#angry wolf genders

[revenant-coining]

find names, pronouns, and genders for me based on these: wolves (not the cute soft type, the gnarly aggressive type), nighttime, heavy rain, stars/constellations

i hope these are what you were looking for!

read more cause this post is long:

Wolves:

Names:

Canis

Lupin

Conri

Pronouns:

wolf/wolf/wolfs/wolfs/wolfself

canine/canine/canines/canines/canineself

angry/angry/angrys/angrys/angryself

gnarly/gnarly/gnarlys/gnarlys/gnarlyself

animalistic/animalistic/animalistics/animalistics/animalisticself

rabid/rabid/rabids/rabids/rabidself

bite/bite/bites/bites/biteself

growl/growl/growls/growls/growlself

vicious/vicious/vicious'/vicious'/viciouself

ferocious/ferocious/ferocious'/ferocious'/ferociouself

Genders:

Growlcanineic: This gender feels like a large canine that is growling, chewing on something, and glaring at everything. This gender may feel related to rot, corpses, meat, and other similar concepts. The canine and what’s being chewed on is up to interpretation.

Snarlgender: A gender characterized by sharp teeth, claws, and all things vicious and ferocious.

Canilupine: a gender related to wolfdogs, feels either very tame or very feral, and unpredictable

---

Nighttime:

Names:

Night

Noc(turn)

Crepuscule

Pronouns:

night/time/nights/times/nighttimeself

noc(turn)/nocturn/nocturns/nocturns/nocturnself

dusk/dusk/dusks/dusks/duskself

night(fall)/nightfall/nightfalls/nightfalls/nightfallself

even/tide/evens/tides/eventideself

🌃/🌃/🌃s/🌃s/🌃self

🌆/🌆/🌆s/🌆s/🌆self

🌌/🌌/🌌s/🌌s/🌌self

Genders:

Nighttimean: a gender related to or affected by night!

Noxian: A xenic alignment to darkness or night.

Nightgender: a xenogender where your gender where your gender feels connected to nighttime, the night itself, or things that exist or happen at nighttime.

Noctisgender: a xenogender where one feels as if their gender is connected to the night. This can be where one feels like their gender is related to the night sky, or other aspects of the night.

---

Heavy Rain:

Names:

Raindrop(s)

Imber

Pronouns:

rain/rain/rains/rains/rainself

storm/storm/storms/storms/stormself

pour/pour/pours/pours/pourself

pour(ring)/pouring/pourings/pourings/pouringself

⛈/⛈/⛈s/⛈s/⛈self

☔/☔/☔s/☔s/☔self

Genders:

Aterkigender: a gender that is simply connected to umbrellas, dark clouds floating above your head, the crackle of thunder and lightning, heavy rain, and shopping on a rainy day.

Thundergender: a xenogender where you feel connected to the chaos of a storm. The heavy rain, the loud thunder, the crashes of lightning- and find comfort and familiarity in it.

Nimbostrarusio: a gender related to nimbostratus clouds, pouring rain, gray clouds, and rolling clouds. feels dark and unknown

Heavrainginx: a gender that feels like heavy rain pounding down

---

Stars/Constellations:

Names:

Star

Constell(a)

Orion

Celeste

Pronouns:

star/star/stars/stars/starself

constellation/constellation/constellations/constellations/constellationself

star/dust/stars/dusts/stardustself

✨/✨/✨s/✨s/✨self

⭐/⭐/⭐s/⭐s/⭐self

🌟/🌟/🌟s/🌟s/🌟self

🌠/🌠/🌠s/🌠s/🌠self

💫/💫/💫s/💫s/💫self

🌌/🌌/🌌s/🌌s/🌌self

Genders:

Constellnoxky: a gender related to staring up at the night sky and finding all the constellations you can see!

Astrumgender: a gender that feels deeply connected to stars and constellations, like lights in a void, or like there is a light bursting within you!!

Astrostarlic: a xenogender when you feel related or have a connection to astronomy, star constellations, and nostalgia.

[darkdemeter]

WOLF AT YOUR DOOR

The DARK DEMETER WRITING CATALOGUE, WANDA MAXIMOFF COLUMN (ONESHOT) #1 —

—- not my gifs, credit to original posters! -—

Wanda Maximoff x Werewolf! GN/Female/Male Reader

A/N — I thought that this idea would be my smut ice breaker after it popped into my head when listening to some music. I have written smut before but it's been a while, especially in a form for others to read; so please excuse me if I'm a little rusty. This isn't exactly tied to anything particular regarding either Habits or Convict, but you may interpret this x reader however you wish. Have fun with the oneshot! I've tried to keep this as both descriptive and gender neutral as possible, but it may not be as on par with people who have become well accustomed to writing gn smut.

WORD COUNT — 4.2k

READER DISCRETION — Enemies to lovers trope — profanity — wounded reader, mention of scars and blood — semi dom! Wanda and sub! reader & reversal — smut 18+, minors DNI** — angry/aggressive sex — dry humping — bondage — hinted breeding kink — semi-clothed sex — fingering and mouth oral receiving (Wanda recieving) — Wanda is just a tease to reader — maybe dubious consent? (I feel like I should put this in here, just to be safe) — minor choking — talk of marking — potential grammar and punctuation errors — I think that's it?

SUMMARY — Of course this had to happen right before this mission. Wanda Maximoff had to pry inside your mind, searching for who knows what, the little witch did this to you. And now you will cash in on your promise - your one and only warning to her if she ever fucked with your mind: that you'll be a wolf at her door. Little do you know that you're a wolf walking into a trap.

‘Fucking dammit!’

You cringe to hide the snarl snaking up your throat, your palm harshly pressing into the bullet wound at your shoulder. A real fucking close call this time and all because of her. Yes, everything would have been fine had Wanda not pried into your mind, invaded the personal sanctity of your thoughts. 

But no. No, she had to just take a little peek didn’t she? And because of that, your mind was elsewhere - distracted - and your cover was blown before you could get the information you needed. In short, the mission was a complete fucking bust. Your report will undoubtedly be met by less than impressed superiors. When they brought you on, they expected the job done. 

It was your way to operate. You always got the job done successfully. Has Wanda purposely sabotaged you? Is that her goal?

You’re planning to confront her on the matter right now. You had stumbled all the way back to the compound because the car you took there was blown to pieces when you were compromised. Tony wasn’t going to be very pleased about that either. Shit, it’s like she’s trying to get everyone against you. 

‘Who does she think she is? Fucking me over like this!’

You enter the compound, the main level vacant except the night shift receptionist. She glances up at you and the sheer gasp of horror from her, you point a finger at her. “I’m fucking fine,” you snarl as you strut past her. Your hand leaves your shoulder to the large cut across your stomach. You allow a pained whimper to escape when you enter the privacy of the elevator to take you up to your chosen floor. 

Your ears ring in the deafening silence, breath fast paced and light. The wounds were of no dire measure to pay a trip to the medical ward. They only fuelled your anger towards Wanda. Ever since you first joined the team, Wanda always had a way to test your limits and push your buttons. 

It was just a common sight to see you both butting heads, whether that was during missions or at the compound. You both were always at each other, hackles raised and snarky comments. Of course, what was your conflict but a cover up to fatal attraction? That was the running theory of your fellow teammates, anyway. Never would you admit anything to them in any case. 

Wanda was a pain in your arse as much as you were a mongrel to her. 

Ah, that word: mongrel. Wanda favoured the use of that word for you. It was her name for you. The way you feel the fur beneath your skin bristle each time she calls you that is the reason why you now have to wear a shock collar. Anytime that the device would detect your body’s indicating factors of shifting, the shock would startle you and evade the transformation. 

Was it humane? No, not really. But did it give Wanda the power to only torment you further without repercussions? You fucking bet it did. 

The elevator pings and the doors open with a faint whoosh as you arrive on your floor. You immediately make your way towards her dormitory, which by incident, is temporarily yours as well. 

There was a small situation last week that left your own dormitory in such a wreck that Tony had you bunk with Wanda until he could fix and reinstate stronger materials to withstand your rage episodes. 

And you have only one person to blame for that particular incident. 

Your fist pounds on the door enough to shake it against the hinges. Your key didn’t work. She had the security chain engaged to keep you out. You can hear her inside, her voice is soft and fuck, if it didn’t aggravate you anymore than you already were it surely made something in your abdomen twitch and churn. 

‘That little–’

“Wanda!” you bark behind bared teeth, fangs pronounced in the mix of your frustration, you pound on the door again. “Open this fucking door, now!”

After a moment, and she was taking her time, you can hear the leisurely patter of her feet as she opens the door for you. She stands before you and the scent hits you. For a few seconds it disorientates you, you huff to regain control of your senses. 

“You fucking bitch,” you rasp, voice laced with your utter disdain for the woman who stood in your way; blocking your path. 

Her eyes were smirking first before the corner of her lips twitched into position. “How was the mission, mongrel?”

“A bust, thanks to you.” You growl down at her as you brush beside her to let yourself in. She closes and locks the door. 

“Why’d you do it, Wanda?” You watch her as she walks past you. When she doesn’t answer, you snatch hold of her wrist as you ask her again, tone far more venomous than before. 

“I didn’t do anything.” She pulls her wrist from your grip and continues on her merry way.

“Don’t you fucking lie to me, witch! You did it on purpose, I know you did.” You point at her accusingly, the shake in your arm causes a streak of pain to shoot through your shoulder and you yelp. You press a blood stained glove to it again, teeth clenched hard that your jaw flexes. 

Wanda holds up her hands in mock surrender. “Right, blame me, of course that’s the logical thing to do. You just can’t admit that you failed to do the job.”

That’s struck a deep nerve because you’re pulled away from your original plan to grab a glass and your whiskey and head for the shower. Instead, you engage Wanda. Your hands encircle her wrists and the entirety of your body pins her against the back of the couch. 

The aftershock of the collar is a distant sting in the heat of the moment. Wanda is close, so close against you that with a breathy intake of air, her breasts push up into your ribcage. She eyes the vibrant hue of your glowing eyes. 

Still, she silently denies she had anything to do with it. Did she do it on purpose? You have to know.

“You– you read my fucking mind, Maximoff!” you hiss your accusation, “I told you to keep your magic away from there, but no, you had to go poking around.” 

Your hands move to grip her forearms and for the first time ever, she flinches. Your breath hitches in your throat and the glow dissipates from your eyes. 

There was much more you wanted to say. But the way her body flinched beneath your iron grip, how for a sliver of a second you swear you saw the ember of fear. Did you really scare her?

But then why did she smell like that?

‘Fuck, she smells like…’

With a deep breath through your nose, you lean forward until your lips brush the shell of her ear. “Stay out of my head, Maximoff.”

‘No.’

The glow returns to your eyes and the urge to shift right there crawls beneath, it feels like your skin is on fire. The collar whirrs in warning to keep your transformation at bay, lest you need another shocking reminder.

“Wanda–”

“So you’re really going to ignore the fact you heard me moaning your name before?” You hear the challenge in her light, accented voice.

The animalistic growl in your throat ceases immediately, eyes wide and despite your dominating position, you feel like the one under her. She smirks again. “Come on, what’s wrong?” 

She arches her neck - baring it to you - as she tries to press her lips to your own ear. She whispers with a sultry purr. “Don’t you want to mark me anymore, Wolf?”

Now it was your turn to be the one that flinches. Why is she doing this?

You retract yourself swiftly as if she caused you some semblance of physical pain that made you release her. In some form, she did. That pang of arousal deep within you begins to awaken and you don’t like the smug look on her face as she sits herself up. 

She tries to act cute and innocent when she is anything but that. But her eyes compel you with the flutter of her dark lashes. Was she casting a spell on you?

You back off slowly, eyes trained on her as she takes one step forward. Then another. And another few after that. You watch her hand gingerly play with the tight knot of her short, silky bathrobe. Only now did you realise exactly how short it was on her, the hem of it grazing just above the middle of her thighs. No wonder her scent was so strong, there were barely any layers to conceal it.

She wanted this to happen.

“You know what they say about us,” she tries but you’re quick to shut it down. “There is nothing between us.” Your conviction is absolute on the matter. Even if there was a hint of attraction towards the woman in front of you, surely the others would have something to say about it; all of which would disapprove. You’d not gained a wisdom linking you to your supposed mate which gave you ample opportunity to sleep with whoever and however many you wanted. 

But you never did. You continue to stare at Wanda, unblinking with a narrowed gaze. She shakes her head. Of course, she isn’t going to take your word for it easily. No, like always, she would fight you over it. 

“But you want there to be.” She sounds so sure of herself. She is still stalking towards you. When did you become a prey and her the hunter? You give no response and this only gives her more power to do as she sees fit. 

“If it weren’t for that collar around your neck, you would have me bent over the couch right now.” You hold a hand out as you call for her to stop. She halts in her advance, head tilting to the side like a confused puppy. She flutters those lashes again and your breath feels heavy, swollen because of your conflicted arousal and confusion. 

“That is one of your fantasies, isn’t it?”

“I said stop,” you warn, slowly lowering your hand, “whatever you’re playing at right now, I want no part.” You see her lips fall open as she offers a toothy grin. “I’m just trying to understand why you fight this.”

“I’m not fighting anything,” you say quickly with a shake of your head. “No?” she purrs lowly with a quirk of her brow. Shrugging, she raises a hand up. “Then you won’t fight this.” 

The ambient glow of her magic orbits around her hand as she swipes her arm to the side. Your brows furrow and mouth falls agape, the clicking of your belt looped around your tactical pants is quick before the strap of leather is flying to the side, to some forgotten corner of the common area. 

Your eyes that bore witness to your belt coming undone fly up to meet Wanda’s, a protest on the tip of your tongue, you’re stopped short when you’re knocked back. Your arse, which you expect to get planted on the floor, is instead caught by one of the dining table’s chairs. Your arms are restrained by her magic to keep them pinned behind you.

“W-Wanda, what are you–”

She shushes you while she catches up to you, her steps slow and methodical. Her stare penetrates the darkest recess of your soul and you recoil beneath it. The pain of your wounds as they begin their process of healing are long forgotten now. You have other things to worry about, how much Wanda actually knows about you and what she intends to do with you. 

“I want you to admit it,” she hums in a low whisper that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand. She was playing on your fantasies. The fucking witch. 

“Admit what?” You force the words out through the biting of your clenched jaws.

“That there is something between us. That each time we fight it’s because we’re denying that attraction. That the wolf needs me to satiate its appetite because we both know I am the only thing that can.” 

Wanda stands between the gap of your spread legs, she swipes her hand quickly and the lapels of your coat and tactical vest are torn open by the will of her magic. You exhale sharply, a growl pulling through your teeth as you glare at Wanda between the narrowed slits of your eyes. She drinks in the sight of your bare chest before her, the way each of the muscles flex beneath the skin, the heat of your body practically rising off your skin like hot springs. The red streaks of blood from your wound peeking out just beneath the fabric of your gear.

“Wanda.” You’re panting now, anger turned into the vulnerability that was your aroused state of mind. 

That was why you never gave into those temptations. Why you dismiss that flirtatious bartender at every turn whenever she sees you in that bar, why those who have asked for your number, you give them either the number of some Chinese takeout restaurant or even one of your teammates. 

The threat of such vulnerability and intimacy was too great of a target on your back. She moves to straddle your lap, hands pressed to your exposed chest. 

“Admit it,” she says again and you snarl at her. “Never! There’s nothing to admit!” 

She giggles then and rolls her hips forward and down against your crotch. 

“F-fuck!” you stutter, your arms and chest strain forward but Wanda has you contained. Trapped. Like some common dog. A mongrel. 

“Still nothing between us?” she asks, voice laden with a soft whimper, her purpose is to make you crack; to give in and admit to everything she knows. As if lying would spurn her when she knows the truth. 

Why does she want you to admit it so badly? Because she wants to torment you, it’s so simple. 

“N-no,” you grunt only to hiss beneath your breath when she rolls her hips again, this time with more pressure. You swear you feel the pulsing of her clit against the coarse fabric of your pants. 

You do all you can to refrain from bucking your hips or else you were done for. 

“So you mean to tell me that you haven’t fantasised about…,” she trails off with a pout of her lips, feigning that innocent look of contemplation. “For fuck’s sake,” you drawl as your head falls back. 

She’s killing you. Slowly but surely she is killing you. 

She continues, “being out here in the kitchen, late at night, drinking your whiskey alone before I come out here in a short, little bathrobe…” 

‘Oh… fuck.’ 

That was a recent fantasy.

