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stollengoods · 3 days ago

Text

Will You Be Ours ?

Thagyu x Fem! Reader

~ Valentine’s Day Fic ~

Contains: Fluff AF w/ very little smut

Warnings: Cursing & Slight Smut

Summary: Your two boyfriends said they just wanted to have a chill Valentine’s Day since it was your 4th one together. You agreed going along with it but the weeks leading up to it, you could sense their was something they were hiding from you… but what they had planned was far better than anything you could’ve ever imagined.

————

You got to sleep in today, your boyfriends’ insisted. You all agreed to just have a nice relaxing chill day in, on Valentine’s Day, being it was your 4th one together. Nam-gyu suggested on all of you making dinner together for tonight. Then sit on the couch and watch a movie while eating the dinner that you guys had made.

You liked the idea, especially since it took off some of the pressure for not only having to plan a big surprise for one person but two. In the back of your head tho, you knew they were up to something.

The way that for the past two weeks you would come home and hear music blasting from inside the house but once inside it was turned off. You decided to ask Nam-gyu about it the third time that it had happened.

He would always linger near the kitchen door way as if trying to casually block it off. When you asked him what all the commotion was about, he would tell you that it was probably the neighbors you heard. He’d blink twice before he lied and that’s how you knew they were planning something.

You woke up on Valetine’s Day needing to pee, Nam-guy’s arm wrapped around your waist as his head was nestled in your hair. You tried getting up but Nam-gyu held an iron grip on you.

You huffed, turning your body to face his, “Babe.” You whispered trying to wake him up just enough to get him to let go of you.

“Baby.” You tried again but to no avail.

You rolled your eyes, getting frustrated as your bladder was going to burst any second now.

“Nam-gyu.” You snapped, your voice just a pinch above your normal tone.

You felt him flinch as he shook his head trying to peel his eyes open to look at you. “Huh ?”

“I need to pee.” You spoke, frantically trying to move his arm from around you.

“Oh.” He groaned, releasing you.

You ran to the toilet, sighing in relief once you finished up flushing and washing your hands. Nam-gyu was still in bed when you walked back into the room, his hair scattered everywhere like he got struck by lighting.

He patted the mattress in front of him and pouted. You felt a smile spread across your lips as you gladly re-joined him back in bed. He threw the the covers over the both of you as his arm resumed its position around your waist.

You giggled, “Babe, we can’t sleep all day…”

He whined, burring his head into your hair again. “We won’t I promise, it’s only 7:45 right now. We can sleep in a little longer.” With the comforter keeping you nice and cozy along with your boyfriend’s body heat how could you say no ?

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” You yawned, closing your eyes and soon fell asleep along with your boyfriend.

————

You woke up to the smell of rich hazelnut and someone gently shaking your shoulder. You peeled your eyes open to see Nam-gyu holding a coffee cup in front of you.

You smiled, taking the cup from him as you sat up. He had a cup of his own, sipping on it, as he made his way to the end of the bed. You joined him, immediately gulping down your coffee, hoping it would heat you up in the freezing cold room.

Nam-gyu noticed you shivering next to him and set his coffee cup down on the foot board. Reaching behind him he pulled the covers over your guy’s shoulders and you each grabbed the side of the blanket connecting it in the middle. Nam-gyu scooted closer to you, filling in the space next you guys as he rested his head on your shoulder.

“Thank you.” You hummed.

He nodded his head reaching over the top of the blanket to grab his coffee before settling back into your guy’s cocoon.

“Where’s Su-bong ?” You asked, the coffee waking you up enough now to realize he was missing from y’all’s bed.

He looked up at you and blinked twice. You smiled knowing the next thing to come out of his mouth was going to be bullshit, but you weren’t upset at it. Knowing that your boyfriends were trying to surprise you but fumbled at keeping things under-wraps was both hilarious and heart warming to you.

“I think he said he had to run to the studio real quick to take care of something.” He shrugged trying to play it off and you bit your lip to suppress a laugh.

You nodded your head and grabbed both his and your coffee cup, setting it down on the foot board. Nam-gyu looked at you a bit confused, “Hey I wasn’t done yet.” He protested.

You laughed, before cupping his face and leaning in to kiss him. He immediately forgot about the coffee as his hands went to the side of your hips pulling you more into him.

The cocoon around you guys had vanished as your hands were now occupied by each other’s bodies. You positioned yourself on top of Nam-gyu, the cold air nipping at your bare skin but you didn’t mind as your mind was focused on other things right now.

He slipped a cold hand underneath your shirt to knead your breast and you hissed into the kiss. “What’s wrong ?” He asked pulling away from you.

You shook your head smiling down at him as your noses rubbed against each other, “Happy Valentine’s Day love.”

His cheeks blushed a light pink, “Happy Valentine’s Day baby.”

You giggled, then pecked his lips before rolling off of him, your feet landing on the floor. One of Nam-gyu’s hands lightly held onto your arm and slid down to your hand as you made your way off of the bed. His fingers now held yours as he pouted once again, patting the space next to him.

“Just a little longer.” He pleaded.

You rolled your eyes playfully, “Nam-gyu…”

His head laid on his arm as he blew out a breathe of defeat, “Fiiine.” He replied reluctantly as he slouched off the bed and to his feet.

You kissed his cheek before squeezing his hand and led him into the kitchen with you. “What do you feel like eating tonight ?” You asked, grabbing a notepad and pen from the island counter drawer. You guys decided to wait until the day of, to plan what you were going to eat that night, just because you didn’t know what you guys would be in the mood for that day.

Nam-gyu sat at one of the three chairs on the opposite side of the counter to you, he peered up from his phone to answer you.

“Uhh… hmm, how about Marry Me Chicken ?”

You made a face, “Is this your lame way of proposing ?” You chuckled.

Nam-gyu smiled when he made eye contact with you, “Perhaps it is.” He raised his eyebrows at you before looking back at his phone.

You clicked your tongue, “Shut up.” You retorted, throwing your pen at him.

His body flinched slightly at the unexpected impact, he smirked before grabbing the pen and sliding it back to you. You glared at him as you watched him type away at his phone. After a few seconds he could feel your eyes burning holes in the side of his face and he peeked up at you for a second.

“What’s wrong ?”

“I’m trying to figure out what we need to make this dinner so we can go shopping, but you seem to be too busy right now.” You said with frustration.

“Sorry.” He remarked, typing a few more words and then he clicked off his phone, turning it face down on the countertop.

“Thank you.” You bowed your head, before continuing, “What do you really feel like eating tonight ?”

“I’m being serious, Marry Me Chicken.” Nam-gyu stated. He was hoping that if he brought up marriage in a jokingly way that you wouldn’t be suspicious of what they had planned for you later.

Your face went nonchalant as you just gave him a look.

“Think about it.” He said, explaining with his hands, “It fits the vibes and it’s really really good. I promise.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, “You’ve had it before ?”

“Yes.” He sighed, “And it’s good, so let’s wright down what we need to get at the grocery store.”

“Alright.” You monotoned. Rolling your eyes you googled the recipe and wrote down the ingredients with your pen.

When you were half way through the list of ingredients, Nam-gyu got a call, you didn’t look up as he answered it.

“Hey mom.” He beamed and you glanced over at him from the corner of your eye. “Happy Valentine’s Day.” He replied, “I miss you too.”

He went silent for a bit as his mom spoke to him on the other end of the phone.

“Oh really ? She flew in this morning ?”

More silence.

“Yes. Yes. Of course. I’ll see soon. Bye, love you.”

Your mouth went agape as he finished up his phone call, “Nam-gyu !” You snapped, “What was that ? We’re supposed to go shopping together.”

His eyes blinked twice as he pursed his lips, “I know baby, I’m so sorry, but my great grandmother is visiting today and mom says that they have a busy day ahead so I’ll only be able to see her for the next couple of hours.”

“Hours ??” Your eyes shot open in surprise.

“C’mon baby, you have to understand… today was supposed to be a chill day anyways.”

You blew out a breath, “Okay.” You agreed, “But you will be here tonight, right ?”

He laughed as he made his way around the counter to hug you from behind, “Of course babe, I’ll be back before you get home from grocery shopping.”

You placed your hands over his that were interlocked on your stomach, “Tell them I say, ‘Hi.’” You pouted, jutting out your bottom lip out.

He chuckled at how cute you were being. He placed a kiss on your cheek as his arms detached from your waist.

“Love you.” You called as you watched him make his way towards the front door.

He opened it, but not before turning around and blowing you a kiss. You smiled grabbing the air kiss and placing it over your chest. He winked at you and then walked out the door. Once the door was shut you huffed, picking up your pen and writing down the rest of the ingredients for the recipe.

————

(A/N):

Su-bong rapping = Purple

Nam-gyu singing = Blue

It took you about two hours to collect all the ingredients. You had to go to three different stores to find everything which was a hassle, you weren’t too surprised that the stores were low on supplies since it was a holiday but you figured it’d be different on Valentine’s Day.

You were giddy as you pulled up into your driveway because you knew that Nam-gyu and Thanos should both be home by now. You collected all three grocery bags from the passenger seat and made your way up the steps to the front door. Once you unlocked it, you were greeted with your boyfriend Nam-gyu. He wore a tuxedo and his hair was neatly parted now, compared to this morning when he woke up.

In his arm he held a heart shaped box full of chocolates and in the other, his hand held a bouquet of roses.

You set the groceries down on the floor and held your hands over your mouth. He outstretched his hand and you gladly took the flowers as you smashed into him with a hug. Your arms crossed around his neck as you squeezed him as tight as you could.

His arms wrapped around your waist reciprocating the hug as he squeezed you back. When you released him, you pecked his face full of kisses as he just chuckled.

“We have another surprise for you.” He said as he took the roses from you and set them next to a big teddy bear; that you had just noticed, on the living room coffee table along with the chocolates.

He pulled out a red blind fold from his pocket and your insides bubbled with excitement, “Ooooh~ kinky.” You joked, taking the blind fold from him and slipping it on.

He laughed, taking your hand with his while his other one rested on the small of your back as he led you into the kitchen. You couldn’t see anything, so you could be walking outside for all you knew but you didn’t hear any doors open so you knew that wasn’t the case.

“Okay, we’re coming up to the island counter top chairs.” He spoke letting go of your back but still holding onto your hand.

“Am I supposed to sit ?” You asked.

“Yes.”

You removed your hand from his as you waved them in front of you until you felt the soft fabric of the chair, you patted your hands down the top of it until you felt the bottom of the cushion. The chair was facing away from the counter top towards the dining room and you used the palm of your hands to push yourself up onto the seat.

“Okay.” Nam-gyu clapped his hands, startling you a bit, “Don’t remove your blind fold until you hear the music start playing.” You tilted your head in confusion, but nodded nonetheless.

A familiar beat filled the air and you hooked your thumb underneath one side of your mask; peeling it off your face just in time to see your other boyfriend, Su-bong, pick up a microphone off of the speaker he was leaning against.

Were international, so international

He sung as Nam-gyu added an, “Ohh yeah~”

International Whoo ! so international

Su-bong then went into full rapper mode as he sung the lyrics to you and Nam-gyu sung back up for him. Your eyes scattered across the room at all the decorations that they had put up. It wasn’t very Valentine’s Day theme, it had colors such as white, gold, and brown which you found peculiar but liked the aesthetic anyways.

