face down like a ragdoll while hearing a belt unbuckling and some shuffling.

Felix was quick to discard his clothes to the side and propped your butt up. He smiled darkly while ever so slightly dragging his finger nails along your thighs. This made you shiver.

“Look how cute.” He chuckled while pulling the strap of your panties and letting it snap back.

A small whimper slipped out which seemed to satisfy Felix greatly.

After removing your underwear started stroking your cunt, slowly going through the folds, making your head spin. He would tease your hole with his fingers, relishing in your whimpers.

“You’re gonna hold still for me, right princess?” He asked in that deep voice, the voice that could make you cum on the spot.

“Y-yes sir…” you whimpered before he pulled your hair back and pinned an arm behind your back. A gasp was heard and you felt his hard cock touching your cunt. You barely had time to process before he suddenly pushed in. Your squeal was muffled by the bed sheets that your face was buried in.

Felix groaned as he started moving, but that gentleness didn’t last long as when he got comfortable in your warm cunt he went faster and harder.

It was as he was fucking all his anger into you. He wasn’t even grunting, more like growling as he railed you into the bed.

“A-agh! Felix—!” You were yelling and gasping into the sheets as he mercilessly pounded you, hitting that bundle of nerves that made you dizzy with lust.

“Such a good girl you’re being~” he grunted, only slowing down as he pulled your hair to raise your head. “Why hide those beautiful sounds, princess?” He growled as he yanked your hair again. “I wanna hear it. Oh please princess~” he teased, still thrusting slow but harsh and deep, making your eyes roll back. “I want the neighbors to hear~!” He smirked before speeding up again.

You were on edge, stimulated to the max, know that you’d come at any moment and he knew this.

“F-fuck—! Fuck!! Felix! Agh!” Your moans almost came out as screams as he pounded you into the bed. The poor bed frame that was smacking the wall over and over. You swear it was squeaking and that it was just gonna break.

“I can feel how close you are…” he groaned. “Are you gonna cum? Is my little princess gonna cum~?” he teased with fake sympathy. “D-do it! Make a mess! Say my name, whore!”

And there it was, the breaking point. The merciless railing and his deep voice saying those degrading words had you over the edge.

“A-agh! F-f-Felix—!” You moaned out loud as you came with intense pressure.

Almost as soon as it happened, he pulled out and flipped you on your back, before moving his throbbing cock around your sensitive area then coming on your stomach. You could tell it was intense for him too. He loomed over you, panting and with forehead sweating. He looked down at you with a smile as he gently massaged your breasts.

On the other hand, you were on cloud nine. The euphoric feeling taking over your mind like a drug. You could barely focus your vision on him and you mumbled out something incoherent.

“Shhh…. You don’t have to speak, Princess.” Felix was rubbing your cheeks, back to his soft demeanor. “You did so good for me. I can’t wait to show you more~”

[strangemaleswaps]

Strange Spellbook Swap

I've always wondered how couples stay together so long. My husband, Derek, and I had been married for 3 years now and while we get along great and support each other through everything, the sex had been pretty stale for awhile. Half the time he's not really in the mood and when he is, we usually just jerk off next to each other. I was getting tired of it and craved something more. But Derek was still so cute, him being a socially awkward nerd, and I was scared to tell him how I feel because he might cry.

That afternoon, I was on my way to pick him up from work. We only had one car, but since both our jobs typically had the same shift, I always headed over to pick him up at his job at the library. I didn't actually have work today so I went a little earlier to look at some books. When I arrived, Derek noticed me and smiled real big.

“Hey! You're early!”

“Yeah, thought I'd browse a bit.”

“Ah ok. I just organized it all so you get to see my work!” He smiled again and continued helping customers in line.

I browsed through my favorite genre - fantasy. I always loved ones that involved magic, spells, and amazing worlds. I noticed one book that kinda stuck out a bit amongst the shelf. It was some kind of spellbook with a brown leather cover, and had a bit of dust on it, which seemed strange because the rest of the shelf was perfectly clean. I opened it up and found that it was indeed a spellbook. I wasn't the most superstitious person ever, but I did believe there was some kind of magical force out there that could do incredible things.

I flipped through the table of contents and noticed there was a category called “relationships”. I turned the pages to the section and saw a bunch of spells - ones to make someone fall in love with you, ones to get promoted at work, ones to impress your family, things like that. I was about to close the book when I found one page - how to spice up your sex life. That was just what I needed! Even if it didn't work, it couldn't hurt to try.

I walked over to the counter right as another guy started talking to Derek. He was a real muscular guy wearing a white shirt and tan hat. His pants left absolutely nothing to the imagination with the way they were tight fitting around his ass. A mustache covered his thick face, which complemented his bright green eyes. He was carrying a tote bag.

“Hey can I help you?” He greeted the man with an eager attitude. “Need a book recommendation or anything?”

“Oh no I don't read.” The man spoke with a deep manly voice. “I mean, who has time to when you could be working out?” I could see the rare irritated look on Derek's face.

“Then…what do you need from the library?” He replied, much less eager than before.

“Just dropping off some books for the wife. We're going on vacation and they’re due tomorrow.” He took a couple books out of the tote bag.

“Allright. I can take them.” The man handed him the books and immediately turned around and left. Derek's smile returned when he saw me with a book in my hand.

“Hey! What'd you get?”

“It's a book of spells.”

“Of spells? Like real ones?”

“No way,” I laughed. “Just some dumb thing. Looks fun to read though.”

“Allright. Gotcha.” He checked me out and I sat down, waiting for him to finish the rest of the closing.

That evening after dinner I tried to seduce him but he wasn't having it once again.

“Sorry, work has me so exhausted you know?” I wish that I wanted to, but…well I just don't want to. Sorry.” I stood there defeated.

“Ok.” I let out an emotionless reply. As Derek brushed his teeth and got ready to head into bed, I flipped through the pages of the spellbook. I found the “spice up your sex life” spell and read the instructions. I needed to recite the incantation while looking at a picture of the two of us. I took out my phone, and scrolled through my gallery until I found the perfect picture. Then I started to recite the spell. Nothing happened. I tried again. Still nothing. At that point I was mad at him and now mad at the spellbook for wasting my time, so I headed into the bedroom. There I found Derek waiting for me.

“Hey…look I'm sorry. How about tomorrow morning we have some fun? I promise I'll go through with it!” Maybe the spell did work afterall! We both had a day off tomorrow so that was perfect. I was so excited that I could barely sleep.

The next morning I woke up to Derek nudging me awake. Excitedly, I turned over. But to my surprise, it wasn't him smiling at me, but a hairy guy with a mustache. He was giving me a sexy smile.

“Hey…you ready?” He gave me a look of uncertainty and cleared his throat. I didn't even know what to say but I was so confused that there was total stranger in my bed, so I had to say something.

“Who are…you?” He frowned beneath his mustache.

“What do you mean? Oh no, am I having an allergic reaction somehow? That would explain my voice and why my eyesight is blurry even with my glasses on. It's me though! My face must be so puffy…oh god."

”Holy fuck. It's Derek! But this was far beyond an allergic reaction. He's an entirely different person! He pushed the covers off and was about to get out of bed, probably to take a look at himself in the mirror, when he glanced down at his body. This was definitely not normal. He was muscular, tan, and hairy - a stark contrast to what he normally looked like. He made a terrified face, which was a strange sight on such a macho guy.

“What? What's happening? I-I…” He looked at me with worry in his eyes, and it was then that I realized WHY this was happening. It must've been the spell. I guess turning your boyfriend into a muscle hunk would definitely spice up our sex lives. But I couldn't leave him in the dark.

“I-I,” I started. “It was my fault. That spellbook I got, I used it on you. I didn't expect this though!”

It was then that I realized WHO he was. That guy we saw at the library yesterday. He somehow swapped bodies with him!

“What? What spell was it?”

“Spice up your sex life. I just…was getting bored. And you were never in the mood.”

“Oh…but it turned me into this?” He then rushed to the bathroom. I followed. He immediately recognized himself as soon as he looked into the mirror.

“Hey! I'm that guy from yesterday!? Why did it turn me into him?”

“I-I don't know! Maybe it picked someone from a recent memory?”

He gazed at himself in the mirror with an open mouth, and touched all around his face, pinching and feeling his mustache.He gazed down and admired his new muscles, feeling all around his pecs and the chest hair growing from them. He then turned around and stared at the mirror again, this time making a variety of expressions.

“What am I supposed to do? I can't stay like this!”

“I don't know! There must be something about a reverse spell in the book.” Flipping through the book, I once again found the page I needed. I read every word but didn't find anything about a reverse spell. Could he be stuck like this?

“Maybe if we see like a professional?”

“What, like a fortune teller witch lady or whatever?”

“Exactly.”

“Well. I do remember seeing something like that close to town. A psychic. Maybe they can help?”

“We could try.” I looked up fortune tellers and found Madam Cleo - Psychic. It was a short drive away. I was hoping we would find our answers there.

“I got it.”

“One problem,” Derek said doubtfully.

“What?” He stared down at himself and then answered.

“I don't think anything will fit me now…” I couldn't help but laugh out loud.“I think we can find something at least.”

We dug through the closet and eventually found the Lakers jersey that my uncle gifted me a few years back. I wasn't even into basketball and it was a few sizes too big, but at least it helped us in the end! Derek slipped it on and gazed at himself in the mirror. It fit pretty nicely.

“Not really my style…but it'll do for now.” He put his finger on his chin and then rubbed his head. He froze when he grazed the back of it.

“What’s wrong?”

“I'm…balding.” He turned around and tilted his head up to show me. He definitely had a bad case of male pattern baldness. I thought it was pretty hot, but he looked terrified.

“Hmm…well. That's something we can just fix with a hat. I walked into the bedroom, grabbed one of my hats, and put it on his head. It completed the look well.

“I guess this'll work. Maybe.” I laughed again.

“You'll be fine.”

We got to the car, Derek struggling a bit to fit in the passenger seat with his new frame, and headed over to the fortune teller. It was a warehouse-like building, although much smaller. As we were about to walk in, someone else walked out. He was a young looking guy around my age, but at least 200 lbs heavier. He looked like he made absolutely no effort to control his weight.

“Hey! That lady is awesome!” He said excitedly. “She told my fortune and said that I would lose weight very soon! I can't wait!” He then ran off, his gross looking belly jiggling up and down, and drove away.

I kinda felt bad for people like that, that actually believe that sort of thing…what am I saying? We're the ones going to a fortune teller for help. I just really hoped she was legit then.

We walked in and found that the interior was nicely decorated, completely different from the outside. Shiny wooden floors, a chandelier, and LED lights hanging from the walls. All of that surrounded a crystal ball in the center. Within a few seconds a woman dressed in a typical fortune teller outfit appeared from a curtain in the back.

“What does the future hold for you two today? Let's find out,” she said with an ominous tone to her voice.

“Actually we're not here to get our fortunes told. We need your help.”

“What do you mean? She asked, dropping the ominous tone.

“Well my husband here is a victim to a body swapping spell gone wrong.” I showed her the book, flipping to the page.

“Oh my,” she said with a concerned look on her face. “This is very powerful magic indeed.”

“But how do we reverse it?”

“I don't know for sure. But the victim should try to recite it instead.

“Victim? You mean Derek? How would that work?”

“Do not question why things are the way they are. Now go!” She said suddenly. With that, we hurried back home to recite the spell.

“Ok how do I do this now?” Derek asked.

“Just recite the spell, and focus on a picture of us.” He recited the incantation.

“Nothing happened…how was it last time?”

“Same as this time. I guess it took awhile to take effect. What should we do in the meantime?” He didn't reply, but instead stared at himself in the mirror.

“You know, now that this face actually has a brain behind it, it's actually kinda hot.” He then walked over to me and got real close. I'd never been intimidated by Derek before for obvious reasons, but this time I couldn't help but feel dominated by his brawny self.

“The spell picked this guy because you thought he was so hot didn't it? That's gotta be it.” He said with a low voice.

“Y-yeah. I admit it. He seemed dumb at the library but hey, he was a hunk.”

“And now I'm that hunk.” He started feeling all around his body again. He then glanced at his dick and began to stroke it. I knew exactly where this was going and I was all for it.

“Well then Mr. Muscle Hunk, why don't you show off that body a bit more?”

“I'd like nothing more…but I'm gonna go shower first. Who knows where this guy's been?”

“Yeah good idea. I'll be in the room.”

I was so excited! This was gonna be the hottest thing ever! I headed toward the closet to find something sexy to put on. Suddenly I felt a bit dizzy. I noticed my skin seemed to be glowing somehow. Within seconds it turned ghostly white, and then became so bright, it hurt to look at. Why was I glowing? It seemed to be just my body though, nothing was happening to my clothes. As quickly as it came, the glowing stopped and the dizziness returned. I didn't have time to see what happened, because as soon as the glow stopped I lost my balance and fell onto the nearby chair.

My clothes felt incredibly tight, but it wasn't long before I realized why. I was fat! My shirt didn't even fit over my large belly. My pants must've popped a button as my gut hung over them. I tried to get up but the weight of my gut kept pushing me backwards. How do fat guys even do this?

When I finally got up and onto my feet, I rushed to the mirror, my hanging belly flopping up and down. My face looked familiar…oh shit. I was that guy we saw at the fortune teller's! Did the spell do this? How did this happen?!

I heard the shower stop, meaning Derek was going to meet me here any minute now. I couldn't believe the hottest night of my life was about to be ruined! Why did this have to happen?

The door opened and there he was, standing there in a pair of briefs. They were always a little big on him, but with his new body, they were pretty tight. It looked like he shaved his head too. He stared at me, at first he looked shocked but then his expression changed. Was that a look of lust?

“So the spell did something to you too?”

“Yeah…look at me! I'm a mess!” I jiggled my flabby moobs to prove my point.

“Well…”

“Well?”

“It's not so bad.”

“What? What do you mean?”

“I mean…well you know how you said I look hot like this? And that the spell probably made me like this for that reason?”

“Yeah. What are you getting at…wait.”

“Mhm.” He mumbled with a sexy smirk.

“Y-you think I'm hot like this?!" He got real close and started making out with me. It was the most intense make out session I'd ever had. The feeling of his thick mustache rubbing against my face was a sensation I would've never expected could feel so good.

“Does that answer your question?”

“Yep,” I said with a smirk.

[thediaryofaurora]

It’s ok if you can’t but I would love for the next headcanons for creepypasta character could you do X-Virus.

General HCs

X-Virus/Cody Anderson

Sorry this one is sooooo long. I have so much to say about this nerd.

- Seventeen! Barely older than Toby.

- Roughly 6’0, maybe a little over. He isn’t very toned, since he really just sits in the lab all day.

- White with mostly Welsh heritage.

- He was in foster case from about seven to thirteen. His mom was neglectful and a drug addict so child services inevitably took him away. He was adopted by a pathologist who created and spread chronic diseases that only he knew how to treat, which he profited from since he was the only person who knew how to cure them.

- His foster father had used Cody as an assistant and made sure he knew his way around the lab. They would often test the diseases on animals first and see if the cure worked just enough so that people would continuously come back for medication rather than completely healing. At around fifteen Cody was trusted to be in the lab alone, so he would take the time to test more fatal things on the test subjects. A few years later when he was about seventeen, he was a little too desensitized to fatal infections and death. He thought seeing how animals reacted to his creations weren’t enough to prove the data he wanted.

- With that, he went into one of his lonesome neighbor’s homes in the dead of night and tested one of his viruses on him. He had planned to return home and brush it off, but Slender thought he was too valuable to let him go.

- This dude is a GENIUS, and a massive nerd. Most of the residents overlook it since he’s just a dumb teenager who works in the infirmary, but he’s extremely intelligent. He spends all of his days studying and analyzing data, so it’s kind of a given.

- Mainly gets along with Toby, EJ, and surprisingly Helen.

- Since him and Toby are extremely close in age, they naturally hovered to each other when they first met. They aren’t necessarily similar, but they do have a brotherly connection.

- Him and EJ work together in the infirmary/ lab, so they have to communicate and at least slightly get along. Jack almost sees him as an annoying little sibling, but it’s a nice presence. Cody really looks up to him and that means a lot.

- Helen stops by on occasion to talk to Jack and over time he started talking to Cody. They’re strangely compatible given their age difference and personalities, but Helen’s a listener and Cody can’t help but ramble. Helen does botany in his free time, so he’ll bring by plants for him to study or incorporate into his excitements. Cody always makes sure to track Helen down and give him all the results and notes he took of whatever plant he had brought.

- Germaphobe. His hands are DRY from over washing and using so much hand sanitizer.

- He has a bunch of rodents and other test animals for his experiments. He’s made sure to tell Nina if she ever doesn’t want her guinea pigs anymore he’d be glad to take them.

- Strangely smells like a dentist’s office. With all the chemicals, hand sanitizer, and air fresheners in the lab he’s bound to.

- Allergic to dogs, and cats, and everything ever.

- He’s a pretty big recluse. A perfect day in his eyes is sitting alone in the lab and testing a bunch of random shit, which sounds pretty boring to anyone he tells that to.

- Cyber punk enthusiast to the absolute core. You can’t look at him and think otherwise.

- He rarely goes on missions. Usually he’s stationed in the lab to either cover for EJ or do whatever the hell he wants. In the occasion that he does get sent out, him and Jack make a great pair. Since EJ can sense pretty much anything and everything, all Cody needs is the go ahead to take the kill.

- Straight, but he doesn’t really think about intimate relationships very often. If he’s watching a movie with romance in it he might think on it for a little, but he prioritizes his work over anything. If he had to date someone in the mansion, it would probably be Nina. She’s as hyper as him and doesn’t know anything about science, so she gladly listens to whatever he’s working on. However, in realistic terms he wouldn’t date her.

- He likes musicals, I specifically mention this because Repo! The Genetic Opera reminds me of him and he would absolutely love that movie.

- Listens to a surprising amount of goth music. He thinks it’s the only music that makes him feel more productive, so he puts in his wired headphones and works while listening to it. Massive Siouxsie and the Banshees fan.

- His room is PRISTINE. Absolutely no decorations, just scattered files and white bedding. Since he’s such a germaphobe he tries to keep his room as clean as possible, even if he’s not in it very much. He thrives on energy drinks and the most sleep he gets is a nap, usually in the lab with his head down on his desk.

- HORRIBLE handwriting, definitely adds up with him being somewhat of a doctor. Pretty much only him and Helen can (almost) decipher it.

- He gets soooo giddy when referred to as Dr. Anderson. It doesn’t happen very often, but when it does he’s ecstatic, especially because that’s what his foster father went by.

- Wears a lab coat and goggles on the regular. It’s not always necessary, but he feels so accomplished when he does. Occasionally wears scrubs.

- He’s been one of my favorites for like five years.

Thank you for reading! Feedback and requests are welcome.