Her fingers drag down the ravine of your heated skin on show for her to then fiddle with the two threads that held her bathrobe together. “Wearing this?” You shouldn’t have looked but fucking hell, you were always the a little too curious for your own good. 

She’s tugged the knot loose and lets the silky fabric roll off her shoulders and down to her elbows. If this was all to be considered as some strange, aroused induced coincidence then that is out the window now. Because there is no fucking way she knew to pick a lingerie set in your favourite colour. 

You tilt your chin toward her only slightly and let your glowing eyes take in her form. The moment she arches her neck the slightest is when you lose it. 

You lunge your neck forward, your canines bared and at the ready to mark the junction between neck and shoulder, to litter her neck with dark bruises so she wouldn’t be able to hide them. But you’re stopped short yet again in your advance. Her magic prevents you, mere inches away. To top it all off, she chuckles. 

She’s cracked you.

You growl, the sound husky and deep in your chest. 

“Fucking– let me–” Your muscles strain and flex as you fight the barrier of her magic to no avail. She tuts you softly, moving herself slightly forward so that her arms push her breasts up to elevate her cleavage to become more pronounced. Damn her. She continues to roll her hips in a slowed motion, riding you out into your confession. 

“Shall I continue?”

“No!” The single word sends a thrilling chill down her spine. “Then admit it.”

“No,” you answer again, this time with a more levelled tone. 

Her fingers move to the fly of your pants as you let out a confused whine as she loosens them slightly. Her palm presses flush against the junction between your thighs and you moan. And that sound is the most exquisite sound Wanda has ever heard you make. For a battle-hardened wolf, wild and untamed and a proven danger to the public, nobody would suspect that you were capable of such noises. But Wanda knew. 

Her palm is small in comparison to you, and as much force as she uses now there is a level of delicacy she retains. Your resolve is crumbling quickly. You jolt forward again with your mouth ajar to mark her but she stops you and arches back. 

“Let me have you!” 

“I’ll let you have me, play out all your little fantasies with me. But I want you to indulge in mine, first. So… admit it and I’m all yours.” 

Was she fucking serious? This is her fantasy? Well, you never expected her to be into something like this. “Ah, fuck…” She hears your mumbling, any moment now you are about to surrender. 

She just needs to push that last little bit. 

“Just think about it, Wolf,” she whispers, lips dancing over yours, one of her hands placing a single finger between your lips to keep them from meeting. “I’m all yours if you just say it. Tell me what I want to hear, and you can have your little midnight snack right here. You can have me over the couch, in the shower and in your bed until the tousled sheets smell of nothing but sex.” 

Fuck, where did she learn to talk so filthy? 

“I can’t,” you say behind a heavy pant. She whines quietly in your ear as her other hand that’s palming you stops, but her hips continue to roll against that sensitive region. At this point, you’re chasing your climax right there. Who knows if she will keep to her word after she indulges in her twisted fantasy. 

You shift your eyes to watch her hand that rests between your bodies and you almost lose yourself to your high. Her hand dips beneath the lacey fabric of her lingerie, her fingers sliding over her folds and thumb rolling her clit in circles; all of which is left to the beauty of your imagination.

“Wanda, don’t test me!” Your words are a command; a warning that she doesn’t heed. “But this is a test.” Your brows furrow, confusion etched into your face. “To see if you can be broken in.”

Was that all you were to her? Something to be broken in?

She begins to make those sounds again. The same chorus of moans and pleas with your name as a choked gasp on the edge of her vocals. You overheard her masturbating when you first banged on the door to be let in. 

And she was doing it to the thought of you.

“Wanda!” you hiss, your hips finally buck up to meet the hunger of her own that roll with such fervour, you believe she was so close to getting off right there in your lap. “Y/N, oh f-fuck, Y/N!” she gasps out, “right there, just like that– oh shit!” 

“Fuck, I admit it!” 

Everything stops all at once and your chest heaves numerous times. The air is thick to your lungs and each intake makes you feel like you’re drowning more than anything. Wanda stares at you, silently, her eyes searching yours when you finally look back at her beneath that wolfish glare. How that stare made her wet in her panties every time. 

“That wasn’t so hard now, was it?” You scowl at her teasing words. The moment you feel her magic cease is when you pin her against the dining table behind her. She props herself up on her elbows, the loose fabric of her robe still clinging to her form but she was exposed in that cute lingerie set.

Like a hungry wolf, your tongue licks over your teeth and along the top of your lips. You groan as her aroused scent wafts up, the smell irresistible. 

“You’re a damn tease, you know that?” She chuckles beneath her airy breaths. “It was the only way to get you to confess.”

Your hand clasps hold of her throat. Oh, how you love the look of fear and lust on her face all at once. It was a sight only you would get to see. “And I have a million ways to ruin you,” you growl lowly, “now you’re in my fantasy, Maximoff and if you have any idea what you’ve gotten yourself into by letting the wolf at your door inside, then you know I’m always rough.”

“I’m counting on it,” she wheezes behind the firm pressure you apply to her throat. “Good. Now keep them spread, Maximoff or you’ll learn what rough is real quick.” 

She does as you say and spreads her legs open and you sink to your knees, even then given your height difference, you are at perfect level with her soaked cunt, the large, dark patch evident of how badly she wanted this all along. This whole time. 

Your clawed fingers none too gently rip the panties aside, fabric tearing from the sheer force of it. Wanda’s hands find themselves clenching fistfuls of your hair, tugging you in closer with a needy whimper of your name.

Her legs hook over your shoulders, mewling when you pepper her inner thighs with kisses and playful bites with your sharp canines, a rumble of a groan reverberating between her legs causes her to quiver. “Y/N, please!” she pleads. 

“Ooh, what’s this?” you chuckle, “don’t worry, Sweetheart, I’ll give you a taste.”

You slide a finger past her slick folds, her walls tighten around your single digit. You groan when her moan makes her pussy clench your finger tighter. “Shit, Wanda, I’ve barely done a thing yet.”

“Then do something!” she hisses and you give her that same, wolfish glare. “D-don’t look at me like– ahh!”

She is at your mercy now when you begin thrusting your finger back and forth, soon adding another two through the folds. She whines and moans, cursing your name and praising your work. When you pull your now slick covered fingers from her pussy, she tries to protest but the replacement is swift; and in her lust-ridden opinion, far better. Her eyes roll back and she lays flat on her back against the table as your tongue laps at her cunt, tip teasing the bud of nerves. You growl again and fuck, if she didn’t make the sexiest, neediest sound ever at that. You continue with what’s working at getting your little witch off. Her breath comes in short pants and her legs quiver as they move to circle around your head. Her fingers curl tighter against your roots as she chokes out, “I-I’m cum–cumming!”

You purr against the flood of her orgasm, lapping her divine juices up with your tongue. She breathes heavily for a moment in regaining her composure. You pull your head, albeit, struggling to pry her hands and legs from around you, you crash your lips against hers. The kiss is passionate, fuelled by hunger shared by both parties. Her mouth invites you and you gladly force your tongue past her parted lips, letting her taste herself on your tongue. 

You rut your hips between her still spread legs and they envelop you, encouraging the rocking motion with eagerness. “I still fucking hate that you read my mind and all,” you mumble into the kiss. 

‘Even when I say that I've also thought about carrying your pups?’

Your smirk with a coarse chuckle, dark in its intentions and your eyes glow that colour that brings Wanda to her knees. “Naughty witch, don’t test me there. Those will be my pups you're swollen with.” 

She tilts her head again but this time, you see no intent to tease in her eyes. No intent to…

“This isn’t a test.”

Fucking hell, that wolfish smirk of yours could make anyone wet at the drop of a hat. Too bad for others, because Wanda had you wrapped around her witchy, little finger that danced with magic.

Magic that just so happens to unlock the shackle around your neck. Well, the wolf at the door is now off its chain.

Thank you for Reading! (◕ ᴥ x)

TREEHOUSE TAGLIST —

@alexawynters

[placeinthemiddleofnowhere]

Reign down on me - Part 4

Pairing: Ghost x Hybrid!reader (eventual poly!141)

No use of y/n or mention of gender/race

Summary: Reader is a wolf hybrid in a world that treats them like second class citizens, given a horrible start in life after being thrown into the military with no preparation. After years of struggle, they're finally taken away from their base by Ghost, now a permanent member of taskforce 141 reader struggles to come to terms with the fact that perhaps there's a life there for them - if only they reach out and accept it.

Warnings: hurt/comfort, Angst, abuse mentions, self doubt

-🐺-

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, mutt?”

Your breaths were coming in hard pants, your body was worn to shreds. It took everything in you to look up at the angry face above, and when you finally mustered enough strength to tilt your head, you were met with deeply disapproving eyes. For once they didn’t rattle you, you’d already seen something so much worse. 

“She’s dead,” you murmured, looking back down at the empty eyed body across from you. 

“And you’re about to be too if you don’t get yourself together, stupid dog!”

You’d been yanked up and forced to keep running, shoved out in front of corners and into oncoming fire. It was a miracle you hadn’t joined your old teammate on the floor - not that you really saw it that way. You drew the enemy’s fire and allowed your current handler to get to exfil unharmed, you in your sorry hollow state had been shot in the chest, or the vest rather. Either way you were terribly struggling to breathe when you were eventually lugged along into the helicopter. 

It was difficult to remember much in the days after that. Your memory was a blurry haze, tugged along and shoved into transport and various different rooms until you were abandoned in an infirmary to heal. 

The main thing you remember is how the tiger girl you’d been fighting alongside had fallen, and no one else had batted an eye. She had been one of the best hybrids you’d worked with, someone the soldiers had clamoured to get onto your team, and none of them gave a shit when she’d died. The same girl that had so earnestly been teaching you and given you valuable advice for the field was no more than a few hazily remembered lessons and an empty vessel. 

The thought burned in your mind when you’d laid on the hospital bed, keeping your eyes narrowed to tiny slits and your tail twitching as you recovered. You’d been too young to actually be assigned to a combat mission, but you’d been sent along with the unit that day because they thought they were doing a routine water run to a nearby village and they’d wanted you to observe.

Now you were marred with your first battle scar and laden with the knowledge that it didn’t matter how good you did - you’d be nothing more than a pile of bones left behind to rot. 

-

“Move along, mutt!”

Maddox loomed over you and smacked you with his club, sending you sprawling as you refused to run his training drill. You’d since recovered and been cleared for work once more, but that was just what the doctors said. You had a different opinion entirely. 

“I’m not doing this,” you said quietly, hefting yourself back up to a standing position. 

“What?” Maddox’s voice came through in a chilling growl.

The sounds of the rest of the hybrid’s running the training exercise he’d set echoed all around you. You watched them scrambling around, flying through the course like clay pigeons, and blinked slowly. They were all just training to be better canon fodder. What was the point? You were all going to meet the same end, whether you died honourably fighting or were shot down into a pink mist from where you stood, no matter how good any of you were it wouldn’t matter. You’d all just die anyway. 

“You heard me,” you growled, puppy voice still too young to actually have much of an impact. 

Maddox wasn’t used to being defied. From day one you’d all tried to do what you could to appease him, had run around trying to make sure you weren’t drawing his ire. None of you liked his horrible booming voice when he scrambled at you, you were all afraid of his club and being at the receiving end of one of his thrashings. What was the point? 

He looked incensed, he was the most angry you’d ever seen him. He smacked you a few more times, landing heavy blows onto your back, thighs and butt, but you weren’t anymore motivated to get going. Instead you lay uselessly on the ground and cried out, ears drawing back as you prepared for his worst. 

“Get the fuck up! Do as you’re told, dog, no exceptions. Now move!”

You whined, but stayed where you were. Even while your back was on fire, even while he still beat dents into you, you didn’t feel anymore convinced to go along with any of it anymore. You just wanted to give up. To stop having to live through the pain, and just accept that it would be all there was. 

In the back of your mind you registered that everyone had stopped running, could feel the ground stop rumbling with their desperate footsteps and had all stopped to watch the spectacle. Though you didn’t really think much about it. 

It took a few more blows, but eventually Maddox seemed to recognise that you were quite happy for him to mash you into a fine pulp. His lesson wasn’t having any effect. So he left you on the ground and walked away a few paces, his shadow falling over your face and draping you with the weight of it. 

You choked out a sob and watched as he addressed the room. His words weren’t immediately intelligible to you, you were too lost in your brain fog still. Everything was dull, and noises were like far away recordings playing on scratchy speakers. Your head was a swelling water balloon fit to burst. 

“-see what happens when you decide you’re not going to do what your commanding officer tells you.”

Thwack.

You heard the sound, but you didn’t feel anything. You tilted your head, ears twitching confusedly as you tried to work out why the pain didn’t reach you. The sound of the wailing banshee scream following soon after clued you into why your bones weren’t rattling with anymore pain. 

“Please, sir! Please!”

It was like a plastic sheet had been melted from your eyes. The white hot screech of the voice burned through you and you scrambled up with a shock, watching on with horror as one of your fellow hybrids was getting whacked like nothing else. A wheezing breath gushed in through your lungs and you screamed in unison with the poor boy, begging Maddox to please stop. 

“Oh now you’re willing to plead for forgiveness? Now you’re ready to participate again? Watch and let this be a lesson - You don’t decide when you’re done! You do as you’re fucking told!”

“No! Please, no! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Sir. Please, please ple-”

-🐺-

“Hey, Pup, hey, shhh. Wake up, Pup.”

You felt raw, throat vibrating with the last of your unconscious screams, your mind raced as you struggled to register your surroundings. Soft lamplight bathed the room in a warm, hazy glow, and all around you were rumpled blankets, all thrown around the place in splatters of blue as if a tower of paint cans had exploded. Most startling of all though, was the behemoth of a man right in front of you; sitting on your bed and looking down at you with a worried expression. 

You backed away to the wall when you finally noticed him, panting and growling like hell when you searched through your bleary mind and couldn’t recognise him. His eyes were like molten gems, his long face and pouting lips drawn into a picture of concern. There was something almost familiar about him, if you squinted and ignored the shock of blonde hair that gently curled on top of his head (something told you that you weren’t used to seeing that). The only thing that stopped you from jumping him immediately was the calming scent of citrus peels. 

“Who the fuck are you?” you growled, curling your hands into fists. “What do you want with me?”

The man blinked slowly, his eyebrows raising from the gentle frown he’d been wearing and twitching up into surprise. He smiled uneasily then, the look seeming foreign on that big scarred up face, one of the scars at his lips puckered with the effort it took to move over the muscle. 

“Shit, sorry. It’s me, it’s Ghost,” the man sighed, his accent washing over you like a warm wave. “Forgot my mask.”

You gasped, feeling all your muscles release their tension at once as you slid down the wall and into a weary slump. It was ok. He wasn’t some horrible soldier come to drag you away to a new mission, or an enemy looking to startle you before they bagged a kill. It was just Ghost, and Ghost was safe. And Ghost looked… well you were too tired to really get a solid grip on what you thought of how Ghost looked.  

“What are you doing in here?” you asked, only speaking when you were confident you wouldn’t stutter. 

“You were screamin’, Pup. You looked like you were fighting off possession or somethin’, that must’ve been some bad dream you were having,” Ghost said softly, gently running a hand over the top of your dewy head. 

You gritted your teeth and used the butt of your palms to wipe the stray tears from your cheeks, still feeling your throat burn from all the shrieking. It had been a long time since you’d had one of those dreams, or rather memories, but you knew well enough you’d have been loud. You realised you’d probably woken him if he was coming to you bare faced. 

“I’m sorry,” you said quickly, tail tucking between your legs in realisation.

“Don’t worry about it,” he murmured, bringing his hand down to stroke over your cheek. “I’ve woken up with plenty of those myself.”

“But you…you’ve shown your face to me when you didn’t mean to. I’m sorry,” you sighed, looking away guiltily. 

Your toes curled and your body froze up, your instincts gone haywire as you tried to process what was happening. Was he going to punish you now? Would he beat you until you forgot what he looked like? You shuddered at the thought of your dreams piercing through into reality. 

“No, don’t be sorry, darlin’. I’d have taken it off for you sooner or later anyway,” he shrugged. 

You bit your lip, unconvinced that this was the case. Given that his team didn’t think much of the mask, it was clear that he wore it often. He probably didn’t like to be bare faced around other people. Maybe he wanted to keep his face a secret. 

“Didn’t think it’d effect you this much,” he chuckled, chucking you under your chin. “I did warn you.”

“You warned me?”

“Mhmm. Told you I was bloody handsome.”

Nothing could help the snort that burst from your nose. That then descended into full blown laughter, your body lightening from the growing load that your mind posed. You wrapped your hands round your knees, in an attempt to contain the giggles, and only stopped when you saw the gentle smile that sprouted back onto Ghost’s lips. 