You can't catch me boy (can't catch me boy)

I am overseas at about a hundred Gs for sure

Don't test me boy (don't test me boy) 'cause I rap with the best

Su-bong winked at you and you could barely see in front of you from how hard you were cheesing. You clapped your hands, cheering them on and dancing along to the beat in your chair.

Fo' sho 305 to the death of me

Cremate my body let the ocean have what's left of me

But for now forget about that

Blow the whistle, baby you're the referee

Su-bong was now in front of you holding out his hand for you to take in which you enthusiastically did. He twirled you around while Nam-gyu took over the chorus.

You put it down like New York City, I never sleep

Wild like Los Angeles, my fantasy

Hotter than Miami, I feel the heat

Oooh yeah~ !

Su-bong handed you off to Nam-gyu as Nam-gyu continued to sing to you and dance with you.

Oh, oh, oh, oh girl it's, it's international love

Oh, oh, oh, oh yeah, it's international love

Nam-gyu used your hand that was in his to lead you back to your chair and you sat down as he pulled away from you. Su-bong grabbed his microphone again and began using hand gestures as he continued to rap the lyrics.

I don't play football

But I've touched down everywhere

everywhere ?

everywhere.

I don't play baseball

But I've hit a home run everywhere, everywhere

I've been to countries and cities I can't pronounce

And the places on the globe I didn't know existed

In Romania she pulled me to the side

And told me "You can have me and my sister"

You giggled rolling your eyes, knowing that what he was saying was just apart of the song.

And in Greece you guessed it the women are sweet

Been all around the world

But I ain't gonna lie there's nothing like Miami's heat

Su-bong winked at you as he joined in with Nam-gyu on the chorus this time. After the chorus was done the music faded out and they both landed on one knee. You clapped and whistled for them, their faces flushed with red.

As if in sync they both reached into their coat pockets and whipped out a small heart shaped box. Your eyes grew to the size of golf balls as you couldn’t believe what was happening. They both opened their boxes and you shrieked covering your mouth with both of your hands.

Nam-gyu chuckled while Su-bong’s smile widened, “Y/n.” Subong began.

“-Will you make us the happiest men in the world-“ Nam-gyu chimmed in.

“-And marry us.” Su-bong finished.

You open and shut your mouth a few times struggling to get any words out as you shook your hands in excitement. “I-I don’t even know who I’m supposed to be looking at right now-!”

Su-bong bit his lip to keep from laughing, “That doesn’t matter just say yes.”

You jumped up from your seat, “Yes !” You shrieked, “Yes to both !”

They both got up from their positions as you stuck out your left hand, Nam-gyu slipped his on first and then Su-bong slipped his on top. You fanned yourself as you jumped up and down, feeling hot tears of joy roll down your face.

You hugged them both, your head in between theirs and when you pulled away you attached your lips to Su-bong first making out with him for bit and then turned to Nam-gyu as you two made out.

Later on, after you told your family about the engagement and then called their families to tell them that you said yes, you had realized you totally forgot about your groceries on the floor. They went bad so you had to throw them out, but your fiancés told you not to worry about it and that you guys would just order from DoorDash.

You all decided on Sushi and when it arrived, Nam-gyu got up from his place on the couch beside you to tip the driver and bring your food inside. He set the food on the table as you all dug in and cuddle together while watching a movie.

————

(A/N): I hope you guys have a great Valentine’s Day tomorrow !!♥️

138 notes · View notes

skimmingmilk · 2 days ago

Note

That sick fic ask just made me wonder how Tails reacted to seeing Sonic properly sick for the first time.

A/N: This may have gotten away from me a bit, but once the idea took hold I just kinda went with it ^^;; This was the fic I was hoping to have done earlier this week, but I'm happy to have it done now! Not quite a birthday or Valentine's Day fic, but has very wintery vibes, which still seems fitting for this time of year <3 Going to post this on AO3 in "Little Gestures" in just a bit, but wanted to have it connected to the ask that inspired it! Thank you, childofthemoon86! And by extension, the sick anon who initially requested the sick!Tails fic. This goes out to both of you!

no medicine like the hope of tomorrow

Sonic always woke up first.

On good days, the smell of hot porridge cooking over a fire would rouse Tails with its promise of a full belly. On better days, it was buttery pancakes frying alongside a sneaky slice of ham or bacon that beckoned him to open his eyes, twin tails already wagging with delight. On okay days, there were no smells that coaxed him into wakefulness, but a light nudge to his shoulder and two whistled notes tickling his ear. C'mon, Tails.

There were no bad days ever since meeting Sonic. Not even days when there wasn't any breakfast could be considered bad when Sonic was there.

But the point was, no matter what kind of day it was, Sonic was always ready and waiting to greet him first thing. Like the sunrise.

So when it was the ache of an empty belly that roused Tails one morning, there was the tiniest flicker of fear that it had all been a dream. That there'd never been good days or better days or even just okay days. Just another tally mark scratched into stone in a cave all alone.

But the fear didn't linger. It couldn't. Not when Sonic's scent enveloped him with warmth, wrapped around him even as he wiggled under his blanket. Traces of it also drifted through their campsite and, while it might not have been as strong as porridge or pancakes, it was more than enough to reassure him that their time together hadn't been imaginary. Tails was good at thinking up lots of things that didn't exist, but even he didn't think he could ever imagine someone as good as Sonic.

With a squeaky yawn, Tails stretched out along the length of his blanket. He scrubbed at his face with his paws, trying to wipe away the crustiness of sleep, then blinked at the brightness of daylight spilling into the mouth of the shallow cavern they'd camped out in. He squinted immediately. The sun was higher in the sky than usual.

Brow furrowing, Tails sat up, his blanket and Sonic's coat pooling in his lap. He glanced down at the latter. Lately Sonic had been giving it to him to sleep with during the night while it was so cold. Tails shivered, bundling his tails around himself as he slipped his arms through the coat backwards and looked around the campsite.

Usually Sonic had a fire going to get them warmed up, even if there wasn't any breakfast to cook. The stones he'd laid in a circle around the firewood Sonic collected were still there, along with the charred wood, frosted over with sparkling dew that had frozen during the night. The grass just outside the cavern had a layer of frost coating it as well, only just starting to melt away during the sun's journey through the sky.

Tails's gaze finally landed on the lump that was Sonic's blanket, his tails giving a jerky thump against his legs at the sight of him. A few blue quills poked out of the bunched up fabric and Tails finally picked up on the snuffly breathing that clouded the air near his nose. Tails's head tilted to one side, mouth parted in a surprised "o."

Sonic was still asleep!

Tails beat him to waking up!

He never beat Sonic at anything before!

Giggling to himself, Tails kept the coat tucked around him as he hopped up on his feet. The cold of the cavern floor seeped through his socks so he quickly padded over to Sonic, peering over his shoulder while the hedgehog slept huddled up on his side. Half his face was covered by the blanket, his fingers curled in it tightly like someone would rip it away if he let up his grip even a little.

Tails wiggled with anticipation. He crouched down and nudged Sonic's shoulder with his paw playfully. "Fwoo-woo!"

Whistling was still hard for him, especially when it was so cold. But Tails smiled brightly as he made as close a sound to a whistle as he could. It usually got a laugh out of Sonic when he tried, or at the very least a head pat.

But Sonic didn't budge.

Undeterred, Tails pushed at him harder. "Fwoooo! Fwoo!"

A harsh cough burst from Sonic's chest and sent Tails tumbling backwards onto his rear. He sat back up, coat fallen away and paws pressed against the cold ground between his legs to brace himself while he stared at Sonic. Each expulsion of air rattled his ribs, like they were being knocked together from the force of it.

"Fwoo?" Tails's ears fell as Sonic kept coughing, his body heaving with each fruitless attempt to catch his breath.

When the coughing stopped, his breathing was ragged like he'd just outrun one hundred of Robotnik's fastest badniks. Tails pushed himself up on his knees and leaned over Sonic again. His expression was pinched now and he could see his mouth, the lines around his muzzle tight as if he was gritting his teeth. He sniffled, nose sounding extra stuffed up, and it made him swallow thickly when his breathing eventually evened out. One eye finally cracked open, a sliver of green peeking through to observe who was staring at him.

Tails smiled upon seeing that his friend was awake, his tails flicking up and down happily. But then Sonic coughed again, this time keeping his mouth clamped shut through the painful chest spasms. He curled up tightly, nearly turning into a ball as his knees tucked in close to his tummy.

"Drink?" Tails signed, bringing his hand to his own muzzle like a cup, but Sonic didn't see it when his eyes squeezed shut through another bout of coughing.

Deciding water would definitely help a dry throat anyway, Tails scampered over to their backpack and rifled through it for Sonic's water bottle. He lifted it up triumphantly, only to gasp when it was much lighter than he expected. With a puzzled look, Tails shook the bottle. Nothing sloshed around inside. It was empty.

Sonic usually filled up the bottle before he went to sleep, just in case either of them got thirsty in the middle of the night. He must've forgotten. Tucking the water bottle in the crook of his arm, Tails flew back over to his blanket and plopped down atop it so he could pull on his shoes. He'd go get the water himself. He remembered passing a little brook when they were scouting out a good camp spot. It wasn't far at all.

And Sonic really sounded like he could use a drink.

Tails cut through the brush, his ears swiveling back and forth as he listened for the gentle trickle of water against stray pebbles and rocks. His tails gave a happy twirl as he rounded a thick tree trunk and spotted the small water source. Just the sight of the cool, fresh water flowing was enough to remind him he was pretty thirsty himself. Kneeling down, Tails lapped up the water straight from the current. Usually Sonic collected water and boiled it in a pot before drinking it, but Tails used to drink from rivers and ponds all the time. Just not the ocean, that was too salty and gross.

He drank until his tummy was full enough with water that it didn't feel so empty. That was the trick to being hungry sometimes. Just fill up all the space inside with water.

Tails could feel it slosh around a bit as he sat back and wiped the damp fur of his muzzle with his arm. Then he resumed his mission. He unscrewed the cap for the water bottle and filled it up right to the top, so Sonic would have plenty to drink in case his tummy was empty, too.

When he got back to the cavern, Sonic still hadn't moved. Tails scampered over to him and dropped down to sit cross-legged right in front of his face. Sonic forced his eyes open, but he couldn't do much more than squint at him with a silent question. Tails held out the water bottle to him.

For a moment, he just stared at it uncomprehendingly, but the gears eventually began to turn and Sonic put himself into motion. He propped himself up with his arms, but his elbows wobbled like they were about to give out any second. And they did exactly that when Sonic tried to reach for the bottle. He landed hard on his shoulder with a wince and another harsh coughing fit as Tails scooched forward to try and help him sit up.

Sonic batted him away, successfully sitting up on his second try. He fumbled with the cap to the water bottle, swaying a bit like a palm tree in the breeze. It almost made Tails a little woozy watching him. When he got the cap off, Sonic guzzled the water greedily, his throat bobbing rapidly as he drank and drank even more than Tails did. He stopped only to gasp for air, panting in between sharp, pointed sniffs to clear his nose.