✧✬✧✬✧✬✧✬✧✬✧✬✧

[lovebugism]

hi angel! I have a little fictober request … can I pls get holding hands for the first time from the prompt list with steve harrington and shy!reader? maybe they’re in a busy place and steve doesn’t want to lose r so he grabs her hand, not realising how ridiculously flustered she gets <3333

ty for requesting angel :D this can be read as a part two to this fic!

summary: steve takes you to a mall in the city in a desperate attempt to spend time with you, fending off freaks, douchebags, and your anxious tendencies alike (shy!reader, hurt/comfort, friends to lovers cw for mentions of anxiety, 3.5k)

fictober leftovers (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

Steve idles between the X-rated horror and thriller sections for several long minutes until he works up the courage to talk to you. You’re a pretty little thing behind the counter, hand in your palm as you scribble into the journal Keith threatened to confiscate from you earlier that morning.

He’s never been this nervous to talk to you. Things are different now. Post-first date, and Steve’s still toeing that wretched line between friends and something more. The puppy love is so painfully mutual, but it’s equally hard to navigate. He can’t come on too strong — not with someone as soft as you — but he’s still got some King Steve left in him. He’s still learning how to be gentle.

With sweaty hands, he walks up to the counter and tries to be subtle about the whole thing. Stealthy, like a ninja. He leans on his folded-up arms and blurts before he means to, “So you’re, like, totally coming tomorrow, right?”

You lift your chin and blink at him with wide eyes. You hadn’t heard him come over, too busy doodling a bunch of nothingness in your notebook. Your stomach whirls at the sight of him. It takes you a moment too long to answer.

“Coming… where?”

“To the mall,” he reminds, then corrects himself with a shrug. “The one in the city— not the shithole we have here.”

“Oh. Uh, I don’t— I don’t know,” you stammer. Steve invited you earlier that week, and you promised to think about it. You did. And you want so desperately to go, but your brain’s too mean, and it just won’t let you.

The disappointment that flashes on his face is fleeting, but you don’t miss it. The hurt softens his features in an unbearable way. It makes your chest ache.

“C’mon,” Steve presses in a gentle lilt. He leans closer to you, eyes twinkling and lips curling. “It could be fun, you know? I mean, everyone’s gonna be there.”

He’s trying his best to persuade you. He has no idea that that’s exactly what’s keeping you from going. Crowds are always stress-inducing, even those of the familiar kind.

“Everyone as in…?”

“Robin, obviously. Dustin, too,” Steve answers, counting on his fingers as he goes. “Max is coming, but Lucas has a basketball thing, so he can’t. And the rest of the little shits are in California, so that’s definitely a plus.”

It’s a dumb joke, but it makes you laugh anyway — a quiet giggle of a thing that makes him grin.

“Uh… Eddie’s coming, too, I think— but don’t let that dissuade you, alright? I promise I’ll protect you from that freak. You don’t have to worry about him.”

You smile because you know he’s joking. You’ve met Eddie a couple times now. He’s always been really sweet to you. Him and Steve just have a strange complex that forces them to be assholes to each other.

“And also, I’m gonna be there. Obviously. So…” he trails off with a wavering smile. So if you don’t wanna come for them, maybe you can come for me, is what he’s really trying to tell you.

“I don’t know,” you repeat, quieter now as you shrink into yourself. You try and fail to meet Steve’s honeyed gaze. “I just feel like I’ll make everything all weird.”

His bushy brows pinch, almost in offense that you’d think you’re anything less than totally perfect. “Why would you think that?”

“‘Cause… I don’t know,” you murmur in a quiet sigh. You don’t want to lie to him, but telling the truth feels so much harder. “They don’t really know me, you know? And I feel like… like I’ll just ruin everything if I’m there…”

It takes Steve a couple of seconds to answer you. He doesn’t know how you could say something that — like you don’t light up every room you’re in. “Well, that’s… that’s just not true,” he argues with a shrug. “They like you. They love you, actually— they just wanna get to know you. And the only way they’re gonna get to know you is if you come hang out every once in a while.”

Your heart flutters. You want to believe him. It’s hard for you to comprehend that anyone could care so much about your presence, so you just nod and don’t say anything further. 

Steve is quick to comfort you, almost like he can read your mind. “But if you think it’s gonna be too much, you could always just stick with me. I’ll fend off the freaks for you, no problem.”

His cinnamon eyes glimmer with honey. He looks at you far too fondly to say no.

—————

There’s six of you crammed into Steve’s 733i. It’s already a tight fit, but it’s more suffocating when it’s full of a million different conversations. Almost all of them are pointed your way. Steve tries to bat everyone off of you, but it’s hard to yell at everyone and drive at the same time.

You’re being a pretty good sport about it despite how anxiously helpless you feel. 

You wring your clammy hands in your lap and try to regulate your bated breaths, nodding to whatever Max is telling you. It’s hard to hear her because Eddie’s talking to you, too. You’re too scared he’ll think you’re mean if you stop him.

You watch Robin reach for the radio, complaining about all the yelling as she turns up the volume. The cheesy pop song is all you can hear. The conversations around you become a monotone buzzing. You feel like you could just about explode.

“Jesus, you guys are acting like you’ve never seen another person before,” Steve shouts over it all, the only definite thing you can understand. “Let her breathe before she thinks we’re all a bunch of lunatics, alright?”

He’s met with a bunch of muffled complaints, but the noise quietens nonetheless.

Steve glances at you in the rearview, a quick check to make sure you’re still okay. You catch him doing it and try your best to give him a smile. It looks more like a wince.

“Well, it’s your fault for finally bringing someone cool around,” Max argues with all her practiced teenaged ambiguity. “I have to spend all day surrounded by freaks— at least now there’s someone halfway normal to talk to.”

“I’m normal!” Steve insists, face twisted in offense.

“You’re a jock.”

“Hey. C’mon, Red,” Eddie scolds, so obviously playful. “Let’s not go throwing the j-word around—”

The brunette boy huffs. “Thank you!”

“—Jock would imply that Steve’s still cool,” the wild-haired boy continues. “Which he isn’t.”

Poorly hidden laughter fills the small car. Steve nods and mutters beneath it all, “Yeah. Okay. Thanks for the clarification, Munson.”

He glances at you again and finds you cracking a halfway sincere smile. He shoots you a light-hearted glare. “Don’t laugh! You’re just encouraging him!”

“Sorry,” you apologize, hiding your giggle behind your fist. “’M sorry.”

Steve smiles at you, silently tells you he doesn’t really mean it. He’d let Musnon make fun of him all day if he thought it meant he’d get to hear you laugh like that again.

—————

You take your first good breath in an hour when you step out of the car. 

Steve shuts it off and gravitates towards you on instinct. His honey eyes are wide as they dart across your flustered features. You see his hands reach towards you, to grab your elbows maybe, but he decides against it.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” you nod, quicker than you mean to. “I’m good.”

“Okay. I’m sorry. I really tried to—”

“I know,” you cut him off with a sweet, still quiet smile. “It’s still okay.”

He sighs heavy, like a deep breath of relief. “Okay. Good,” he hums, almost to himself, nodding with a pink grin you could stare at all day. He would’ve let you, but neither of you get the chance. 

Your friends start messing around, and the chaos melts into the buzzing crowd surrounding you, and you realize the two of you aren’t the only people on earth. Bummer.

You gather around the large map at the entrance of the bustling mall. “Where should we go first?” Dustin chirps from the front of the crowd. His eyes are as wide as his smile. “Game Player? Sam Goody? Oh, look— they have a RadioShack! I’ve been looking for a new supercomm. It’s on the other side of the  building, though, but we can just work our way around, I guess—”

“Jesus, Dusty-Bun,” Robin interjects with a gritty laugh. She stands on the outside of the group, arms crossed over her chest, effortlessly too cool for it all. “Take a breath, buddy.”

“Don’t call me that!” the boy gripes over his right shoulder.

Steve shrugs. “Go wherever you want to. I don’t care.”

Dustin looks to his left, shooting the older boy a glare. “Aren’t you supposed to be the babysitter?”

“You’re fourteen!”

“Well, what if I get kidnapped?”

“No one’s kidnapping you, alright? Trust me,” Steve jokes, only smiling when he sees you trying to hide yours. He puts his hands on his waist and cocks his hip to the side. “They’ll send you right back where you came from. You have nothing to worry about.”

Dustin squints. “Rude.”

“We’ll just meet back at the food court in, like, two hours. And if you don’t get yourself killed, you’ll be fine,” Steve reasons with a nonchalant shrug and a jutted-out lip.

“Oh. Wow. Thanks, Steve. What would I ever do without you?”

He rolls his cinnamon eyes at the boy’s monotone. “Alright, smartass.”

When the rest of the group dissipates, he leans over to nudge your shoulder. It knocks you from your stupor — so deep in your own head you were practically drowning. You blink at him with wide, glassy eyes. “Hm?”

“Do you wanna go anywhere?” he asks with a wavering smile. His laugh is equally forced. “You’re kinda staring a hole into the map there…”

“Oh. No. I was just…” you trail off with a shake of your head. You’re not entirely sure what to tell him, how to make him understand your easily overstimulated mind. “I was just distracted. Sorry.”

“It’s okay. No big deal.”

“Where did everyone else go?” you wonder with a furrow to your brow, noticing the lack of familiar chaos around you.

“Eddie and Dustin went to some movie store, and I think Robin and Max are on the hunt for cassettes.”

“Okay...” you nod with a tremble in your voice. 

You’re still not totally used to being alone with Steve. Your friends are usually good distractions. They fill your awkward silences with something funnier and talk loud when you get too quiet. When they’re not around it’s just… awkward silences and quiet air. 

You get too in your own head, so eager to impress the pretty boy beside you, that you end up putting your foot in your mouth.

Steve doesn’t seem nearly as apprehensive. Instead, he’s beaming at the fact that he’s finally got you alone. He doesn’t have to worry about quieting Dustin when he gets too loud or shoving Eddie away when he forgets what personal space is. It’s quieter with just the two of you — warmer, cozier, easier.

“Wanna go down to the food court?” he wonders, honey eyes sparkling when he looks your way. “I know you haven’t eaten anything yet, so…”

Your eyes narrow, accusing and playful. “How would you know that?”

“Uh, ‘cause I know you,” the boy scoffs like it’s obvious. “I basically have to force you to eat every morning.”

“That’s not true!”

“It so is!” Steve giggles and it’s heaven to your ears, the exact sound of honey. “That’s why I hate not opening with you. ‘Cause if I’m not around to force you to eat the other half of my Poptart, I’m just, like, worrying if you’re withering away or not.”

Your face burns hot. Your heart swells with a similar warmth that borders on painful. You didn’t think he cared so much about you — or that he ever thought about you outside of work or the occasional hangout.

“Fine,” you concede with your arms crossed over your chest, trying not to seem as flustered as you feel. “Let’s go to the food court.”

Steve grins. He follows you in stride when you start to head that way. “Cool. We can go get one of those disgustingly good burgers or something.”

“For breakfast?” you wonder with a light-hearted laugh.

“Yeah! Like, one of those crazy huge ones, you know? The patties are, like, the size of your fist— make a fist.”

You do. You ball your fingers and hold them up between you. Steve holds onto your wrist for further inspection, fingers long and warm and soft. You swallow.

“Bigger than your fist,” he corrects with a laugh. The sweet sound is drowned out by the swell of yelling teenagers. They talk so loudly and over one another that their conversations become a meaningless drones.

Two in particular shove at one another, laughing loud like it’s fun. One of them almost barrels into you — long blonde hair, tight shirt, tighter jeans, and cologne so potent it stings your nose. He just narrowly misses you, mostly because Steve’s there to yank you out of the way.

The boy’s gentle grip on you tightens. He pulls you close until you’re stumbling into his side. With a strong arm wrapped around you, he shouts at the roughhousing teens — “Watch where you’re going, assholes!”

The scrawny boys walk on ahead of you. They seem apologetic, halfway scared at first. When they realize Steve’s not rushing to beat their asses, they chuckle about the whole thing and keep punching each other.

You’re still frozen in shock — not so much of fear anymore, but of how tightly Steve’s holding onto you. It’s an embrace of the firmer kind, a touch so solid you feel immediately safer inside it. You don’t think you’ve ever been this close before. The teenage girl in your heart starts to spin.

“You okay?” Steve asks when the anger ebbs.

“Yeah,” you nod, swallowing tightly and forcing an awkward laugh. “You don’t have to keep asking me that, you know?”

He nods rapidly, then notices how close he’s holding you. Fearful that he’s made you uncomfortable, he uncurls his arm from around you and takes a small step back. “No, I know! I just wanna— I just wanna make sure, you know? ‘Cause I know you don’t like… all this.”

He waves his hands vaguely out beside him.

You’re immediately cold without him holding you. You wrap your arms around yourself to compensate for the lack of him. 

“Yeah, but… It’s not the rest of the world’s fault that I’m scared of everything,” you say with another forced laugh, shifting your weight on your feet. If you could melt into your oversized sweater, you would. “It’s mine. So I can deal with it. I have to deal with it.”

Steve nods, slower this time and with a silent sense of understanding. He steps closer to you and shrugs. “I think the least I can do is make it a little easier on you… And I feel like I’ve been doing the exact opposite of that all day.”

“That’s not true,” you argue with the shake of your head.

His chocolate eyes widen. You’re rarely so assertive. “No?”

“No,” you answer, softer this time as you grow sheepish all over again. Your unsure gaze darts from your dirty sneakers to his twinkling eyes until it makes you dizzy. “You’re actually making it more bearable for me, so…”

“Oh. Okay. Good,” he nods with a smile, breathless because his chest is swelling with pride. He knows the world can be a little much for someone as soft as you. It’s good to know that he’s the exception to all that. 

He gets lost in the way you look at him for a moment too long. He clears his throat and stammers, “Uh, do you still wanna go get food?” he asks, pointing off beside him. “We can find somewhere quiet to eat so we don’t have to deal with teenage douchebags the entire time.”

Your heart lurches into your throat. It’s practically your love language — spending time alone in a quiet space, with no overt need for conversation or people to fill the void. 

You nod, trying and failing to hide the beam on your face. “Yeah. That’d be nice.”

—————

The quiet place in question is a photo booth on the halfway vacant, furthest end of the mall. Closed curtains, small spaces, and entwined breaths. It smells like his deep cologne, your perfume, and a freshly cooked meal. It’s too easy to forget that there’s a whole world outside of here.

You sit twisted on the bench, facing Steve with your burger trays in front of you. You pluck salty fries from the plate with a trembling hand, distantly fearful that you’re not supposed to be eating here. You think being so close to Steve is worth the risk.

“Is this the day you were expecting to have?” Steve asks with a lopsided grin. He takes a big bite of his burger right after and gets mustard on the corner of his mouth.

“No,” you answer, giggling as he swipes the stain away with his tongue. “But not because it’s bad.”

“Hm?” he hums to egg you on. He’s got too much of a mouthful for anything else.

“Mm-mm,” you shake your head, equally nonverbal as you chew on a handful of fry crumbs. You swipe your palms together to dispel the grains of salt. “I’m having more fun than I thought I would, actually.”

Steve scoffs in disbelief. “Spending time with me? Alone in a photo booth? That’s a good time to you?”

His tone makes you self-conscious. You feel a little shameful, like a child, because you don’t need much to be entertained. You get all warm with embarrassment, too. Being alone with Steve has always felt like climbing mountains — something short of an adrenaline rush that makes you think you could conquer the world. Maybe you’re too small in comparison to do the same for him.

“Yeah,” you shrug in an inaudible murmur. “I don’t know— I just… I like spending time with you, you know? I don’t really care what we’re doing.”

Steve’s chest swells. From a girl who too often keeps to herself, inherently nervous and incessantly frightened of being a burden, it’s more of a proclamation of love than he ever thought he’d get from you.

“Well, I’m glad we’re on the same page,” he confesses with a crooked pink grin, internally praying his cheeks aren’t as red hot as they feel.

He holds his half-eaten burger out towards you. You knock yours with his, clinking them together like champagne glasses. He takes another too big bite. You go to do the same but get a whiff of the sleeve of your sweater before you can. 

“God, I smell like a teenage boy,” you groan, only half-playful. The nose-burning musk from the kid from before has seemingly stuck itself onto you. Like fruit and sage and wood and vanilla, every scent ever made combined.

“I wasn’t gonna say anything, but you definitely smell like bodyspray,” Steve affirms, scruffy cheeks jutted out from the burger in his mouth.

“I think I’ve been tainted,” you giggle, a quieter sound compared to his boyish laughter. “Thanks for saving me, by the way.”

You’re saying it to be nice, but you watch him get all shy about it when you take a bite of your sandwich. He shifts on the bench, like he suddenly can’t get comfortable. When he rubs his palms on his thighs, you can’t tell if it’s because of the salty fries or because they’re clammy.

“Yeah— I didn’t mean to— I didn’t mean to grab you like that,” he stammers with an apologetic twinkle in his eye and a gaze that can’t quite meet yours. “Just so you know. I was just trying to—”

“Save me?” you interject.

Steve smiles when he sees how softly you’re looking at him. He shrugs. “Well, I was gonna say ‘pull you from the line of fire,’ but sure.”

“It’s okay,” you repeat for perhaps the thousandth time that day. “I didn’t mind. It felt nice, actually— you have really warm hands.”

“That’s ‘cause yours are always ice cold.”

“Well, maybe that’s because you’re not holding them,” you blurt before you mean to. 

You freeze mid-bite, eyes wide in distant horror as your blood runs cold. In a desperate attempt to break away from the awkwardness you caused, you muster a trembling smile. “I’m kidding,” you murmur, halfway hidden behind your burger.

You weren’t.

Steve knows this, too, so he smiles. 

He’d been thinking about it all day, in truth — how he was gonna get to hold your hand without having to stick his foot in his mouth to ask you. Turns out, a series of unfortunate events and an impromptu date in a photo booth was all it took. And he’s grateful. For all of it.

“No, you weren’t,” he teases, fingers as warm as his smile when he wraps them around yours. He holds gently onto your hand — even though it makes eating a little harder, even though your fingers are cold, even though you tremble.

[alphajocklover]

What happens if a girl uses instajock?

What if a girl uses InstaJock? That's a fairly simple question that, like many things with InstaJock, has a fairly complicated answer. See, InstaJock wasn’t built for girls. I’m not sure if it's because whatever the developers use to turn people into jocks isn’t strange enough to change someone's gender, or if they’re just not into female to male transformations, or whatever, but I know it doesn’t work on girls. But… girls can still get invited to the app, and what does happen is fairly intriguing. When a girl gets an invite to InstaJock they'll have an intense urge to set up an account on the app, just like guys do. But when they set up their account they aren’t transformed. They become… carriers. I know what makes it sound like the app is some kind of disease or something, and well that metaphor isn’t entirely inaccurate, I use it here mainly because there's no other way to explain it. A woman can get infected by InstaJock, but they won’t get transformed themselves. It’s the men in their life that have to worry. When a girl uses InstaJock and becomes a carrier, nothing about her will change. There are some small symptoms, like an increase in libido and the memories of the app itself growing fuzzy, but besides that it's virtually undetectable. Until they touch a guy. Now, when I say touch, I don’t mean any kind of touch. People passing on the street have no reason to fear carriers. When they touch a guy it has to be an… intimate touch. A kiss, a grope, even a long enough hug. The first guy they touch intimately has the Instajock ‘infection’ passed onto them. They become a total and complete jock, just as dumb and buff as anyone who had actually used the app. Although it's a little more specific than that. They don’t just become a jock, they become the carrier's dream jock. The kind of jock that's perfect to sweep them off their feet and then almost immediately have intense, mind breaking sex with them. Then, once the girl is spent, the new jock goes on their phone and finds the app, waiting there for them like it was always there. Their account already set up, they post a picture of them and their babe of a girlfriend, and go back for round two. The carrier, after any number of intense rounds of fucking, comes out from under the influence of InstaJock, no longer ‘infectious’, a little confused, but very happy to have a studly jock boyfriend. 