“There you go. Better now, huh?”

You nodded slowly and smiled back at him. For some reason mirroring him felt like the easiest thing in the world. It was like a warm glow had burst from him to you, softening your sharp thoughts and turning your body to jelly. You’d be able to sleep again as if nothing had woken you, usually you would stay up until light broke through your curtains. 

“You wanna talk about anything before I get back to my beauty rest?”

“No, I’m good,” you said hurriedly, not wanting to relive everything you’d dreamed again. 

“Alright then…You get back to sleep, you’ve got another big day ahead. Try not to scare the piss out of me again for another few hours at least,” He sighed. 

You nodded, scooting back over so that you could lie back at the head of your bed. However before you could angle yourself down, Ghost drew you into a side hug. At first you resisted it, curled your hands around his arm so that you could stop whatever harm might come your way, but when there was none. Your eyes grew heavier as he held you, his body heat seeped down into your bones and it tempted you ever deeper into the restful darkness.

You let your hands drop and nuzzled into him. There wasn’t anything to fear. 

“S’my good, Pup,” Ghost mumbled, releasing you seconds later. 

You sank into bed afterwards, falling into a deep sleep as if a switch had been flicked. There were no more disturbances after that. 

-🐺-

“Not so hard, Steamin’ Jesus!”

Soap’s whizzed right past your ears like a bullet, you were too focused on getting to the target point. Paintballs splattered overhead, loud noises rang out from the speakers that’d been set up, and your heart was racing. Everything perfectly combined to drive you wild and send all coherent thought elsewhere. The only reason you stayed put behind your current cover was because you knew Ghost was watching - because of some foreign underlying need to make him proud. 

“Johnny, you have to take control.”

“I’m fuckin’ tryin’! Your bloody sled dog has other ideas,” Soap huffed, growling down the line. 

Ghost’s chuckle rattled around the comms like a swarm of bats. The ever present hand on the front of your neck dug into your collarbone a little, but still you persisted and pushed forward through the resistance. Soap had no idea what he was doing, had no idea how to control your advancement through the fake field. 

“Sled dog tendencies aside, you’re not holding em’ right,” Ghost chastised. “Stop the exercise!”

The splat of the last paintball echoed dully around the room and all at once your more human senses returned. The sharp fuzz in your ears dissipated and the blurring at the edge of your peripheries came staggeringly back into focus. You almost sent Soap crashing when you stopped fighting his hold, though luckily for him he swivelled just in time to keep his feet on solid ground. 

“Fuckin’ here we go,” Soap muttered, releasing your collar. 

You frowned up at him in question, but you didn’t get an opportunity to wonder what he was so pissed about. Ghost jumped into the little arena he’d created and crossed the floor, patting your vest before he took a hold of you himself.

“You’re holdin’ Pup round the front like this,” Ghost said, sliding his hand around your collar to illustrate his point. “You’re just choking them and driving them forward to get away from ya’ or get to the checkpoint.”

“Because your precious little Angel keep’s growlin’ and turnin round when I hold the collar round the back like you do. I feel like I’m about to get my face rearranged again!”

Ghost sighed and put his hand on Soap’s arm, driving the other man to give a cursory glance down at you before fixing a hard look on the Lieutenant. There was no mistaking the sharp little shake of his head he gave, no matter how much he had tried to hide it. Ghost put his hand down, holding it up in mock surrender before it fell completely. 

“It’s because you’re holding on too tight, Johnny,” Ghost explained, his voice growing softer. “You don’t have to. Pup won’t hurt you.” 

“You sure about that?”

“Johnny,” Ghost growled. “Don’t say anything stupid, now.”

You looked up, alarmed at the tone Ghost was taking. You didn’t really blame Soap, or anyone else, for being afraid of you. A lot of people were - anyone who knew your reputation at least, and from that little comment you surmised that Soap was well aware of it. Though from the way Ghost was acting, it was as if Soap had told him he was going to shoot you. His eyes were stuck in a stormy glare and his full height was rigidly stretching up over the Sergeant. 

“You know this is difficult for me,” Soap said, jaw as taught as a piano wire. 

“I know…” Ghost sighed. “But it’ll only be harder if you keep going like this, learning to control a wolf the wrong way will only get you both hurt. You’ve gotta dig deep here, push past the bad memories. This one’ll never hurt you like that.”

“So you keep saying,” Soap grumbled. “Why don’t you try tellin’ them to fuckin’ behave when they’re being handled rather’n having a go at me.”

A creeping feeling of shame crept through your mind, suddenly you felt like a very small child in the middle of a fight between your parents. The tiny little voice you hadn’t heard in so long chimed just as true as it did then, They’re fighting about me again. Your ears folded back straight against your head and you leaned closer into Ghost, accidentally catching eyes with Soap as he registered your movement. 

Soap’s eyes softened. 

“It’s not that simple. I have a plan in the works though,” Ghost said carefully, shifting his gaze to you as he felt you press against him, and then back at Soap. “It’s gonna take a bit to undo years of shit training, yeah? I told you how it’d be before, those shitheads at Branhaven always train up hybrids to look as showy as possible for their superiors. That means they pull like crazy and bark and growl up a riot while they work because it looks effective and scary to the knobheads who don’t need to handle them. I need you all to learn how to handle Pup as they are now before I’ve worked with them, and then you’ll be prepared for anything…’sides, its always you n me together, Johnny, remember? Realistically you’re not gonna have to actually handle them on the field, you just need to be prepared to.”

The ‘Just in case’ that eluded his last sentence was silent.

The whole time you couldn’t help dwelling on the fact that Ghost was unusually…tender for a man in charge over the Sergeant. Normally when people bitched at the higher ups in your base they’d be shouted at and told to man up or fuck off. Ghost was actually explaining himself to Soap, trying to rationalise what he was doing as if he somehow owed it to him. He treated Soap like he treated you, ensuring he was able to calm down and trying to fill him in so he could take comfort in knowing what was happening. 

The treatment seemed to work just as well on Soap as it did you. He huffed out a defeated breath and relaxed, looking from you to Ghost while the irate cloud above him dispersed and became lost in the gentle atmosphere. 

“Fine. Can you show me what to do again?”

“Atta boy,” Ghost said, grin evident in his voice. “Hand here, and legs nice and stable. You need to keep moving forward at a nice even pace, you have to set the right speed. Soon as Pup tries to push on ahead, you grip the back of their neck like that.”

You growled as you felt Ghost put pressure on your scruff, instinctively feeling the work drive build up within you. He just shook his head and gave you an unamused stare for your efforts. 

“The growling’s all just noise. Stupid noise,” Ghost said, intentionally setting his eyes on you, “but there’s no intention of threat behind it - not while we’re in charge.”

“What do you mean ‘not while we’re in charge’?” Soap asked, making a face. 

“Pup won’t have any reason to hurt us. We’re not gonna go yanking tails and hitting like fuckin’ children when we don’t get our way.”

“Wh- y’mean that was a commanding officer that did that?” Soap asked, motioning to your crooked tail. 

“Like I said - shit training. C’mon, take the collar.”

Soap didn’t quite look like he’d recovered from the shock of being told about your tail. He gingerly reached out and took your collar with a frown set heavily into his face. You wondered if it was because he really pitied you that much, or if it was because he thought you might take out your anger on him. You leaned more toward the latter reasoning. Despite his reservations though, he was able to do as Ghost asked this time. 

“Good, that’s it, Johnny.” 

Soap visibly puffed up from the praise. His grip on you tightened. He was more sure of himself now, he marched ahead and set you into an even pace, the rhythm catching onto your feet contagiously. Naturally there were still a few moments where you wanted to pull forward and rush through, but now that Soap was placing his trust in Ghost’s intuition, you were gently guided into keeping within his step. 

“Good Pup, keep it up!”

Soap didn’t immediately latch onto what Ghost had told him about your growling, he still wrenched himself back a few times after correcting you. The horrible tractor-like sound would comically twist his features. However this time, he was actually able to get to the checkpoint with you. Then after a few more trials, you were both flying down the course, high on Ghost’s praises and untouched by any paintball that tried to come your way. 

After the fourth time he called for a break, roughly crossing his hands into a T shape while he doubled over and panted and puffed for air. His signature sage scent wafted strongly from him now, invading your senses and forcing you back a step or two.

A discreet smile stole its way onto your face, a smug one if you were honest. There was a steady tension starting to warm in your legs, but you were no where near over extension. Apparently all the breakfast and rest you’d gotten had done you wonders, because you felt like you could keep going all day and all night, maybe longer than that. It made you wonder if maybe Price and Ghost didn’t have a point to all the nice things they were doing for you afterall. 

“You did well, Soap,” Ghost chuckled, wandering back onto the course with a swagger to his step. “You too, Pup. Reckon you’ll be nice and warmed up for Price and Garrick now.”

“Christ, Pup’s gonna do this two more times?” Soap asked, looking over at you in wonder. 

“Mhmm,” Ghost hummed.

“You not tired?” Soap asked, directing his question toward you.. 

You laughed at that, unsure as to why he’d be so shocked you were going to keep going. Normally you’d spend your whole days training when you weren’t on an active mission. Running and sparring were practically all you knew. If you were to tire out early, you’d be punished for it, blamed for not getting enough sleep or not eating your shitty MREs. Stopping wasn’t in the equation. 

“I can go all day,” you shrugged.

“Christ, and they tell me I’m hyperactive.”

-🐺-

Overall impressed with your performance that day, Ghost had insisted on dragging you out to a shopping villiage, or as you now thought of it - a torture desensitisation arena. Even later on at night, there were so many people around: screaming children that were moaning about being tired and hungry, teenagers laughing like hyenas, couples arguing over what they should and shouldn’t spend their money on. It didn’t help that there were so many busy shop fronts as well, colours and flashing lights and products you wouldn’t even know what to do with. It was a circus of too many stimuli and you were stuck at it’s roaring centre, sticking to Ghost like a fly on tape. 

As soon as he’d parked up you’d demanded to know why he’d brought you there, not able to help the rising panic at being taken somewhere new. He’d explained that it was time to buy you some much needed casual clothes. Personal items. At the mention of that dreaded subject, you’d tried to protest and remind him about getting your brand new stack of clothes from the quartermaster, but Ghost had just snorted and said that he wasn’t taking you everywhere in your uniform. He didn’t care for the looks it would get him - said the man wearing a black medical skull mask over his face.

Undeterred by your saying that he didn't need to waste money on you, Ghost all but yanked you into all clothes shops, leading you by the hand and forcing you to pick casual clothes that you liked from the small selection the hybrid sections offered. It was an exercise made to humiliate, you’d thought, you had no idea how to pick clothes for yourself that weren’t standard issue - had no idea what colours and materials and fits went together with what. He’d made you pick what felt good in the end, said that Soap had told him the important thing was picking something comfortable - it didn’t narrow your search by very much.

Propelled by the thought of getting to leave if you just compiled, you eventually settled on some blue vans trainers, a cosy pullover hoodie, two new pyjama sets, a couple of pairs of jeans and a few T-shirts that weren’t too adventurous - save for the one that had some illustrated plants on it. Even that little amount felt like far too much, overwhelming you with how much choice you’d have when your promised downtime would come. Though every time you asked if you’d picked enough, Ghost would just fix you with a stony look that told you to keep going. 

Then as if that wasn’t enough, he took you over to a bookshop as well, claiming you needed something to entertain yourself with in your downtime. Even when you told him you’d managed alright up till that point. However, when you were left to explore so that Ghost could go pick something for himself, it wasn’t the books there that you were most taken by. 

“What’ve you got there then?”

You froze, shoulders bunching as you heard Ghost’s voice softly break your awed silence and looked guiltily down at the little puppy teddy you were holding. You weren’t supposed to be looking at that- that’s what you figured when you saw his shadow cross your path. A picture of his sneering face crossed your mind’s eye, darkened by that unruly blonde fringe of his. 

What were you supposed to say to him? After blankly looking at a few of the books, you couldn’t help but let your eyes wander over to the little displays of plushies, and had slowly gravitated toward it when you saw the little dog that was now in your hands. 

The dog’s fur was so unbelievably soft and its little spotted face reminded you of one of your favourite cartoons from when you were small. It called out to you and lured you in with the reminder of some old theme song that played in your head, made you pick it up and stroke its squishy black and white tummy with a smile plastered all over your face. 

“I got distracted, sorry,” you murmured, gently placing it amongst its spotted siblings. 

Ghost came round to your side and picked up the same puppy you’d been holding. You tilted your head in surprise and watched as he did the same as you, stroking the soft tummy while inspecting it. It looked comically smaller in his hands though, like a newborn pup. 

“You want him?”

Your ears perked in surprise when he spoke. Finally you chanced a look up at him and felt your cheeks warm when you made eye contact, thoroughly embarrassed that you’d been caught. Though he didn’t look judgemental like you’d thought he would, instead he just stared at you earnestly over his black medical mask and gave you a chance to speak. 

“I…um...” you weren’t sure what to say. 

Of course you wanted him. Every little instinct in you wanted to take the toy and hold it and cuddle it and never let go. However that wasn’t the kind of behaviour befitting of a military class hybrid like you, and it was the kind of thing you’d have been endlessly mocked, if not punished for before. 

Soldiers don’t cuddle their teddy bears and blankets, they make their beds quickly and efficiently and don’t concern themselves with such stupid frivolities!

“It’s not a trick question, Pup. No wrong answer,” Ghost supplied, holding the puppy out to you encouragingly. 

You breathed out a sigh, but your chest didn’t feel any less heavy. Even if it was such a silly decision to make, it still felt like such a big undertaking. If you said yes and took it, would Ghost think less of you? You already thought less of you for wanting it. You were already filled with judgement, the voices of all the superiors that had ever disciplined you mocking you in one big evil choir. 

Stupid little baby wolf. 

You whined, but even despite yourself, you took it and held it to your chest. 

“Hey, you deserve to have things of your own, that’s what tonight’s all about,” Ghost said, gently setting his hand on your shoulder as he did so. “You deserve to exist outside of the military, to be more than a war dog. If this makes you happy, then we should get ‘im.”

You wanted to keel over then as you rolled your eyes, let your whole body collapse with the motion. This dog at least was a simple decision in terms of what you liked, much easier than when you’d been standing in front of all those dreaded clothes racks, but it didn’t make finalising it any easier. Not when your feelings were colliding like waves against a harbour wall, one side seemingly solid while the other corroded it.

“Yeah, but…”

“But what?”

“I’m not supposed to want things like this,” you mumbled, holding the teddy out in front of yourself again like it was some kind of alien object. 

“Why not?” he chuckled.

“Because it’s for children,” you said dryly.

“It’s not for children,” he scoffed. “There’s no rules on who gets to buy cuddly toys. Anyway, you clearly want the little fella, so we’re getting him.”

You frowned, looking confusedly down at the dog again. 

“But It’s a distraction…All of this stuff is,” you uttered, feeling Maddox’s voice speak through you like a spell had been cast. “It’ll take my mind off important things and get everyone hurt.”

You thought back to the kid in the bunk next to you, the one that had cried on the first day because they couldn’t have their teddy bear to sleep with. Maddox had lectured you all then and there, almost shouting the fur off your ears, saying that hybrid soldiers couldn’t let anything get in the way of them functioning. Needing a teddy bear to sleep wouldn’t fly when you were overseas and catching bullets because you were sleep deprived, reading books to escape your miserable new lives would get you killed when your heads were still stuck in them, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera. 

“You don’t think we all need distractions sometimes?” Ghost asked. “Distractions make life worth living, and you’re no less deserving of that than anyone on the team. Don’t you think?”

You didn’t have an answer for that. In fact, you were arguing a point that wasn’t even yours. So, in response, you shrugged and traced one of the puppy’s patches.

“I think you care about me like…a weird amount,” you mumbled. 

“A weird amount?” Ghost scoffed, hiding a crinkly eyed smile behind his mask. “Why’s it weird to care about you, huh?” 

You shrugged again. 

“Ok, listen. You’ve been all twisted up by those idiots at your last base and I want you to know that I’m not gonna legitimise a single thing that they’ve taught you. This is what it’s going to be like now, this is what you get for coming in everyday and working your arse off. The fact that you’ve been given no compensation and been run so badly into the ground by those cretins is nothing short of appalling. Believe me when I tell you that I know it’s not as simple as flicking a switch and getting used to good treatment - it won’t happen just because I tell you it’s all over now and I understand that. Just…let me give you a little bit of comfort, yeah? Just to show you how things should be. Just enjoy a distraction or two and see that it won’t be life ending, and it’s not gonna get taken away from you. I promise you’ll be fine” 

Your throat was too thick with emotion to answer. So instead of making a fool out of yourself you nodded your assent and looked down at your new prize with wonder. How long had it been since you’d owned something that didn’t have any function or use on the battlefield? How long since you’d held something so soft?