It didn't sound like it worked.

Tails took the water bottle back before it spilled, frowning when it felt like it was already less than half-full. They'd have to get some more. Now that Sonic was up though, maybe they could get some breakfast, too.

Looking up at him expectantly, Tails's ears and tails wilted when Sonic just laid back again, this time resting on his back with his face turned up. Now that he could get a better look at it, Tails could see that the peach fur of his muzzle was a little flushed. His eyes closed again and his hand pressed over his chest, rubbing a little like he was trying to soothe something that hurt. Tails's frown deepened. Was Sonic hurt?

He tapped Sonic's shoulder and his head lolled to the side to face him. Tails extended his index fingers of both hands and brought them together. "Hurt?" he asked in sign.

The dull glaze in his eyes cleared a bit. No, Sonic shook his head, coughed once into his fist, then held up one finger. In a minute, he seemed to be saying as he laid back with a raspy sigh.

Tails counted all the way to sixty twice, just to be sure, but Sonic didn't get up after a minute. He decided to refill the water bottle while he waited, but even though that also took longer than a minute, Sonic still hadn't moved by the time he returned to camp. In fact, Tails was pretty sure Sonic had fallen back asleep.

Tails's tummy complained with a loud, impatient growl. He was hungry.

Rifling through the backpack, he found the small cook pot and four paper packets of porridge mix. It fascinated Tails to watch as the dry, powdery ingredients would expand and turn into a completely different consistency just from adding water and heat. Sometimes they added fruits if they could find any, but in the middle of a frosty winter, they hadn't come across much. They had to buy most of their food in the towns and villages they passed through.

There were also two hot dogs still wrapped up in plastic, but no buns and no chili cans. And one box of macaroni and cheese was left, but other than that they were out of food. No ready-made snacks Tails could chew on while he waited for Sonic to get up.

Well, who said he had to wait? Tails could read. He could figure out how to make the food himself. He'd watched Sonic do it before.

Tails started with the oatmeal packets since they were the breakfast food. Sonic always made two at the same time, so Tails also grabbed two packets along with the pot and the bottled water. Little instructions were printed on the paper wrapping.

Empty packet in pot.

Bring ½ cup of water to a boil.

Reduce heat and simmer for 5 minutes.

The instructions were probably for one packet each, so if he was cooking two, then he'd need to double everything. 1 cup of water and 10 minutes. That sounded right.

Tails sighed as he shot the water bottle an unimpressed look. He was gonna have to fill it up again.

But his sloshy, grumbly tummy told him to just get it over with. Besides, wouldn't Sonic be so impressed with so proud of him when he managed to cook them breakfast all by himself?

Tails tore open the packets with his teeth and poured the powdery oats into the pot. Then he dumped the entire contents of the whole water bottle over them. There! One cup of water.

He peered into the pot. It was mostly water, with tiny oat flecks that made it look cloudy as they floated to the surface. That didn't look right. Tails frowned and reread the packet. Maybe it just needed to be heated up still. Maybe that would fix it.

Sonic always started the campfire by rubbing two rocks against the wood really fast. Tongue poking out the side of his mouth, Tails tried imitating him. But he couldn't go fast enough. It was hard to keep the rocks from slipping out of his grasp whenever he sped up and no little sparks shot up into the wood.

Tails kept trying.

But it didn't work.

And he was hungry…

He glanced at the pot with too much water and oat clumps. It looked anything but appetizing. Embarrassment and shame churned within his empty belly as he lifted up the pot and watched the flecks of oats slosh about in the water. His eyes wandered back over to where Sonic was still sleeping, his breathing heavy and laced with the occasional grunt, brow pinched with discomfort even when he wasn't awake to feel it.

Tails couldn't feed him this, but he couldn't let it go to waste either.

He'd learned before he could even remember that food was food.

Tails shivered as he drank the cold, watery porridge mixture straight from the pot. His eyes squeezed shut with determination as he gulped it down until there was nothing left. Tails coughed, his fur bristled as each of his muscles tensed up, but at least his tummy felt fuller.

There were two more porridge packets in the backpack, but he didn't want to try again without a fire. He'd save them for when Sonic woke up for real, so he could make them the right way.

Tails slowly trudged back to the brook to refill the water bottle a third time, his tummy too sloshy to fly around with. He placed the bottle close to Sonic, in case he started coughing again, then returned to his own bed to lay down. He pulled Sonic's coat over himself again, nestling in it and his blanket as the cold air and the cold porridge in his tummy conspired to make him feel even colder.

It was easier to warm up when Sonic kept them moving all the time, but sitting still in the mouth of the cool cavern as clouds began to roll in, Tails was reminded of the wispy memories of the previous winter, huddled up in his old cave back when there weren't quite so many scratch marks on the walls.

—

Freshly fallen snow covered the ground by the time Tails realized that Sonic was worse off than he'd first thought. Harsh, sticky coughing echoed off the icy walls around them, no matter how much water he drank. Eyebrows furrowed and both tails flicking about anxiously, Tails sat right next to where he'd been lying all day and kept watch.

Panting heavily, Sonic's breath puffed out like a train's smokestacks, clouding the air in front of his flushed muzzle as he trembled, even though he was beneath two blankets. Tails had decided to share his with him when Sonic's chills got worse, despite the heat radiating from his body. It felt like he'd been sitting too close to the campfire for too long.

Sonic always felt relatively warm whenever Tails pressed against him, whether it be because Sonic had to carry him out of danger or when it was so cold at night they'd huddle up together to share what warmth they had. But this heat wasn't like that at all. It was wrong.

Tails was pretty sure he'd figured out what was happening to Sonic, too. It was something that Tails himself had experienced more than a couple times so far in his little life. Sonic was coughing because his throat was probably all gummy; full of thick, icky mucous that slowly slipped down into his chest and made it hard to breathe. His stuffy nose probably clogged up his whole head, too, including his ears and the space behind his eyes. His limbs couldn't hold him up because it probably felt like all his muscles had shriveled up inside, everything achy and sore even if he hadn't been smacked around by a badnik or a bully at all. And he was shivering so bad because his body was too hot and too cold at the same time and it didn't know what to do.

Whenever Tails felt like that, he'd always felt so weak, he'd been afraid that if he went to sleep, he'd never wake up again.

Because that happened sometimes. He remembered a baby flicky fell out of its nest in the jungle one day. No one came for it, no matter how much it chirped, so Tails had very carefully scooped them up and brought them to his cave, just so it had somewhere safe to stay until they could fly away like the bigger flickies. Tails didn't have much, but he was willing to share what he did with the baby flicky. He thought they could be friends.

But the little birdy shivered all night and they didn't eat anything Tails tried to give them, even though he wrapped his tails around them to keep them warm and mashed up berries so they were small enough to fit in their tiny beak.

The next morning, the baby flicky didn't wake up.

It never woke up again.

Tails didn't understand why until he started traveling with Sonic. They'd been breaking the little animals out of badniks, Sonic bouncing from one to another in the blink of an eye. As Tails tried to keep up, he noticed one of the flickies couldn't lift themselves out of the wreckage. They were too weak, stuck for too long in their metal prison until they could barely keep their eyes open. Tails cupped them gently in his paws and carried them to Sonic, his new safe place, because surely Sonic would know what to do.

But when the flicky's eyes closed and its last breath left its body, Sonic only had one thing to say to him. "Gone," Sonic signed, fingers pulling at the air as he moved his hand away from his body.

Tails frowned as he looked at the creature now cradled in Sonic's hands. He shook his head and pointed at it, trying to convey, What do you mean? It's right here.

Sonic's expression was unreadable as he gazed at the flicky. Then, more slowly and gently than Tails had ever seen Sonic do anything, he folded the bird's wings against their body and crouched down in the shade of a nearby tree. He dug out a small hole near the roots, then laid the flicky in it. Sonic watched and waited for a few minutes, two fingers pressed over the bird's pale blue breast. Finally, with a sharp exhale through his nose, Sonic covered the flicky with the dirt he'd just disturbed until each feather and the tip of their beak was buried.

He turned his back to it, then lowered to sit on his rump and stared out with that unreadable look still etched into his face. Out at the faded hills ahead of them, where the grass was beginning to yellow the closer inland they traveled and the colder it got. He patted the ground beside him, so Tails shuffled over to sit.

In the dirt, Sonic wrote with his finger. Sometimes things don't wake up again. A big part of them is gone and it can't come back.

Like the baby flicky from before and the older flicky now. Tails drew a flicky in the dirt and pointed at it. He didn't have to wonder if Sonic knew what he was asking.

Not just flickies. He wrote. Everything.

Tails touched his own chest, then pointed at Sonic.

Sonic just swiped his finger in a straight line underneath it. Everything.

Tails could believe that when he thought about how weak the two flickies had been, barely able to lift their own heads or breathe. He could believe it when he remembered how weak he'd felt every time he'd been sick on his own or every time the bullies beat him up so bad that he couldn't move, scared that he'd have no way to get food or water for days.

But Tails couldn't believe someone like Sonic could ever feel that weak.

At least, not until that winter day, when each breath physically pained him and he couldn't even open his eyes. He mumbled a little incoherently, nothing that sounded like words, just croaky grunts and whimpers that continued even in his sleep. But as bad as they made him feel, Tails preferred the coughing fits and the grunts and whines to the stillness and the quiet when it all stopped.

It was too still and too quiet and Sonic wasn't either of those things, even without saying a word.

Tails broke up their last two uncooked hot dogs into bite-sized pieces. Even though they were cold, they were better than nothing and Sonic needed to eat. In Tails's experience, food was always the best way to stop from feeling so shaky and weak. So he pushed the pieces against Sonic's mouth until he chewed, his heart shivering as he thought about pushing mushy berries into a flicky's tiny beak.

But Sonic swallowed each bite, grimacing a bit at the cold, rubbery texture. Tails couldn't help nibbling on a few either. He preferred them warm, in a soft bun and smothered with sauce that made his tummy growl just at the memory of it, but Tails had eaten worse. The not-quite-porridge from earlier in the day was definitely lower on his list of things he'd rather eat.

When the hot dog pieces were gone, Sonic's stomach still churned with hunger. He tossed and turned weakly, unable to get comfortable when everything hurt and hunger ate away at his insides and his skin burned like he was on fire. Tails pressed a handful of snow against Sonic's brow, but it melted fast and dripped down into his quills, frosting over on the tips. It only made his shivering worse.

Sonic needed to eat. He needed something more than two cold hot dogs, porridge powder, and a box of hard noodles.

There was a town a few miles away from where they were staying. They'd stopped in it a couple times so far while exploring the area surrounding the Chemical Plant Zone. It had an arcade, a library, and a diner that Sonic took them to when he had gold rings and paper notes to spare. He kept them in the wallet tucked away in one of the pockets of his backpack, but sometimes when Tails stole a peek inside and there wouldn't be anything there. They foraged for food on those days, before the winter frost killed most of what grew in the area, or Sonic would disappear for a couple of hours, only to come back with a wallet nearly full to bursting and a grin to match.

Tails fished the wallet out of the backpack. No gold rings or paper notes were hidden within its folds. He was on his own.