So, in short, InstaJock doesn’t change girls, but it changes the first guy the girl gets intimate with. I always assumed that InstaJock changed people through the light of their phones or something, but the more I learn about it the more I’m convinced it's something else. I just can’t tell what. What I can say is that if you happen to be straight (which, lets face it, you’re here, you’re not straight), bisexual, pansexual or whatever, be careful about who you hook up with. You’d be surprised how much one hook up can change your life.

[physalian]

Fantasy Worldbuilding Without Ignorant Protagonists

A reminder, as we approach Arcane Season 2, that exposition in a fantasy setting can be given sparingly, and yet still tell an enthralling story.

Or, imagine how different Arcane, or Game of Thrones, or Lord of the Rings would have been if they were “stranger in a strange land” type fantasies with ignorant Earth protagonists who needed the whole plot and kitchen sink explained to them?

I dislike audience exposition vectors, not just in fantasy, but usually in a fantastical setting ranging from urban fantasy to superhero stories, because they’re an author crutch, giving the illusion of having to explain every little detail so the audience can keep up when… if this character wasn’t the hero, and you had to pick a character who knew about the world to be your protagonist, they wouldn’t be asking all these obvious questions and you'd still be able to tell the story.

I know why they exist, so they can be the vehicle through which the audience lives vicariously. We share their wonder and amazement as this cool new realm awes and humbles and frightens them.

But what these characters tend to lack is agency, specifically when they’ve been around in this setting for long enough that they really should start to know better. Or, if they’re built up as smart and self-sufficient, and yet don’t ever seek out information about the plot or their new world beyond asking the other characters dumb questions.

Example because I love these books: In The Titan’s Curse (PJO Book 3) Percy complains about not being able to manipulate the Mist, of which his new rival, Thalia, can do easily. This is one of the first things he does in the book. Because he has to remain the butt of the “seaweed brain” joke (and Annabeth must remain The Smart One), Percy hasn’t already learned how to do this very important trick (and he never does).

While it would behoove him to learn, when he’s had 2.5 years to do so, he just… didn’t. He also doesn’t know what the Manticore is to retain the suspense… when he’s had plenty of time and motive to study up on all the things that eagerly want to kill him, and has a nerdy girlfriend who’d be more than happy to lecture him with this information.

Even something as simple as Percy being shocked that he’s right that it’s the Manticore would have given him a little bit more agency. He’s an incredibly clever character, but still has to serve as the audience exposition vehicle, so he has to remain ignorant so the plot can explain things to him. He's as cherry-picked clueless as the story demands sometimes.

So. You want to have a character for the audience to live vicariously? Please give them expository agency.

Meaning–give them means and motives to learn about their new world on their own instead of asking questions as the plot demands. Or even let these characters form their own biases on what they think they know so that the actually knowledgeable characters can go “um actually”.

I once wrote a protagonist who was from her fantasy world, but purposefully ignorant about life beyond her planet. Why? So I could have all my other characters explain things to her that they would not explain to each other. But she was from a world with heavy information policing and manipulation, so she thought she knew plenty (naively, not arrogantly), giving plenty of fodder for conflict as opposed to just exposition.

It wasn’t just A learning about the new planet for the audience’s benefit, it was A realizing she was misled and lied to, and learning what “facts” she has that are wrong. Was it perfect? Heck no, but not only was this part of her character growth, by the second book, she was all studied up and when something unknown came along, the whole team shared in the confusion.

I did the same thing with Elias, my protagonist in Eternal Night of the Northern Sky. He’s very purposefully, literally sheltered, literally grew up under a rock, but his people have incredibly loud biases against vampires. Elias has plenty of knowledge about his world, both that is correct and vastly incorrect, while still lacking basic knowledge of other survival skills because he’s never had the opportunity.

Elias’s biases drive early conflict and conversation. He’s not going “what’s a vampire” so the other characters can stop the plot to explain them to him. He’s going “I know exactly what a vampire is” and the plot is him getting kicked on his ass with the truth.

So you can have that naive amazement factor, but also still have a character underneath. You can also let that character show off their acclimation into their world by not being afraid to stop making them the ignorant exposition machine.

Just thoughts.

[goosita]

Snow with a reader who has a obsession with him and only ever wants his attention so reader basically is his loyal dog

bark bark i’ll be his dog—

the way this would stroke his ego so hard fr

if you’re just there to please him and do what he wants?? he’s going to adore you fr this man has so many control issues

i think it would take a specific type of person to submit to him like that, but if you did, it could actually be pretty harmonious

letting him dictate what you wear and how you look and what you spend your days doing. he likes to pick out your clothes every morning and select which ways you’ll wear your hair and makeup. he decides who you speak to and when, often often keeping a possessive hand on you when you accompany him to events

coryo isn’t all bad either; he’ll take into consideration what you like too. if you really hate a certain style of dress, he’ll compromise with you. or if there are foods you simply cannot tolerate, he’ll meet you in the middle. he wants you to be healthy is all, but he can find other ways to get you what you need. if you have hobbies you enjoy, he’ll encourage them (as long as they’re harmless), he monitors what media you consume but he doesn’t shelter you from it. he just prefers to know what you’re looking at

he thrives tho when he knows he can call your name and you come running, no questions asks

he lives for the way you chirp, “yes, coryo?” when he calls out to you or wants your attention for something

in some strange way, it melts his heart a little that you’re so happy to make him happy

and of course he will always reward you for it. you’re his sweet little pet, so obedient and perfect for him. he doesn’t treat you like you’re dumb, per say, but he does love to dote on you

loves running you baths and sitting beside the tub while he takes his time scrubbing your body every night, washing your hair and drying it so carefully before he puts it in a nice braid to sleep in. he likes to do your skincare routine for you too, fingertips gentle on your face and he always gives the tip of your nose a kiss when he’s all done. while other things give him a real sense of control over you, his little nighttime ritual with you soothes his pent up stress from long work days with gamemakers and other important people he needs to impress

basically if you’re obedient and pliant, bending easily to his wishes, coryo will spoil you like the little lap dog that you are

[burnednotburied]

Chapter 3: Cursed Creatures

AO3 Link | Masterlist

Pairing: Abby Anderson x fem!reader

Fic Synopsis: Abby goes looking for Owen and ends up on the wrong end of your knife.

Tags/CWs: angst; slowburn; enemies to friends to lovers; talks of purity culture/ideals and “sin”; internalized homophobia and some comp-het feelings (they’re both so gay but so dumb about it); animosity between WLF and Seraphites; blood/gore; descriptions of being hanged; religious/cult-like ideas

Note: This is not at all how I thought this chapter would start. Alas, I am riddled with religious trauma, and Taylor Swift just released the song “Guilty as Sin?” I mean… “My boredom’s bone-deep This cage was once just fine Am I allowed to cry? I dream of cracking locks, Throwing my life to the WOLVES” Are you kidding me? It’s perfect. So this started out differently than I planned. But what was I to do? I am just a girl.

----------------------------------------------------------------

There were many topics on which you had been educated in-depth but were never supposed to experience first-hand.

Sex was one of those topics.

You knew the mechanics of it. The anatomy that was involved. Its purposes and benefits. The dangers of it.

You had been told, vehemently, that it was something that should never be done outside of the safe and proper confines of marriage.

Which meant you could never do it because you could never marry.

The Prophet had to remain pure.

Set apart.

Free from romantic, familial, worldly ties.

You were taught to suppress any desire to do otherwise. A task that you had been mostly successful at upholding.

But there were times when your eyes lingered where they shouldn’t and your own thoughts made you shiver and blush.

It was the sin of lust.

The other major vices were usually easily circumvented. You could be disciplined and selfless, just and kind, modest and brave.

You always did what you were told, and you didn’t ask questions.

You told yourself that you weren’t weak; you just knew your place. You knew what was expected of you, and no other options had ever been made available.

So, like thrown clay, you had allowed yourself to be molded into the person you were today, each piece of you carefully and intentionally shaped by the hands of others.

The Elders created the perfect Seraphite specimen. Quietly devout. Enigmatic. Indelible. Untouchable. Obedient.

A mouthpiece disguised as a leader.

A Prophet.

They made you.

You were not a naturally occurring thing.

Sometimes you didn’t even feel human.

Lust was one sin you knew could be concealed, buried far below your surface, unseen by critical eyes.

It was a small act of rebellion. A hidden glimmer of defiance. Although, you weren’t doing it on purpose.

And it was made especially loathsome due to the regrettable fact that it only ever happened to you when you were looking at or thinking of a woman…

Now the Wolf stood in front of you, hammer held tightly in her right hand.

Demons were quickly descending upon you, and you had just witnessed (and neglected to intervene into) the death of three of your own people. The only person you helped was the Wolf, your enemy, who you were meant to kill.

You could guess what the Elders would say if they were here now. How disappointed they would look as they pointed out your many failings.

For once, you didn’t care.

Strangely, despite everything, you felt like a bird whose cage door was just thrown wide open.

Or a well-trained dog that had been mistakenly let off leash.

You could breathe. Unrestricted.

Your eyes remained glued to the Wolf.

Her back was to you, her soaked clothes clinging to her skin. Her shoulders rose with each of her deep, deliberate breaths.

Time seemed to slow as your eyes traced down the length of her arms, taking in her strong form…

See, you knew the sin of lust was bad, if only because it made you stupid.

Or distracted, at the very least.

Demons were coming, and you had just been moments away from gutting this girl.

You definitely couldn’t trust her.

But you didn’t have to trust her to look at her.

A series of snapping twigs and high-pitched shrieks from the surrounding forest instantly brought your attention back to the approaching threat.

Demons were another one of those things that they taught you about but never thought you’d actually encounter.

When you arrived on the mainland that morning, you had been led to the network of Seraphite-built bridges, above the city, concealed in the clouds.

Nearly your entire day had been spent in the sky.

If there were any Demons below, you didn’t see them.

Honestly, you hoped you’d never have to come across the cursed creatures.

The sounds they made were animalistic, but somehow still eerily human. Like a voice that was either enraged or overwhelmed with pain.

You had been told that they were unsavable. Completely consumed by the disease and irrevocably punished for their sins. No longer even human.

As a child, you heard stories of the first Prophet valiantly fighting off hordes in defense of her early followers.

In training, they taught you how to fight both Demons and human adversaries alike. Although the former was always theoretical.

You were shown sketches, detailing the different stages of it.

Foolishly, you thought you were ready.

But nothing could’ve prepared you for what came running out from the cover of the trees.

It moved faster than you would’ve thought possible, too quickly for you to take it all in, but the glimpses you captured were grotesque.

It went straight for the Wolf, swinging its arms wildly. She effortlessly dodged its attack before striking with the hammer. Hard. It was dead in just three blows.

Two more approached from behind you, closest to Lev, and it was past time for you to be useful.

Lev was a skilled archer, but he was still a kid. And Yara, also a kid, only had use of one of her arms.

Both of the Demons were focused on Lev. He fired an arrow, hitting one of them in the chest, but it didn’t take it down.

Its back was to you.

You couldn’t let yourself freeze again.

You closed the distance between you and the beast, lifting your dagger with both hands and bringing it back down swiftly, piercing deeply through its skull.

It let out one last pained shriek as it fell.

The Wolf had taken out the other Demon before Lev had to loose another arrow.

But there were two more where those came from. One swung at the Wolf, and the other came for you.

You were able to dodge, narrowly missing the impact of its savage attack. Stepping back, you continued to evade its blows.

You swung at it, but the thing was fast. Your blade cut into its shoulder instead of its head. Ripping your weapon out, you tried again. This time, you hit your target.

That was two for you.

“Prophet, look out!” Yara shouted. Before you could discern which direction the threat was coming from, you were brutally thrown to the ground, the wind knocked out of you entirely.

Death wore the grisly face of the Demon standing above you.

You had dropped your dagger, leaving you completely defenseless.

Lev’s arrows pierced its throat twice.

It kept coming.

You blinked and it was on the ground. The Wolf knelt over it, hammer crashing over its skull repeatedly, past when the thing was decidedly dead, until the hammer actually broke in her hand.

You just blinked again.

She saved you.

Why did she save you?

You scrambled to your feet, your breaths coming too quickly.

You tried not to panic.

You had only almost died.

You were fine.

The Wolf dropped the splintered remnants of the hammer and stood, shaking out her hand. You stared as she walked over to where your dagger lay on the ground and bent to pick it up.

She looked at you for—as far as you could tell—the first time since you’d cut her down from the rope.

She walked over, holding your gaze.

You realized that she could kill you now. That that was likely why she had saved you.

So she could end you herself.

Because you were the Prophet, and a Seraphite. Or because you had nearly killed her before.

She could even do it with your own weapon. The one that had been meant for her.

You imagined that would be satisfying for a brutish Wolf.

As she approached, you noticed that she towered over you, making you doubly aware of the fact that this was not a fight you would win if it came down to it. Especially when you were unarmed.

She stopped when she stood only a couple feet in front of you, turning the dagger over in her hand and simply offering it to you, handle-first.

Dumbly, you slowly reached out and took it.

Her hand fell back to her side.

There was a hint of a smug little smile on her face, like she knew what you had been thinking.

“Try not to drop that again, yeah?” she said, voice low. It was the first time she’d spoken directly to you, and you resented the way it made your cheeks warm.

Before you could come up with a competent response, Yara interrupted.

“Prophet, Wolf! Come on. We have to move!” She held a lit torch in her uninjured hand. Lev stood at her side, ready to run.

“Where are you going?” the Wolf asked, unsure if she would be following. You were already moving to join Yara and Lev.

“Out of these woods. We’ve gotta run! Now! The coast is this way.”

They took off into the trees with you close behind. The sound of footsteps falling behind you informed you of the Wolf’s apparent decision to tag along, at least for the time being.

You could also hear more Demons, closing in on either side, chasing the torch’s light. Which meant they were after Yara.

You ran faster, trying to close the distance between you just in case.

As she passed an abandoned vehicle, one of the Demons jumped out, tackling her to the ground.

Lev shot an arrow through its head as you ran to her, pushing the dead Demon off and helping her back to her feet.

The horrifying chorus of even more of them, just beyond your vision, made you startle with each screech.

“They’re all around us!” Yara cried, moving closer to her brother.

The Wolf, weaponless after breaking the hammer, quickly looked around, finding a glass bottle. She grabbed it and threw it at the next creature that emerged from the forest.

The Demon slowed, momentarily stunned, and the Wolf wasted no time knocking it over and bringing her foot down on its skull hard and fast.

Just one stomp and it was dead.

You flushed again, transfixed.

Stupid.

You should not find that attractive.

But she was undeniably incredible.

You shook your head in an attempt to refocus as you turned to watch Lev take down another with a couple well-aimed shots.

A shriek behind you revealed the presence of yet another. You turned to meet it, killing the thing easily enough.

It seemed your training in combat had been sufficient after all, at least where Demons were concerned.

“That was the last of them,” Yara said.

“You guys okay?” the Wolf asked, like she might actually care.

“Yeah,” Lev breathed out, bow and arrow still at the ready.

“We have to keep moving before more come,” Yara insisted, taking up the lead again as she pressed forward.

You all ran after her.

“Every direction looks the same,” said the Wolf. You were inclined to agree. “You sure you know where you’re going?”

“It has to be this way,” Yara said, quietly determined.

“What the hell am I doing?” the Wolf muttered to herself under her breath.

The four of you picked up your speed as the Demons grew closer.

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Abby seriously had no idea what the hell she was doing.

She was running through the woods, fighting off Infected with three Scars.

And one of them was the Prophet.

Who had been fully intending to disembowel her not too long ago…

Something had to be wrong with her. Maybe it was brain damage from nearly suffocating.

Because this wasn’t like her.

A couple hours ago, Abby was killing Scars. Happily.

Well maybe that wasn’t the best word for it. It didn’t make her happy. She just didn’t feel bad about it.

And now, she was prancing through the forest and going out of her way to protect Scars?

The kids were one thing. They seemed to be just as in danger with other Scars as they were with the Infected.

What had that one woman called them? Apostates?

Abby had done enough reading to know what the word meant. She guessed they must have broken some stupid, insane rule and run off.

Or been kicked out.

Either way, from what Abby had gathered, they had gone rogue and were being hunted by their own people.

Which meant they weren’t necessarily her enemy.

But the other girl. The Prophet…

Abby didn’t know what was going on with you.

Were you going rogue too, or were your friends just dead and you needed help getting past the Infected and out of the woods?

And yeah, you had been about to kill her before. But you’d stopped as soon as there was a distraction. Took the out the second it was offered.

And then you had been the one to cut her down.

So maybe you didn’t want to kill her.

That counted for something, right?

Abby didn’t let herself think too much about how pretty you were.

How stunning your eyes looked when they met hers.

How your fingers felt, lightly grazing her bare skin for just a second, then leaving all too soon.

And how you had definitely blushed when she spoke to you.

See? She totally wasn’t thinking about any of that at all.

And she was probably delusional.

And way too distracted, spending any amount of time or energy thinking about such crazy shit while you were all actively running for your lives.

Abby was bringing up the rear of the group, and she knew a horde of Stalkers was not far behind her.

She really hoped these Scars knew where they were going.

“It’s just up here!” the girl, Yara, shouted from up ahead, leading the way to a wall of hanging vines.

The boy, Lev, pulled the vines aside, revealing an opening behind. Yara carefully but quickly maneuvered through. You waited until both she and Lev were on the other side before looking up at Abby expectantly.

There wasn’t time to argue, so Abby went next. You followed closely behind, then let the vines fall back into place, hiding your path from the Infected that pursued.

On the other side, Abby was met with the sight of several dead bodies, clearly recently slaughtered.

She couldn’t tell from this distance what had killed them. Or if they were Scar or WLF.

“Those are fresh. There another way around?” she asked, maneuvering around the corpses.

Lev spoke up. “If there were, would we be going this way?”

Okay. Fair point.

Yara pointed to a chain link fence with the torch. “Come on, Lev. Get it open.”

The kid tried to bend the steel wires up to create an opening. It didn’t budge, despite his efforts.

“Move,” Abby said. He did.

She strained as the piece of fencing gave way beneath her hands.

“Get in there, Prophet,” she said, teeth clenched.

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You quickly slid through the opening and popped up on the other side.

Finally, you were free of the suffocating forest.

The clearing was illuminated with light of the full moon.

You wandered on ahead as Lev, Yara, and the Wolf came through the fence behind you.

“Prophet?” A new voice spoke out as you turned the corner. The reverence in the person’s tone alone told you that you were dealing with a Seraphite.

You turned toward the voice to see a woman you recognized but whose name you couldn’t recall. She was large and stood tall, the side of her face bloody and a pickaxe in her grip.