“Now…did you actually look at any books or did you just stand and bully yourself for wanting something nice?”

You jumped when Ghost’s grizzled voice sounded out and brought your mind back to task, shaking your head of all your musings. Choosing books - right. All at once, the multicoloured aisles came back to view and all the people in them, the room filled out around you and made you hold your puppy down low at your side and out of view.

“Yeah, I um- I think I found something cool.”

-🐺-

That night Ghost let you stay up in bed for a little bit to read. Leaving you nestled in your swarm of blankets sitting side by side with your new friend as the plush sat up against the pillows with you. Your eyes poured over the artwork of your new graphic novels in wonder, admiring the bold colours and thick lines, turning the glossy pages ever so slowly as if your heart would stop beating when you got to the end of the book. 

When you ended the first chapter you smiled down at the little dog rather childishly and bit your lip. It was silly to name inanimate objects, it didn’t take someone standing over you and shouting at you to know that, though you couldn’t help it when the name seemed to cling to him with an unshakable grip. Simon. You’d name him Simon after the main character in the story. It seemed to suit the little black and white dog just as much as it did the hybrid boy, and now there was no changing it - unfortunately for you. 

[dilatorywriting]

Heroes vs. Villains : Pomefiore [Part 2]

Gender Neutral Reader x Pomefiore vs. Neige Leblanche Word Count: 2.3k

Summary: Woe to the Ramshackle Prefect, being caught up in the drama between the Disney Villains and their respective heroes. Pomefiore Version (Part 2)

ie. The scarf is an issue, because of course it's an issue. And Vil's sudden addiction to his phone is not going well for any of you.

[PART 1] [PART 2] [PART 3]

“What did you do?” Epel hissed from behind an entire department store’s worth of facial products.

“What?! I didn’t do anything!” you argued. Trying to sound stern when you were also putting a concerted effort into not moving your mouth was apparently very hard. A lip mask, Vil had called it. ‘Pretentious goop’ was a far better description. But the Pomefiore House Warden had been particularly dour lately, so you’d been letting him slather you will all kinds of atrocities in the name of keeping the peace. You’d smelled like a walking Bath & Body Works for the past week at least. And worst of all, if you ever made that comparison out loud he’d probably hemorrhage. Or something. Because each of these products was ‘special ordered’ or ‘hand crafted’ and blablabla.

“Well pardon me for not takin’ your word for it,” the purple-haired boy snapped, spiteful. “He only gets like this when someone’s hurt his stupid ego. Or worse—his feelings.”

“And why does that ‘someone’ have to be me?” you complained.

Epel shot you a look and you sighed into the misty air. The aroma diffuser gave another lackluster puff, as if in agreement.

.

.

Ever since your shopping trip, Vil had been acting… not quite right.  

Oh, he was still icy and composed. He still tutted at your untucked uniform shirts and irritably plucked stray bits of fuzz from your jacket. But it was almost like he was too much of himself. You’d liked to think that your laid back ‘you’re lovely no matter what and I live in a literal condemned building so who am I to judge anyone’ approach had softened the House Warden at one point—even if only a smidgen. A singular hair out of place was artful, not lazy. The barely-there wrinkle in his vest was not the end of civilized times, but functional fashion. But now? It was back to the strictest of regiments, the most unforgiving of rules.

Jack had told you that Vil was even waking before him now—that by the time the wolf-beastman arrived for their early morning jogs, the blonde had clearly already been up and training for hours.

And you were worried.

Sometimes Vil would look at his phone and get this twisted up, venomous, expression on his face that sent little pangs of concern eating through your gut. Sometimes Rook was there to reach forward and gently ease the device out of Vil’s death grip. Sometimes he was not, and you were far too afraid of losing your fingers to even try.

It was a vicious cycle. The phone would make Vil angry and subsequently be abandoned in the opposite corner of the room. So then Vil would bury himself in new makeups, and outfits, and skin care. He would fret over new projects, or old projects—ranting about the incompetence of whoever he would ‘never work with again, believe me.’ Sometimes he dragged you along to his Film Club (you’d watched so many classic movies with him at this point that you were actually starting to become culturally literate). And then—slowly but inevitably—his brilliant, purple, gaze would drift to the expensive rectangle sitting all alone off to the side, wherever he’d carefully and strategically placed it to be just out of reach. Gradually his fingers would start to twitch, and then his jaw. He’d drum his nails against his knee, or irritably tap the pointed heel of his shoe against the floor. And then the phone would be back in his hands and he’d be looking at something that sent him spiraling all the way back to the beginning again.

“I don’t know what to do,” you confided in Rook one afternoon. You hadn’t seen him yet, but a bush off to your left had jiggled suspiciously at one point, so you assumed that he was probably somewhere in the vicinity.

After a moment, the hunter came and perched himself at your side.

“Do you know what’s bothering him?” you asked. Rook seemed to know everything about everyone, and Vil was his muse, his Roi de Poison. He had to have noticed something by now.

The blonde nodded, the feather in his hat bobbing as he did.

“...You’re not going to tell me what it is, are you?” you huffed, not even attempting to bite back your irritation.  

Rook patted your shoulder sympathetically. “It is not my tale to tell, Mon Coeur. There are some things that I am told in confidence, and I cannot break that trust. Though I am sure he would greatly appreciate your concern.”

“Or you could just tell me,” you tried. “And then I wouldn’t have to be concerned at all.”

He tilted his hat at you, and then danced back easily when you tried to snatch it off his head.

.

.

“So, what’s the dealio,” Ace drawled, and he’d better thank his lucky stars that you didn’t startle quite as easily as you used to, because there was entire, opened, jar of Werecat urine in your hands that was just dying to wind up upended all down his white lab coat.

“What deal?” you snipped, carefully recapping the stinky ingredient and setting it off to the side. Tempting as the idea of dousing the redhead in supernatural piss was, Crewel would skin you for wasting components.  

“You spend a lot of time at Pomefiore,” Deuce added, much politer in his approach than Ace had been. “And lately their House Warden has been a bit…”

“Why has Captain Pissy-And-Perfect been so pissy?” Ace interrupted, leaning far too close over your cauldron to be any kind of safe. “Normally the only thing that twists him up that bad is Neige.”

Your mind whirled back to the incident at the mall. And as controlled as you liked to think you were about these sorts of things, your face must have done something because Ace pounced on you like Ruggie after a donut.

“What do you know?” he demanded, nearly spilling a whole bottle of Newt Eyes across the floor as he crowded into your personal space. “Tell me, tell me, tell me—"

“All I did was give Neige a scarf!” you snapped. “It’s not like it’s a big deal!”

“What scarf?” Deuce blinked back, confused.

“It was just some scarf that Vil put on me!”

The two of them made long, pointed, eye contact, and you immediately felt horribly out of the loop.

“Whelp. That tracks,” Ace sighed, just as Crewel popped up behind him to whip him across the back of his head with his pointer.

.

.

Your group of mangy idiots had gathered in the cafeteria for lunch—as was the ancient tradition of all starving students. The four of you had clustered around your usual table. Ace was busy squirting ketchup packets all over what would inevitably become Deuce’s seat when he finally got of the line. Jack was busy swishing said ketchup away with an irritated scowl. Epel sat across from you, as miserable and lemon scented as ever.

A lunch tray smacked the tabletop with an echoing bang and Deuce appeared behind it, frantically waved his cellphone in your faces.

“You guys have to watch this,” he said, deathly serious, before propping his phone up against your glass of water. It flopped forward with a resounding crack three times before he managed to get it to stay upright.

The five of you crouched around the teeny screen as the poppy chords of some Talk Show intro or other filtered through the tinny speakers.

“You know,” the interviewer beamed, all manicured sugar and over-bleached smiles. “With some of the things you’ve been posting lately, some people are saying that you’ve just got to be in love!”

The audience ooohed and aaaahed.

Neige Leblanche was sitting on the little leather sofa beside her, and he smiled in a way lit his entire face in a brilliant shade of pink. He was still wearing that goddamn purple scarf and immediately you could feel your temples pulsing with a migraine. This was going to be bad.

“Well,” he mumbled, bashful. “I can’t say you’re entirely wrong about that.”

Cue hordes of nearly rabid screaming. Ace winced and reached forward to tick down the volume.

“Why are we watching this?” Jack scowled, but he didn’t move his sharp glare from the illuminated screen.

“The Prefect gave Neige a scarf, and—”

“Shh,” Deuce hushed. “This is the bad part.”

“It’s a little bit silly,” Neige continued, glancing up at the host from beneath his dark lashes. “I don’t actually know their name. But we met a few weeks ago now and they were just—well they were amazing. They actually helped pull me out of a pretty sticky situation, and they were so composed through all of it! And then they didn’t even care about me being famous at all!��� he rambled, getting brighter and brighter the longer he monologued. “They just helped me because I was a person, and, well, I think that’s very sweet.”

There was another wave of darling ‘awwws’ that could only have been scripted. Or, at least you hoped so. This level of saccharine infatuation should have been enough to turn anyone’s stomach. It had certainly twisted yours into all sorts of unpleasant knots. The secondhand embarrassment alone was on the verge of taking you out entirely.

“A little birdy’s been telling us that the scarf you’ve been modelling in all your latest Magicam posts was actually a gift from this secret lover of yours,” the interviewer whispered conspiratorially, and you wanted nothing more than to snatch that stupid purple cashmere back through the screen solely so that you could strangle her with it.

“Well, yes, actually,” Neige chirped, fingers reaching up to toy with the soft fabric.

“No it wasn’t!” you howled, indignant. “I just put it on him to distract him because I accidentally rambled to his face about how much more fuckable Vil was than him, and—”

“WHAT?!” Epel screeched. Screeched. At the top of his lungs. It felt like you could feel the glares of every single set of eyes in the cafeteria drilling into your spine. Out of the corner of your eye, you swore you saw a feather bob as it disappeared through the door, and you didn’t even want to think of the implications of that.

“No fucking way,” Ace gaped, looking for all the world like you’d just handed him a million Thaumarks, or an entire notebook’s worth of nuclear codes. Deuce and Jack both just looked like they were trying not to choke to death.

“Oh my God,” you wailed. “I did it again.”

.

.

When you next ran into the King of Poisons, you were so distracted by the impossible task of wrangling Ace into silence that you couldn’t have noticed the subtle changes in him even if you’d wanted to. The increased length in his stride, the gentler tuck of his hair, the less severe line of his shoulders—if you weren’t so caught up in trying to commit homicide, you would have been ecstatic.

Rook was chattering along at his side, his lips quirked into a merry grin. The tack-tack-tack of Vil’s crimson heels against the stone floors was familiar, confident, and loud enough to swim through your head despite Ace’s manic cackling.

“Potato.” Vil’s red lips quirked upwards into the smallest smile before twitching back down into a sneer. “And other potato. What exactly do you think you’re doing?”

Thankfully, at the end of the day, Ace was still nothing if not a no-good coward. He turned on the Pomefiore House Warden, ready to spill your deepest, darkest, secrets, and immediately withered under the third year’s spiteful glower.

“H-House Warden!” he squeaked. “I was just—Ahem. The Prefect was just—just saying that—”

“Go on,” Vil prompted, tongue dripping with all kinds of venom. “It must be riveting if it’s managed to stun you so thoroughly. Or maybe that’s just the extent of your comprehensive abilities as it is.”

Ace gulped. Audibly.

“Perhaps I should report your dallying to Riddle,” Vil continued, and that was when Ace really started to look panicked. “Remind me—your House Warden is known for his lenient stance on punishing rule breakers, is he not?”

The redhead darted off with one final squeak, practically wheeling around a corner in his haste to escape.

“Well?” Vil barked, and it took you a second to realize that he was addressing you now, and not that he was just going to continually roast Ace into an early grave. “Are you coming?”

“Where?” you asked, confused.

Vil rolled his eyes and reached out to grab your hand. “To Film Club. You promised to help pick out the new backdrop color schemes. Or is the forgetfulness of that horrible, spudling, friend of yours wearing off on you now too?”

You had promised Vil so many things in the last few weeks that you honestly probably wouldn’t even have remembered if you’d offered to sell him your soul, so looking through page after page of tone combinations that all looked absolutely identical to you but whatever was probably the best you could hope for.

More importantly, he seemed… better. Less stiff, certainly. You wondered idly what could have happened in the span of a few hours to mend his mood so thoroughly. If it had been Neige related all along, then probably some slight against the dude, right? Maybe something had popped up online? Industry drama, or whatever. Or maybe—

‘Because I accidentally rambled to his face about how much more fuckable Vil was than him, and—'

You froze, like a deer about to mowed down by a semi. Vil’s grip on your hand was the only thing that kept you from immediately faceplanting into the ground.

But, no. No one aside from your immediate entourage could have heard you say that! It wasn’t possible! It—It wasn’t—

Amidst your sudden wave of mortification, you caught Rook’s mischievous green, gaze, with your own. The feather on his hat bobbed playfully, mockingly, and he winked.

.

TAG LIST (CLOSED AS OF 12/10)

21.3.76

@destinationdesignation @the-dumber-scaramouche @starchilll, @juulranch, @kalims, @theneurodivergentdummy, @honey-deerling, @thenyxsky, @vasiliki-koshka, @cassidycampfire, @youaskedfurret, @asimpleazur, @iwannabeacrow, @fuckingfaraway, @ambievert, @cerisescherries, @mys-harmony, @queenaveryrules, @smokebell, @alextheknight707, @hermiona18, @paintingeels, @rebloging-everything,

@nexxy-is-lonely, @akuri-shinsou, @nebulabunni3, @hermiona18, @alextheknight707, @crockercorpbakers, @sillyhummingbird, @loxi546-blog, @blackrose8425, @paranoiac-666, @alexpeaches, @cinnamontimecrunch, @cupid3m, @iamnotwiddle, @coloursplash666, @smokebell, @dreamingjirachi, @existingcurrently, @littlemusicfox25, @spaceyrunes, @un-petit-peu-confused, @medleycharm, @chocolateduckdinosaur, @barryatsumu, @ttwinrytwo, @imaginedfantasies, @cleos-stuff, @whathappenedtobees, @5sos-wdw, @trixeraptops, @obaniori, @thededly2, @kttyfngs, @reconcy, @patimiet, @itsmarlsworld, @fae06, @nowwhat-runlikehell, @kinglion03u, @catgirler, @anonymouscandy, @hatsunemiku2025, @clappincobracheeks, @horcrux-alchemist, @crypticbibliophile, @nyotnyota, @ally-glow, @yourimaginaryfriiendd, @hamdehlesmis, @scarapeep, @https-casanova, @niki-chan15, @insomnia-space, @rabioa, @ailynyan, @posionapplecider @pen-observing @afternoon-read, @marvelous-maxi, @inkeddreamz, @ai-dev, @anasianplate

[thissharktypes]

Can u do a wolf!Klaus mikaelson x reader. Sex

They are in a relationship.

They have done this before .

Contains- jealous sex, angry sex , in wolf form spanking , hair pulling, choking, bj .

Spanking and bj in human his human form.

Not comfortable,do not do it .

No pressure

NSFW

//as I said in my pinned requesting post, I don’t do any human x creature smut content unless there is a way to consent or communicate. Since Klaus does fully turn into a wolf in the series it's not possible for him to do either so I did the best I could, I hope you like it! :).//

Gender not specified, written as neutral as I could

“Oh my GOD!” you shout, slamming the door open “I can’t keep doing this with you!” your boyfriend glares at the back of your head “Do what darling?” he replies angrily “Allow men to fawn over you in front of me?” you bang your forehead against the wall, trying to keep your calm “He literally just said he liked my nail polish.” you turn to face him “Klaus, you wig out anytime anyone even breathes the same air as me, It’s not healthy.” his jaw tightens and he refuses to make eye contact “Nobody else deserves to look at you let alone speak to you.” your eyes roll back so hard you swear you pull a muscle “I appreciate how much you love me, I really do,” you cup his face and he practically melts into you “But you have to admit, almost stabbing someone with a fork because they liked my nails is a bit too much.” he growls, his hands sliding around your waist “Nothing is too much, You’re mine.” his eyes darken and your breath hitches “Klaus, you can’t just fuck me until I’m not upset.” he smirks “Want to bet, love?”