Luckily, Tails hadn't forgotten how to get food on his own. It was risky and he'd avoid it if he could, but this was for Sonic. Sonic did so much for him and shared every bit of food he scrounged up with him, even when he didn't have to.

The very least Tails could do was try.

Sonic needed to eat.

Tails tapped Sonic on the tip of his nose until tired and bleary eyes opened, too tired to even be very mad, though there was the barest glint of annoyance that glimmered dully behind the film of sick. Normally it was enough to get Tails to back off, ears flat and tails tucked around his legs apologetically, but in this moment, seeing that small sign of life was a relief. Tails grabbed onto Sonic's wrist and lifted it up until the red watch strapped to it was in the hedgehog's line of sight. Tongue poking out, Tails guessed at how long it would take him to get to town and back without Sonic's speed. To be on the safe side, he tapped the glass over the hour hand twice.

Sonic's eyes just closed on another, close-mouthed cough. Tails shook his limp wrist to get his attention again, this time pointing to the watch before holding up two fingers. Maybe Sonic couldn't see the watch hands when his eyes were so squinty. His fingers might be easier for him to read. I'll be back in two hours, okay?

Spasms wracked Sonic's chest as he tried to suppress the urge to cough. He tugged his wrist out of Tails's hold and rolled onto his side away from him just in time for his body to heave under the exhaustive force of his wet coughing. Tails rubbed his own chest in quiet sympathy, slowly backing away as the coughing tapered off on a wispy wheeze.

Two hours. He'd be back with food in two hours.

The sky was already darkening when he set out for town. Tails's shoes sank down into the freshly fallen snow as he scampered out of the cave. His trail of little fox footprints was a short-lived one, however, when he quickly decided it would be faster to fly and the falling snow began to slowly fill in the divots he'd left behind.

—

The street lamps spread their yellow light over the snowy sidewalk, their warmth an illusion while fat snowflakes still floated through the air. Tails kept to the outside of their glowing halos, slinking through the shadows like he was back in the village of Emerald Hill Zone. All hope of finding and bringing back food relied on his ability to stay out of sight. His ears remained perked, listening hard to his surroundings; everything muffled by the quiet winter snow.

Very few people ventured out into the streets of the small town after dark. The diner one of the only buildings with the lights still on, aside from the gambling hall and bar across the road. Bars sometimes served food, but Tails would save that in his back pocket in case he came up empty-handed at the diner.

The red, neon glow from the diner's sign reflected off the white snow on the sidewalk, though half of the letters were blacked out. Instead of "RESTAURANT" the illuminated letters spelled out an ominous "RETURN." Tails boldly pressed forward, ducking along the side of the diner.

He could smell the cooking grease through the vents as he crept around to the back of the building. Mouth watering, Tails swallowed and puffed up his cheeks with determination. He wasn't going to make a mistake just because he was distracted by being hungry. This was for Sonic.

Light from the kitchen window illuminated a small square against the snow-covered ground, the shadowy shape of a dumpster pressed against the paint-peeled wall just beyond it and a door. Tails's ears twitched, his breath held tight in his chest as the sounds of kitchen pots and pans clattered just on the other side of the window. He inched his way towards the dumpster. He didn't see a lock on it, which meant the owners probably didn't expect that people would go rifling through it for scraps. Hopefully that meant they wouldn't be waiting for him with sharpened knives and pots of boiling oil to chase him away into the night.

The back door flew open with a bang as it struck the worn siding wall. Tails skittered back around the corner with a quick whirl of his tails, only daring to peek when he heard something clanging against the dumpster. A gangly aardvark in a grease-stained apron grunted as he hefted a bag of trash over the edge of it. He let the lid fall shut with another clang that echoed through the snowy alley, then leaned against the wall with a sigh and a shiver. He fiddled with something in his apron pocket, removing a carton of cigarettes. He also pulled out a small, silver lighter.

Tails huffed, holding up his hands to his mouth to warm them while he waited and watched the aardvark shake out a single cigarette. With a snap of his lighter, he lit the end of the cigarette and took a long drag from it. As the acrid smoke wafted into the air, Tails's nose scrunched up and he stuck his tongue out. It was almost as bad as the chemical plant's smell.

But the tiny flame that flicked to life with a simple click compelled him to linger, drawn to it like a moth, but one that was too clever to let itself be burned.

New mission objective: get food for Sonic and get the lighter so he could make a fire at their campsite.

Tongue poking out the side of his mouth, Tails scraped some snow from the ground and packed it up into a ball. He tested the weight in his palm, satisfied with the density as he held it up to his face and closed one eye. Peering around the corner of the building, Tails set the aardvark in his line of sight.

As he took another puff from his cigarette, the fingers of his other hand repeatedly opened and closed the top of the lighter with a repetitive click-click. Tails crouched and twirled his tails to warm them up. Ready, aim…

The snowball smacked against the hand holding the lighter, knocking it from the aardvark's grasp and into the snow. "What the—?"

The aardvark whirled in the direction where the snowball had come from, tromping angrily through the snow to catch the perpetrator, but Tails had already flown up onto the roof. He quickly dropped down while the aardvark's back was to him, scooping up the lighter from where it fell, then flew back up to hide atop the diner. Crouched low on his belly to remain unseen, Tails kept his mouth clamped shut to keep from breathing too hard. His sharp eyes followed the aardvark as he paced the ground below, scratching his head when there was no sign of anyone save for a few footprints.

"Damn kids…" the aardvark muttered, took one more puff, then put out his cigarette against the wall.

He shuffled back to retrieve his lighter, huffing and grunting as he dug through the snow in search of it. But his hands were bare and chilled as they felt around for wherever it might've fallen, dexterity dwindling the longer he looked for it. With a resigned groan, he abandoned his search and headed back into the diner. The kitchen door closed with a heavy thud behind him.

Tails counted for a full minute before he gently eased himself back down. His hands trembled as he clutched the lighter between them, heart beating in triple speed while he watched the door warily. When it didn't reopen, he tucked the lighter into his shoe to free up his hands, then scrambled to climb up the side of the dumpster.

The lid was heavy, but with the right leverage Tails was able to force it open. He sucked in a deep breath through his mouth and held it as the odor of old food wafted up into the cold air. Dumpsters smelled worse when it was hot out, but Tails still didn't want to take any chances of getting a big whiff of something particularly rank as he leaned in.

He ribbed open the garbage bag on top, whatever food inside it likely the freshest he'd be able to fish out. There were a lot of wet and slimy things to sift through. Sauces and juices and other questionable liquids seeped into most of the scraps that were tossed into the bag, a soup of mostly unsalvageable food waste. The edge of the dumpster dug into his belly as he leaned in, his tails keeping him semi-aloft as he pushed around mushy chunks of half-eaten meatloaf, bits of burger, and pieces of pancakes soaked through with sticky syrup.

Tails was on the search for something more solid and not so mushy, and found it in some very lucky fries sheltered by a wilted cabbage leaf. They were a little extra crispy and burnt on the ends, but still soft enough to eat. He collected as many as he could, cradling them in his palm like they were as precious as gold nuggets. There was a paper cup thrown in on top of some of the other bags, so Tails used that as a container for his small haul.

He hopped out of the dumpster to set the cup down, freeing up his hands to search for more food. Dusting his gloves off, Tails straightened up with a satisfied smile and looked right into a stranger's face.

His heart stopped. Every inch of him froze in place as he was caught in the stunned stare of an alpaca mobian just a few feet away.

She stood in the yellow light of a streetlamp, just barely bleeding in between the buildings. But it was enough for her to see the shape of a small child climb out of a diner's dumpster with a cup of unwanted french fries from someone else's plate. Tails's eyes darted to the cup at his feet, then back at the alpaca's face, his breath quickly clouding the air in front of him as his instincts screamed at him to run.

It wasn't until she took a step towards him that he scooped it back up and stumbled away from her. His tails tangled up with one another, fighting over whether to twine together to look like one or spin fast enough for him to fly far, far away.

"Wait—" the alpaca called out, thinking twice about taking another step towards him. "It's okay. You're not in trouble."

A lie. It was always trouble if someone found him. Even if the food in dumpsters would only go to waste, in everyone's mind it was even more of a waste if their scraps went towards feeding him. He wasn't even worth their garbage.

A plastic bag crinkled in the stillness of the winter night, offered to him by the outstretched arm of a stranger and stopped Tails in his tracks. Sonic had offered him food. Food that was fresh and warm and filled with flavors he'd never known before. One person had thought he deserved more than other people's trash. One person went out of his way to make sure he got it.

"Here," the alpaca said. "If you're hungry, you can have this. My leftovers."

Tails watched the bag sway slightly as it was held up and away from her body. He could make out the shapes of two styrofoam containers inside it. One was a bit boxy, while the other looked like an extra wide cup. Sometimes Sonic got containers like those on the days where they ate food from a restaurant, when it was something that could be saved for later.

"It's not much. Just half a tuna melt and some tomato soup," the alpaca continued, still holding the plastic bag out. "It might not be piping hot, but it'll be warmer than those fries you've got there."

Tails tightened his grip on the cup of fries he'd collected, but his eyes remained fixed on the offered bag and the tempting aroma wafting from it. Whatever was inside that bag would probably be better for Sonic than anything he could dig out of the garbage. Not to mention the thought of giving garbage to Sonic of all people, like he didn't deserve better than that…

Sonic deserved the best.

But even though Tails wanted nothing more in that moment than to give him that, he was pinned in place by the alpaca's soft stare. Knees locked. Chest tight. Teetering just on the edge of taking flight.

The alpaca seemed to realize this, so she crouched down and set the bag on the ground. The plastic crinkled as it settled, sitting harmlessly in the snow while she took several steps back.

"It's okay. Things have been tough for a lot of people around here ever since the old chemical plant got bought out and let everyone go," she told him. "Money and food… it's all been hard to come by. So, I get it. Go ahead. Take what you need."

She continued to back away until she was back on the sidewalk, no longer a looming threat between the back of the diner and the building beside it. She smiled in the halo of the lamplight and lifted her hand in a slight wave. Her boots crunched through the snow as she walked away, disappearing into the quiet winter night without another word.

Just leaving the lone plastic bag on the ground.

His ears flicked about as his nerves seized up, but Tails slowly crept towards the food. His nose twitched as the savory smells reached him through their containers, the hearty tomato standing out most of all. It wasn't quite like the chili Sonic smothered their hot dogs with whenever he had a chance, but it was close enough that Tails thought he might still like it.

And if that lady wasn't lying—if this had been food she meant to eat later—then it couldn't be bad to eat. Couldn't be a trick or a trap. She would've had to plan that, and she'd looked just as surprised to see him behind the diner as he'd been to see her.

Puffing out his chest, Tails suddenly surged forward and snatched the bag. In a whirl, he flew up and away from the diner, only pausing on the roof of a nearby building to open the bag and inspect its contents. It was half a sandwich and a cup of soup, just like she'd said. The bread was lightly toasted and some melted cheese was starting to congeal along the edge of the sandwich from the cold, but it was fresher than anything he'd find in a dumpster.

Tails packed it all up again and set his sights on the edge of town before he took flight once more through the snowy sky.