She had been part of a patrolling squad in the area. You’d seen her briefly earlier in the day, with Emily, after the Wolf had been captured.

The woman saw that you were, in fact, who she thought you were, and she bowed her head out of respect.

“Are you alright, Prophet? What are you doing out here? Where is Emily?”

You were at a loss for words.

Her voice was calm and concerned now, but you knew that she would kill Lev, Yara, and the Wolf if given the chance.

“I—”

Your two friends entered the clearing behind you, drawing her eyes toward them.

“Apostates,” she hissed, and instantly her demeanor changed.

She rushed past you, ruthlessly throwing Yara to the ground and lifting Lev up by his neck.

You moved without thinking, your dagger still tightly clutched in your fingers. Again, you raised your arms above your head, just as you had done when fighting the Demons. Using all of your strength, you brought the blade down above her head, piercing her skull. The weapon was long enough that it exited through her chin.

Her body slackened and slumped to the ground. Dead.

You stared down at her, feeling the weight of what you had just done.

This wasn’t a Demon. It wasn’t an animal.

She was a living person.

And a Seraphite. One of your own people.

You were supposed to be her Prophet. Her leader. Her new hope.

She hadn’t been watching her back because she never imagined that you could betray your people like that. That you would pose a threat to her.

You continued to stare, holding your breath. You couldn’t look away.

You didn’t deserve to look away.

You felt a sob rising in your throat. Your eyes began to water.

No. You would not cry.

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Abby was the last to enter the clearing.

By then, the Scar was already holding Lev in the air, and you were already approaching from behind, lifting your dagger.

Abby watched as you killed her.

Woah.

You were good with that knife, she’d give you that.

Yara and Lev got back to their feet and watched as you stared down at the dead Scar, unmoving. Like you were frozen.

You weren’t even breathing, and you looked like you might cry.

Abby had been wondering how many WLF soldiers you killed today before you got to her. If the three she’d seen hanging when she first came to were yours.

Now, she was sure they weren’t.

Because based on your reaction, that had to be your first time.

She wasn’t usually one to be especially sensitive to the emotions of others, but when she heard you sniffle, finally taking in a ragged breath, she couldn’t help but move towards you.

Abby thought of her own first kill. How easy it was to do in the heat of the moment, but how torn up she’d been in the aftermath.

She understood that it was necessary, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t hard as hell.

She fought the urge to put a hand on your shoulder, or even rub your back soothingly. Reminded herself of who you were and who she was and all the reasons why she shouldn’t even be here right now.

Instead, she bent to retrieve your dagger from the body. She tried to hand it back to you, but you were still stuck, staring down.

“Hey. You did a good job.” She took your hand in hers, placing the handle into your palm and closing your fingers around it. She didn’t let go, allowing her hands to fully encompass yours.

Abby waited until you met her eyes. “You saved them,” she said, nodding towards Lev and Yara, who were both silently watching this unfold. “You did what you had to do.”

You drew your eyebrows together at that, like you wanted to argue. But you seemed to change your mind, ultimately just nodding your head lightly.

She let her hands drop and glanced back down at the slumped body again, her eyes catching on something.

“Wait. Is that my backpack?” Abby asked, looking more closely.

Beside her, you lifted your shoulder in a half-hearted shrug.

“Probably. Emily gave it to her earlier,” you said numbly.

Abby didn’t need to ask who Emily was. She could guess.

She reclaimed her belongings while you pulled yourself together.

“Are you two alright?” you asked the siblings.

“Yes, Prophet,” Lev answered, watching you closely. Abby noticed that you seemed to bristle ever so slightly at his use of your title. You didn’t say anything though.

She held her rifle in her hands again, happy to have her stuff back.

Especially the guns.

Wordlessly, the Scar kids led the way into the nearest building.

Out of habit, Abby began gathering supplies as you went along, taking ammo and medical supplies and anything else that seemed useful.

“How’s the arm?” she asked Yara, breaking the long stretch of silence.

“I have it under control,” the girl insisted defensively.

“Okay…” Abby took a box of ammo from a cabinet. “Grab any supplies you find.”

“We can’t touch this stuff. It’s Old World,” Lev said, like that should’ve been obvious.

“Are you fu---? You need supplies. We’re not out of the woods yet.” She opened and then shut a drawer. “Pun fucking intended.”

“What’s a pun?” Lev asked from another room.

Abby didn’t have the energy to answer that question.

Instead she said, “I’ve never seen Scars go after Scars like that before.”

“Seraphites,” you and Lev corrected in unison as you explored different rooms of the building.

Again, she ignored. “So what the hell did you do?”

“I shaved my head,” Lev answered simply.

Abby scoffed. “Fine. Don’t tell me.”

The group passed through building after dilapidated building, heading towards the coast. At least in theory.

“We’re almost there,” Yara said. “Just a little farther.”

She led the way down a steep drop-off into another run-down building. One where you wouldn’t be able to get back out the same way you went in.

“Now what?” Abby threw out, tired and frustrated.

“I’m quite confident it’s this way.”

“Quite confident?” Abby repeated incredulously.

“You don’t have to follow us,” Lev pointed out.

“You want me to leave you three out here alone?” Abby shot back.

Your response was an immediate and insistent, almost panicked, “No!”

Everyone else turned to you, surprised.

“Let’s just get out of here,” Lev offered.

Abby found the front doors, but they were held firmly closed by a metal gate on the outside.

Above the door was a large opening, too high for Abby to pull herself out of, but not too high for someone to climb through with a boost.

“If you get us through there, we’ll open the gate,” Lev said.

Abby remembered again that these were Scars she was dealing with. And like hell was she going to boost you all up to safety just so you could leave her stranded here.

“Get them out,” you said, as if you could read her mind. “I’ll stay with you.”

Lev started to protest but stopped after one shake of your head.

Abby nodded. “Okay. Come on.”

He gave you one last look before walking over to her, stepping into her open hands and pulling himself through the opening.

“Your turn.” Abby looked at Yara. “Watch that arm.” She carefully helped the injured girl maneuver up and out.

The all too familiar shriek of Infected sounded off behind you, coming from deeper in the building.

On the other side of the doors, Lev pushed at the gate. It wouldn’t budge.

“The gate’s stuck!”

“Fuck! Hurry up!” Abby looked back and forth between the door and the direction the Infected were coming from.

“We’ll look for another way!” Yara said, and the two of them disappeared from view.

Abby tried to stay calm and prepared herself for the inevitable fight.

“They’re not going to leave me,” you said, drawing her attention. You held your knife at the ready, rolling your shoulders back.

She didn’t respond, not sure if she believed you.

“They won’t,” you reiterated.

“I hope you’re right, Prophet.” She offered one of the weapons from her stash. “You ever shot a gun before?”

You shook your head but accepted the firearm anyway.

“Come here. I’ll show you.”

What Abby hoped would only be a few Infected turned out to be an entire horde. Runners, Stalkers, Clickers, and even a couple Shamblers.

You were fighting them off like a champ.

Seriously. She was impressed.

You’d kept the gun, watched her rushed demonstration on how to operate it, but ultimately chose to primarily stick with the dagger.

Both of you had been fighting for several minutes as you moved through the building. No sign of the other two Scars. Abby had pretty much resigned herself to needing to find her own way out.

She cleared the room she was in, lowering her weapon to take a breather.

You were in the next room, and it sounded like you had cleared that one out too.

The only warning Abby had before she felt the blow was you urgently shouting, “Wolf!”

A Stalker that she failed to notice had her pinned to the ground, knocking her rifle from her grip in the process.

It reared its head back as Abby struggled, fighting to get it off her.

A gunshot rang out, and the Infected slumped, lifeless.

She shoved it off her and sat up to see you standing there, borrowed gun still aimed and ready.

“Good girl!” Abby exclaimed, beaming up at you from where she sat on the floor.

Wait.

What the fuck?

She meant to say “good job”…

Actually, she hadn’t meant to say anything.

You lowered the weapon. Based on the look on your face, you were just as taken aback by her use of those words as Abby was. Although, she managed to keep it from showing on her face. Mostly.

She stood quickly and fumbled through a recovery. “Good shot. That was—I mean—It was a good… A good shot. Good job.”

You smiled softly at Abby’s obvious display of nerves, walking over to where her rifle had fallen when she was attacked.

You picked it up and returned it to her.

“Try not to drop that again, yeah?” you said, mimicking the teasing tone Abby had used when she said those same words to you earlier that night.

She made a face. Something that was equal parts embarrassment and amusement.

“Prophet! Over here!” came Lev’s quiet voice from the next room.

You shot Abby an I told you so look before the two of you ran after the sound.

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When Yara collapsed, the Wolf picked her up and carried her.

You listened as she quietly comforted your dear friend, encouraging her to keep breathing and promising to find somewhere to rest soon.

Your heart felt soft for her in that moment.

Or maybe you were just exhausted.

Lev led the group with you in the back, gun drawn and alert to the best of your current abilities.

You entered a clearing, full of enormous metal boxes and small, raised buildings. All things from the Old World that you had never seen before and didn’t have words for.

The Wolf instructed Lev to start checking the doors of all the small buildings. It took a few tries before he found one that was open.

The inside was in noticeably better shape than any other structure you’d seen on the mainland, with a few simple, fully intact pieces of furniture.

You watched as the Wolf moved through the first small room and into the second, carefully setting Yara down on the couch. She went over to the windows, checking again to make sure the four of you hadn’t been followed.

When Yara began to slowly remove her overshirt, you were quick to help, being especially careful with her injured arm.

It was swollen and bright red from her elbow down to her fingertips, visibly mangled. You had to bite back a gasp.

Lev stood on the other side of the room, a horribly worried expression on his face.

It wouldn’t be helpful for you to panic now.

“Hey,” you said to him, light and encouraging, drawing his gaze to you and away from his hurt older sister. “It just needs to be set. Okay?”

You turned your eyes to the Wolf who was still hovering by the window. “You know how to do that?”

The face she made confirmed what you already knew. Yara needed much more than just for the arm to be set.

Still, the Wolf walked over, instructing Lev to cut the discarded overshirt into strips and telling Yara to lean back.

You helped her, kneeling on the floor by the side of the couch where her head lay, ready to assist in any way you could.

“I’m gonna move it, okay?” said the Wolf.

“Okay.”

They were both speaking so softly.

“You ready?” she asked.

Yara nodded, reaching her uninjured hand out for one of yours. You held it, letting her squeeze as tightly as she needed to.

The crunching noise the arm made as it was set nearly made you sick.

Yara let out a series of pained noises, panting and grunting. You used your free hand to gently brush the loose strands of her hair from her face, tucking them behind her ears.

You whispered that the worst was over, and that she would be okay now.

You didn’t know if that was true, but you hoped it comforted her a little.

The Wolf broke a leg off a wooden chair, took the newly cut strips of fabric that Lev offered, and went to work bracing the newly-set arm, using the chair leg as a splint.

Yara watched the Wolf’s face.

“What’s your name?” she asked.

The Wolf secured the last piece of cloth before she answered, meeting Yara’s gaze.

“Abby,” she said.

She stood, looking to Lev and then to you.

“I should go,” the Wolf—Abby—said.

You stood too, to walk her out.

Lev quickly filled in the space that you left, kneeling in the same spot and taking Yara’s waiting hand in his.

Abby grabbed her backpack and followed you into the first room, toward the door.

You paused, turning to face her.

“Are you—” You wanted to ask where she was going. What she would do next. Really, if you were being honest, you didn’t want her to go at all.

But you didn’t have the right to ask for any of those things, so instead you went with, “Are you okay?”

You gestured to your neck, meaning to indicate the dark, noose-shaped bruises that circled her own throat.

It felt like so long ago that she’d been hanging in front of you, unfortunate to find herself on the wrong end of your dagger. But, realistically, only a couple of hours had gone by.

She cleared her throat, her own fingers instinctively ghosting over the marks.

“Oh umm… Yeah. It’ll be fine.” She waited a beat before adding, “Thanks for cutting me down.”

You didn’t know what to say to that, considering it was technically your fault she needed to be cut down in the first place.

You settled on a nod and a tight smile.

She turned to go, twisting the doorhandle and stepping back out into the rain.

Before you could close the door behind her, she looked back and said, “This area gets a lot of traffic. Whatever shape she’s in…” Abby leaned closer, hand on the door frame, “You need to get out of here by tomorrow.”

Again, you nodded. “We’ll be fine.”

She held your gaze for a moment longer before she turned and walked down the steps.

You shut and locked the door.

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As Abby walked away from the office trailer, she couldn’t help the images that came to mind.

She kept envisioning you and Lev and Yara, dead.

Hanged and gutted by the Scars.

Or shot by the WLF.

Or ripped to shreds by Infected.

She had real responsibilities. A friend to look for. A whole community counting on her.

She had a war to get back to.

But if she left now, would she always wonder about what happened to you?

The urge to stay near you—to protect you—was so overwhelming. She didn’t know where it was coming from or what she should do with it.

You were not safe, but she knew you were much safer with her.

Isaac had warned her that the first Scar Prophet had been able to make even the most dedicated soldiers turn on a dime. He said that with just a few carefully chosen words, she could make a person question where their loyalties lied.

It had seemed so ridiculous just that morning, but now you were doing the same thing to Abby.

You were in her head.

But this didn’t feel like manipulation.

She didn’t know what it was that drew her to you, but it felt real. Natural. And entirely unintentional.

Or maybe she was reading you all wrong, and you really were a master manipulator.

Abby needed to make a decision. Because she was currently standing still in the pouring rain with the trailer still in view.

She chose to trust her gut.

And her gut was telling her to turn around. To stay with you.

Owen would have to wait.

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Note: Thank you to anyone who’s read all three chapters of this! The fact that literally anyone has is absolutely bonkers to me. I’ve already learned so much about myself as a writer since I started writing fics a couple weeks ago. For example, this week I learned that I DO NOT enjoy writing fight scenes… Unfortunately it was thoroughly unavoidable for this chapter. Regardless, I really hope it was interesting to read, and I’m looking forward to fleshing out the relationship between Abby and my reader more and more!

[milkteasweetheart]

『just like heaven, chapter 1, part 2』

this part contains riddle’s dream sequence. 

housewardens x reader

author’s note: i depict nrc as an actual college, so first years are 18, second years 19, etc.

summary: crowley has the bright idea of a bonding experience, specifically in the form of a dream potion.

characters: (riddle rosehearts), leona kingscholar, azul ashengrotto, jamil viper, vil schoenheit, idia shroud, malleus draconia / platonic mentions: dire crowley (ew), grim

genre: romance, fluff, smidge of angst

warnings: female reader, reader is yuu, reader is around ace and deuce’s height, sappy, marriage, mentions of potential children, some suggestive themes

「dream scene: rose colored reverie」

This Riddle looked strange. Well not really, he was just wearing a cutesy outfit with a red, fluffy cardigan and black corduroy pants. On top of it was a frilly apron. Was he taller?

The Dream Riddle took off Dream (Y/N)’s coat and hat with another chaste kiss, and the two  moved into the living room. Everything was a bit blurry except for her face. Huh. “Have you eaten, my love? I know you work too hard without taking breaks.” Dream (Y/N) caressed Riddle’s cheek. Azul was subtly rubbing his hands together like a cartoon villain, raising concern within everyone.

Idia is about to draw blood from the way he’s biting his cheek, trying to prevent laughter. Normie loser! How corny can a person’s dreams get?

「Idia: At least have a cool dream! LMFAO」 (He will admit this version of the prefect looks nice, but she always does- who said that.)

Dream Riddle nods. “I’m ready to go if you are. Where are we going this late, though?” He tilts his head. (Y/N) chuckles with a clearly enamoured expression. “It’s a surprise. I know you’ll like it.” And with a kiss on the tip of his nose, the scene changes with a disorienting distortion.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆☾⋆⭒˚｡⋆

They’re now standing on the outside of a cafe. Riddle considers curling up into a ball. There has to be a reason his beloved hedgehogs do it. The hedgehogs… that he and the prefect take care of…

Jamil feels pity for Riddle who is currently making a quiet impression of a red balloon being emptied of air. Thankfully his own dream won’t be as bad… at least he thinks so.

The cafe is beautiful, too perfect with checkered floors, lacy curtains and velvet couches. Dream (Y/N) is currently feeding Riddle a forkful of the most delectable looking strawberry tart with an adoring expression. The strawberries are so red and shining it hurts her eyes. She considers addressing this, but decides to have pity on Riddle who has gone through with sitting on the floor and hiding his head. Leona does the opposite.

“Hah. Feels like my teeth are going to rot in my mouth at this rate.” Leona is trying to goad Riddle into digging his grave deeper. Might as well make the most of this dumb experience, right? He is totally not trying to distract himself from the looming threat of his dream being revealed, which is coincidentally in the same genre. Riddle shakes with embarrassment. (Y/N) notes Malleus staring at her dream counterpart from his position before the cash register.

“Ah, I think it’s quite amusing- adorable. Dreams often reflect what their creator wants, and can’t get.” For a merfolk Azul is cattier than Leona. Vil is a bit too smug too. At least his dreams are sophisticated.

Idia notices Jamil and Malleus aren’t exactly invested in this story. Well, nothing interesting is currently happening, but he must push his introvertedness in the corner to save his life.

Jamil’s a bit scary, but won’t smite him out of existence like Malleus could. “Hey…” Idia flinches a bit when he turns to look at him. “Hm?” No backing down now, Idia. “This is like, super cringe right? This is probably the worst we’ll see, but the others one are gonna be boring as hell, right? Maybe we should figure out a way to get out?” Jamil thinks about it, and crushes Idia’s hope into dust. “I need a break from Scarabia anyway. I don’t mind it here.” He also has to see Azul’s inevitable doom.

「Idia: Just say you want me dead…」

[yourneedylilpup]

what if I was travelling all by myself and managed to get lost after a night out? maybe i’ll see a nice looking group of men and try to ask them for directions, but i’m just a little to dumb to follow what they’re saying. So instead they lead me to one of their houses saying that’s the way to my hotel. When i finally realize they’re not taking me back to the hotel it’s too late. one of them grabs me from behind and stuffs a pice of cloth in my mouth while the other crowed around us to his what their doing to me. they drag me into an empty ally and pin me between two the the all while they tear off my cloths. they’ll start raping ALL of my holes while telling how i’m such a dumb bitch following a group of strange men. How i must have wanted to get raped like a dirty whore if i’m dressed the way i was this late at night. eventually i’ll pass out from how rough they’re abusing my body. i’ll wake up in an unfamiliar room with my hands tied, one of the men is sitting by the door and he tells me how i’m the perfect little victim to be their new pet because no one will ever notice if one dumb foreigner goes missing

(ahhhh i want this so so bad wanna be somewhere o don’t know anyone and get taken advantage of and kept like a pet🙏😍😍❤️)

[dragonanon]

can you do a chapter based on your Death!Reader and God!Brother hcs where Death wakes up from her sleep and goes to Heaven to check up on her brother's children and everyone is obviously terrified of her?

Hmmm…I’m not typically one to do requests because the urge to write is so sporadic and random for me. BUT I have been thinking about the initial confrontation in Heaven for a while now, so here are some head cannons for that. >w>

——

- It’s a typical perfect day in Heaven…Until it isn’t. Having seen what had become of your realm and learning Heaven was to blame for it, you’re on your way to rip someone a new asshole.