You blink and your back is pressed to the wall, his lips pressing against every exposed bit of skin he could find. Your back arches as he fists your hair, pulling your head to the side, hardly biting and sucking on your throat, leaving purple and red marks behind “I’ll cover you in marks if I have to, make sure everyone can see who you belong to.” you whimper, nodding “So obedient all the sudden.” Klaus whispers teasingly “I will claim you on every surface in the house until the only thought you have is of me.”. Everything is a blur of lust, your legs wrapped around his waist, one of his hands tightly gripping your throat the other wrapped around your thigh, keeping you firmly in place as he grinds against you. 

You yank your shirt over your head, desperate for your boyfriend to mark more of your skin. He doesn’t even bother to unbutton your pants, just ripping them in half, leaving a pile of shredded clothing at your feet. He thumbs open his own button, the zipper sliding down on its own from the presser of his hardened cock behind it “Please,” you beg, rutting your hips against him “Want you inside.” you can barely choke out a full sentence, your head swimming with need. He obliges, his tip brushing against you teasingly “Who do you belong to love?” he growls into your ear “You, Klaus, Only you.” he slams into you, bottoming out in the first thrust, the delicious slice of pain making your back arch. He changes positions, now having you pressed under him on the floor, his hips snapping into yours.

Klaus relishes in the pretty little noises he pulls from you, but he wants more. Again, he shifts your body, moving you to your knees, your ass pressed against his hips “Look at that, so beautiful.” his hand comes down on your cheek sharply, feelinging you tighten around him as you yelp, a red handprint already blossoming on your skin.

He pulls you up, back to his chest, hand clamped firmly around your throat, fucking into you with all the pent up frustration from earlier “Yes! Don’t stop!” another slap against your ass sends you reeling, your nails digging into his thigh “Don’t you dare cum without permission.” you whine at his words, knowing he’ll string you along until you could barely hold on. His hands continue their abuse on your cheeks and throat, surely leaving handprints on both. Klaus continues his bruising pace, your stomach clenching  “Please…” you sound downright pathetic “Taking me so well, absolutely perfect,” he nips at your earlobe and you jerk slightly, your legs shaking violently “Cum for me.” you do, going completely limp in his arms as he slowly pulls out “Tsk, not tapping out already are we?” you shake your head, weakly shifting to face him, he grips your jaw “Open.” your lips part and he grins. Klaus takes a handful of your hair and leads you to his cock, your tongue tracing the soft veins.

His grip tightens and he slides into your mouth, watching as your eyes water “You look so beautiful choking on me.” His voice is soft as he swipes his thumb across your cheek, the moment of sweetness quickly passes as he grinds into your mouth, tipping his head back in pleasure. Your scalp stings as he assaults your throat, cheeks flushed with arousal as you look up at your lover, his eyebrows furrowed and his lip taken between his teeth. His hips stutter and his hands yank harder on your hair as his seed fills your mouth. You pull away, both of you panting. “I love you.” he says and presses a kiss to your forehead. He combs through your hair, undoing any tangles he caused before picking you up and carrying you towards your shared bedroom.

[dragon-chica]

Enid Sinclair NSF W headcanons!

Fandom: Wednesday

Since no one is giving me requests I must make my own.

Completely gender neutral! If I missed anything, don't forget strap-ons.

This girl is vocal. She's loud and makes sure you know exactly how much she's enjoying what you do to her, it's mostly whines and cute moans and "Oh" "Yes" on repeat getting higher and higher as she's closer to climax.

Giggly sex! fun sex! she's not bothered by a joke mid-go and her ADHD has definitely spouted some random things that just popped into her brain and right out of her mouth.

She likes surprising you with cute underwear and will show you different ones while out shopping to see if you think she should buy them.

She never wants to be 'unfair' but definitely prefers receiving oral, it just feels so good with your tongue inside her and is always down for it.

But like said, she will return the favor! She's very eager to please and wants you to feel just as good, and even if she's not very skilled with her mouth she's very eager and looks so cute.

She's very down for quickies! She has a high libido but not super horny? She wont be thinking of sex but if you mention maybe ducking away for a few minutes she'll be the one pulling you there.

Enid really likes quickies in public. She has so many cute skirts that it's extra tempting too- take her to a secluded little spot when no one's looking or finger her quickly in an empty room.

If you're ever on your knees for some reason her head's already filled with dirty thoughts, just glance over at her and she'll be clenching her thighs and biting her lip waiting for an opportunity to take you away for some relief.

If you're busy or purposely trying to ignore her and do something else she'll "innocently" climb onto your lap and start getting herself off on your thigh by herself until you can't take it anymore, her breathy moans and slick on your leg, and just how cute she looks.

You are covered in SO MANY claw marks. If you're into that, good for you because it's happening either way.

Your back and shoulders especially and you're between feeling pride and laughing because you look like an angry cat's scratching post.

One time you were looking at all your scratches and joked "I bring you pleasure, you bring me pain." and Enid felt SO bad and kept apologizing and covering you in band-aids while you tried to calm her down.

Her favorite position is missionary because she enjoys it and having you so close and holding you against her (ei: why your back is always raw.)

Also down for doggystyle "Not because I'm a werewolf! This way I can't scratch you." she pouts but also enjoys it, don't worry.

Enid usually is bottom/submissive, she likes you taking care of her. But if you're too slow or teasing her too long she will flip you over and take what she needs to ride out her high then collapse on you panting.

It's really hot how she'll go from whining beneath you to a deep growl and suddenly on your back being used for all your worth while she stares at you with wild eyes and clenched teeth, her nails digging into your shoulders.

She can easily go multiple rounds and prefers to until she is spent but will okay with less if she notices how much she's tiring you out.

Give her a few extra orgasms with your fingers or mouth first and she'll be tired and content to snuggle up in your arms, practically purring.

For the most part in the way of kinks she's pretty vanilla, but is willing to try most anything if you want to! She wants you to have fun with it too!

In hopes of not 'clawing you to bits' you've tried multiple types of bondage on her but she always gets too into it, plus wanting to touch you, and breaks free. She gets a little embarrassed afterwards seeing the broken restrains and/or headboard.

Wednesday even suggested manacles and Enid went so wolf-strength they ripped through a beam.

She can easily go multiple rounds and prefers to until she is spent but will okay with less if she notices how much she's tiring you out.

Give her a few extra orgasms with your fingers or mouth first and she'll be tired and content to snuggle up in your arms, practically purring.

Uhhh, this got long. Reminder: SFW and NSFW alphabet requests open for Wednesday

[yanderu-deredere]

bite.

★ what kind of girlfriend invites you to some bonfire in the middle of the forest only to leave you there? a shitty girlfriend, that's who. now, you're kind of buzzed and lost. thankfully, you spot a cabin. hopefully, the people there can help you out.

a/n: mom says it's my turn with the wolf pack!! here's another long thing but this time it's for the wolfie pack that ive been promising for a while now! hopefully it lives up to your guys expectations LOL i really love these yanderes and the werewolf lore i sprinkled in is my own brand of crazy

for those in disbelief, wondering how does this fit in my lil city. well, there's a forest at the outskirts of the city and i want there to be werewolves so there's werewolves!! got inspired by @not-a-bot-just-shy and their poly wolf pack so please check theirs out too!

while i was writing this, i decided that it got like really long so i decided to write a few more parts LOL im so sorry ive been slapping you guys with so many different chaptered stuff! but i hope itll be worth it!

part one (here) ★ part two ★ (chew.) ★ extras (bite and chew.) ★ extras (taste) ★ part three ★ (swallow.) ★ part four (digest.)

pairing: poly werewolves x male reader word count: 3475 warning: bottom reader has male parts and pronouns, reader is implied to be attracted to both genders, reader may be under the influence of alcohol, reader may have a shitty girlfriend, yanderes may be under the influence of the moon? wild, polyamorous ending (all three with the reader)

You grumbled, pushing past branches and leaves as you stomped around the forest, angry at your girlfriend for basically ditching you. Well, not ditching you. But, she did invite you to this stupid bonfire only to force you to drink and then ignore you the entire night.

She was the kind of girlfriend who was super into the full moon, tarot cards and mystic readings so she thought it would be fun to run around half naked tonight, thinking maybe something witchy and magical would happen.

You thought it meant having a hot make out session in front of a sexy bonfire so, of course, when she begged you to come, you agreed.

You were unfortunately wrong.

She was probably with that stupid buff friend of hers, draping herself all over him. So what if you couldn't tell whether or not you were a 'Sagittarius rising' or whatever and he could? You couldn't help but be annoyed at the thought of the two of them having fun.

You wouldn't call it cheating but it was definitely something.

You had stormed out in anger, hoping your girlfriend would care enough to chase after you. Unfortunately, she didn't even care enough about you to do that.

Or, even worse, she didn't notice that you'd left at all.

You pulled your phone out of your hoodie pocket and glanced at the time and battery. It was getting really late and your phone was almost dead. Damn. You didn't have any signal either so no hopes of calling someone for help.

Why were you so petty and dramatic anyway?

You heard a thump and your heart jumped into your throat. You looked around, scared as all hell, only to realise there was light in front of you.

You hurried forward, hoping to whatever higher power there was that it was civilization. Unfortunately, it wasn't. Fortunately, it was some sort of rustic looking house, large enough to fit a big family.

The thumping was from someone chopping some wood.

He looked buff, like a weightlifter with a little bit of pudge. He was a ways away from you but you could tell he was definitely taller than you, with the messiest ginger hair you had ever seen.

The stranger was wearing a tight worn down tank top and jeans which, honestly, he made look really good.

You hadn't even gotten close before the guy whacked his axe down, looking around the clearing like he was searching for something and, as if he'd heard you, his head snapped right to you.

You flinched but decided just coming out right then was less suspicious than hiding.

"Uhm! Hello!" You stepped forward, face and ears feeling a little hot from embarrassment "I'm really sorry to bother you but I'm like so lost and I just need directions--"

"You're not supposed to be here." He suddenly snapped and it made you take a step away from him, your eyes fluttering from one of his bulging muscles to the other.

If he wanted to snap you like a twig, he could easily do it.

"Right," you held your hands up as a sort of sign of surrender, "I totally get that but my friends-- We have a bonfire nearby-- Well, I don't really know how nearby-- I got lost--"

He seemed to see how frantic you got because he sighed and nodded, holding his hand out "C'mon, there's no way anyone would find their way through the forest at night."

"Stay the night and we'll drive you to Lovelock in the morning." He wrapped an arm around your shoulders when you got close enough though, from the tone in his voice, he didn't seem very happy.

"You can call me Mel. I live here with my partners, Leo and Sam." He guided you to the door and opened it for you "Sorry I'm a bit messy, was trying to cut wood for kindling."

"All good! Thanks for housing me. Sorry I'm being such a bother." You bowed your head a little, very apologetic since he seemed so inconvenienced.

Then, you didn't know if it was the alcohol in your system or if it was just from how good-looking the guy is but you suddenly felt the urge to lean against him and giggle "You know, I'm not entirely convinced this isn't some elaborate mirage."

"Mirage?" He looked understandably confused as he easily held up your body which practically draped itself on him.

You nodded, sighing almost dramatically "I was stuck in that forest for forever! I thought I'd never find my way! And I feel like super-sexy--mean-muscle-lumberjack is the exact fantasy my mind would conjure up."

He seemed to realise he was being a bit stand-offish or something (probably from the fact you described him as a mean muscle lumberjack) because his personality did a complete switch "Oh, ummm, I apologise. Sorry for being weird, my partners and I aren't really-- em, in the state for having guests--"

Just as the two of you finally made it through the front door, Mel definitely much more easily than you, the sound of someone else caught your attention.

"Melk--" Speak of the devil, a fluffy ashen haired head peaked out of one of the doorways leading further into the house, blue bespectacled glasses peering at you "Who's the twunk?"

You felt your cheeks grow warm. Twunk? You were definitely more hunk than twink. What even constituted as twink anyway? You doubted you were small or thin enough! In fact, if either of you were the twink, it would've been him, with his lithe model body!

He was like an exact opposite to Mel; where Mel was tanned and muscled, this stranger was pale, of average height and looked like he could shove you a little at most.

Differences aside, he both of them were absolutely handsome. It made you feel a little left out. Were you on some movie set?

"Leo, don't be rude. He's our guest." Mel placed both his broad palms on your shoulders, introducing you before giving you a little nudge forward "And this is ou-- umm, my partner, Leonard. He's a pain in the ass but he grows on you."

The little stumble in Mel's sentence went completely unnoticed to you but the sudden weird expression on Leonard's face didn't.

Still, you didn't want to be rude to someone who was putting up with you for a night so you smiled as sweetly as you could "Hi, really nice to meet you!"

It was obvious Leonard didn't think the same because his smile was obviously forced "Nice to meet you too!"

Then, he hurried off and you could hear his sock-clad feet thumping through the wooden floors of the house "Saaam!"

"I'm so sorry about him." Mel pulled you to him, your back against his chest, and leaned forward, apologetic expression on his face.

You just chalked it up to him being a really touchy person and smiled nervously, nodding "It's all good! It's totally understandable, I came out of nowhere, after all!"

That polite look on Mel's face vanished for a second, replaced with a look that was gone too fast for you to place. Thankfully, you didn't think you had to worry about it because Mel was helping you take off your shoes and leading you to the kitchen.

"You must be starving." He pulled out a chair for you "Let me heat something up for you."

"Handsome and polite..." You murmured, your hand rubbing at your aching and empty stomach before, a bit more loudly, you said: "No, I can't possibly ask you to feed me too!"

"It's really nothing, just pressing a few buttons on a microwave." Mel waved off your concerns, grin on his face as he did just that; sticking a glass tupperware container in the microwave and setting it to some arbitrary time.

You sighed and relented; mostly because you were definitely still hungry and buzzed from the alcohol. You wanted nothing more than food in your tummy.

As you were taking in the yummy smell of food heating in the microwave, there was the cacophony of hurried steps on wooden floor before Leonard and a man you didn't know appeared in a doorway.

He was also gorgeous. Goes to show that good looking people flocked together. He had black shaggy hair in a low pony and a noticeable scar on his upper lip but it didn't take away from his pretty face.

He even had two moles under his left eye which made him look even more beautiful (if that were even possible).

He was like a middle man; not exactly twink-ish like Leonard but not exactly buff like Mel. Definitely on the more muscular side, though. Definitely bigger. He could probably bend you in half, that was for sure.

"Leo said--" The man burst in before turning absolutely dark red in the face upon laying eyes on you, an almost inhuman whine leaving his lips "Hello."

"Hello." You grinned at him, finding his actions way more funny than weird "You must be Sam, right? Nice to meet you."

"Isamu. Y-You can call me Sam." He nodded, agreeing.

Then, to continue his train of weird actions, he bowed at the waist, still looking flustered, before scurrying away. Leonard snickered, looking especially mischevious before following after him.

"What's up with all of you and your partners looking supernaturally gorgeous?" You whispered conspiratorially to Mel.

Instead of asking, he just laughed, all deep and rumbly, like you'd said a particularly funny joke.

You pouted, unsure if you'd really said something that was worth laughing at that much.

"You were at a bonfire, you said?" Mel said instead, opening the microwave to pull the glass tupperware out, whatever food in it obviously steaming.

You nodded, excited at the prospect of food "Yeah, my girlfriend invited me but then she ditched me to go hang out with some buff guy."

"Jokes on her, I guess, I found an even buffer, hotter guy to hang out with instead." You grinned at him, looking quite like the cat that got the cream.

Mel just let out another smaller laugh, putting the tupperware container with a plastic spoon and fork in front of you.

You were a little awed by the fact that he could touch the hot glass but chalked it up to the fact that he was just really tough.

The food was just fried rice (which was honestly more fried vegetables than rice and it made you almost laugh) and what you guessed was grilled chicken with teriyaki sauce. Aside from the vegetables in the rice, there was also broccoli.

Thankfully, there was a lot of chicken so there wasn't too many vegetables.

"Make sure to eat your vegetables." He sat in front of you, looking like he was holding back a smirk.

You pouted at him but rolled your eyes and speared a small broccoli branch and put it in your mouth. Then, you made an exagerrated 'MMM' sound to show him how tasty you thought it was.

He laughed again but, this time, it sounded fake "Sorry, I always have to remind Leo to eat his vegetables. It becomes habit after awhile."

"Understandable." You gave a curt nod "I'm bad at eating healthy so I can relate to Leo."

"Well, you definitely won't be eating badly under my roof." Mel crossed his arms (which made his biceps absolutely bulge) before leaning back in his chair, an almost arrogant expression on his face.

"Good think I'll only be living one night under this roof, huh?" You joked back, thinking that was the right thing to say.