His little tails spun as fast as he could make them go, bobbing precariously in the air as he followed the path deeper into the forest. The food wasn't that heavy, but it was a long way to fly while carrying something, even if carrying Sonic around was making him a little bit stronger each time. At least Tails thought so, and that was what Sonic said, so it must've been true.

As he came across the familiar, but now-frozen brook, Tails dropped down to his feet to give his tails a bit of a break. He traveled a bit slower through the brush in the dark, poked and prodded by the points of dead branches that he couldn't see too clearly, all while doing his best to protect the bag of food from being torn open by them.

When he finally wriggled free of them, close to the shelter of their cabin, Tails nearly broke into a run.

But something was lying in the snow just ahead of him.

Tails squinted at it in the dark, snowflakes impeding his vision as they caught on his lashes. But a dark, sharp shape cut through the white powder that looked an awful lot like…

Sonic.

The bag of food smacked against the snow when the handles slipped from his grasp, forgotten as Tails scrambled over to the misshapen lump lying face down in the middle of the path. The snow hadn't buried him completely, but it covered him enough that he had to have been lying there for at least a little while. Heedless of getting pricked this time around, Tails dug his paws through the snow drift to clear it away as quickly as he could from Sonic's quills.

Once freed, Tails rolled him over onto his back. He was stiff and so cold, his fever momentarily drowned out by the snow. His eyes were closed, but his chest still shuddered with each exhale.

Still breathing. Not gone.

With a frantic surge of energy, Tails hefted Sonic up under the arms and dragged him through the snow, heading back towards their cavern. He didn't know why Sonic had tried to leave the shelter, but now that Tails had returned with the lighter and some food, he'd make sure he'd get better. Morning couldn't come without Sonic.

When they got back inside, Tails laid Sonic down on his bed, then draped his coat and both blankets back over his body. Fishing the lighter out of his shoe, Tails spun the little wheel with his thumb until a tiny flame came to life in his hands. He held it up to the charred remains of their old campfire, tired embers slowly reigniting and warming the icy little cave.

Though his eyes were still closed, Sonic turned towards the small fire, its warmth still enough to permeate the layers he was bundled under. Tails watched him for a good minute, his heart beating just as fast as when he'd stolen the lighter from the aardvark at the diner or when he thought the alpaca might try to chase him down. Which reminded him; the food.

While Sonic warmed up, Tails darted back out to retrieve the bag of food. His cup of fries were stashed away inside it with the soup and sandwich, set aside as he unpacked everything else beside the hedgehog. His gloves were dirty from the dumpster, so he took them off and left them at the mouth of the cave so the lingering odor wouldn't invade their sleeping space too much. Then he settled in and popped open the lid to the soup first, gentle as he carried it over to Sonic's face. His nose was too stuffed up to smell it properly, unaware that the food was even there, so Tails crawled behind him and pushed his head up until it was propped up against his shoulder. Green eyes finally fluttered open, chest hitching from the change in position.

Sonic glanced down as the soup container was pressed into his hands, Tails struggling to keep both of them balanced while supporting his weight. Though his fingers were clumsy and stiff, Sonic eventually secured his grip on it while Tails guided it to his muzzle. The broth sloshed against his mouth when Tails tried tipping it towards him, but as soon as the taste registered, Sonic started to drink it down with desperate gulps. It was liquidy enough that he could, smooth and easy on his throat.

Tails made sure he drank every drop, only pulling away when the cup was empty. Sonic coughed a bit as the acidity from the tomato tickled his throat, but it quieted when Tails brought him the sandwich next. His nose scrunched a bit as he chewed, like he couldn't tell what the flavor was, but hunger outweighed any reservations he might've had and he ate more than half of it before he curled up and away from the idea of food.

Tails scarfed down what remained of the tuna melt along with each of the fries in his cup, licking the salt and grease from his fingertips when they were all gone.

Movement out of the corner of his eye immediately drew his attention back to Sonic. He'd rolled onto his side with some effort, facing Tails and the campfire. A deep frown etched across his brow as he still shivered despite the layers of blankets and the firelight flickering across his face. One arm wiggled free from the blankets, reaching out across the cave floor. His palm patted the ground, fingers grasping to hold onto something.

A deep sigh melted the tension from his body when Tails's fingers curled around Sonic's. The kit sat close, watching as the frown lines finally faded away. His muzzle was still flushed and his body still wracked with tremors, but his face slowly went slack with sleep as long as he held onto his hand.

Their hands stayed connected as Tails snuggled up against Sonic's front, his tails curling over his hip to give him a little extra warmth. Sonic's body still radiated too much heat, but it was nice to cuddle against after being out in the cold for so long. And as Tails's thicker fur surrounded the hedgehog, his shivering ceased as he settled beside him with another softer sigh.

He laid one ear against Sonic's chest, listening to the faint, wispy breaths that made it rise and fall. In his own chest, a gentle rumble built up. Whenever he felt sick, sometimes purring helped. So he purred; hard enough for Sonic to feel it through the layers tucked around him and loud enough for him to hear it over the rattling in his lungs. Though he'd been determined to watch Sonic all night, to make sure he'd wake up in the morning, Tails couldn't fight the squeaky yawn that forced his jaw open or the way the combined warmth of Sonic and the fire made his heavy eyelids droop closed. But even as Tails sank deep into his own slumber, the soft vibrations continued, soothing both himself and Sonic long into the night.

And in the morning, there would be a pot of porridge cooking over their fire and the smell would slowly rouse him from a bed that smelled like Sonic. But before he'd have a chance to fully wake, there'd be a light tap on his shoulder and two soft notes whistled against his ear, beckoning him out of the dark. C'mon, Tails.

And when Tails opened his eyes, the sun would be up, shining with a smile just for him.

And it would be a good day.

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yandere-sins · 17 hours ago

Text

Yan-Poll #32

It only took a few months, but you were finally free.

Gripping the reigns of the stead galloping beneath you tighter, you couldn't hold back the tears as you realized it. Realized that you finally did it. The road leading to your escape had been cut off so many times. So many people put stones in your way and built walls you had to escape. But finally—finally—you were rid of them.

No more sitting quietly on a throne too big for a province noble like you. No more watching your husband behead his own officials because they looked at you. A shuddering breath escaped you as you realized you wouldn't wake up to his piercing red eyes watching you sleep anymore or to the unwelcome touch of his hands that always felt like they were blood-soaked.

You would no longer be a doll he could admire. He could disgrace in front of his court as if you wouldn't suffer from the shame and embarrassment his actions brought over you. Undoubtedly, he loved you, but this love was not the one your maid read you stories about as a child. It was crushing to your soul, poisoning your very being until you were only a shell of your former self.

But no longer.

As long as you kept riding, you'd get away from him. And once your horse could no longer run, you simply had to walk on your own—as you would from now on. Being a runaway beggar would be better than being the spouse of a mad king, no matter what you had to do. You'd live quietly as a mouse, far away from the golden cage that was his castle, and live by your own free will only.

Tearing through the forest, your surroundings melted into each other. Green, brown, black, it was all the same as you let the horse choose the way. It didn't matter where it went as long as it didn't take you back. There was no place you called home, not the one you grew up in nor the one you married into. So anywhere was fine, absolutely anywhere.

You would have taken the pest-ridden bed of a woodsman over any soft, silken mattress. Over the shackles that bound you to it and the king that suffocated you in the countless pillows. And now that you got away, you'd take what you could get, never judging it like you had been judged from morning to night by everyone who scrutinized your status as you were forced into this marriage.

And with your newfound euphoria, you galloped on, feeling always a step ahead of him. Anyone, really, but especially him. The king was cruel, ruthless, cold. Not to you... not always. He held you your whole wedding long when you couldn't stop crying from fear. He got rid of those who mocked you openly. He listened when you told him about yourself and gave you whatever you desired. Certainly, he had his bad days. The ones where he was angry at the world, and you were the comfort he needed. Or those where he was too proud of owning you, so he forced you to do things you didn't want. He might have been the king, but he shouldn't have done everything he desired—at least not to you.

Perhaps that's why your fall hit your head so much harder. The horse he gifted you, a beautiful stead, neighing as it crashed to the ground. One second, you were up in the air; the next, your head hit the dirt. Your thoughts were spinning relentlessly, reminding you of the first time your husband almost choked you to death. No clear idea of what was happening, where you were, and what to do now could take root.

But your instincts still worked.

So you ignored all the warning signs—the stumbling, the blood dripping down your face, the pain in your muscles—and ran. Ran like your life depended on it, which it did.

"Stop!" you heard behind you, and you would have known the voice in a crowd of hundreds. The king didn't like insubordination. He didn't like sharing his toys. And he would not give up on you that easily.

It made you run faster if anything.

But as you dashed through the forest, blinded by your need to get away, your luck seemed to run out, too. In the thicket, you were concealed. Between the trees, you could hide. Not so much in a clearing, one lit up by the sun and barely covered by grass. That's where you found yourself when your body finally gave out. Tumbling to the ground, your bones ached as your arms tried to cushion the fall.

At some point, anyone has to admit defeat. But it was hard. So, so hard for you. Your conscience was wrecked by guilt for your stead that you left behind, and your body shivered, fear-stricken in anticipation of the punishment you would receive. What was the point of running away when he caught up so fast? Why did you even try?

"You seem troubled. Come here, let me help you."

Forcing your head up, you had to blink away the tears first before you could see. Everything before you was a bright shimmer of something you couldn't discern, but even when your vision cleared, you thought you must have hit your head very hard after all.

Something, a creature perhaps, approached you steadily. Calm demeanor, a proud posture. It looked like a man, yet it appeared more like an angel. His eyes seemed like an endless starry sky, while his hair flowed in the air like waves across the sea. He held out his hand for you as if to offer help, giving you an unlikely hope in these dark times that seemed to swallow you.

But there was also something strange about him. You thought he was coming to help you, but the hand never reached closer. He expected you to come to him, opening his arms for you, but didn't attempt to approach your sorry form.

"Do not listen to it," a stern voice rang out, the clanking of armor shaking you out of the trance. "Don't even think about going there, it will only take advantage of you."

That was enough to get you back on your feet with what little strength you still had. The man you were running from emerged from the darkness of the woods, drawing his blade with the same sickening sound of metal scrapping that instilled fear in you back at the castle. You didn't even know who he was drawing his sword for, but it couldn't mean anything good.

However, your husband wasn't looking at you. If anything, his anger seemed to be dedicated at the man whose expression turned into pity as he never looked away from you.

"How cruel. You poor thing, I can help you," he offered softly, shaking his hand. You looked at it for a long time, feeling yourself pulled in as if a thread was binding you both together. Only when you forced yourself to focus did you notice the ring of mushrooms around the man's... fae's feet.

"It won't help you, it will harm you. Get. Away. Now."

You shuddered at your husband's command, his footsteps approaching faster and faster. One more chance. There was one more chance right in front of you. But at what risk? What would you have to pay?

(Reasoning and discussions welcome! ♥)

#yan-poll #yandere talk #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere x you #yandere tw #yandere fanfiction #yandere scenarios #yandere headcanons #yandere drabbles #yandere oneshot #yandere stories #yandere writing #yandere imagines

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pascaloverx · 3 days ago

Note

I don’t know if you taking requests but I have one if you are!