- Screams erupt from the Angels as the ground begins to shake and the bright sky darkens. Sera and Emily rush out just in time to join the Angels in watching in abject terror as a massive pool of darkness forms on the ground, and from it slowly rises a menacing figure.

- The figure is massive, and it only continues to rise until even the tallest building barely reaches its hips. Its six long horns twist and arch toward the sky, only making the figure appear even taller. Upon reaching its full height, the figure spreads its six mighty wings, each one sporting a menacingly sharp claw and all as shrouded in darkness as the rest of the figure.

- As its wings blot out the sun further, the figure opens its many blazing white eyes; two where you’d normally expect to see eyes, a third in the center of its forehead, and dozens more scattered across its wings and body.

- Sera lost all color as soon as she saw the figure rising, and somehow lost even MORE color when the figure opened all of its eyes. She looks like she shit herself, and Emily is panicking, trying desperately to get Sera to tell her what’s going on; she’s never seen the older Seraph look so terrified.

- With this unimaginably imposing figure now looming over Heaven, Adam decides this is the PERFECT time to attack, having been dumb enough to think this was a Demon attacking Heaven.

- The exorcists fly up towards the figure, ready to attack. This only angers the figure further however, and with a rumble that shakes the ground itself, the figure merely flaps its wings; creating a gust of wind so powerful it knocks all the exorcists back onto the ground.

- It’s at this point Sera FINALLY snaps out of it, rushing to Adam in mad panic and damn nearly strangling him while telling him to call off the exorcists. Which he does, albeit with some reluctance.

- This doesn’t stop him from asking Sera what gives, and her response is “Adam you absolute fucking fool, that is DEATH!”

- Now it’s Adam’s turn to look like he shit himself. “Death? As in, “the big man himself’s younger sister” Death?? As in, “the baddest bitch you’ve EVER seen, but can kill ANYTHING by just touching it” Death??? THAT fucking Death????” Ignoring that last statement, Sera’s frantic nodding in confirmation confirms to Adam that he has indeed fucked up. Big time. Adam then proceeds to lose all color in his face and practically cowers behind Sera as she cautiously approaches you, mentally preparing herself to be reaped on the spot.

- Back to your perspective however, you’re fucking PISSED. So pissed that you don’t even notice or stop to think that most of Heaven’s inhabitants likely have NO CLUE who you are, and are likely legitimately fearing for their lives. Meanwhile for all the older Angels and Angelic beings who’ve been alive long enough to have known you before you went to sleep, like Sera, they’re all still very much afraid, but it’s more in line with the “oh shit mom’s home early and she saw the mess we made in the kitchen, she’s gonna kill us!” kind of fear.

- The fact that they sent exorcists at you makes you even angrier. Like for starters, how fucking weak do they think you are that you could be stopped by just some low level Angelic beings with pointy sticks?? And then the audacity to even attack you to begin with, like THEY weren’t the ones who fucked up and you’re just some kind of strange intruder needing to be slain?? The INDIGNITY of it all!

- Your voice booms throughout Heaven, making even the ground tremble at the sheer intensity of it. “WHO DID IT?” You’re met with only silence, so you ask again with more force. “MY REALM IS A COMPLETE MESS WITH MILLIONS OF DISPLACED SOULS RIGHT NOW. SO AGAIN I ASK, WHICH ONE OF YOU FLAT FOOT CHILDREN DID THIS?!”

- Sera replies, voice trembling slightly. “Are…Are you talking about the exterminations? “IF THAT IS WHAT YOU’RE CALLING THIS MOCKERY OF MY WORK, THEN YES.” Sera looks visibly confused and concerned. “But…That SHOULDN’T be possible!…The exterminations KILL the Sinners; their souls should be gone, not stuck in Limbo! There has to be some kind of mistake here!”

- Hearing this, you can’t help but let out a brief but harsh cackle, making the ground jolt from the abruptness. “DEAR YOU HONESTLY THINK A SOUL COULD BE SO EASY TO DESTROY? A SOUL IS A POWERFUL THING FOR A REASON CHILD, IF THEY WERE SO EASILY DESTROYED THEN NONE OF YOU WOULD BE STANDING HERE BEFORE ME NOW!…SO ONCE AGAIN, WHO. DID. THIS?! AND SO HELP ME, IF I HAVE TO ASK AGAIN THERE WILL BE CONSEQUENCES.”

- Whilst Sera is dumbfounded by this revelation, Adam sees a golden opportunity to save his ass and points at Sera. “I-It was her! Yeah it was all fucking HER idea! I-I tried to tell her it was stupid, b-but she just REALLY wanted to go down and kill those bast- Demons! Yeah she REALLY wanted to kill all those poor Demons, can ya fucking believe this shit?!”

- Before Sera can defend herself, the darkness seems to intensify, and she can just FEEL every one of your eyes glaring daggers into her. “SERA…YOU SIGNED OFF ON THIS?? YOU SHOULD BE ASHAMED OF YOURSELF, I EXPECTED SO MUCH BETTER FROM YOU! I LEFT EXPLICIT INSTRUCTIONS FOR HEAVEN AND HELL TO WORK TOGETHER TO SORT SOULS FOR THIS VERY REASON! AND NOW BECAUSE OF THESE BARBARIC “EXTERMINATIONS”, YOU’VE COMPLETELY DESTROYED THE BALANCE I WORKED SO HARD TO CREATE AND MAINTAIN. I HOPE YOU’RE PROUD OF YOURSELF, BECAUSE I’M CERTAINLY NOT!”

- It’s a strange and mildly amusing sight to see the head seraph get scolded like a misbehaving child by this massive dark entity. But here we are anyway!

- At one point during the tongue lashing you’re giving to your niece, Emily buts in and asks for an explanation for what’s going on; having not heard Sera’s previous explanation to Adam apparently.

- Your temper flares for a brief moment, and you just about launched into another lecture at the little shit who DARED interrupt you. But upon seeing Emily, you softened considerably, seeing that she was young and TRULY didn’t understand what was happening.

- “AH…I APOLOGIZE DEAR, BUT I DON’T THINK I RECOGNIZE YOU…COME CLOSER LITTLE ONE SO I CAN SEE YOU.” You slowly crouch down and lower your hand, offering Emily to climb onto it. Emily is hesitant, obviously a bit scared of you. But Sera encourages her to go to you, she knows that you won’t hurt Emily and it’s high time she meets her aunt anyway.

- With the small seraph in hand, you stand back up to your full height and bring her closer to your face. Now FINALLY able to see her properly, you speak. “YOU’RE FAIRLY YOUNG FOR A SERAPH…YOU MUST’VE BEEN BORN DURING MY SLUMBER, AND IN THAT CASE I APOLOGIZE THIS HAD TO BE OUR FIRST MEETING. TELL ME, WHAT IS YOUR NAME CHILD?”

- Her voice trembling slightly, Emily tells you her name and then asks who you are and asks if you’re a seraph like her and Sera. The innocent question gets a genuine laugh out of you, and despite it shaking the ground it’s a lovely sound. “OH CHILD, I AM FAR FROM BEING A SERAPH. THOUGH I CAN SEE WHY YOU WOULD THINK THAT. YOU WERE ALL MADE IN MY IMAGE AFTER ALL.”

- Seeing the visible confusion on Emily’s face, you elaborated. “LONG AGO, YOUR FATHER WANTED TO SHOW HIS APPRECIATION OF ME. SO FOR HIS FIRST SENTIENT CREATIONS, THE SERAPHIM, HE BASED THEM ALL ON ME.” Emily looks surprised, and follows up by asking how you know God.

- You give another genuine laugh at her question. “SWEETY I’M HIS YOUNGER SISTER, I AM “DEATH”, THE GODDESS OF WELL…DEATH. BUT YOU CAN CALL ME “D” OR “AUNT D”, MOST OF YOUR SIBLINGS DO.” Emily’s mind is blown “Wait! YOU’RE aunt D?! Sera told me all kinds of stories about you before you went to sleep, like the time you got into an argument with Father over his invention of the “Snuggie”. I never thought I’d get to meet you!”

- “IT WAS LITERALLY JUST A BATHROBE YOU WORE BACKWARDS, AND I STILL CAN’T BELIEVE HE THOUGHT THAT WAS AT ALL CLEVER.” You huff, feeling amusement and mild irritation at that memory.

- “SPEAKING OF YOUR FATHER, WHERE IS HE?” Sera speaks up, having managed to recollect herself, and explains that no one has seen or heard a word from God since before you went to sleep.

- The irritated snarl that leaves your throat sounds like thunder and shakes the ground, making everyone tremble with fear. “THAT LAZY BASTARD HAD ONE FUCKING JOB, WATCH HIS DAMN KIDS, AND HE COULDN’T EVEN DO THAT?! NO WONDER THIS ALL HAPPENED THEN, HE LEFT YOU ALL UNSUPERVISED!”

- Bending over, you carefully set Emily down before standing back up. “I HATE TO CUT MY INTRODUCTION SHORT, BUT APPARENTLY I NEED TO GO AND HAVE A LITTLE CHAT WITH YOUR FATHER.” You stare pointedly at Sera and continue. “DON’T THINK THIS MEANS YOU’RE ENTIRELY OFF THE HOOK EITHER. WHILE YES, YOUR FATHER’S ABSENCE IS MOSTLY TO BLAME FOR THIS DEBACLE, YOU ALSO KNOW BETTER THAN TO DO SUCH TERRIBLE THINGS. WE WILL BE DISCUSSING THIS MORE ONCE I FINISH WITH YOUR FATHER, AND IF I COME BACK AND FIND OUT YOU HELD ANY MORE OF THESE “EXTERMINATIONS” I WILL TURN YOU INTO A HOLLOW! DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?” Looking at the ground, Sera nods and says “Yes Auntie D…”

- Satisfied with that response, you bid everyone farewell and slowly melt back into the ground, completely disappearing. Once you’re gone, the sunlight is back and it’s as if you were never there.

- Now the seraphim have to soothe the murmuring crowd while Sera starts attempting to get in contact with Lucifer to let him know that “Hey Aunt D found out about the exterminations and is NOT happy about it. She just got done yelling at me, and now she’s on her way to go read Father the riot act. Just warning you now because once she’s done with him, you’re probably gonna be next.”

- Lucifer receives the message and is now frantically trying to create peace offerings in hopes they’ll make you more amicable, while also preemptively planning his own funeral in case the peace offerings don’t work.

- Meanwhile in God’s palace, God is currently relaxing in an elaborate hot tub and watching American football on an absurdly large TV whilst drinking wine like it’s water. He’s pretty drunk and having a grand time yelling at the TV.

- His fun is interrupted through by you literally kicking in the door and storming in, you’ve shrunken down to your smaller size so all your features are actually visible now and not covered in darkness as you glare at your older brother with an intensity that could peel paint.

- God startled momentarily before seeing it’s you and giving you a dopey smile. He’s also in his smaller form, so that makes things slightly easier for you. “Ohhh heeeyyy Death!…You startled me thereee…It’zzzz beeen awhillle, huh?” You scoff at his slurred speech, in disbelief that he could be so drunk right now.

- “Yes, it HAS been awhile. Good to see that you still choose to spend your days getting completely wasted instead of tending to your children.” You answer tersely, and God rolls his eyes. “Zzstill the saaame old ssstuck up bitch…Tha kidzz are fahine Deee! Yyyoou should cohme haave ah drink wib meee.”

- You ignore God’s offer for a drink and cut right to the chase. “No, your kids are NOT fine! When was the last time you checked in on them?! Do you even know what they’re up to right now??!” God dismissively waves his hand and chugs more wine. “I juzzt checked on thhhem ah couple decades aghooo..They’rrre prohably makinnn neeewh liffe.”

- “God that is a load of shit, and you know it! I was JUST down in Heaven, and the seraphim told me that you haven’t seen or spoken to ANY of them since I left to take my nap eons ago! And furthermore, while you’ve been in here drinking the day away, your children have COMPLETELY destroyed the balance we created! They’ve been mass slaughtering Demons annually for millennia now, and Limbo is a complete disaster right now because of this!” Hearing this, God looks down at his bottle of whine, embarrassed, and mumbles an awkward “oh”.

- Silence hangs heavy in the air for a moment before God clears his throat and says. “Zzsooo…You’rrree NNOT gooing to drink wiff me?” At this you snap and snatch the wine bottle from God and chuck it at the TV, smashing the bottle and the TV. God shouts in anger but before he can ask you wtf that was for, you just lay into him. Calling him a deadbeat and pathetic excuse of a deity.

- “How can you just sit in here day after day, while your CHILDREN are out there causing such mayhem! Do you not love your children all??!” God is shouting back at you, his anger having sobered him up some so he’s not slurring as much. “How DARE you accuse me of not loving my children! I would giive ANYTHING for them and you know that!”

- “Then fucking ACT like it!! Don’t just sit in here and rot your mind with booze and TV!” God growls. “I don’t need you to tell meee how to handle my children! Why do you even care?! It’zzz not like they’re yours anyway!”

- “I care because they are part of MY family, and I want my family to be safe and happy, something that you couldn’t give less of a shit about apparently!” God throws his hands up at this point “Well what do you want from me Death, go hhhold their handz?! My children are ALL capable of thinking and being on their own, they don’t NEED me to do shit for them!”

- “That doesn’t mean that they don’t still need you there emotionally! But with the way you act maybe it’s best you ARE never there! After all, what use could any of them get from your pathetic drunk ass!!” This clearly struck a nerve as God points back at the door you came in through and roars at you to get the fuck out of his house. Growling, you give a harsh “Fine!” and tell him he can sit and be a drunk deadbeat all he wants because you’re done with him and his shit, and he’s NEVER to contact you again unless it’s in regards to his children or business.

- You stomp out of God’s palace and return to Limbo, wanting to start working on getting things cleaned up and cool off some before you go check on things in Hell.

- Once you’re gone though, God slumps his shoulders and hangs his head. With your venomous words echoing his head, he summons another bottle of wine and begins chugging it while he trudges into his bedchambers.

- He flops down onto the bed and picks up a framed photo and slowly brings it closer to his face. It’s an old photo, one taken shortly after God created the first few seraphim. You and God are both standing next to each other, arms around each other’s shoulders and leaning in close while the first seraphim all stand in between the two of you. Everyone is absolutely beaming, and God looks especially happy; so proud of his creations.

- Tears drop onto the photo as God remembers how things used to be back then, back when he was actually NEEDED by those around him and wasn’t just some brand figure who’s only job is to smile and wave. Even as he slowly sets the photo down, tears continue to fall and he holds his head in his hands. “…I’m sorry I’m so damn useless…Hopefully you’ll forgive me someday…Not that I deserve it though…I’m…so fucking sorry…” No one is there to hear God’s sobs, and eventually he passes out. He’d rather be dreaming of happier times anyway.

[mychlapci]

Please, the “I didn’t know I was pregnant”, Dratchlock style, “everyone is dumb, ESPECIALLY RATCHET” edition:

So, I had this idea/dream where Dratchet was a thing right after Drift was rescued, up to the Deadlock stage (then, they lose sight of each others until MTMTE).

Ratcher get sparked back in Rodion, he tries to tell Drift but he just became Deadlock… somehow some senators finds out about Ratchet’s state and they terminate it because “medics can’t have sparklings..” (something about losing focus on the care of their patients, especially if they are self centered, pompous pricks).

Ratchet is crushed but theres no time in war to mourn.

He and Deadlock keep bunching into each others, Deadlock notices how Ratchet’s act around sparkling or younger bots… one day he asks if Ratchet had ever had sparklings (cause he remembers a long list of messages, all saying “I’ve something important to tell you!!!).

Ratchet answers, dead serious: Medics can’t have sparklings.

Somehow, Deadlock understands.

Skipping forward, to the very epilogue of LL, Ratchet and Drift are fragging freely, they’re both old as balls, and sadly, can’t get sparked.

At some point, Ratchet gets a little too frisky even for Drift, but they don’t really worry about it. Rodimus join, and everything seems fine.

After some time (cause off course, their pregnancies last fucking years), after a very intense coupling with the ambulance in the middle, Ratchet feels strange, his abdomen start cramping and his pussy hurts… they all think it related to the intense fucking, but after some time, pacing, confusion and panic from Rodimus and Drift, Ratchet pops out first one, then another sparklings… the sparklings are small (still way bigger than whatever Ratchet has been putting up his valve), and Ratchet’s platings never bowed out, and his last reframe was already rounder and softer…

They’re all very confused, especially First Aid, who can’t believe how little maintenance Ratchet does on himself.

ooOOoh that's what i'm talking about baby. Ratchet is perfect for this... He's old and he believes the abortion he had to have back at the start of the war might have straight up sterilized him (the autobots couldn't have had their best medic incapacitated by carrying, after all, so it would make sense they'd take the ability from him in the first place...) so he wouldn't worry about leading a carefree sex life with Drift. Besides, Drift has it in his charts that his transfluid is weak. Rodimus, though? Oh, Ratchet definitely didn't take Rodimus into account.

mhmmm I can imagine them all exhausted after some really intense, messy interfacing and Ratchet is panting more than normal... He feels odd cramps down in his abdomen, valve gushing. He noticed that he'd been much wetter today than normal but maybe he just begrudgingly admitted to his speedsters that he's missed them during his shift and didn't think much of it. Drift sees him wince but Ratchet just brushes him off, tells him they just might have gotten a little too rough with it, even if they all know that that's not true. They didn't do anything out of the ordinary...

After a while the pain just gets unbearable. Roddy and Drift want to call First Aid but Ratchet insists he's fine. Maybe he even tries to get up to prove it but he ends up doubling over himself, and then the first sparkling slides out of him with a single strong push, accompanied by a puddle of birthing fluids. Drift and Rodimus are speechless. Ratchet just pushes again and its twin falls out of him in quick succession... the pain finally stops and he's left staring between his legs, at the freshly birthed babies, wondering. What the fuck.

First Aid probably bursts into the room shortly after – either Drift or Rodimus or both have called him in secret because Ratchet really didn't look fine. He sees the birthing fluids covering the floor and the bed and the two sparklings held shakily in Ratchet's hands and he just sighs. Doctors make the worst fucking patients, man. How could he have not known he was pregnant? He's lucky the sparklings came out relatively healthy because at his age, having a complication-less carriage was a one in a million chance.