Instead of the laugh you expected, that strange expression was back on Mel's face. You stopped mid-bite, looking at him curiously, a worried expression on your face "Did I say something wrong?"

"No." The expression was gone quickly, like before, and his polite grin was back.

He sat up again, his arms uncrossing and his hand reaching over to cover yours on the table. You just grinned at him, confused by the gesture but figured, like you thought before, he was just a touchy guy.

"Sam, Leo, come here and hang out with our new guest!" Mel suddenly yelled, making you flinch a bit with how unnaturally loud his voice got.

"Sorry." His hand tightened around yours, apologetic expression on his face as his thumb rubbed comforting circles onto the side of your hand "Didn't mean to scare you."

"It's okay, just got surprised!" You waved off his concern as you smiled and shrugged his hand off so you could properly eat. You didn't want to admit it but his touch had your heart fluttering wildly in your chest!

"Here, you were at the bonfire to have fun right? We can have our own fun here." Mel wolfishly grinned at you, his eyes alight with a playful look on his face "We have a couple of cases of beer here if you want?"

"Sure." You looked eager at the offer, nodding your head quickly. Usually, you wouldn't have accepted, Mel being a stranger and all, but you were already a bit inebriated and he was just so handsome that he convinced you easily.

He stood just as Isamu and Leonard entered, both looking flustered and weird.

Of course, excited by the prospect of getting more drunk and forgetting your problems with a bunch of hot strangers, you gestured for them to come sit next to you, not at all minding their weirdness.

Isamu quickly sat next to where Mel was sitting, his back ramrod straight and his hands in his lap. If you had a protractor, you were sure he would measure at ninety degrees exactly.

Leonard, on the other hand, looked relaxed and almost cocky as he sat next to you, even going so far as to scoot the chair closer.

"Mel said he was going to get some beer, do you want to drink with us?" You asked them happily and Leonard made a face like he was disgusted with the suggestion while Isamu immediately nodded.

"Our handsome guest here was just telling me his girlfriend ditched him for someone else." Mel walked over, two bottles of beer in each hand "We can't have him being sad over that right? We have to help him forget all about that stupid bitch."

You scowled, feeling as if maybe you should defend your girlfriend. Mel couldn't just randomly call her a bitch like that, right?

But then, he literally flicked the caps off of the beer bottles like they were made of paper and you thought maybe, a muscly hot guy like him was allowed a few red flags.

He handed you a bottle and you took a fat swig before giggling "Thank you so much for taking me in and for taking care of me like this! I feel so bad for imposing on you guys! You guys are so wonderful!"

Leonard leaned against you, your shoulders bumping against each others' "Don't worry about it. In fact, it's really our pleasure!"

You grinned before wrapping an arm around Leonard and pulling him close, completely missing the look the three of them shared with each other.

Before you knew it, you were just knocking them back, swapping happy stories with the three of them.

Apparently, Mel first moved out here and built the house with the money he inherited with his family. The family itself seemed like a sore subject but he looked entirely too happy to rant about how he made the house.

Then, Isamu came next when he got lost trying to find his dog? The dog died a couple of years later since she was already a senior dog but the two hit it off and started dating almost immediately after Mel helped him find the old geezer.

After Isamu's dog died and he graduated college, he moved in and they literally found Leonard who had tried running away from his overly controlling parents.

When Leonard graduated college, he moved in too. Now, the three of them lived together. The only one of them that really commuted was Leonard but not that far since he worked at a cafe pretty much near the edge of the forest.

You awed and gushed over their relationship, absolutely enamoured by how sweet it was that they all found each other.

At least, that was the last thing you remembered.

"You're a little bit of a light-weight, aren't'cha?" Mel laughed and you felt his entire chest rumble under your palms, his collar bone hard and cozy under your cheek.

"Huh?" You hummed, a little confused.

You got the gist that he was carrying you somewhere. You could feel his big, warm hands on your waist, his fingers almost sneaking underneath your clothes and his rather noticeable nails tickling your skin.

You could also feel your feet stumbling a little on the floor so you knew he wasn't carrying you.

"Hey, pay attention!"

You snapped into reality a bit there, looking around. You weren't in the kitchen anymore. In fact, you were standing in the middle of a living room, right in front of a coffee table.

Mel's hands were all over you and Isamu was right next to you, fretting about whether or not you were going to fall over. The only one not touching you was Leonard who had his arms crossed, looking at you annoyed.

"Oh, sorry." Your eyebrows furrowed as you tried to understand what was happening "I don't know what's going on with me, I just--"

"It happens to the best of us." Mel waved your apology off, wolfish grin on his face as if he was quite proud of himself "Nobody can out-drink me, after all."

"I feel like none of you are drunk at all! Just me..." You groaned, forehead pressed against the crook of Mel's neck, arm around him tightening just a little bit.

Even with all of your strength, he didn't even budge one bit.

Isamu just chuckled nervously, his warm hand comforting as it rubbed up and down your back "Call it a buff guy's fast metabolism."

"Leonard isn't even buff!" You pouted at Isamu, your head suddenly flinging back to lean against his shoulder, looking at him with the sweetest puppy eyes.

Isamu stuttered, cheeks reddening "L-Leo didn't drink, di-didn't you see?"

You turned your head a little, cheek still resting against Isamu's shoulder as you squinted at Leonard.

Your memory was so hazy now, after the number of bottles you drank. You couldn't really remember how many bottles Leonard drank.

Or, really, how many bottles you or anyone drank.

"I think I need to lay down." You huffed, moving to go to the couch.

Before you could, Mel wrapped an arm around your middle, pulling you close, his lips brushing against your ear "Woah, there, watch for the table."

You felt your ear immediately turn hot and so did your cheeks. You knew it definitely wasn't the alcohol either because you felt the heat between your legs a little too.

You cursed the three of them (especially Mel) for being so sexy.

Then, you looked down, glaring at the offending piece of furniture. You didn't think you were about to trip on it but it must've moved to foil you on your way.

"Thank you." You turned your head and, as you did, you underestimated how close Mel was and accidentally brushed your lips against the corner of his.

Instead of apologising, you just giggled and escaped his grasp when his arm went slack. You practically dove into the couch, unfolding the what felt like dozens of comfortable soft looking blankets and scattering the pillows.

You started arranging them around you, forming a little nest of sorts. You figured the giant sectional was where they'd put you up for the night so you might as well get comfortable.

You thought you heard the three of them muttering but you got so focused on getting your sleeping arrangements right that you couldn't find it in yourself to pay much attention.

It was wild to even see the sectional! You definitely couldn't complain! The thing could fit the four of you easy and then some! You would sleep comfortably by yourself!

"Well then!" Mel suddenly cleared his throat, making you flinch and turn your head to him (reminding him oddly like an adorable meerkat) "I guess we should leave you to get settled..."

In your daze, you missed both Isamu and Leonard huffing and shoving at Mel but you definitely didn't miss the way Mel took a step back, as if more than happy to leave.

Immediately, your eyes watered. "Wait, you didn't want to hang out more?"

The three of them panicked.

"Oh, no, no, you just looked like you were getting comfortable--"

"I-It's just that w-we just didn't want to get in your way--"

"Way to go, meat-head, you dumbass--"

You just crossed your arms and sniffled, trying to look as angry as possible "I'll forgive you if you hang out with me a little longer."

"I may be a little... emmm, inebriated but I'm not sleepy yet." You added, a little proud of yourself for being able to use such a big word.

Mel chuckled a little but nodded "Okay, sounds good. What do you want to do then?"

"Let's watch a movie!" You immediately pointed to the TV, grin on your face as you moved to lean against the back of the sectional, pillow in your arms and blanket draped over your lap. "C'mon, sit next to me."

At first, all three of them seemed to hesitate but, when Mel sat next to the arm of the sofa, Isamu and Leonard quickly followed.

Like in the kitchen, Leonard sat the closest to you, his shoulder bumping against yours. Isamu sat next to you too but he sat rather stiffly and, lastly, Mel sat on the other side of Isamu, his elbow resting on the arm of the sofa.

"What movie should we watch?"

[vanillacreambunny]

enjoy the silence

genre: fluff, hurt/comfort, romance

words: 2034

warnings: reader is not gendered but has breasts, smut (mdni), biting, blood, established relationship, probably ooc; if I forgot anything, let me know.

notes: this scene popped into my head, and I wrote it. I intended for it to be around 500 words, and it quickly grew out of control. There is no dialogue. I wanted to write something without it, and it seemed to fit what I envisioned. I'm unsure if I accomplished what I wished to. I enjoyed writing it, but I'm not exactly happy with the end. Perhaps I'll rework it one day.

Second time writing for Dottore. Second time writing for Genshin Impact. Second time writing smut, which I didn't want to write in too much detail (for the sake of the story), so I'm sorry if it falls short; I did my best.

Titled after Enjoy the Silence by Depeche Mode.

As always, I apologize for any spelling or grammatical errors that may have gone unnoticed. Thank you to those who take the time to read and comment on my work; it’s greatly appreciated ♥

Another failure. 

Dottore’s not one to let his composure slip, cool and calculated in his actions after centuries of learned patience. First and foremost, he’s a scholar; he cannot allow his emotions to distract from or influence his work. Frustration and doubt simmer below the surface, buried deep within his heart as he starts over from square one with a determination to see the experiment through to the end—to prove to himself he can. Now here he stands, materials knocked haphazardly across the floor, blood on his hands, and his work in ruins. He rips the pages from his journal, cursing his past self for his incompetence. Days locked away in his lab, forgoing sleep, wasting time that could have been better spent elsewhere, and for what purpose? 

His fingers tangle in his hair, pulling until pain pierces his skull and dances along his spine. A laugh reverberates through his chest, shaking his shoulders, and echoing off the walls. His voice sounds foreign to his ears, and he almost doesn’t recognize his reflection when he catches his gaze on the scraps of metal at his feet, the smile on his warped face unsettling even to him. A monster stares back at him—expression bordering insanity—baring its pointed teeth in mockery as it too laughs; not with him, but at him. 

Wrenching the mask from his face with an angry shout, he tosses it across the room, nearly hitting you as you step inside. 

No one dares to approach him at his best and certainly not at his worst—except for you. There’s not a trace of fear in your eyes, only concern. You treat him akin to a wounded animal and not the predator he is, a growl of defiance dying in his throat as you reach up to cup his face in your hands and kiss along the scars that mar his skin, whispering words of comfort he doesn’t deserve though refuses to deny. You’re a mystery he has yet to unravel, and he wonders why you make his heart beat when so little in this world can. 

You coax him from the bowels of his lab into your shared living space, once cold and empty until you wandered into his life, a rabbit making its home in the wolf’s den; fortunately for you, he decided to keep you and claim you as his own against his better judgment. You proved yourself useful, and he’s loath to admit to anyone—including himself—that he longs for your touch when apart and finds solace in your arms, the chaos that is his mind falling quiet in your presence. If he’s a madman, he’s convinced it’s your doing, and his fellow Harbingers may agree. He’s spent years alone, growing accustomed to the loneliness that followed him in his adolescence, embracing who he is and what that meant for him. You’re an outlier, blindsiding him and driving him to question all that he’s come to know. 

With a gentleness that brings him pause, he observes you as you clean and bandage his hands. You care for him. The cynic in him wants to laugh and renounce your foolish affections. How can you let your guard down around him; do you not realize what he is? Your lack of awareness infuriates him. If he were anyone else, you would be dead. The thought itself is sickening. He shouldn’t be bothered; however, you speak to the part of him that yearns to be understood—accepted—to feel the love he once believed out of his reach. 

Smiling, you kiss his knuckles as if those same hands hadn’t spilled blood and taken countless lives. Your eyes meet his, and he’s at your mercy. 

Your patience knows no bounds. No matter how long he’s away, you wait for him. Maybe he had it wrong. It’s not you who is fortunate, it is him, and he’s unsure of how to feel when he comes to that realization. 

He brings your hands to his lips, looking up at you through pale lashes. You shiver beneath his touch, your skin prickling with heat, and he smirks, a low chuckle escaping him. How easily you fall into his grasp, leaning into him instead of pulling away. Sweeping you into his arms, he cradles you against him, humming in contentment. His frustrations disappear, your warmth and the softness of your body easing his mind. You understand the importance of his work, never complain when it demands his undivided attention, and, in turn, he always makes up for lost time. 

His eyes meet yours, and he sees himself mirrored in them, his gaze intense—hungry. Your scent alone is dizzying, and he thinks he’s truly lost it. These carnal desires were of no interest to him before, but you drive him mad. He wants your mind, your heart, your body, and your very soul itself, hoping you can continue to accept a monster such as himself into your loving embrace. He’s so pathetic, and he can’t find it in himself to care. 

The anger that coursed through his veins boils over into an excitement he often feels when his research ends in success, his hard work culminating in a fever pitch that leaves him sated and breathless. And you, you never disappoint. No, you are familiar and comforting, similar to the Ruin Guards he’s studied time and time again, mapping you out from head to toe in a way no one else can. Rather than wires and circuits, you are flesh and blood, full of life and love—a love you willingly give to him. He doesn’t need you. He wants you, your affection, to chase the emotion that swells within his chest when you’re together. These are the moments he accepts his humanity, and he ponders a life that could have been . . . 

The bed creaks under your weight as he lays you down upon it, studying you, how your breath hitches in your throat and his touch leaves goosebumps in its wake. His actions are methodical, precise, removing your clothes at a painstaking pace and trailing kisses down your body all the while. You reach for him, tugging at the collar of his harness, but he pins your arms above your head with a growl and nip of warning to your lips; he wishes to lose himself in you and analyze every dip and curve, every little detail that makes you who you are—he cannot afford distractions, and the tenderness of your caress is far too potent.  

He swallows your whine with a kiss, slow and languid, his free hand coming to rest on the column of your throat, stroking the delicate skin with his thumb. Still, you do not fear him, baring your neck to him with a sigh of longing that makes him all too aware of his own arousal as your legs spread to accommodate him. You’re so needy, but he’s no better, his resolve wavering the second he tastes you on his tongue. 

Your thighs tremble, muscles tensing, as his fingers gather your wetness and sink into your heat. The sound that leaves you is music to his ears. Nuzzling between your breasts, his lips poised above your heart, he listens to the sweet melody of its beats mingled with your breathy moans and the slickness of his thrusts. You are far from perfect, a slave to your humanity, and yet your beauty is unparalleled. Without your flaws, you would not be the person he’s come to adore.  

When his cock replaces his fingers, and your warmth envelops him, he sees stars.  

For a moment he forgets to breathe, his chest tight and eyes glazing over. Every time feels like the first—beautiful and agonizing all at once. He both curses and praises you for bringing him back down to earth and forcing him to feel things he hasn’t in years. How is it possible to hate and love something as much as he does you? His attempts to snuff out the flames you ignited in him failed long ago. In the beginning, the burn was much too painful, and now he welcomes it, melting into you without hesitance or remorse. 

He exhales, shuddering as you brush the hair back from his face and stroke his cheek—tethering him to this godforsaken planet. You gaze up at him, face flushed and eyes brimming with affection. You’re exquisite, and his heart aches at the sight. His fingers flex, digging into your hips, and your lips meet in a bruising kiss. 

You want him. 

Your legs wrap around his waist, drawing him in as he pulls you into his arms and holds you tightly against his chest. This close he can watch the pleasure flicker across your face, not missing a single detail, not even the most minute. His desire comes second to his observations, mind working to commit the image of you to memory. For as long as he lives, he wishes to remember you this way, tears on your cheeks and back arching when you call out a name he once considered long dead. 

You want him. 

His head spins, your cries a siren song he can’t help but follow over the edge. Your body tightens and convulses, and he loses all rationale, swept out to sea in the waves of your ecstasy. It’s as if he’s drowning, gasping for air but unable to stay afloat, and he doesn’t want to. 

A deep growl reverberates through his chest, and he thrusts into you like the madman he is, sloppy and unrefined, but he loves the way you squeeze him, your body begging for all he is and has, and he gives it to you. You writhe beneath him, screaming when his teeth sink into your shoulder, the heady scent of blood filling his nostrils and sliding down his throat like a fine wine. Laving his tongue over the wound, he tilts his head up to lick away your tears before kissing you, staining your lips red. 

In his eyes, you look perfect; his finest creation. Beads of sweat dot your skin like stars, creating constellations he could study for hours. You’re more real than the sky above at any rate. 