Charlie Mayhew x fem reader; they are married and the reader finds out everything and on top of that he is cheating on her with Megan (aka Lois was right) and leaves him without him knowing until he gets home and finds her and all of her stuff gone. She later finds out she’s pregnant (though she was told that she couldn’t before) while she’s staying with Lois and Charlie finds out the hard way when she’s in the hospital either something happened like she gets attacked or something but she doesn’t lose the baby OR she’s in their for a check up or had said baby.

I love the way you write him and absolutely love Haunted!! Also you can change it however you like!!

BACK TO BLACK

Summary: You and Charlie have been married for a few years, but something feels off. You've been growing distant, caught in the struggle of trying to expand your family through adoption. But then, something happens—something that changes your life for the worse.

Author's Note: I’m honored by this request and hope you enjoy what I’m preparing for this fanfic. If it goes well, I can certainly guarantee more chapters. The story will include betrayal, marital issues, and pregnancy. Engage if you like it! I would like to say that other requests are welcome and that I loved writing this chapter. If you like the chapter, interact. The chapter will contain inappropriate language and explicit adult content. Minors should not interact.

AO3 LINK

ONE (+18)

At times, you have wondered how one knows when a marriage is over—if there is a sign that marks the end or if you simply wake up one day and decide to leave the man you love. For better or for worse seems far too abstract. Even now, as your husband holds you gently, pressing his body against yours. Once again, he has returned from work with a heavy expression, carrying the scent of a sweet perfume. If only he weren’t so handsome in that white coat, perhaps you would be able to think clearly enough to question him.

"My hermosa esposa, how did you spend your day?" Charlie asks, his hands settling on your waist as he embraces you from behind, pressing a kiss to your neck.

"Aunt Lois took me shopping. She advised me to start buying furniture for our child’s room," you say, turning to look at your husband, who does not seem pleased.

"I don’t like you getting ahead of yourself about having a child. Buying furniture and clothes is premature. That imaginary child does not exist yet," Charlie replies, his tone edged with bitterness, as if the idea of preparing a nursery had been weighing on him for some time.

"I should have known you would react this way," you say, pulling your husband's arms away from you. It is almost as if, little by little, he is becoming a stranger—a complete stranger.

"If this continues, it would be best if we abandoned this altogether," you say, your gaze serious as you look at him.

"You want to give up on the idea of adoption?" Charlie asks, and you watch him closely, trying to decipher his thoughts. Deep down, you are almost certain he is relieved at the mention of giving up.

"Perhaps I want to give up on my husband," you say, trying to keep your voice steady. Charlie’s expression remains unreadable for a moment, his sharp eyes studying you in silence. Then, ever so subtly, the corners of his lips twitch—not quite a smirk, not quite a frown.

"Don't speak like that, mi vida," he says, holding your face and pressing a kiss to the corner of your lips. "You are the reason I live." Charlie’s voice is low as he leans in, his fingers tracing gentle patterns against your skin.

"I love you, Charlie, but if you don’t want to build a future with me, then it’s best that I move on with my imaginary child, and you with your own life," you murmur. It hurts to say it. You don’t want to give up on your marriage—but with each passing day, it feels as though the man before you is slipping further away.

"Forgive me if I gave the impression that I don’t want a future for us. I just think what we have now is already good," he says, pressing a kiss to your cheek, then your forehead, and finally your lips. Your eyes close, surrendering to his touch. It’s always like this.

"What we have now is you being a successful doctor and me being a journalist who gave up the column I was responsible for because it required too much time away from home. I thought at least one of us should be present to care for our child—but we don’t have a child yet. And I remain here, waiting for some form of company," you confront him.

Some time ago, you tried to conceive, but due to a medical condition, none of your pregnancies survived. Eventually, the weight of it began carving an emotional void within you, a void that only seemed to push Charlie further away. He never put words to what he was feeling, and perhaps that was what hurt the most.

"I can keep you company now," Charlie says as he puts his hands on the strap of the dress you're wearing. He slowly pulls your dress down as you believe you should be discussing your relationship, but feeling his gentle touch on you, you feel like you can connect with him once more. "Eres deliciosa, I hope I'm being clear about this," Charlie says as he finally gets rid of your dress.

"As much as you're praising me, I don't know if fucking now will help us, mi esposo ," you speak with a shaky voice as you feel the touch of Charlie's hands on your exposed breasts. His cold fingers touched your nipples, causing you a pleasant sensation as he went from caressing your nipples to lightly squeezing them. You bite your lip holding back a moan that is almost escaping your mouth.

"Mi vida, being between your legs, feeling your juicy pussy around my cock, will always be the best option to help," he says as he pulls your neck. Immediately his lips capture yours, before you can even say anything. And quickly you feel something soften inside you, not just your legs but your heart. Charlie's arms hold your body, naked. By chance, you were without panties and bra, because the dress you were wearing was tight. He lifts you off the ground, guiding you to wrap your legs around his waist. His fingers pressing into your ass with a force that makes you gasp, while you cling to his neck, kissing every detail. You can't remember the last time he held you in his arms, that he wanted to be so close to you. "Doctor Charlie Mayhew, you are overdressed," you murmur in his ear as you nibble on his earlobe.

"Why don't you help me with this, Mrs. Mayhew?" he says as he places you on the edge of the bed. His body raised in front of you, his cock visibly erect covered by his pants so close to your face. He then takes your hand, putting two of your fingers in his mouth and sucking. The erotic look he gives you is enough to make you hot inside, you remove your fingers from his mouth and hurry to help him take off his clothes. You remove his lab coat, then unbuttoning his shirt and taking off his tie.

"Tell me how much you want to have me inside you, mi vida," he says as he gently pushes you down onto the bed. Then he gets on top of you, licking your lips and then kissing you deeply. His tongue entering your mouth and sucking yours as you lost yourselves in each other in the middle of the kiss. He uses his hands to separate your legs, running his fingers over your pussy, making you shiver slightly. Your pussy is wet, you can feel how easy it is for Charlie to run his fingers under it, as if he's just teasing you.

"Stop teasing me and fuck me," you mutter. He chuckles as he gently presses two fingers onto your clit, while kissing your neck. He sucks the skin on your neck as he enters your pussy with both fingers, inserting them into you slowly.You arch your body slowly, feeling pleasure build inside you as his fingers they come in and out of you faster and faster. You moan slowly as you watch him give a naughty smile watching you squirm. You feel your orgasm approaching, as you make increasingly loud noises at the stimulation Charlie is giving your pussy. You dig your nails into Charlie's back as you scratch him, feeling him inside you with so much passion. He then takes his fingers out of you, licking them and slapping your pussy, making you grunt.

"I'll give you what you wanted so much, hermosa," Charlie speaks as He removes his belt from his pants and lowers his pants and underwear with admirable speed. You place your hand under his cock, stroking his cock with your hands and gently squeezing the tip of it. He mutters "mierda" while feeling your hand stimulate his cock, feeling his pre-cum lubricate your hand making the movements more slippery. He squeezes your breasts as he massages them, causing you to let out a soft moan. Quickly, he holds your hand, kissing the hand that was previously on his dick and without delay, puts his cock in your pussy. His first movement is slow, as you get used to his cock inside you, but quickly amidst your attempts to assist with his movements, he begins to thrust his cock in you more quickly. You can't contain your moans as you feel him nibble on your neck and hold your legs upwards, to bring your body even closer to his. You drag your fingers down his back as you force him deeper into you, grinding slightly. You pull on Charlie's hair as you feel your orgasm coming, feeling the sweat from your bodies mix as your husband continues to explore your body with his hands. You let out a loud grunt as your husband thrusts deeper into you, as your cum melts his cock.

As you cum, he squeezes your ass tightly, making you even more horny for him. His balls slapping against your pussy as he still thrusts his cock into you, while your pussy is sensitive from cumming. You hold on tight against him as you try to keep your legs steady on his waist even though you feel a slight weakness in your body as you recover from the orgasm. Charlie says your name as he cums inside you, and you feel his cum spurt inside you hard, making you let out a loud involuntary moan. Charlie licks your neck moving up to your face and kissing your lips.

"I hope you're ready for round two, mi vida," he says as he runs his fingers down to your pussy, feeling his cum dripping down your pussy and pressing his hand against your sensitive pussy, giving it a light slap under it. You sigh as you prepare for another round of sex with your hot husband.

"I'm always ready for more of you," you whisper against your husband's lips as you feel him take control of your body. He has always had this power over you—the power to ignite you, to give you exactly what you need to feel whole. Sexually, the two of you share an otherworldly connection.

But then the night fades into dawn, and once again, your husband slips out of bed. It isn’t a medical emergency—his pager never went off—but you definitely heard him receive a message.

After several long minutes of pretending to sleep, you wait for him to leave before following him. You are certain now—he is hiding something. It has been weeks since Aunt Lois first warned you that something about Charlie felt off, and now you need to know what is so important that he had to leave your bed in such a hurry.

You remember all the advice Aunt Lois gave you for moments like this. You’re using your own car, keeping a safe distance, wearing a disguise. And yet, Charlie doesn’t seem the least bit suspicious.

Your heart nearly leaps out of your chest when you see where he finally parks. Megan Duval’s house. More specifically, Detective Megan Duval. She and Aunt Lois are partners, though their relationship has been strained ever since Lois suspected Megan was angling for a promotion. Thinking back, Megan used to visit Aunt Lois’s house often. And Charlie never minded going there either. Coincidence or not, Charlie suddenly became too busy to attend Aunt Lois’s dinners—just as Megan stopped going as well.

Then you see him. Charlie steps out of his car, smoothing his tousled hair—hair you ran your fingers through just hours ago. He straightens his shirt, a fleeting effort to compose himself before heading toward her door.

Your body tenses as you watch him smile, a smile you once thought was meant only for you. He nearly rushes to her, and she opens the door as if she had been waiting, as if this were routine. Without hesitation, she throws herself into his arms, and he kisses her. Passionately. His hands find her waist, pulling her close with a familiarity that makes your stomach turn. Then, slowly, one of them slides down to caress her backside.

Your heart shatters. Your blood boils. Tears blur your vision as you watch them disappear inside, and the weight of reality crashes down on you. The man you built your life around, the man you sacrificed for, the man you loved—he is gone. Or maybe he was never truly yours.

Every instinct screams at you to get out of the car, to tear her house apart, to make him regret this betrayal. Years of devotion, of trying to give him a child, of bending yourself to fit the shape of his life—wasted. You want to scream. You want to hurt him like he’s hurt you. But more than anything, you want to be free. And that will only be possible if he never sees it coming.

Your hands grip the wheel tighter as you drive home, heart pounding in your chest. The moment you step inside, you move with purpose. A suitcase—essentials only. Clothes, documents, enough to disappear for a while. But as you pack, rage takes over.

You shatter every framed photo of the two of you, as if breaking the glass could erase the years you wasted on him. You tear apart his favorite clothes, rip them to shreds. His expensive colognes? Smashed, their luxurious scent mixing with the bitter stench of betrayal. Then, an idea forms. If Charlie takes his time realizing you’re gone, it will be even easier to slip away. With renewed determination, you grab every bottle of alcohol he cherishes and pour them over the furniture, the floors, every surface in sight. By the time your bag is packed into the car, the house is drenched in liquor.