[muffinsin]

lycan anon here, back at it again, equally as sleep deprived as last time. got my dani concept on the brain. so sorry for the length 😭

succubus daniela dimitrescu. fits her perfectly. succubus daniela dimitrescu, except with a twist. she’s completely inexperienced. brand new, squeaky clean, virgin succubus (where the hell (lol) do they come from? who knows!) that hasn’t been on a single outing- never seduced and drained a single person of their soul, but despite this is CONVINCED she’s the fucking bee’s knees. woefully overconfident and cocky. it’d fool anyone, she’s that good at acting (deluded herself so far into her belief that it comes off as real as a result) and talking big… up until they actually got in bed with her. she probably doesn’t even know how to kiss properly. poor baby needs to be shown how to do everything, but she is extremely eager to learn. continues with her perfect temptress delusion even as she’s actively not doing something well enough and has to be guided to do it better.

daniela is summoned by a (G!P) human mage. they hadn’t actually meant to summon a succubus- they’d intended to summon something else, something powerful that they planned to bind to them and have do their bidding. fucked something up in the spell, and ended up with her instead. but, hey, they won’t let the use of their difficult to obtain materials used during the ritual go to waste. their new plan is to have some fun. no harm in it, they’d pulled out all the stops to ensure their safety during this as a part of their initial plans involving summoning something much more powerful. they quickly discover daniela’s inexperience, and it’s just the cutest fucking thing ever. experienced themself, they take advantage of the opportunity presented to them to play with her and teach her as much as they can. doting on her and feeding her ego. playing along. and dani is sooo convinced she’s in control, entirely unaware of the human’s safety precautions protecting them from her. convinced she’s going to come out of this encounter with a soul under her belt. tricked into thinking this mage is an amateur. up until it’s revealed they’ve decided to stick to their original plan of binding their summoned creature to them after realising the gold they’ve struck. poor, stupid succubaby is made into a pet, complete with a pretty binding collar. and oh, she’s PISSED. outraged. until she’s dominated and fucked dumb by our mage- who is now fully mask off and taking their rightful place as her master- and happily submits. because we know this girl no matter the universe is a sucker for love and attention, and they’re just sooo handsome and sooo sweet to her… so maybe being a pet isn’t so bad after all.

This is some very delicious soup right there!!😳 Sheesh, this got longer than I expected! Not complaining ;)) let’s get into this! ;)

Masterlist 1

Masterlist 2

Daniela gasps in surprise as colours whirl around her and she is lifted off her feet, merely to be appearing someplace completely different. She blinks, attempting to focus her vision again.

She’s standing in the middle of a cycle of burned powder and strange runes, around her she discovers what must be a laboratory. Bottles of alchemy stand on corners and edges, shelves full of books are stacked along the walls. Tables are set up here and there, holding quills and paper full of writing and runes like the ones at her feet.

The temperature in this odd room is warm, pleasantly so. She hears a heartbeat, loud and clear. Excited, or perhaps afraid? She is no stranger to either reactions upon seeing her.

When the auburn haired woman looks up, she finds a human standing against the wall, just behind a desk that holds papers and books full of incantations, as far as she could tell.

Ah, a mage, she realises.

She smirks at the human, then pulls a playful and seductive smile she’s all too familiar with.

You stare right back at her in surprise. You’re no fool and recognize the woman as a succubus immediately. That…wasn’t quite what you were going for.

You mentally face palm yourself. While the woman looks good enough, as it is to be expected of a creature such as the succubus, she is of little use to your plan.

After all, a succubus doesn’t exactly scream “all powerful servant” to you. You almost pity yourself for the countless rare resources wasted on bringing this creature, this woman, here, and setting up this elaborate net of spells and runes as a way to guarantee your safety. All this for a succubus!

You watch her nudge the burnt powder with the tip of her heel. She’s curious, you note. Her golden eyes catch yours when she looks up at you.

Upon confirming it’s safe to leave the summoning cycle, Daniela steps out, a grin flashing and showing off the sharp teeth settled in her mouth. She smiles at you, playful and sweet.

She feels thrilled! Her first hunt, her first victim! A human mage! Sure, she can think of more valuable souls, but she is proud nonetheless. Mother will praise her for this; she is sure! She will be rewarded greatly for taking this defenceless human’s soul! Daniela giggles again, unable to keep her eagerness at bay.

You watch the woman stalk towards you slowly. She’s playful, yet elegant. She’s seductive, you know this. Yet you feel at ease knowing this creature has not true grip or effect on you. You’re safe, so, perhaps, it wouldn’t be wrong to have some fun.

After all, you spent such a long time looking for the materials, ingredients and resources for this summoning ritual. It would be a crime to let it all go to waste.

And, she is really not at all bad looking. You feel your cock twitch under your robes. She’s just your type.

Her auburn hair glows like fire when the reflection of lights and the fireplace flickers on her, her skin pale yet soft looking. Golden eyes capture your gaze. You have never seen any quite like it.

Her face, soft and roundish, is quite sweet. The woman’s dress clings to her tightly, a large V-Cut revealing her cleavage.

Her gloves are slightly bloodied. You can only imagine what poor soul crossed her path before you, their soul taken and body devoured.

You’re curious about this creature. With your soul and mind safe, surely it won’t hurt to play a little. You have been so lost in your work, your cock could do with some stimulation again.

Daniela smirks widely when she reaches you. The little mage hasn’t even moved! She thinks you’re adorable, utterly helpless for her. Now she too understands the thrill of the hunt and the fun of seduction her sisters would always tell her about. She is excited to finally get a taste herself. She knows, she will top any of their performances. She is, after all, twice as seductive and sweet, is she not?

A gloved hand cups your cheek. “Sweet morsel”, she coos. She bites the inside of her cheek, eyes wide.

Your lips fall open.

Now or never, Daniela thinks eagerly.

You hum when lips come crashing against you- clumsily. You don’t think you’ve ever heard of a clumsy succubus.

But that is all she seems like, her lips barely pushing against yours properly. She struggles pushing her tongue inside, and once you feel it in your mouth, it seems she has difficulty knowing how to proceed.

Your eyes open up. Hers are closed, so that she cannot see your confused frown. She pulls away, smirking and cupping your cheek. “Don’t you worry, my love, you will get more”, she promises breathlessly.

Another time she presses her lips against yours. Again, she is unsure about her tongue, it seems.

She isn’t an experienced kisser, you notice very fast. In fact, she isn’t an experienced anything, judged by how she moans eagerly and keeps her hands hovering between you two awkwardly.

This might get be fun to you, you decide. She’s adorable, struggling with the smallest of tasks, a mere kiss.

The little succubus can’t even brush her tongue against yours properly. You fight the urge to chuckle and coo at her. Despite her futile attempts, she is very sure of herself, moaning and smiling against your lips.

You decide to give into her fantasy. This is interesting…

Daniela moans upon feeling you hum against her. Her little pet appears to enjoy her!

You rest your tongue under her clumsy one, allowing her to at last find it and dominate it with hers. Thankfully, the inexperienced redhead seems to be a fast and eager learner.

Next you push against her properly, smudging your lips against hers, opening a little wider against her rather tense ones. She copies you.

You moan when your little succubus finally does it right, cock twitching. She’s simply adorable!

The woman pulls away again, the smallest of blushes on her cheeks.

You resist the urge to take her already. You can tell she’s on guard now. She might be inexperienced and by far too proud of herself for her achievement of making you moan, but is certainly not foolish. You decide to allow the dear creature to cling onto her sweet fantasy and false sense of dominance a little longer.

“Did you like that, little love?”, she coos. She drags her teeth against your skin, as she has done to many before, easily finding the pulse at your neck.

“Yes, give me more, beautiful, please”, you reply, attempting your best at sounding submissive. Daniela smirks against your skin.

You gasp when you feel her at your neck, licking, biting, licking yet again. “Let’s mark you up, my love. You’re all mine now, aren’t you?”

You’re quick to answer, feigning submission as well as the control of your mind. You’re happy to keep your soul, thank you very much, but don’t mind playing along her little delusions. “Yes, all yours forever, my seductress”

Is the little one trying to create a hickey on you? You smile, knowing she can’t see your face with hers hidden at your neck.

This little succubus is becoming more and more fun.

You wonder how much you can teach her. How inexperienced the poor thing truly is. Will she have ever had a cock in her pussy? You doubt it. Your dick twitches as you merely think of fucking a tight virgin pussy.

More thoughts overtake you, of fucking the redhead and cumming inside her over and over, introducing her to your favourite spells and toys and fill all her virgin holes at ones, make her take it all.

You moan loudly at them, and Daniela grins, believing this to be the result of her sloppy work at your neck. She has created bite marks after bite mark on you.

“You fe-eel so gooood”, you moan softly. She blushes, eyes shutting as she feels satisfied. She knew she’d be better than her sisters! Just how fast have you submitted to her will? She’s the best seductress, she knows this!

“Good Girl, my darling”, she coos. You’re caught off guard by this and buck your hips. The succubus giggles.

You wonder whether she even knows the concept of dirty talk, and if so, how so? Possessiveness strikes you for a moment at the thought of somebody else having taught her this. You want this little succubus all to yourself for today.

“Doesn’t that feel nice, my sweet?”, she whispers. You feel her breasts press against you as she leans closer. Her nipples are hard under the dress she wears.

You pay close attention to her words, and smirk as you gasp at her next bite, finding a pattern at last.

My love,

My darling,

My human,

My sweet,

Sweet morsel

It seems, your inexperienced, poor succubus is quite the fool for love and romance. You almost coo at the woman. She’s making it painfully easy for you, yet this foreplay is making your cock ache. You need her to relief you of it soon.

Daniela gasps when she feels your hands on hers, and giggles as you guide them to your breasts, covering them with yours and squeezing. She resists the urge to coo at you, her pet. You’re so desperate for her! It’s adorable!, she thinks

You moan as your breasts are squeezed, her piercing, golden eyes back on you. “Please, my love”, you whimper. Her eyes widen. “You make me feel so good, my darling”

Daniela blushes a little. She can’t believe it! She’s made you fall in love! Of course, this isn’t too much of a surprise to her. You will only be the first of many, in her eyes.

Although she considers asking her mother to grant her you as a pet. After all, you’re her first! She wants to keep you a little longer, even if you are drained of a soul. She’ll make you feel so good!

She licks alongside your neck, humming seductively. She can tell you’re getting closer. Something about your scent is off, though perhaps it’s only the freshness, she thinks. After all, all her previous meat was captured by her sisters and mother, long drained of a soul already.

She moans when she squeezes your breasts and you let out a gasp. “You make me feel so good, Mistress”

Daniela bites her lip, a fang catching onto it. She’s heard her sisters’s pets calling them this before during feeding times. She feels thrilled to finally have a pet of her own!

You grow restless almost. You don’t want to cum in your garments. Certainly not fully dressed!

“Please, take me. Make me yours, my love. Your soft fingers bring me so much pleasure and aching, oh succubus”, you fake-coo. Despite your words being a little false here and there, you do feel pleasure and aching from her. The pleasure she gives you feels good. You occasionally squeeze her fingers and pull them until she treats you right.

The pet names make the poor succubus feel all hot and needy. Daniela gasps at them, eager and thrilled to have someone in such a state. It’s her right, too!

She can’t wait to push you down and make you eat her core!

You almost huff. It seems your little virgin needs a little more of a hint.

“You’re so beautiful”

“Breathtaking”

“My love”

Each soft spoken phrase is accompanied by moans and whimpers, gasps or groans, and does an excellent job of keeping the woman on her high horse of delusion as you move her hands.

Daniela, on her part, doesn’t even notice it was you that guided her hands. All she realises is your torn open blouse and her hand at the collar. Yes, undressing, of course!

You moan when the redhead at last catches on, dragging your top and bra first, blushing adorably at your bare chest despite her futile attempt of covering it up with a smirk.

“Please, I need you so bad. Please”, you gasp. You feel so close. It’s ridiculous how badly this little succubus turns you on even as she is completely powerless and oblivious.

You’ve long decided you’re keeping this one. While not a companion in the normal sense, not nearly powerful enough to defeat your enemies for you, you know she will make a perfect pet for you. Your own, personal cumdump and toy. You can’t wait to explore the virgin’s sensitive spots and weaknesses, to stretch her with your cock.

Your eyes widen and for a moment you’re scared your protection charm has worn off, just as she drops her garments to the floor.

She is, to her credit, not bad at stripping at all. With slow and sensual movements that seem completely natural to her, she has your eyes hooked on her yet again as she drops the gloves first. Next up her dress follows, pooling on the ground.

Your mouth waters. Your aching cock twitches again when large, soft breasts are revealed to you.

She’s adorable and sexy.

The only thing still covering her are thin, black lace panties.

You groan, blushing when she drops to her knees in front of you.

Daniela eagerly pulls down the rest of your garments, and yet her beautiful, golden eyes widen when she discovers the hard cock between your legs. You nearly laugh, yet cover it up with a cough and moan.

The little virgin is completely caught off guard and it’s the most adorable thing you’ve ever seen.

Still, true to her false delusions, Daniela merely smirks and pulls down your underwear, moving her head back when the large cock nearly slaps against her cheek.

This isn’t a problem, she can bring you pleasure! She’s read plenty of books, and even so, you’re utterly hers. She can do whatever she desires…

You groan, hands gripping the table edge and eyes closing shut when you feel her tongue drag against the side of your cock. “Y-Yes! It feels good, please, more!”

She giggles playfully and smirks at your neediness. She can’t wait to tell her family of her successful hunt! How fast her prey gave in and how you begged for her!

More licks. You’re desperate for her mouth on you, yet wonder whether your little succubus even knows of this, let alone how to do it. You reassure yourself you will guide her.

“Please, I ne-eed it….inside, so…bad! I c-aAa! I can’t!”

You’re panting already, close to your orgasm. You force yourself to hold out a little longer. You want to cum down her throat.

Daniela, to her credit, understands the subtle hint. She’s completely into her own world of delusions, giggling and playing with your cock, licking and sucking at spots. It makes you feel dizzy.

You know, you must claim her. You can’t stand to deprive yourself of your ridiculously adorable and seductive pet for much longer.

Daniela hums as her lips wrap around you with difficulty. She gags nearly instantly, and yet it’s enough for you.

She shrieks, noises muffled by your cock, when you thrust forwards suddenly. Golden eyes water and lips part as she gags when thick semen is shot down her throat. The feeling is foreign, and she isn’t entirely sure she can ever get used to it. It feels soft, a little sticky, and warm.

When you pull back slightly, on your way to pull out, and her eyes close contentedly, you decide to strike.

Using a quick and simple rune of retrieving, your fingers clutch around the thick metal collar. Multiple runes and symbols are carved in it.

Daniela shrieks, however, when she feels it snap shut around her neck, your cock slipping out her mouth. She looks up with wide eyes, unsure what happened. Hands come up to cup the collar hugging her throat tightly. She seems to understand.

“How DARE you!”

You can’t hold back your grin. She’s helpless, utterly so, and it’s adorable.

“I am your superior!”

“Uncuff me now!”

“Cease this!”

Daniela’s face is red as she screams insult after insult. You tsk at her. It seems you need to break your new pet in.

“Let me go! What did you do?!”, Daniela screams. She can’t access her swarm, nor any of the powers she possesses. She feels small and helpless.

Clawed fingers tear at the collar, but it doesn’t come lose in any way.

“You will treat me with respect!”

You chuckle at this, grabbing her by her wrists and pulling her along. She struggles, naturally, attempting to cut and bite.

“You’re going to regret this!”

Her futile threats fall on deaf ears.

Daniela gasps when she is pushed over and has her black panties tugged down as you walk past. Thick, soaked pussy lips peek out between large thighs.

Daniela is quickly back on her feet, raging on. “Let me go! Do you have any idea who you’re dealing with?!”

“Uncuff me, pet!”, she yells. She attempts to sound as serious and dominant as her sisters do with their pets during feeding times.

Yet you merely chuckle.

Her eyes widen when she sees the leash and rope in your hands, along with items she doesn’t recognise.

You sigh when the redhead attempts to attack. A single snap of your fingers has the collar push her down harshly, into a kneeling position. You relish in hearing the woman’s gasps. She’s such an unruly little thing now…

Daniela shrieks when her hands are grabbed, attempting to tug them free as more and more phrases fall from her lips. Eventually the red rope wraps around her, tying nimble wrists behind her back. She’s fuming.

“You will regre-MGHM! EUGHH!”

You laugh at her, the ring gag stretching her mouth open wide. “That’s better, sweet thing”, you coo.

“You’ve got quite a mouth on you, my pet”

She jumps upon hearing herself being referred to as such. The gag doesn’t allow for much talking.

Daniela eyes you angrily, her head turning as she notices you attempt to put the leash on her.

A moan ripples from the back of her throat when you grip her hair and keep her in place. She’s blushing by the time you let go, leash in place at her thick binding collar. This isn’t at all how this was supposed to go!

“OOH! MHMMM!”

You ignore her shushed and slurred complains, instead easily move the woman and bend her back over the desk. Daniela squirms helplessly, her tiptoes barely touching the ground, her arms bound.

“Don’t you worry, I’ll teach you, pet.”, you coo. She’s fuming, speaking slurred little phrases, demanding you submit to her.

All this does is bring a chuckle from you.

“First lesson, we’re going to teach you to stop being such a little brat”

She tenses, legs kicking.

Golden eyes meet yours as you walk to the other side of the small desk, right to her face. She yelps when your tip is rubbed against her lip.

“Ah, my poor little succubus. We’re now going to teach you how to handle cock down your throat properly”

Daniela’s golden eyes press shut when she feels you thrust inside her wide open mouth, squirming and gripping onto the rope tightly. You’re not gentle with her, instead thrust fast and rough, using her inexperienced mouth however you want. You’ll fuck the brattiness right out her like no one has before.

You groaned at the feeling, the woman’s throat warm and tight. She keeps gagging and drooling, the poor thing entirely unused to such treatment. It makes you feel hot to know you’re the first to push your cock deep down her throat.

“Good girl. See how nice that works now, my sweet, pretty darling?”

She blushes helplessly as her mouth is used. Your balls slap against her chin every time you push inside, your tip at the back of her throat making her gag.

“GMNNN! MGNMMM! HMN!”

You tsk at your little brat, thrusting harder with more of a point to make her gag than bring yourself pleasure.

She gags loudly, whimpering and whining as more thick, salty tears run down her cheeks from feeling your cock so deep in her throat. She seems to obey again, allowing you to continue your normal, albeit fast and rough thrusts.

You feel the warmth of her cheeks when you cup one lovingly. “Look at my little toy learning! That’s it, pet, breathe through your nose”, you coo. She squirms softly for you, eyes pressed shut tightly. You can only imagine how odd it must be for her to believe she’s in charge in one second, dicked down in the next.

Daniela can’t help but blush and moan under your watchful eye. Never in her life has she received this much care and attention. Undivided attention.

Her hair is gripped and the leash is used to keep her in place when you begin to thrust harder. You’re considering playing with spells here and there, altering the state between your legs a little here and there, or perhaps your endurance. You settle for the latter. You know there is plenty left to do with your little redhead.

She doesn’t know what words you chant, nor their meaning, though her eyes widen at the sparks lighting the tip of your fingers.

Upon her surprised look, you squeeze her soft cheek. “Don’t think you had the upper hand for a second, my little succubus”, you whisper. She shivers, the slick between her legs nearly unbearable. She feels the urge to have something inside- you, your cock, fingers, anything given to her.

Daniela now too understands, she greatly underestimated you.

She squeezes her eyes shut when you cum down her throat once again, attempting to turn her head slightly as you pull out and paint her chin and jaw. “You look adorable this way, sweetheart”

She whimpers. All this attention of yours is making her so needy. She feels herself falling for you already; poor little Daniela always too quick to fall and catch feelings, too delusional to tell whether she is loved or it is nothing but a fabric of her imagination.