Collapsing atop you, into your awaiting arms, you tuck his head beneath your chin as your fingers stroke through his hair. The sensation is electrifying, grounding him as he steadies himself and catches his breath. Exhaustion weighs heavily upon him, though he hasn’t felt such peace in weeks. He allows himself this, your warmth and affection regardless of how many times he’s told himself he doesn’t need this—need you. It’s a part of himself he has yet to come to terms with, but he doesn’t want to lose the happiness you bring him. It’s different than the happiness his work provides. It makes him feel human—it makes him feel whole. 

There’s no harm in exploring it further, is there? 

He rolls onto his back, bringing you with him. A smile softens his features, and he doesn’t hide the fact he’s enamored by you, admiring your blissful expression in the afterglow of your lovemaking. Sliding a hand between your legs, he gives a purr of satisfaction at the stickiness of his release that now coats your thighs and the shiver that travels through you from his touch. 

This calls for another round of tests to evaluate his findings, he decides. A true scholar wouldn’t stop here, after all. 

The following morning, fractured sunlight pours through the frost on the windows, and you snuggle into his thigh, blanket pulled over your head to keep out the cold and catch a few more minutes of sleep. Perhaps he merely required a good night’s rest to clear his mind, and he has you to thank for that. His pen glides across the parchment with ease, and it’s almost infuriating how everything falls into place. You were the exception it seems. Setting his notes aside, he joins you under the covers, tongue tracing the bruise that now darkens your shoulder. He grins, all teeth, when you gasp. 

It’s only fair he rewards his assistant for their hard work. 

[mono-dot-jpeg]

listening - stellaron hunters

summary; you cannot see the reality in front of you but you can hear it. and yet it sounds so painful.

genre/extra tags; headcanons, angst ig?, hurt/comfort (questionably executed), reader has torchwick's (rwby) cane weapon thing but not really, reader has the hunt path and lighting as combat type, i'm seeing in 4d right now with how im setting this specific reader up rn, actual lore executed badly

[platonic] [teen reader] [gender neutral]

[warnings; mentions of eye injuries, insecurities/doubts about one's self, weapons mentioned quite a bit]

[buy me a kofi]

a/n; sorry this took me almost a month (maybe longer depending on when i finish this work). got distracted very quickly by other things and then i got writer's block for a while. whatever so. i'll describe reader's weapon in the headcanons, don't worry. hope you enjoy.

you were an unexpected addition to the hunters. i mean you're so young compared to everyone else, what makes you so adamant on joining this group

i guess we'll never know /ref

but like all the hunters, you hold power just as heavy as the rest.

of course it wasn't for free. you worked hard in your homeland and you earned your path and power.

but you wanted to find something. something was missing.

you didn't know what.

but then you found the stellaron hunters.

you heard about the stellaron and you wanted to know more. you wanted to see it.

and somehow, elio had accepted you.

and you were now a hunter.

before you lost your sight, you were very skilled with tech like silver wolf. you loved making weapons or machinery

you worked behind the scenes and on the stage, so to speak

your preferred weapon was a sniper. and occasionally if you felt lazy, you would have a small turret by your side that would do the work for you

but imagine the absolute devastation you felt when you lost your eyesight in the middle of a mission. or more like during the mission

with your power, it was powerful but unstable

you could kill one enemy with ease but that would require high control with your lightning and careful aim with your sniper

unfortunately you have to control the lightning through your hands on onto the sniper so when you aim down the sights (i dont know how to describe it other than in gamer terms) that lightning has a chance to backfire and hit your eye

through that you managed to lose your sight overtime but this mission accelerated it

and you never felt so devastated

your power betrayed you and on top of that, it was in the middle of a battle and the enemies took an opportunity to take you down quickly.

blade and kafka were there to help clean up at least

but they couldn't handle the lost mess you were

"why can't i see anymore? why?" was the only mutters they heard from you

when you were taken back to base, you were attended to, much to your dismay and fear.

your usually hard headed behavior crumbled within 10 mins after you lost your vision

you felt weak

you felt helpless

you didn't feel strong anymore

your eyes were no longer functional, there's an irregular pattern that traces over your eyes and there's faint marks over the eye area you used the most for sniping.

blade describes the pattern as an angry lightning storm that doesn't end

and when you're done being cared for, you don't leave your room

when you do, you're dragged by kafka or silverwolf (occasionally blade but he just carries you roughly)

you feel like a burden every time you sit at the meeting table

you can hear everything with your vision gone

and you hate it

you want to see again but you know you won't

eventually you find your courage to start to navigate the base on your own

you find yourself in your abandoned lab with blade by your side

"stop frowning like that"

"that's a lot coming from you"

"you're really going to let this eye sight stop you?"

"well i can't exactly wield metal anymore. and i can't use my sniper rifle cane, what do you think i should do, boy genius?"

you feel him open your hand to show your palm and you feel a cold metal touch your hand. you start feeling it properly.

"this is my sniper rifle, blade."

"well, maybe it doesn't have to serve as a sniper. you don't need to take the first shot to kill."

and with that in mind, you become like a follow-up attacker

you train endlessly to improve yourself as much as possible.

you ask silver wolf to help you modify your weapon to work for you (you kind of backseated her about it despite being unable to see what she was doing)

and you now have a multi-functioning cane.

it functions as a gun, a mobility cane to help you walk and "see", and a melee weapon if you hit someone hard enough (which isn't really hard since it's made of a lightweight metal)

and of course if worse comes to worse and you need to deal with a bunch of enemies at once, it can release a powerful strike of lightning (similar to jingyuan ult). you have to let go of your cane so you don't get hurt but ehh small price to pay to save your ass, you know?

i think that since you're a teen in this, the hunters don't really pay attention to your feelings as well as they should

none of them really know how to comfort a teen. which makes sense.

blade and silver wolf are blunt in their own ways

kafka is very avoidant or she speaks so confusingly that you dont even bother

but when they really see you visit your unused lab everyday, they slowly start to understand that you had a part of you taken and you won't ever live your life the way you want to

but surely this is the work of elio. elio knew this was coming, and he knew you would be fine.

it takes a while for the others to tell you that you're not the burden you think you are. they try their best to comfort you even if it's really awkward bc they don't know how to comfort you properly yet

but you appreciated it.

[rootsofdread]

Hello! While I had intended to place my second request when my first one was completed, I'm worried you'll close your asks before then, so here we go. A gender neutral reader who steals the killer's melee weapons. It's not a one off thing, no, it's something they do all the time. They grab it and run. I'll leave what killers to you, I want to be surprised, but please do two if you have the time. Sincerely, a wolf.

did three for ya, wolf! :-D

Evan MacMillan / The Trapper:

Evan had lodged his cleaver into a tree to set up some traps unencumbered, he knew he’d be unhappy if he ran into one of the survivors without it, but he figured it was the best way to do it quickly. A little while later, he came back to find it had been ripped out of the bark. The tracks in the dirt were still fresh, he knew you had to have only recently taken it. He huffed. He knew it was a mistake to leave it behind, now one of you has taken it…bear trap in hand, he sets off to find where you’d run off to. He found you almost halfway across the grounds using his cleaver to hack down a wall. His hand twitched.

He’s already an angry man, and taking his weapon just makes him angry. It’s a quick way to set him off rampaging through the grounds slaughtering anyone in his path simply to find where you’ve gone with it. He finds a way without his cleaver, you’ve seen it first-hand. Fortunately, with his weapon, you’re able to do a moderate amount of defending yourself and your teammates — until he grabs you by the collar of your shirt and stares deep into your soul, disapprovingly.

Even though he gets angry, he feels like he has to admire your fighting spirit when you decide to use his own weapon against him. You remind him of himself, in a weird way…and in an even weirder way, he likes that. You’d think he’d come to hate you for taking his things, but it’s quite the opposite.

Max Thompson, Jr. / The Hillbilly:

The first time you’d done it, Max had only set his chainsaw down for a second to throw somebody on a hook. He didn’t even know anyone else was lurking around. When he turned to pick it back up, it was gone. At first, he thought he must’ve misremembered where he put it. He doesn’t have the best memory, and it’s happened before…until he saw you running around in the distance with something clutched in your hand that didn’t look like anything you were supposed to have. He didn’t immediately register that it was his chainsaw, but when he did…to say he was furious would be an understatement.

After this, he’s a little more careful about where he puts his chainsaw and when he puts it there. He checks around corners before setting it down to make sure you’re not hiding nearby to swipe it. Sometimes, you don’t, and he’s relieved that he doesn’t have to chase you down to get it back. Unfortunately, most of the time you do end up getting your hands on it one way or another; he’d be willing to throw away the entire trial just to get it back and throw you on a hook for inconveniencing him.  

He doesn’t appreciate your thievery, but sometimes, he does seem to appreciate having someone to run around with. Nobody else cares much for him; and even though he doesn’t read your stealing as caring, necessarily, you’re still spending time around him, and going out of your way to do so. Some part of him almost, in a way, finds it sweet that you’re doing this.

Talbot Grimes / The Blight:

Talbot had accidentally thrown his cane a ways away once when trying to rush at someone. Miraculously, the hit had landed, but he had no idea where the Bonebuster had gone off to. He glanced around as he carried them over to a hook, trying to see the glint of the top in the moonlight; instead, in it’s place where it had landed, he saw you brandishing it and grinning. The second you realized he was staring at you, you bolted away with it. He cursed at you. He needs that, you insolent twerp, give it back! He immediately threw his victim on the ground and rushed after you.

You’d be surprised how often his cane slips out of his hand, and how many opportunities you have to snag it. Sometimes, he even thinks he’s safe setting it down for just a moment to replenish his energy with his serum. You take every chance you get, and he’s angry every single time, without fail. He’s not one for colorful language, he is a scientist, and a gentleman, after all, but it comes out when he’s running after you. Most of the time, you catch the giggling of other survivors as he curses at you. It’s so unlike him.

That said, he seems to have a strange admiration for your boldness, your courage, your willingness to push the limits and the buttons of himself and, as far as he can assume, other killers. No one else is quite as brave as you are, stealing his weapon and getting close enough to do so, for that, he feels he has to give you credit. He may even be compelled to run experiments: exactly how close are you willing to get?

[zorosdimples]

YOU’RE MINE

pairing ༄ alpha!kakashi x princess!reader

warnings ༄ minors: please do not interact! i will block you. suggestive content, predator/prey dynamics, light a/b/o dynamics, mild descriptions of injuries. reader is a princess, wears a gown, and has an intricate hairstyle, but there are no gendered terms aside from “princess.” kakashi calls reader “pup” once.

word count ༄ 922

notes ༄ everyone can thank cher @honeylavendr for unknowingly?baiting me into writing this. it was really only a matter of time… kakashi is my first love and i’ve lost the omegaverse battle, so this is the result. this has no plot, so just enjoy the whirlwind of emotions!

the cold air bites at your exposed flesh like a hungry wolf. you ignore your discomfort as you hike up the heavy skirt of your gown and delve deeper into the pitch-dark forest. stray moonbeams cut through the dense canopy and illuminate patches of earth and gaps between the trees, your winding path mostly guesswork as you feel your way through the vegetation.

branches sharp as claws rip your gown and flay your flesh, and while you can faintly feel the warm dribble of blood down your frozen temple, it’s difficult to focus on anything other than moving forward. shreds of shimmering velvet catch in brambles as you run, but the sickening sound of fabric tearing doesn’t reach your ears.

after what feels like hours of running, your senses are overwhelmed to the point of numbness. the only absolute truth is your ragged breathing; everything else is hearsay as you float through the night, a whisper among the leaves. the primal urge to just survive is your sole guide.

your lungs burn and legs ache—at least you think they do—but your mind and body are currently separate entities. you know your pace is unsustainable, and you cry out to the gods in relief when you finally crash through the tree line and into a clearing. the moon hangs brightly in the inky sky, light rippling on the surface of a lake so large it stretches beyond the horizon.

you collapse to the ground in a pool of tattered velvet, frantically gasping for air as the tight bodice of your gown painfully squeezes your chest. a wave of nausea rolls over you and you bite back the urge to retch.

stretching your legs out, you clumsily gather your skirt and pull it back, gasping when you see the mottled bruises and bloody gashes that litter your skin. feet in agony, you opt to crawl to the edge of the lake to peer at your reflection in the frigid water.

“you can’t hide from me, princess.”

the smooth taunt stops you mid-crawl, horror blossoming in your gut and unfurling to caress every nerve in your now-trembling body. as if you can no longer control your movements—can you ever when he’s around?—you slowly turn to face the shadowy forest.

you see his eyes before anything else. his right iris shines silver like a honed dagger and his left glows crimson like spilled blood. when kakashi emerges from the cover of darkness, you forget your fear for a moment and bristle with irritation. he looks impeccable—not a strand of hair or thread of clothing is out of place. he doesn’t look like he has been tracking you through the wilderness for hours. for a split second, your right palm itches to slap his perfect face.

kakashi is unhurried as he approaches you, soaking in the sight of the kingdom’s beloved princess at his feet, cowering in defeat. when he reaches you, kneeling down so you are eye level, he decides that you have never looked more beautiful.

your soft face is covered in claret scrapes and angry welts, shiny eyes swollen and dripping hot tears. your hair has fallen out of the intricate updo your handmaiden worked on all afternoon; most of the pearls and pins that once adorned your silken strands would now rot away on the forest floor. the expensive gown that took hundreds of hours of labor and dozens of seamstresses to craft is now unrecognizable.

fear courses through your veins under his scrutiny, but kakashi doesn’t have to look at you to know how you feel. he can smell how terrified you are. it only makes him desire you more.

he reaches out a gloved hand to brush your icy cheek, but you jerk away from his touch. he simply tuts in mock annoyance. “there is nowhere left for you to run, princess.” his coo is cloying as he leans over you. his signature mask covers the bottom half of his face, but when he sees you eyeing the fabric, he slips it down with a cruel smirk. “if you want to look, all you have to do is ask, my little omega.”

you swallow dryly at those words. you are no longer just an omega; you are his omega, his mate. the fetters of royalty have chained you to this man—this monster. kakashi moves to grip both of your arms at the elbows, large hands gently pulling you closer and closer until you tumble into his lap.

“no matter how many times you try to run, i will always find you,” kakashi murmurs into your ear, warm breath lighting a fire beneath your skin. he nuzzles your cheek then grazes his fangs down the side of your neck, leaving goosebumps his wake; you shiver beautifully for him. “do you know why, pup?”

you whimper as kakashi’s lips ghost his mark on the juncture of your neck and shoulder. he kisses the healing wound sweetly before laving his tongue over it until you breathe a pleased sigh. kakashi raises his head to meet your heavy lidded gaze, one hand cradling your face, the other—now gloveless, claws exposed—slicing down the length of your dress until you sit completely bare. his lips meet yours chastely, but for some inexplicable reason, you hunger for more. he pulls back with a chuckle after you try to pry his mouth open with your tongue. both of his hands come up to wrap around your neck, thumbs pressing sharply beneath your chin.

“it’s because you’re mine.”

[sorendeimos]

What an angry, disposable man… Nothing but a pawn … born to be damned.

How I perceive Severus Snape

Notes: Go into this understanding that to Me, Severus is deeply flawed and broke and trauma filled. There are parts of him I see as soft and squishy, covered by hate to keep Them from bruising. If you don’t like that, do not read this. Otherwise, enjoy.

TW: Mentions of alcohol abuse, drug abuse, sex, physical and emotional abuse, poor mental health, death, manipulation Please do not read if you cannot handle these topics.

Basics

Severus T̶o̶b̶i̶a̶s̶ Snape—01/09/1960 INFJ 5w6 Slytherin he/she/they gender apathetic

Personality

𖤐 Anxious 𖤐 Quiet, yet explosive when angry 𖤐 Calculating 𖤐 Jumpy 𖤐 Constantly self-destructing 𖤐 Studious 𖤐 Woefully inept at being social

Mannerisms

𖤐 Has neatly manicured hands and wears gloves to protect them. 𖤐 Carries with him a book, a notebook, and a pen at all times. 𖤐 Gets stomach ulcers from stress and poor self care. 𖤐 Takes up smoking as an adult after The Attack 𖤐 Has terrible coping mechanisms, ranging from excessive hours of brewing in the dark to binges of alcohol, drugs, and sex. 𖤐 Developed his harsh personality because of his father hating the sound of his laughter as a kid.

Family

𖤐 Tobias Snape — Father 𖤐 Eileen Prince — Mother 𖤐 Paternal Grandparents — unknown 𖤐 Maternal Grandparents — unknown

𖤐 A Moment in Time 𖤐

Friendships

𖤐 Lily Evans — childhood best friend 𖤐 Remus Lupin — study partner/friend 𖤐 Charity Burbage — close friend 𖤐 Narcissa Malfoy née Black — close friend 𖤐 Lucius Malfoy — close friend 𖤐 Regulus Black — friend

Relationships

𖤐 The Malfoys

After Hogwarts, they were all close, close enough for the Malfoys to open their marriage for Severus. Not because they lusted for him, but because he needed them and it kept his destruction contained.