Standing at the door, you flick open a lighter—one you haven’t used in years. You quit smoking when you started trying for a child, when you still believed in the future you were building together. That future is gone now. So you let the past burn. The flames catch instantly, licking hungrily at the alcohol-soaked wood. You took the batteries out of the smoke detectors. There are no neighbors nearby. By the time Charlie realizes what’s happened, he’ll have nothing left. You slide into the driver’s seat, heart racing, and dial Aunt Lois.It’s time to tell her everything. As you drive away, the fire glows in your rearview mirror. But you don’t look back.

Months later, you struggle to carry a package into your new home. Aunt Lois made your escape possible, securing a false identity and forged documents so you could start over. You relocated to the family's countryside house in another state, renting it under your new name for a modest sum—just enough to avoid suspicion.

They never found your body in the fire, so you were declared missing. You abandoned your car in a river before boarding a train that took you close to your new home. Now, you drive a rented car, living in this secluded house, far enough from prying eyes. The people in town seem to like you—you’re not sure if it’s because of your demeanor or because you're a pregnant woman living alone.

Yes, Charlie managed to get you pregnant—perhaps in one of the few times he hadn’t even tried. Now, you spend your days working as a waitress in a local restaurant and ghostwriting for a newspaper. You need every bit of income to prepare for the arrival of your child.

But something is wrong. There’s someone inside your house. You spot the intruder from a distance, rummaging through your belongings. Your pulse quickens as you slip back to your car, your fingers closing around the gun in the glove compartment. You don’t give him a chance—once you have a clear shot, you fire.

He collapses, blood pooling beneath him. You approach, cautious but steady. He’s still breathing, but barely. Then, as you turn his body over, your world tilts. "Y/N... is it really you?" Charlie rasps, his voice weak, his hand grasping at your leg as if trying to convince himself you’re real.

You stare down at him, heart pounding. "Charlie," you whisper. Your hand instinctively moves to your belly, feeling your baby stir inside you. What a cruel twist of fate.

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anonymous-dentist · 3 days ago

Text

Part One

Once Upon a Time...

Cellbit and the god walk out of the tavern just as the sun is starting to rise and the storm is starting to break.

The God of Chaos stretches his arms above his head and yawns.

At some point in the, well, chaos, Cellbit could've sworn that the god had eight arms and just as many eyes; fangs and claws and a laugh sharp enough to cut glass. But, now, he almost looks normal minus a pair of blood red eyes.

But Cellbit can See him. And he hates him.

(Spiders... why is it always spiders!?)

Cellbit walks silently, hood up and hands in his cloak's pockets. He's bleeding, he can feel his shirt soaking through somewhere under his ribcage, but he can't quite bring himself to care; he's a dead man walking, whether he dies sooner rather than later doesn't matter.

("Once upon a time," He said, "there was a fox and a rabbit.")

Everybody who was in the tavern may or may not be dead. Some, he knows, are: the tavern keeper (arrow to the eye), and a woman sitting near the front door (ripped apart by a wolf.) But others are... well. He can fix them.

Cellbit keeps his head down. He can see blood, still-drying, on the tops of his boots and staining the cuffs of his trousers. Most of it, he knows, are the god's.

The God of Chaos nudges Cellbit's upper arm with his elbow (he's taller, but just barely, just enough for Cellbit to wonder if the god is normally this tall or if he's just trying to fuck with him.)

"Soooo..." he says, "I'm Roier."

"I Know," Cellbit quietly responds.

("It was a very hot summer, and the fox and the rabbit were waiting by the watering hole. There was only one in the forest, and so it was running low on water. "'Oh, my!' the fox exclaimed. 'I fear I may die of thirst!' "'Worry not, my friend,' said the rabbit. 'It will be our turn soon enough.' 'Ah, but my kits!' the fox cried. 'They are still too small to leave the den, and all I have is this one bottle to bring back to them!'")

"And you are...?"

The God of Chaos trails off into a question.

Cellbit huffs out a dry laugh through his nose.

"Aren't you a god?" he taunts.

"Okay, and? I'm not Antoine." He grins, blinding. "I'm Roier!"

Oh, Cellbit knows who he is. everybody part of Connaissance knows each and every legend he's in; Cellbit grew up hearing the name 'Roier' in the same breath as 'danger'. Chaos' followers were to be hunted down and exterminated. (Jaiden and Foolish, of course, are the exceptions to that.)

(Subtly, Cellbit takes a step to the side as he walks. Old habits die hard, and all that.)

"They said my name. In the tavern," Cellbit supplies.

Chaos shrugs. "Eh."

Quiet.

The forest around the village is starting to wake up: birds are singing, leaves are rustling. The monsters inside hiss as sunlight starts to hit them.

The village itself is still asleep. Hopefully it'll stay that way until Cellbit and his new shadow are long gone (he does not want to deal with guards on top of whoever He is going to send next.)

("By the time the fox and the rabbit reached the watering hole, there was barely any water left," He said. "The fox wrung its paws, thinking of her thirsty kits back home. And the rabbit watched.")

Cellbit stifles a yawn, ears and tail twitching.

(His hands are starting to itch, fuck. He thought he had finally found something he isn't allergic to...)

They leave the village and disappear into the forest, and Cellbit has absolutely no idea where he's going. And it's thrilling. It would be even better if he didn't haven't a debt hanging over his head.

("'My friend', said the rabbit, 'I can see that you are worried. So let me help you, we are neighbors and friends, and I care for you very much. Because of this, I will take your bottle and fill it rather than drink for myself, and I will run quickly to deliver it to your kits while you drink.' "The fox," He said, "trusted her friend and agreed. She handed the rabbit the bottle, and the rabbit, indeed, filled the bottle and ran towards their homes.")

The God of Chaos starts to hum under his breath.

Cellbit's ears twitch again; there wasn't much music with Connaissance. It's still a little weird to hear it just so casually.

Chaos' coat shifts with every step. And, with every step, Cellbit can see a hint of his knife (his fucking knife-) hanging from a loop in Chaos' belt.

The village must be waking up, because here's a scream so sharp and sudden that it sends a couple of deer running in front of the two of them in a blind panic.

The poor people still themselves inside of the tavern must be moving, too, because more and more people are starting to shout and scream, and someone specifically starts yelling about there being a fucking shark inside of the tavern and, oh, gods, is that a fucking dragon!?

Cellbit bites back his laugh, just barely.

The God of Chaos, though, lets out a little giggle and shoots Cellbit a mischievous look out of the corner of his eye, a smirk on his face.

"Well?" he teasingly asks.

Cellbit's mouth twitches. "'Well'?"

Chaos takes a step closer, leaning in just so slightly, head tilted towards Cellbit just so slightly. His smirk has turned to a smile; somehow, his humming has continued.

"What do you think?" he asks. "Was I helpful?"

(Another scream, this one a name.)

"'Cause I'm pretty sure they've forgotten allll about you by now."

("The fox," He said, "drank her fill and hurried home. But, when she got there, all she could do was scream.")

"And!" Chaos adds, cutting in before Cellbit can even think of responding. "I've got a feeling those other guys won't be coming for you any time soon."

Cellbit nods begrudgingly. "He'll have to come out here and cure them, and that'll take at least an hour per person. Probably more if-" (He grimaces.) "-Lord Knowledge is... occupied."

If Chaos picks up on the emphasis or the obvious distaste, he doesn't comment on it. (His eyes do light up- literally!- though, which may be worse.)

"Soooo...."

The God of Chaos trails off expectantly.

Cellbit ducks his head with a tense sigh. Of course.

"You were... very helpful," he admits. "I'd probably dead or back in chains if it wasn't for you."

The God of Chaos straightens back up. And then he fist-pumps with a hissed, "Yesssss!"

Cellbit decides to bite the bullet and ask the question that's been weighing on him for hours while Chaos is in a good mood:

"What do I owe you, then?"

(He gasped, "What was it?" He shot him a sharp glare. "Patience, Prophet. I was about to get to it." He cleared His throat, and then He continued: "In front of the fox's den was the Farmer beating the fox's kits with a cudgel. "The rabbit quickly appeared by the fox's side holding the empty bottle. "'I brought them the water,' said the rabbit. 'But then I realized that we would never have enough water in the forest if we have to continue quenching so many mouths.' "The fox cried and wept and prayed to His Lordship, but the Farmer continued beating the kits until they were dead. "'Here's the last one!' the rabbit shouted, pointing at the grieving fox. "The fox tried to run, but the Farmer was faster. "As the fox died, the Farmer gave the rabbit a carrot and a fresh bottle filled with water. "And thus the deal was completed.")

Chaos' smile flickers; Cellbit doesn't have to See him to know he's confused.

"Nothing, man," he answers. "We're even."

No way...

Rain starts to fall again.

Cellbit frowns. "I'm sorry?"

Chaos shrugs, unsure; Cellbit Knows it.

"We're even," the God of Chaos repeats. "You don't owe me anything. We're good, man. Don't worry about it."

Okay, but Cellbit is worrying. They're even, but he hasn't done anything for them to be even over. And he Knows how the gods work: nothing comes for free; payment usually comes in the form of worship, but Cellbit is done with praying.

So...

Uncomfortably, Cellbit says, "You... mentioned going to your place back at the-"

Chaos cuts him off, wide-eyed and frozen in place. "Ah, no! No, no! No, I was just trying to- to help! We don't have to-"

Cellbit visibly relaxes.

"Oh, thank the gods," he wheezes, hiding his face in his hands. (The makeup smells like sweat and blood by now, but he ignores it.)

A pause. Then:

"You're welcome?"

Cellbit can't help it. He laughs, a sharp little bark of a thing that surprises himself with how sudden it is.

Eyes closed, he can clearly See the God of Chaos' true monstrous form smiling in sheer obvious deligh.

Cellbit's tail flickers in annoyance. His ears threaten to lay flat in fear. The God of Chaos is delighted by him. Great.

"Tell you what," Chaos says, hidden laughter in his voice, "You want to pay me back? Call me by my name."

He pokes Cellbit's forehead where it's peeking out between his fingers.

Cellbit lowers his hands and gives Chaos a confused look.

The God of Chaos just keeps smiling, and he almost looks human doing it.

"I can hear your big brain thinking."

Another pause, slightly more awkward.

"Not literally!" Chaos is quick to add. "But all you humans are so formal, just. Uh. I'm Roier, okay?"

He extends a gloved hand.

Cellbit looks at it for a long, unsure moment.

Hesitantly, he takes it.

"Cellbit," he replies.

"I know," Roier, the God of Chaos, grins.

(And, somehow, Cellbit feels like another deal has been made.)

A/N: Let me know what you think in the tags or in my inbox! I want to hear your theories, thoughts, opinions, everything!