You cup your hard cock as you pull out of her entirely, tapping her nose to have her reopen her eyes.

“Now, are we going to behave, pet?”

She whimpers and nods miserably, hissing when you at last take the uncomfortable gag off.

You don’t give the inexperienced little thing time to talk.

“What’s your name, beauty?”

Her face flushes pink.

“Daniela Dimitrescu”, she answers obediently. She whimpers, legs pushing together. She’s never been this needy, despite being a succubus, and all she wants is to be taken so bad.

“Patience, my little pet. At first we will see whether you’ve learned and improved. Don’t think you can fool me, little virgin”

She gasps audibly at this.

“Open up, my adorable Daniela”

She blushes even brighter as her name is used. Ever eager to learn, as well as to receive pleasure, praise and attention, she opens her mouth wide. You smile at her.

“Good Girl, that’s it. Now, don’t you bite down, or we’re going to have some serious trouble, Daniela. I’m not above punishment”

The thought excites her.

You push yourself in again, moaning at her gags around you. Each has her throat tighten around you.

She breathes through her nose immediately this time. You praise her for this. It seems your eager little succubus is indeed a fast learner.

“Now, just wrap your lips and tongue around me, little succubus”

You hiss when she bites down a little, yet your gaze hardens when you see the little smirk she still sports with you in her mouth. So she is a little brat.

You decide to save that for later.

“Now wrap your tongue a-aAh, Y-Yes!”

She hums, her delusional mindset at last somewhat correct. She is good with her tongue, despite her movements being sloppy and inexperienced.

You grip her hair, thrusting slowly as she licks along your cock inside of her, sucking slowly. Surprisingly, the friction of her sharp nails rubbing against you lightly is arousing.

She sucks you eagerly, the little succubus’s skill at last raising. You groan. She’s hot, and adorable, and all yours. You feel her collar at the other side of her neck when you thrust deep.

You allow your little pet to keep going for a while, watching with a blush and arousal clear as day in your eyes as she grows confident once again- and rightfully so.

She swirls her tongue around you, eager to experiment. You let her, moaning softly and holding her cheek. Daniela eagerly sucks up all the attention and affection she gets, even as she is bound and bent over, bound to you by a ritual and spell by far too advanced for the succubus to even attempt to understand.

“A-AH!”

Daniela giggles slurred at your sounds as she bobs her head back and forth.

You groan, your grip on her hair tightening as you make her throat you a little deeper. “That’s right, what a good little girl you can be”

She hums, hips rolling against the desk. You know she must be soaked, her tight cunt drooling. You’re eager to find out, but calm yourself: there is plenty time.

Still, it might not be wrong to prepare the redhead a little for your cock. After all, you can imagine the poor thing won’t have an easy time accepting even your tip into her.

Daniela whimpers when you slip out her mouth. She was in the middle of pleasuring you!

She shivers when you walk up behind her, sliding your hands across her behind. Thick thighs and a beautifully round ass greet you. She’s sensitive.

“YAH!”

The redhead shrieks in embarrassment upon feeling your index and middle finger pull her pussy lips apart. Her blush is hot on her entire face. You hum, licking your lips at the wetness that coats her and drools out of her. She’s so tight, you barely see her little hole. How could you fit inside? You’re eager to find out!

“Now just relax, little succubus”, you coo.

Daniela gasps when she feels a fingertip press against her, her eyebrow rising as she feels it inside. The more you push it in, the better it feels.

Daniela’s eyes cross when you curl your finger inside, her knees weak as she presses her thighs together. It’s unlike anything she’s ever felt!

“Good, I see you’re handling my finger well, my darling pet”

Daniela pants as another is squeezed inside, whimpering at the small stretch she endures. You hum again. Her wetness makes this easier for you.

She whimpers when you pull back out of her, just when it started to feel so good!

Instead her eyes follow yours as you reach forwards, hand wrapping around the handle of a small dagger at your desk. She tenses, whimpering. Bound to you and yours to own, hands tied and legs weak after the throat fucking and small tease she has received, she is utterly helpless for you.

You coo at her, brushing your hand gently over thick, auburn hair. She relaxes again.

“Don’t you worry, sweet Daniela. You’re mine now”, you whisper, leaning forwards as to whisper in her ear. You groan as if causes your erect cock to press up between her warm ass cheeks. “I’ll make sure nothing and nobody hurts my little pet”, you promise in a hushed voice. She mewls below you.

“Now, let’s make sure you’re a little stretched for me until I decide to make use of your tight pussy”, you decide, drawing back yet again.

The woman gasps below you when the tip of the knife’s handle is rubbed through her slit. “Mhmmm, yes!”, she moans, hips grinding eagerly. She’s so adorable for you, believing she can get off without penetration from you.

Her mouth drops open and a shriek is heard in the laboratory as the knife’s handle is pushed inside, stretching her a little and keeping her that way for you. She attempts to push her legs together, and squeaks at the pain caused by the blade. Quickly, her thighs spread again.

Daniela hisses and moans when you playfully slap her round ass, watching hungrily as it jiggles for you. She’s the perfect fucktoy for you. You realize despite not earning what you had originally hoped for, the summoning ritual left you with such a sweet prize nonetheless.

She gasps when you pull her off the table and push her up against the wall, her legs trembling already. She’s utterly soaked, and you haven’t even begun playing with her properly yet.

You untie the wrists of the succubus with ease, instead grab her hands and pull her close to you. She gasps as she is pulled down a little, golden eyes staring up at you obediently.

“I think it’s at last up to me to teach you how to use your mouth and hands, sweetheart.”, you say.

Daniela shrieks when her hair is grabbed and her head is brought forwards, lips smudged against your right nipple, her chest pushed up against your stomach.

Her virgin pussy grips the knife’s handle tight, despite the wetness that seeps from her.

You tsk at your adorable, inexperienced pet. “Wrap your lips around it, little succubus”

She eagerly does so, ever so happy to learn. You gasp when she sucks immediately, lips smearing black lipstick on you, teeth grazing against your skin messily.

“Good…Girl! Yes!”

She hums at the praise, feeling her ego stroked yet again. She thrives off the feeling.

You gently grab her soft hands, guiding them to your hardened and dripping cock. She gasps at the sensation.

“Wrap them around, and stroke up and down, my beautiful slut”

Her cheeks burn. You’re vulgar, and caring, and sweet to her. You’re shamelessly exploiting all her weaknesses. She clenches around the handle, whimpering, yet obeying.

Your head is thrown back at her touches. Her soft hands explore eagerly, touching your tip and shaft, reaching down to cup and squeeze your heavy balls. She is eager and needy for you, just as she should be.

Daniela hums around your nipple, sucking a little harder. You hold the back of her hand lovingly, yet forcefully, not allowing her to pull away for even a moment.

Her nipples are hard against yours.

“Now raise one hand to my other breast, little lamb”

She blushes, but does as she is told, the brat teased out of her at the moment. She feels humiliated by the blade’s handle deep in her pussy, and yet can’t help but moan around your nipple.

Daniela gasps when she feels one of your hands come up to her breasts. “Copy me, pet”

She nods as she gets back to sucking you, her left hand stroking up and down your cock, squeezing and holding you tight, the right resting on your breast.

You feel closer again, her hand heavenly around you, her mouth and fingers equally so.

Beautiful whimpers fill the room when you tug her tiny nipple. She copies the action, and you moan loudly.

You rub hers between your fingers, she does the same.

You’re so proud of how this little vixen is turning out.

“Stroke over my tip, pet”

She moans and hums, hips rolling as she obeys. You laugh at the poor, needy thing, oh so desperately trying to get more pleasure for herself.

You squeeze her nipple and she jumps. You groan when she copies the action. “I see you’re learning now, my dear”, you whisper. Golden eyes stare up at you, and you smile breathlessly as she is whimpering around your breast.

“Come here, kiss me”, you demand when you feel painfully close.

“Let your new master show you how to control a mouth properly”

Daniela’s lips once again push against yours. Immediately she moans when your tongue dominated hers effortlessly, sucking and pulling her closer by her leash. She gasps when you bite her lip, her tongue connected to yours with shared spit when you pull away from her.

You tug her close again, dominating her mouth with ease.

You’re so close.

The succubus moans into your mouth as she tightens around the handle, her nipple squeezed and toyed, her tongue dominated easily.

She groans as her tongue is bit and sucked lightly, and her breast squeezed.

You moan loudly, thick ropes of cum shooting against her stomach. The red haired woman gasps at this, smirking a little as she raises her hand to taste you. The sight is erotic as anything.

“Get back on the table”, you command breathlessly. You can’t wait any longer. You won’t, either.

The moment she’s on the table you pull out the handle, examining its soaked state. “Relax, my little succubus. It will only hurt a moment”

She whimpers, eyes pressed shut when you push forwards. She gasps, sharp nails digging into the wooden table. You’re by far larger than the small handle, and when you merely bump against her tight hole, you wonder whether you will fit at all.

Thankfully, after pushing harshly, your thick tip slips inside. You’re sensitive, and feel as if you could cum from feeling her wrapped around you alone. She’s warm, soft and wet.

“P-Please! It won’t fit!”, she shrieks when you keep pushing. You stroke her cheek gently, your other hand set on her fleshy hip. “Ssshh, let me handle this, pet”, you answer simply. You’re careful with her, unwilling to completely break your newest toy just yet.

At last, you’re about a third inside. She’s writhing beneath you, moaning and blushing hotly, arching her back and gasping at every little inch you put inside of her.

You pull out a little, and feel her tighten around you.

When you push back in, a little more of her tight pussy is stretched.

This keeps on going for several minutes, filled with moans and gasps, until at last you’re fully nestled inside the woman’s sweet cunt.

“M-More please”, she begs. She’s on the verge of an orgasm, her cunt full and her breasts cupped in her own hands.

“There we go, it seems you’ve remembered your manners, darling”, you praise. She gasps when you thrust again, and you moan and groan loudly. She’s heavenly wrapped you. Nothing you’ve had could compare to this.

“Y-Yes! Please! I-A-AA!”

Daniela screams as she cums, her cunt tight and warm, her hands covering her sweet face as she creams around you. You’re unbothered- this is your treat now.

The sweet succubus sings moan after moan, scream after scream for you as you begin hard, fast thrusts into her. She’s your toy, your claimed pet, bound to you until eternity- you know you won’t set your precious prize free.

It’s about time the needy ginger is treated as the slut she is for you. Your hips thrust harshly, an unforgiving and rough pace demonstrating your lust for her.

Daniela is pushed up and down the table by the force you use on her, breasts bouncing and lips spreading to let out moans and such.

You know the inexperienced woman won’t be able to handle all that many orgasms of her own, yet are determined to bring her to a second, intense one at the very least.

Daniela feels this too, her cunt aching and feeling so good at the same time. She feels stuffed and torn in two, satisfied and greedy at the same time.

The little succubus must wait no longer, her golden eyes fighting to stay open as she eyes you.

With a thrust deep and forceful you cum, shooting thick, white ropes of cum inside the woman, and in return receive warm and wet cream around your hard cock.

She screams, her head thrown back against the table as she pants and whimpers, filled pussy on fire, air utterly knocked out of her.

You pull her close to you, her near limp body easily falling against yours. You feel her ragged, warm breath against your neck as you place a small mark on her neck.

Smirking at the bite and hickey adorning her pale neck, an idea for your next lesson comes to your mind.

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Identification in the Wizarding World

I don't remember how I got to thinking about it, but wizards in Harry Potter don't seem to really have IDs... like no license cards or social security numbers, and that kind of begs the question of how you prove you are who you are. So I went to the books to see if it was ever answered, and to my surprise — it was.

Wands are their IDs

I'm gonna explain where in the books it's written and how it seems to work since I just didn't really see anyone mention it, and I found it curious. I'm not sure if it was just me who was a bit dumb and didn't notice it or what, but I do want to write about it.

“Madam Lestrange!” said the goblin, evidently startled. “Dear me! How- how may I help you today?” “I wish to enter my vault,” said Hermione. The old goblin seemed to recoil a little. Harry glanced around. Not only was Travers hanging back, watching, but several other goblins had looked up from their work to stare at Hermione. “You have . . . identification?” asked the goblin. “Identification? I-I have never been asked for identification before!” said Hermione. “They know!” whispered Griphook in Harry’s ear, “They must have been warned there might be an imposter!” “Your wand will do, madam,” said the goblin. He held out a slightly trembling hand, and in a dreadful blast of realization Harry knew that the goblins of Gringotts were aware that Bellatrix’s wand had been stolen.

(Deathly Hollows, page 452)

So, I'll start with this scene in Deathly Hollows, in which a Gringott's Goblin outright says a wand can be used for identification. The Golden Trio here shows the disadvantage of such an identification method, as wands can be stolen. And besides, how would a wand even work for identification? Like, how does it prove you are who you say you are?

Well, I think I know how wands are supposed to function as identification, and it's not as bad and easily fakable as it may seem. I'm not saying it's perfect, but if implemented correctly it isn't the worst they could come up with.

After all, everyone has a wand (at least in the Western Wizarding World) and everyone carries their wand with them everywhere and at all times. Not only that, but wands are unique enough to work as an ID. Wand description is broken into 6 components of its making: wood, core, flexibility, length, the wandmaker, and how long it's been in use, making each wand unique to the specific individual wielding it. Therefore a wand is something reasonable to use to identify individuals.

So, how is it supposed to work?

“Wand weighing?” Harry repeated nervously. “We have to check that your wands are fully functional, no problems, you know, as they’re your most important tools in the tasks ahead,”

(Goblet of Fire, page 303)

Wand weighing.

In GOF, the wand weighing is shown to tell the characteristics of each wand, and if we jump ahead to Arthur Weasley's and Harry's arrival in the ministry for Harry's trial in OOTP:

“Visitor to the Ministry, you are required to submit to a search and present your wand for registration at the security desk, which is located at the far end of the Atrium.”

(Order of the Phoenix, page 126)

“Wand,” grunted the security wizard at Harry, putting down the golden instrument and holding out his hand. Harry produced his wand. The wizard dropped it onto a strange brass instrument, which looked something like a set of scales with only one dish. It began to vibrate. A narrow strip of parchment came speeding out of a slit in the base. The wizard tore this off and read the writing upon it. “Eleven inches, phoenix-feather core, been in use four years. That correct?” “Yes,” said Harry nervously. “I keep this,” said the wizard, impaling the slip of parchment on a small brass spike. “You get this back,” he added, thrusting the wand at Harry.

(Order of the Phoenix, page 128)

We see exactly how wand weighing (the brass scale Harry describes) is meant to identify. This device prints out the makings of the wand when it was sold, and probably more information than Eric at the security desk reads out. He then asks Harry if it's correct because wands don't have their making and when they were bought written on them. This means only the wand's owner would supposedly remember all the details of the wandmaker, make, and when it was bought, then by asking about it, it can be revealed if the wand was stolen or not.

It's not a great method, but it's something.

It's not any dramatic revelation about the Wizarding World, I just didn't really see wands being used as IDs in the fandom and I found it interesting. I just really am interested in the Wizarding World as a culture and how it works. IDs are just part of it.

[thetomorrowshow]

Joel thinks it’s stupid, really.

Once they figure it out.

Soulmates, Grian messages them all. I think it’s soulmates.

Which makes sense, with the random pains shooting through his legs that he feels on occasion. He’s sharing a life with someone—or, three lives—and they feel each others’ pain.

Which is dumb. Because Joel doesn’t need or want a soulmate, and he doesn’t care much for the idea of having to share his life with someone and make sure they’re safe. He’s not here to be babysitting another player.

That’s what he would be doing, he’s sure. Babysitting someone. Not that everyone would be, of course—there are some players that he knows instantly will be paired up, because if such a thing as real soulmates exist, they would be them. Grian and Scar. Scott and Jimmy. Bdubs and Etho.

No one for him.

No one for Joel because he’s always been a loner. For as long as he can remember he’s been on his own in these games—in the first one he had his cottage on the hill (so long ago that he can barely remember what it looked like, he can only remember it burning and the flames licking up at him and melting his skin and the smell of his hair and he has to put it out—), and in the games since, he’s been alone. Alliances that last little more than a week, here and there, and somehow he always ends up at Grian’s side at the end of things, but he’s never actually teamed up with anyone else.

He doesn’t want a soulmate. He doesn’t want another player going through his things, walking through his space, just being near him when he’s angry and needs time alone to cool off.

But there’s a morbid curiosity, he supposes. Because he can’t help but wonder who on earth the universe would think to pair him with.

So every person he sees, he socks in the arm (and if he hits a little harder than is considered friendly, he can blame it on adrenaline).

He actually witnesses a soulmate pair find each other before he finds his own.

And, strangely, it’s Bdubs and Impulse.

For a moment, he thinks that can’t be right—he can envision Bdubs with Etho, or Cleo, but not Impulse. And while Impulse is easygoing enough, Bdubs is a wildcard. Impulse’s sense of order is going to be completely upturned by Bdubs and his harebrained ideals.

Maybe. It’s not like Joel actually knows either of them very well.

And then they’re all mining together, and Etho trips.

And Joel feels his knees sting.

-

Joel doesn’t want to settle down anywhere, at all ever, but after a bunch of fooling around with Grian and Scar (soulmates, just as he’d predicted, of course), he starts. . . .

Not laying down roots. He really ought to get something started, just like everyone else, but that’s just it: everyone else has something started. Everyone else has planted crops and fenced in some animals and set out to get building blocks.

Prime opportunity for raiding some new farms, and to his surprise, Etho absolutely agrees.

For a moment, Joel can forget that they’re linked—he’s just hanging out with a group of friends, laughing at Jimmy, stealing a bit of wheat when nobody’s looking, the norm. Then Etho takes an absurd amount of damage—Joel definitely doesn’t fall back against the crafting table they’ve set up for making armor, definitely doesn’t gasp and clutch at his chest, like he can stop his heart from leaping out of it—and he’s rather rudely reminded that his life isn’t solely his own.

Oh, he hates this already.

Etho calls an apology, but Joel can’t see him through the woods—if they die here and it’s Etho’s fault, he’s never going to forgive him, soulbond or no—so he heads forward, only to find Etho panting beside an enderman in a boat.

“Tricky getting him to walk into it,” Etho says offhandedly, and this could be ender pearls for them if they play their cards right.

Ender pearls are perfect for quick escapes, and if they decide to go with Scar’s absolutely insane plan of trying to take over that outpost, he and Etho are going to need an escape.

He swings with his axe at the angry creature. Easy. Easy pearls, the thing stuck in the boat like a sitting duck.

And then he swings again.

And he hits the boat.

Within seconds, he’s dead.

It’s dark at spawn, and Joel can barely keep from crying in frustration. The enderman had been in the blummin’ boat! All he had to do was hit it a couple of times and they were set!

“I’m so sorry, Etho,” he says, and he hates it. He hates that he has to say that.

He’d been worried about having to babysit another player, keep his lives safe in their hands, but here he is, having stolen a person’s life from them.

He lost Etho their first life, smart Etho who would never mess up killing an enderman in a boat, and now he has to own up to it and live with it.

“I know I messed up first,” Etho says, his eyes crinkling a bit in a way that, combined with the flat tone of his voice, tells Joel he’s definitely frowning. “But I think you messed up way worse there.”