𖤐 remus lupin

With Remus, Severus could exist as a whole person. There were no games or masks, as the wolf would sniff them out. Remus was and is a calming presence in his life that got him to open up, process, and relax.

𖤐 Regulus Black

Regulus was Severus’s first kiss. They did not date, per se but they did a number of things together. Severus was regulus’s only and it still hurts Severus to his core to recall this. He tries not to.

𖤐 a moment of weakness 𖤐

Trauma

𖤐 Severus suffers from night terrors, horrid dreams that teeter between reality and fantasy. As a result, he is jumpy, often exhausted, and irritable. 𖤐 The night terrors stem from the day his Father became a monster 𖤐 The day severus showed his first sign of magic, Tobias lost it. He flew into a fear based rage, throwing Severus into his room, and Eileen was left to explain everything. 𖤐 Tobias began to drink and hit soon after 𖤐 Severus went to hogwarts, eager to learn magic to defend himself and his mother, but became a target here as well. 𖤐 The marauders, mainly James and Sirius, tormented severus throughout Their years together. 𖤐 He became a bitter and angry boy as a result. he only found solace in his friendships with lily and eventually remus, potions, and dark magic research. 𖤐 His interests gained him friends in the malfoys and other supporters. The prank shattered his friendship with remus and followed by the assault shattering the one with lily. 𖤐 After graduation, Severus threw himself into his mastery and coped with the rage inside him via the Malfoys.

𖤐 forgiveness 𖤐

End of part one

[aleprouswitch]

How to Tell Noise Artists Apart

Merzbow: Nothing makes sense, yet *everything* makes sense.

Masonna: Screaming about Vaginas or something idek

Whitehouse: Edgy dads yelling about fucked up sex over WASP drones

Consumer Electronics: When the Mr. is tired of telling you how worthless you are, the Mrs. will finish the job. (Update: Not anymore!)

Hijokaidan: Music so loud you have to piss on stage to enjoy it.

The Gerogerigegege: ????????????????? vacuum cleaner sex ????????????????????????

Suckdog: This is a big, beautiful fucking mess made by two wild girls and a cassette recorder.

Master/Slave Relationship: Sounds like something you would hear playing in a grimy torture chamber.

Hanatarash: OH GOD EVERYTHING IS BEING BULLDOZED GET ME OUT OF HERE

The Haters: OH GOD EVERYTHING IS ON FIRE GET ME OUT OF HERE

Ramleh: Songs are lush and ambient; you almost forget this is a noise project

Sutcliffe Jugend: Surprisingly melodic songs about serial killers and Nazis.

Genocide Organ: This might be about Nazis. I don’t know. The beats slap regardless.

Haus Arafna: This is definitely about Nazis, but like, how awful they were. The synth lead slaps so fucking hard regardless.

Brighter Death Now: You’re wincing the entire time you’re hearing the lyrics.

Deathpile: Every song is about a serial killer; every word is barked out like an angry, scornful god

Atrax Morgue: Paraphilia time! What turns me on? Everything! What makes me want to die? Everything!

The Rita: OUCH MY EARS OUCH MY BRAIN OUCH OUCH OUCH

Wolf Eyes: They look like garage rock dads but sound like a freight train derailing in a village full of small children.

Aaron Dilloway: Sounds like warped cassette tapes haunted by all the ghosts in a city morgue

Prurient: I am TINY and I am HORNY and I am ANGRY ABOUT BEING TINY AND HORNY.

Alberich: You're dancing to the beats but feeling slightly uneasy over the guy in sunglasses and a trench coat screaming at you.

Justice Yeldham: There’s probably blood spatter on whatever you ordered, and that adds extra “oomph” to the audio.

Dreamcrusher: GENDER IS OVER AND I’M GOING TO SCREAM ABOUT IT UNTIL YOU ACCEPT IT

Puce Mary: Movie soundtrack samples with poems about sex and/or death.

Croatian Amor: Pretty sure this guy wasn’t hugged enough as a child.

Author & Punisher: Okay, this is really fucking cool. Look at all those homemade instruments. Listen to that super melodic hook. Damn son.

Pharmakon: Loud noises, even louder screeching, every song is about bodies falling apart.

Trepaneringsritualen: Pagan lyrics growled out by a man that looks like an actual real Viking

Moor Mother: Hip Hop and noise had a baby and it’s full of justifiable rage

Lingua Ignota: She’s singing in Latin, she’s making weird faces, OH GOD THIS IS TERRIFYING, OH GOD wait a minute never mind she’s playing banjo now

[leviswritingpage]

An Unhealthy Obsession-Story synopsis and requests

Brief Description:

You’re just a college student, trying to get by. Between a job you don’t care about, and lack of any relationship, there’s next to know excitement in your day to day. That might change however, when you attract the attention of a mafia family. At first, you didn’t suspect anything. Sure, you were meeting a lot of cool people in a short span of time, but nothing suspicious about that...right? 

-----

Suddenly, 9 yandere types become important parts of your life. And you? You’re their world. Reader will be pan in this story, and (spoiler alert) will end up with all of them. So heavy themes of polyamorous in this as well. 

-----

This is my first piece of writing I’ll be publishing, and it’s ambitious but. Had this idea in mind for a while. Was originally going to write it as a completely original work, with an OC to date the mafia family, but I’ve been falling into reader inserts recently. 

-----

What I’ll write for:

x reader stories with one or more of the characters, character interactions between multiple of these yanderes, how they met in the first place, and SFW scenes, violence, and different genres. Angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, etc, reader of any gender (please specify).  

What I WON”T write for:

I will write NSFW eventually, but for now I plan to keep it SFW. Just until I get a better grasp of writing it, and do fully plan to have optional NSFW scenes for this series later. 

Character descriptions, pictures, and roles in the mafia below. 

Characters that will be involved in this and their picrew pictures:

Clingy:

Name-Finnian

Age-22

Gender-Male (He/Him)

Height-5’7

Role-Driver

Personality-Whiney, tends to pout and has a very “femboy” vibe. Can be pretty shy, and can fall a bit into the overprotective category. He dropped out of college, since he couldn’t find a field he wanted. Pretty indecisive in general, and has only fallen in love once…he doesn’t want to again. Can be blind to his own emotions, so when he starts getting clingy he’s the last to know it’s a crush/love thing. 

Obsessive:

Name-Nile

Age-19

Gender-Gender Queer/Gender Fluid (He/they)

Height-5’8

Role-Student (College-Elementary School Education) 

Personality-They are an aspiring teacher, but get in trouble for getting on their phone. They obsess easily, but fall out of that obsession even easier. Tends to hyperfocus on something for a few weeks to months, then abandons it entirely. They fall in love all the time. But again, they fall out of that love pretty quickly. And aren’t afraid to tell someone that.

Possessive:

Name-Ireena

Age-26

Gender-Female (She/her)

Height-5’2

Role-Vigilante

Personality-Very…very aggressive. Doesn’t know how to express emotions clearly, and she tends to sleep all day, then is awake “hunting” at night. The family is really the only people that see her. And she plans to keep it that way. Even her targets don’t see her often. Almost “assassin”-like. Gets angry at the littlest things, and takes it out on her targets. Most of her targets are people that are a threat to her family. 

Manipulative:

Name-Cleo

Age-28

Gender-Female (She/her)

Height-5’9

Role-Godfather

Personality-Comes off as cold, or callous. Hides her emotions well, so no one REALLY knows what she’s thinking. Will smile and lie through her teeth to get what she wants. Even to the point of fake crying at will, if it meant getting her out of “trouble”. She’ll end up flirting, but who knows if she really means it. 

Overprotective:

Name-Tatum

Age-25

Gender-Nonbinary (They/them)

Height-6’0

Role-Bodyguard

Personality-They’re deadpan. Rarely shows emotions on their face. Has a cute side, and that just so happens to be when they see small animals. Even big animals are called “cute”. They can see a wolf bigger than them, and still excitedly call out “PUPPY!”

Sadistic:

Name-Maeve

Age-26

Gender-Female (She/Her)

Height-5’6

Role-Cop/Mole

Personality-Acts really bubbly and kind. She’s always a “good cop” in that way. However…when she does “play” bad-cop? It’s downright scary. She’ll say threats that shouldn’t grace people’s ears, all the while having a chilling smile on her face. She can be rude to her family, and threaten to lock them up on the regular. Sometimes she’ll even pull over one of her siblings, just to see them squirm. But the second they see it’s her they leave. She lets them. Lets them.

Delusional:

Name-Hunter

Age-18

Gender-Male (He/Him)

Height-5’11

Role-Reporter

Personality-Can be overbearing, but he’s always looking for a new story. That’s how he comes across, that is. He’d rather a reporter than get bored and sit through classes in college. He interviews his family's next target, who are higher profile than that of others. He’ll put himself in danger for a story, but he knows he can fend for himself. Something. If anything else, he knows how limited someone’s time on earth is if his siblings figured out who hurt him. 

Self-Indulgent:

Name-Blake

Age-21

Gender-Male (He/Him)

Height-6’2

Role-Informant

Personality-Constantly meeting/flirting with new people. He drinks a lot, goes to parties, and acts drunk as hell. But he’s really getting closer to targets. Finding out information to report back to his family, before doing it all again the next night. Even his family doesn’t know if he’s talking to targets or partying for real. Probably a little of both.

Impulsive:

Name-River

Age-22

Gender-Male (He/Him)

Height-5’3

Role-Mortician

Personality-He HATES his job. If he’s too bored he’ll not show up. Or leave early. He’ll go and gamble for hours, and return to work with his new wad of cash. He’s very…very good at gambling. Mostly because his family knows of his gambling, and pays the casinos to let him make the best bet. He doesn’t even NEED any of the money. It’s just fun. Might steal a car and kiss a stranger. Who knows with this one.

[equizona]

The security breach crew react to a reader biting their own fingers until they bleed

⤷ BITING YOUR FINGERS RED

glamrock freddy, glamrock chica, roxanne wolf, montgomery gator, sundrop, moondrop || five night's at freddy's

gender-neutral reader

masterlist, navigation

sometimes I have no clue what to write

⤷ GLAMROCK FREDDY

Nearly has a panic attack when he notices the red staining your fingers. He's quick to gently take your hands away from your mouth so you can't keep biting them, hurrying you to a first aid station so he can fix your hands up.

Will be scolding you the entire time. Why are you biting your fingers enough for them to bleed? Your blood is supposed to stay inside of your body, believe him. If you're doing it because you were stressed, bored or anything else, he will do his best to aid the reasoning so you won't keep doing it.

⤷ GLAMROCK CHICA

Much like Freddy, she freaks out when she notices what happened. She squeaks in protest, and she's sure her heart would have stopped had she been a human. She immediately rushes you to the nearest first aid station. She probably picks you up so you getters quicker, too.

Gets rather pushy about knowing why you did it if you don't tell her the first time she asks to know. Why don't you want her knowing? Is it something bad? Have people been picking on you? Does she need to eat scold someone? When you tell her, she'll do her best to help if there is a reason, if not, she'll see if there's anyway for you both to work together to get over the habit.

⤷ ROXANNE WOLF

She also freaks out, to maybe some people's surprise. Stumbles over a bunch of the staff bots in her haste to get you to a first aid station.

She doesn't really process you did that yourself at first, so she's asking how it happened, thinking maybe someone else hurt you. When she finds out you have a habit of biting your fingers, she's still worried just in a different way. She'll try and figure out a plan with you to get you over the habit.

⤷ MONTGOMERY GATOR

Pretty much the only glamrock who doesn't completely lose their shit. He's still a bit panicked, but he handles it a lot better than the other three. He's no less quick in getting you to a first aid station to get you all bandaged up.

Gets kinda angry with you for hurting yourself like that. Why in the world are you biting your own fingers? He doesn't understand, but if he sees that he's upsetting you, he'll remove himself from the situation and get one of the others to check on you. Will come back once he's calmed down and ask you how he can he'll you to not do it.

⤷ SUNDROP

He handles it really well, actually. Little kids get hurt all the time, sometimes they don't even notice and other times they won't stop crying out of fear, regardless if it hurts or not. Handles the situation really well with getting you bandaged up.

Doesn't know what to do with getting you to stop though, he knows habits are difficult to get out of, so he'll mostly ask you what he can do to help you out.

⤷ MOONDROP

Handles the situation really well, much like his daytime counterpart. While it's less frequent, some kids won't stay still and will get themselves injured when it's his turn to be in charge. He'll make sure it gets proper care so nothing gets infected.

If you have no idea how to stop yourself from biting your fingers, he has a bunch of ideas and suggestions you can try that might help out!

[proxylynn]

…..Im starting to like Damon…please tell me some canon facts abt him and his personality.

[*cracks knuckles* Okay...Here's everything from his bio page.]

Name- Stalker (real name- Damon) Color- Red Age- 30 January 6, Capricorn, chinese zodiac: Rooster, 1993 Height- 194 cm Gender- Male sexuality- Pansexual and poly but only with MC and DG Horoscope- Capricorn Personality- quiet, forgiving, curious, clingy, caring but also violent when he loses his temper, gets jealous easily. Ability- Good sense of smell, strong bite force. He pretty much has ability of wolf. Likes- gardening, roses, meat, calm music, bees, MC, taking photos. Dislikes- loud noises, the feeling of loneliness, getting heart broken, rough/bad scents. Work- Florist Voice- Similar voice with Legoshi from Beastar favorite animal- Bees favorite food and drink- Meat and coffee/energy drinks Kink- knife play/blood play, biting, gentle and rough sex, teasing, sadism/masochism, hair pulling, praise.

Backstory- During his younger years Stalker had always been very quiet and awkward around others. He wasn't very popular during his school years and he was bullied heavily due to his shy nature. To stay calm he would carry a rose in pot with him, this would lead to even more bullying. Eventually he became used to being bullied but things became more difficulty when he developed a crush. Being so shy he didn't have the courage to talk to her so he started to stalk her in hopes of getting to know her better. When he finally got enough courage to talk to her and tell her about his feelings things didn't go so well. When she realized that he had been stalking her she became very angry and disturb with him. She rejected him and ruined the rose he tried to give her as a gift of his love. She told other people about what he did and from then on people started to call him Stalker. He didn't care about being called Stalker and over time he accept it as his new name. But being rejected by his crush hurt him very deeply. This rejection angred him so much that one day he killed her. He was never caught for his crime but people suspected him to be the culprit, however they thought he's was to weak to do something like that. He was still bullied and he did his best to avoided others. The bullying did stop when he lost his temper after one of the bullies attacked him and ruined his potted rose. In his rage he attacked the bully and brutally beat them. Afterwards his parents decided to move away to get a new start for him.

As an adult he continued to avoided people but his loneliness and depression became too much for him to bare. He yearned to find someone he could be close to and love but he was fearful of being rejected again. So he went back stalking people he developed an interest with. Even though he believed he won't find anybody he hoped that one day he would find the right one. And even though they were just crushes he would get extremely jealous if someone flirted with his crush. He would kill the ones who tried to take his crushes away. During one of his killing episodes he meet Delivery guy who was trying to find a new victim. Delivery guy was very interested in Stalker and wanted to get to know him better and eventually they became close friends.

-He had crush on Angel but since she is very popular he never really got a chance to get close to her and tell her about his feelings so when the times passed he slowly began to lose the hope that he could ever be her boyfriend what eventually end up to giving up and moving on with his life. It was tough for him but it hurt even more not being able to reach to her. (not to mention he doesn't like being constantly jealous. Which happens a lot when he had to watch others fawning over Angel.)

Extra- -He works at flower shop. -loves dancing. -He played piano when he was younger. -loves swimming. -Has sensitive ears. -He doesn't really know how to cook (maybe simple ones) but pretty much because of this he usually eats the meat raw. (He can eat raw meat without any problem. He won't get sick.) -He owns a big bee plushie what he usually hugs when he's sleeping or when he's feeling sad. -He likes to play games with DG even though he's not very good at playing. -He's only ok sharing MC with DG but he can get jealous if DG gets more attention than him. -Loves chocolate. -Damon has sometimes thought about getting help because there been times when people has told him to get help so he gets these thoughts that he should but DG doesn't like the idea and always tells Damon that he doesn't need it and those people who has said that are wrong and he's perfect how he is. DG tries his best to turn Damon's thoughts away from it because he worries he will lose his friend.