Joel’s familiar with anger—very familiar—but it feels foreign coming from Etho. He ducks his head, runs back through the darkness to wherever it was that they’d died. Something akin to shame is curdling in his stomach, and it’s his fault that they died and Etho’s being weird about it and not yelling, meaning he’s the type to go all cold and calm with anger.

They gather their things from Impulse and Bdubs, then mess around a bit with boats—and maybe he’s just hiding it really well, but Etho doesn’t seem angry, it’s the strangest thing and Joel almost dreads the moment they’re alone together—before joining Grian and Scar on that horribly stupid plan to take over the outpost. It fails, of course, but no one gets seriously hurt and they get to lure a bunch of Pillagers into Bdubs’s stupid little house that he’s building for Impulse.

They hop around for probably a week, never alone, just watching everyone else start on their bases, before they finally set down a couple of chests and furnaces and get to work.

And Etho . . . isn’t mad.

In fact, as Joel starts laying out the foundation for his—their base, Etho comes up beside him, silently surveying, hands in his pockets.

“I don’t blame you for us being Yellow, by the way,” he says casually, and Joel almost chokes on his own spit.

“Sorry, what?”

Etho shrugs. “It was going to happen to one of us at some point,” he says. “And in my eyes? Better you than me, ‘cuz now I get to tease you for it.”

Is that. . . .

Was that a joke?

Etho leaves, and Joel’s left alone with his thoughts and a bunch of wood planks.

He’d thought Etho was boring. He’s always been the quiet, redstone-y kind of guy that Joel can’t stand—not that there’s anything wrong with that! Joel just needs somebody fast-moving, on his level, ready to burn down a building without questions or hesitation.

It’s just one joke. Anyone can make a joke, that doesn’t mean anything about their personality or character. For instance, Joel makes jokes all the time, and he’s a total jerk.

Etho can’t be likable. Sure, he was fine to wander around with for the past couple of days, causing general chaos, but he’s a bore and likes redstone. He won’t be able to keep up with Joel.

But Etho hovers there while he works, occasionally giving little suggestions to the build, and after he wanders off for the afternoon, he comes back with his eyes crinkled over his mask and bragging about some wool farm he’d built.

He doesn’t need help to build this ship. He doesn’t need to depend on anyone to get wool. He especially doesn’t need to depend on Etho, all dry looks and gloating and frowns.

Joel works alone. He always has.

But his indifference to Etho isn’t making him leave, so Joel decides to do what he does best.

Be annoying.

-

“I’m his biggest fan,” Joel boasts to anyone who’ll listen. “You guys know I looove redstone. Just like Etho. He’s perfect.”

Grian gives Scar a look. Scar doesn’t notice.

“We’re very happy—we have a lovely ‘Relation’ship, you know. I wouldn’t be surprised if we’re the best pair on the server, actually.”

Scott gives Cleo a look. Cleo does notice.

“Etho’s probably the best at everything in the world. He’s so good at . . . redstone. And . . . all the stuff you do with it. That’s why we’re practically made for each other.”

“I’m gonna be honest with you, you sound kind of. . . .” Jimmy trails off, glancing over at Tango for support.

“Like you’re compensating for something? Unhappy? Inadequate?” Tango suggests helpfully.

“A-absolutely untrue!” Joel sputters, then clears his throat and turns away, nose high. “I’m going to get back to working on me and Etho’s perfect ‘Relation’ship, thank you very much.”

“You’re short!” Jimmy calls as parting words. Joel ignores him.

In total opposition to what he’s been spending the past couple of days declaring, once he finishes the bedroom space of the ship, he places his bed and Etho’s bed on opposite sides of the room.

“You stay over there, and I stay over here, all right?” Joel says that night, pointing to their respective beds. “I’m not a cuddler. I don’t like people in my space.”

“But Joel, I thought you were my biggest fan!” Etho wheedles. There’s a glint in those crinkled eyes that tells Joel he’s heard the stuff Joel’s been saying.

Which is frustrating, and immediately takes all the fun out of it. He’d wanted Etho to be mad about his obnoxiousness, to refuse to speak to him, to mock him in return until their partnership inevitably dissolved.

But Etho—his eyes are crinkling, the way they did back when they first died and when he finished the wool farm and then later, when Joel showed him around the ship’s process and he silently nodded before walking off.

“It’s okay, Joel, I know you love me even if you need space,” Etho tells him now, mirth clear in his voice, and Joel realizes that maybe that look isn’t one of anger or disapproval, as he’d first thought. Maybe Etho is . . . smiling.

That’s not good.

It’s not good at all, because if Etho likes him, then Joel. . . .

Joel has to at least try to like him back, doesn’t he? It’s not like he’s the worst guy to be around, after all. He was actually a lot of fun in that first week, running around and stealing and bothering people together.

Maybe he was wrong.

-

As it turns out, when Joel decides he can like Etho, Etho becomes a whole lot more likable.

Etho’s brave—he goes out and enchants his stuff, and Impulse tells the story of them being chased by no less than three Wardens and Etho somehow surviving (Joel’s heart skips a beat in his chest at the most tense moments of the story, and Etho casually slugs his shoulder when he looks up to check his soulmate’s okay). He’s strong—not everyone can just run around the Deep Dark all day in full armor and live to tell the tale.

And he totally gets Joel’s sense of humor. He snorts at Joel’s contrived puns, mocks Martyn’s house relentlessly, finds Jimmy’s failures just as hilarious as they actually are.

Joel can’t remember, in recent memory, ever having someone like this. Someone he actually enjoys the company of, someone whom he appreciates and who appreciates him in turn. Someone to talk to, to listen to—and while Etho is a bit quiet, it’s not because he’s boring and isn’t thinking about anything. Joel thinks he just forgets to speak sometimes, and will gladly talk about anything if Joel asks him to.

Sure, he’s had friends. He’s always gotten along with Grian and Jimmy and, really, everyone on the server, when pressed. But none of them are Etho, exactly.

Which is bad. It’s bad because Joel is getting attached, he’s getting complacent, he’s getting happy—

That’s dangerous. This is a death game.

And maybe all that emotional-friend-love stuff works for the likes of Scott, but that’s just not Joel’s modus operandi. He can’t—he can’t be like that. He can’t get close.

“Redstoners and builders don’t work out together, you know,” he says to Etho early one morning. They’d both risen before the sun, for some reason (anxiety, perhaps, as more players become Yellow and fire proves to be a very useful tool) and had decided, without discussion, to sit in the crow’s nest, legs swinging in the air.

Etho hums quietly in that way that means he’s listening, the way he always does when Joel comes over to bother him. Patient, mellow, waiting to see where he’s going with it.

“Seriously, it never works,” Joel continues. “Their brains are too different. You’d think they’d work well, ‘cuz they cover different bases and all that, but it’s the opposite. They just butt heads all the time. It never works.”

“What about Bdubs and Impulse?”

Joel shrugs. “I mean, they both know a good amount of both, right? That’s different.”

There’s a smile to Etho’s voice when he speaks. “Tango and Jimmy?”

“Only if you’re calling Jimmy a builder,” Joel snorts. “In which case, you’re dead wrong.”

Etho makes a show of thinking—he props his chin up on his hand, taps his finger against his cheek. “Hm. You must be right. I can’t think of any other redstone-builder pairs.”

For some reason, something painful sinks through Joel’s stomach. He swallows it back, lets triumph color his tone. “Exactly. They’re too different.”

Etho drops his hand, lightly elbows Joel in the ribs. “Except for you and me, of course. We’re the exception.”

Joel’s mouth goes dry. He clears his throat. The pain vanishes, healed over with hope, surprise, a desperate need for attention filled—and he can’t even make himself disagree and argue, like he’d intended. Instead, all he can do is repeat it.

“We’re the exception.”

As he goes about his day, he barely even processes his actions—Etho thinks they work well together. Etho thinks they’re a match. Etho likes him, and his company, and his building skills, and his humor, and his bluntness, and everything about him.

And Joel’s really starting to think that he likes everything about Etho as well, as hard as he’d tried not to at the beginning.

They go down to the Deep Dark together the next day, and Joel’s trying very hard to ignore whatever his feelings may be on Etho. They can just—they can just be friends, right?

Friends who install proper stairs, of course. The way down takes forever.

“Creeper, behind you!”

Joel spins around, axe up, ready to defend—nothing. Etho huffs a little (again something now familiar that Joel had once taken to be a sign of disapproval), eyes crinkled almost all the way shut when Joel whips back around to him.

“Just kidding.”

“Oh, you cheeky devil—we need to trust each other,” Joel says, no real anger behind the way he shoves Etho lightly.

His palms seem to burn at the contact.

“I just need to make sure you’ll pay attention to me,” Etho says, and Joel has to wonder for a moment if he’ll ever have the problem of not paying attention to Etho again.

He doesn’t think he’s properly ignored his soulmate once all game, and in recent days, he can’t seem to pay attention to anything but Etho. He feels like he’s constantly thinking of him, wondering whether or not he’ll like the touches on the ship, wondering if he’s safe and who he’s with and if he’ll come home all right.

He hopes, a little enviously, perhaps, that Etho has similar worries.

“I am paying attention,” Joel says, and it’s perhaps the most honest thing he’s ever said, in all the games. “I always pay attention.”

When Etho responds, the mirth feels forced, and for a moment Joel feels almost as if he’s seeing Etho without his mask on. “You won’t ignore me in our ‘Relation’ship?”

“No, no, no. I never do.”

It’s true.

It’s so true, it hurts.

Joel—he doesn’t trust people. He can’t. And he’s sick of having to tell himself it again and again, but this just isn’t meant for him.

And then he forgets about it all, because they go into the Deep Dark and it’s bloody terrifying.

(Well, mostly forgets. Because he does walk behind Etho most of the way through the city and Etho—well. It’s a good angle for him, is all.)

That night, Joel lies in his bed on his side of the ship, and stares at the other side of the room. Etho’s sleeping—he hopes, at least—curled up on his side, a blanket pulled up over his head despite the summer heat.

Etho’s always cold, it’s practically his trademark. He’s always got that coat of his on, and gloves, and a mask.

He doesn’t wear the mask to sleep—Joel’s caught glimpses of his face while getting into bed, but he always looks away quickly—, but Joel has no clue if he wears the rest of his ensemble. Just the covers alone ought to be sweltering. Imagine a coat on top of all of that.

If they shared a bed, Etho would have to do away with that extra blanket. Joel could maybe tolerate a bedsheet, that’s it.

If they shared a—where did that thought come from?

But . . . well, Etho’s asleep. And thought isn’t a crime.

So Joel lies there, staring across the room at his soulmate, and wonders. Wonders about what it feels like to hold Etho in his arms, whether his elbows and knees are as bony as they look. Wonders if his hair is quite long enough to grasp between his fingers. Wonders if he’d still be all smooth words after Joel pulled down his mask, grabbed his jaw, and kissed him on the mouth.

Joel falls asleep a little red in the face, and the next morning when Etho does that silent crinkly-eyed laugh, he can’t help but stare and turn red all over again.

He pushes it out of his mind, and it’s through a feverish haze that he even gets through the week, even as they sneak around looking for sugarcane and messing with Scar and running from a Warden on the surface, of all places. He’s really quite occupied, but none of it quite computes when Etho’s right there, being devilishly handsome with that quirked eyebrow and white hair ruffled by the wind.

And the night after they’ve run from the Warden, Joel comes in a bit later than Etho—he’d been out gathering wheat a bit longer—to find that his soulmate has pushed their beds together.

His brain short-circuits as he blinks at the sight: Etho, one hand on the back of his neck sheepishly; the other still holding the blanket he’d been throwing across both beds.

“Is this all right?” Etho asks. Joel turns his blinking gaze toward him. “I just. I wouldn’t mind a bit of cuddling.”

There’s something in the way his eyebrows raise that tells Joel Etho knows exactly what he’s saying, exactly how Joel feels. The part of him that realizes that, that knows that Etho knows, wants to clap and holler and kiss that sexy man.

The rest of Joel, the main part of him, is trained to survive.

“Sure, whatever,” Joel shrugs, trying to affect an air of nonchalance. Etho can’t know. Etho can never know—and not that Etho can’t know just because he has a crush and it’s awkward, but because liking Etho is a weakness and Joel doesn’t have weaknesses, thank you very much.

And if Etho’s shoulders slump a bit at the response, Joel pretends he doesn’t notice.

And then the problem is, Etho doesn’t stop.

Joel makes it clear that he wants his space in bed, and Etho doesn’t encroach on that. But he does steal bites of Joel’s food, and sling an arm around his shoulder when they’re visiting the others, and boop his nose playfully when Joel starts to get angry at Grian for hoarding the sugarcane, and slowly look him up and down with a wink whenever he gets up for breakfast—

It’s maddening. It’s maddening, and every single night Joel lies there stiff as a board, inches away from Etho, trying to not let his thoughts wander to where they have so many times before.

He’s right there.

Every time Joel gets away on his own, he lets out a short, frustrated scream. And then he jumps off a hill that’s maybe a bit too high, if only to try and get Etho back for his teasing.

-

The fishing rods are possibly the stupidest thing they’ve ever done.

Not surprising, seeing as Grian’s at the head of this whole thing.

But Joel’s never been one for playing things safe, so he stabs the hook through the back of his shirt (he tugs on the line a few times, just to make sure it’s secure), then waits for Grian’s signal.

The first time is thrilling. The first time he flies up into the air, lands hard and laughs from the sheer adrenaline. Then he hooks Pearl, and Pearl hooks Etho, and they go up—

And Joel knows he’s in trouble for a split second before he’s dead on the ground.

He wakes up gasping, and there’s fire in his veins, there’s fire spreading all across his body and he wants—he needs to kill Pearl, needs her blood—

He rolls out of bed, scrambling for his chest and spare stuff, and then he hears someone else roll out of bed with a groan.

Joel turns, and Etho’s there, hungry fire in his eyes, and Joel needs him.

He practically tackles Etho, yanking down his mask—his lips are pink and soft and hot against Joel’s mouth, molten and perfect and everything he needs to stoke the burning inside—

Etho pushes him off (gently, somehow), and holds up a hand. Joel, somehow, manages to hold himself back. Etho’s—Etho’s right there—

Etho takes in a deep breath, and when he looks up, his eyes are crinkled in that perfect way and he’s smiling.

“Took you long enough,” he teases, and Joel lunges for him again.

-

Their next kiss is slower than that.

After they kill Pearl, and the pounding bloodlust in his head has quelled a bit, Joel leads the way back to the ship. He leans against the railing—and Etho leans next to him—and they  kiss.

It’s lazy, Joel thinks he would say. But not lazy in the way he might be with a build—skipping details and panning over mistakes—, lazy in a comfortable, staying-in-bed-late kind of way.

He kisses Etho, lazy and lovely, warm in the evening sun. And he really, really doesn’t care if anyone’s watching.

Let them watch, he thinks, with an almost vicious pleasure. Etho’s mine.

That makes something deep in his chest silently purr, almost, and when he pulls away to breathe, he clears his throat in a contented kind of way (not a growl, not a purr, but the closest he can get without outright embarrassing himself). Etho perks up at the sound.

“I forgot to tell you, I figured out what that sound you make reminds me of,” he says, and even the excited way he speaks sounds lazy and perfect.

Joel clears his throat again—and yeah, he does do it a lot, come to think of it. “Yeah? What’s that?”

Etho sighs a little bit, tips his head onto Joel’s shoulder. “A tiger. Have you ever heard a tiger chuff?”

Joel laughs at that—his soulmate thinks he sounds like a tiger chuffing, and it’s the most stupidly adorable thing ever.

“Why are you laughing?” Etho asks playfully, nudging Joel. Joel doesn’t answer, just chuckles and clears his throat—or, chuffs like a tiger—and plants a kiss on Etho’s head.

“We could go threaten Scar,” Joel offers after a moment. His blood is starting to boil again, and he knows from lonely experience that only violence can scratch the itch.

Well. Probably only violence. He does notice that it’s a decent bit quieter when he’s aggressively kissing Etho.

Etho stands up straight—taller than Joel when he does that, which is blummin’ obnoxious of him—and slowly, gently, lazily kisses Joel. It’s warm and measured, his tongue teasing at Joel’s slightly parted lips, and it seems to Joel that he only pulls away when he’s memorized the feel of Joel’s lips.

“That sounds like a good date,” he murmurs.

Joel grins, and Etho grins back, his eyes all crinkled, and Joel takes off at a run to swing himself over the opposite railing and climb down the ladder.

Etho catches up moments later, mask fixed back on his face, and Joel pulls out his spyglass to check out where the residents of that giant cake-thing are.

They’re right beside it, as it turns out.

“Scar’s holding a flint n’ steel,” Joel warns, shoving his spyglass in his pocket. “He already took down the Ranch, we might want to be careful of that.”

Etho only scoffs. “If the ship burns, everything burns.”

Unsurprisingly, Joel finds he agrees with that—not that he can ever imagine disagreeing with Etho. He nods.

“If the ship burns, everything burns.”

-

And after everything burns, they burn too.

They’re dying, Joel had come through the portal to find lava and pain, and he screams for Etho to turn back but even if he had they’d still be dead—

He doesn’t even have the chance to glance back at his lover before he burns.

He drifts for a little while, the bitter disappointment of his loss somehow distant when compared to the loss of Etho. The next game will start eventually, and when it does, there’s no way of knowing that Etho will even be there. After all, it’s picked up new players and dropped others as time passed. Joel can’t even remember the original line-up, it’s shifted so much and so many times.

When he lands in the next game, he doesn’t even check his comm before punching apart a tree.

The gimmick isn’t soulmates again, he knows instantly. He’d grown so accustomed to the pull in his chest of Etho that it aches now to not feel him.

(Or maybe that’s just his heart. Same difference, really.)

So Joel tries to put Etho out of his mind and move on with his life. They were never meant to last, anyway. That’s the thing about redstoners and builders—they never work out.

He knew that. He knew they never work out, and he tried to do something with Etho, anyway.

It had been fun while it lasted, of course. It had been . . . perfect, even.

But Joel’s always been a loner, and now that he’s got that Green-life clarity, he can go back to it.

He takes down another tree and has a crafting table and some basic tools put together when someone clears their throat behind him.

Joel jumps, spins around—

Etho’s there, leaning lazily against a tree, and—his eyes are crinkled in that way—

“Miss me?” he teases, and Joel barely has time to drop his wooden pick before he’s storming over, pushing Etho against the tree, tearing his mask down—

The kiss is hard and messy, teeth clicking together and lips sliding apart, and when Joel pulls away to gasp in some air, Etho’s cheeks are flushed and lips bruised and he’s still got that blummin’ smile.

“Right,” Joel breathes.

“Wanna build us a house while I go mining?” Etho offers, and forget whatever loser thoughts Joel had been moping about with! He’s got Etho, there’s no need to be on his own anymore.

Maybe they can even win it, this time. After all, they’re together from the start here. No more acting like an idiot about wanting to be alone or whatever.

Joel watches Etho head off into a cave, stone pick hefted over his shoulder, and can’t help the way his heart skips a beat.

Etho’s his, and when everything burns, they burn together.