#gods of chaos au #a.d.'s fics i suppose #a.d.'s fics i suppose.#i love this au actually #so much behind the scenes so many thoughts

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babybearnation · 11 hours ago

Note

lovesick Pato, Christian, Mick, Esteban, Liam, Marcus with gn reader pleaseee

me? using actual lovesick symptoms? yessir 🫡🫡

gn!reader (lovesick!driver headcanons)

under cut because it got long

pato o'ward:

thinking: pato thinks about you all the time. when he's getting ready for bed, when he's out shopping, when he's driving - he can't stop thinking about you!

motivation: the knowledge that you are watching him race motivates pato beyond belief because he wants nothing more to impress you

daydreaming: can often be found daydreaming and usually its about you because pato can't stop thinking about you so of course you infiltrate his daydreams as well

sleep: always dreams about you and finds he sleeps peacefully when he dreams of you - hates waking up and forgetting what he dreamed about even when that happens every single time

mood: his mood is already pretty bubbly and bright but it always gets 10x bubblier and brighter when he's around you because he wants you to be happy around him

anxiety: worries so much about if you return his feelings to the point that you'll literally have to confess yourself for him to pick up on any of your flirtatious hints

christian mansell:

thinking: willingly lets his thoughts drift to you because you really are such a pleasant topic of thought that he doesn't mind thinking about you 24/7

motivation: tries not to let his feelings for you as well as your presence in the paddock influence his motivation but its clear to everyone that you being there helps him perform better

daydreaming: despite being okay with having you in his thoughts, christian doesn't like daydreaming about you because they get so intense so fast and he hates blushing whilst unaware of it

sleep: honest to god develops insomnia because he stays up most nights thinking about you - if he didn't like you so much, he'd hate you

mood: he's feel relaxed and safe around you in a way he isn't with most people and it's obvious to everyone around you two that you are the reason why

anxiety: very good at managing his emotions so he doesn't get too stressed out about how you feel about him but will throw a mini celebration in his head when you tell him you return his feelings

mick schumacher:

thinking: thinks about you as a source of comfort because you bring him so much joy and he really appreciates that when he's stressed out

motivation: you boost his motivation so much because he knows you won't expect him to perform like his dad, you'll expect him to perform like him

daydreaming: doesn't daydream often but when he does, it's of you and the future he wants with you (this leads to him blushing whilst zoned out)

sleep: sleeps easily knowing that he'll get to wake up and talk to you once his hours of rest are over and that's always fun for him to wake up to

mood: you cheer him up like no one else can and therefore it's not uncommon for him to be found close to you, happy and content in your presence

anxiety: very open-minded to the idea that you won't return his feelings, even if the idea of it upsets him - is very ecstatic when you confess that you do return them though

esteban ocon:

thinking: doesn't let himself think of you often because he will get so distracted if he does and he doesn't want to have to explain why he's distracted

motivation: his best performances happen with you in the paddock because he wants nothing more than to show you exactly what he is capable of

daydreaming: much like with thinking, esteban doesn't let himself daydream of you often because he doesn't wanna have to explain what he's daydreaming about - he prefer to keep his fantasies of you a secret

sleep: sleeps easily and peacefully knowing it's what you'd want for him and he's so in love with you that even his brain is like "yeah, okay, sleep is good!"

mood: you are his instant mood booster - no matter how badly he feels, one minute in your presence and esteban instantly feels better

anxiety: tries not to dwell on if you return his feelings but often finds himself thinking about it - almost can't believe it when you say you like him back

liam lawson:

thinking: always thinks about you but does a pretty good job of hiding it because he doesn't want anyone knowing about his crush on you

motivation: tell him to get on the podium and he will, tell him to get pole and he will, tell him to win and he will - you want it? you got it, that's how it goes for liam

daydreaming: always pink cheeked when zoned out because he's always daydreaming about you and the things he wants to do with you

sleep: falls asleep thinking of you most nights - in fact, its very rare for him not to do this because he's always thinking of you

mood: he finds that he cannot be angry around you because you make him so happy that why would he waste his time being angry about something else when he can just focus on you?

anxiety: perpetually worried about his feelings for you ruining your friendship so, if you confess to him, he may be completely stunned and not entirely trusting of it at first

marcus armstrong:

thinking: you're always on his mind even when he doesn't want you to be because you legitimately consume every single part of his life

motivation: tries so hard to impress you that it might affect his performance and therefore he has to find other ways to motivate himself before races

daydreaming: daydreams about you at the worst possible times i.e. when he's in the car in the middle of races - it's the worst thing for him, but again, you've taken over every part of his life so...

sleep: dreams about you all the time and remembers every single one of his dreams about you so he brain is just constantly full of thoughts and images of you

mood: before you two got together, your presence lowkey made marcus upset because he wants to know how you feel about him but he also can't risk losing you entirely

anxiety: like outlined in the previous section, marcus struggles with worries & concerns about how you feel so you may have to spend a decent chunk of time post-confession convincing him that you like him

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wanderingblindly · 2 days ago

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liq!! congratulations!!

how about a thank you kiss with landoscar?

THANK YOU KEN!!! and i LOVE a chance to write something that's vague established relationship!!!! as i've been sick all week, i opted for a little sick fic -- i hope you like it!!! Celebratory prompt list here!

Bedside Manner

Lando pokes his head into the bedroom cautiously, as if the act itself could make a sound – let alone enough sound to wake Oscar up. It's endearing if not a little misguided, which seems to cover a lot of what living with Lando's like, if he's honest.

Oscar flashes a close-lipped smile, propped up against the headboard to help his breathing, a box of tissues within arm's reach.

"How're you feeling?" Lando whispers – again, as if Oscar's asleep – from the doorway. Unmoving.

"Bit better," Oscar lies, the truth immediately revealed by how scraggly his voice is – further revealed by the immediate coughing fit. Fuck, it's starting to hurt; his ribs smart like he'd broken them again, chest straining like he'd gone too hard at the gym.

He feels fucking miserable, he can hardly breathe through his nose, and every breath through his mouth makes his lungs sound like they're rattling.

Lando rushes in to the bedroom, mug and bowl in hand.

"Y'don't have to pretend, you know," Lando chastises him without any teeth, voice soft and warm; he places his offerings on the nightstand and perches on the edge of the bed, looking at Oscar with drawn brows and worried eyes. "You sound like shit, mate."

"Wow, thanks." Oscar deadpans, too tired to give anything more.

"Brought you some soup, it's –"

"Did you –?"

"From your favorite restaurant, of course." Lando finishes pointedly, as if he could sense Oscar's mild panic at the idea of him cooking. He reaches for the bowl, grabbing the spoon and stirring it a bit. "Open wide,"

"No." Oscar coughs again, phlegmy and disgusting. He wrinkles his nose at the feeling, the sound; he's sure that Lando would rather be anywhere else than sat by his side.

"Yes. Now, say 'ah'," He holds up the spoon with raised brows, expectant.

"Lando, really, I'm not a kid." Oscar tries to reach for the bowl, flopping his hands down dramatically when Lando moves it away.

"Wouldn't hurt to let yourself be pathetic sometimes."

Oscar reaches for the tissues, wiping at his nose, "Reckon I'm plenty pathetic right now,"

"Then let me help," Lando urges, adjusting to sit a little bit closer, holding out the spoon again. When Oscar doesn't move, Lando tilts his head a bit. "Please?"

God, he hates that it always works on him – Lando's kicked-puppy pleading thing. Maybe more importantly, he hates that he gives in just to see the way his eyes light up, pleased and preening.

So with a sigh, crackly and awful, he leans forward and wraps his lips around the spoon – nose too plugged to really taste much of it anyways.

"Happy?" Oscar asks after he swallows, fighting a smile as Lando sits up straighter with a satisfied hum.

"You make a good patient," He offers another spoonful, only growing more content as Oscar indulges him yet again – maintaining eye contact as he eats from his hand.

"How will I ever repay my nurse?" Oscar asks, tucking his face away to clear his throat.

Lando purses his lips, pretending to be pensive. He finally replies once Oscar settles back against the headboard, looking at him with a raised brow. "How about this?"

He leans in, cheek turned the side.

"You're gonna get sick."

"Lying about appreciating me, huh?"

Shaking his head in disbelief, skin a little warm at how Lando's smile crinkles his eyes, Oscar cranes his neck just enough to place a chaste kiss to his cheek – a silent, heartfelt thank you.

Maybe it's not the worst thing, letting Lando try to take care of him.

#little baby thank you kiss!!! i think it maybe sorta counts!!!!!#landoscar #f1 drabble #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #ask me :)#liquid's milestone celebration!!!

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scribbledghost · 2 days ago

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hmm.. what about period sex with inhuman!Vessel..?

Vessel is 100% the one who suggests it, let me be real clear about that.

It starts because he can tell when your cycle is close. You take on a slightly different scent, he notices certain small changes about you around the time of your period. So when it does start, he's the first to suggest period sex. Specifically oral.

He's got a sort of fascination with the idea of, for lack of a better term, "consuming" you in such a way. He draws the line at drawing blood with his teeth or hands, but this is different. As he sees it, you're not injured, he's simply helping you.

Granted, you're gonna have to inform him that it's not just blood, but honestly that doesn't phase him in the slightest. Not even when you explain that it's blood, tissue, etc. He absolutely does not see any issue. Look, he's an inhuman vessel for an ancient eldritch god, he gets a pass to be gross with this I think.

He'll even be polite and lay down plenty of linens to absorb anything he happens to miss so the furs don't get messy. Just let him feed. He'll make it worth your while, he promises.

Vessel can and will keep his face between your legs for hours like this unless you stop him. Completely lost in how you taste, the sensation of essentially sharing this part of you.

If you do end up just pushing him away and begging him to take you, he certainly won't complain. He'll trail his face up your torso, leaving a trail of blood and slick in his wake from his chin. If you request it, he'll quickly clean his face before kissing you, but honestly it's not quite on his own radar. He'll be sure to push into you slowly, savoring every sensation that comes with this.

I think this is one of the few times he takes a naturally fast approach to his pace. He wants you to feel good, he wants to give you everything you want, but he also wants to get his mouth back on you. Granted, his stamina makes him last a considerably long time, and he can't deny he does love being able to kiss you whenever he pleases.

But once he comes, he's almost instantly back where he was before. Gotta clean you up, right?

#vessel x reader #sleep token x reader #sleep token fanfiction #ghost scribbles #smut

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somnas-writes · 8 months ago

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Azris fic idea

Azriel and Eris are finally at the stage in their new relationship where they’re bold enough to sleep in the same bed.

Azriel doesn’t even touch Eris until he gets impatient and hugs him. Azriel absolutely melts and falls asleep so fast.

They both sleep fantastically that night, but come morning Azriel doesn’t wake up. At first Eris panicked, but upon further inspection he realizes that Azriel is in the deepest sleep ever.

On Az’s end, laying in that bed is the warmest he’s ever been and he hasn’t had a full night sleep in who knows how long— once he closes his eyes, he’s out.

He sleeps nearly three whole days, when he finally wakes up he doesn’t know where he is but he’s never felt more relieved.

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polysyndetonaddictsupportgroup · 26 days ago

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Howdy, Syn! Hope you’re doing well. I’ve got a fun little ask for you:

If you’ve got some spare time on your hands, I was wondering if there was a little (non-spoilery) detail in—well, any of your stories, I’m obsessed with all of them—that you really enjoy but don’t think anyone’s picked up on yet. If there is, I’d love to hear any ramblings on it 👀

Have a good one!

This ask is ages old but I’m working on chipping away at my backlog little by little. Since I’m in a pez dispenser debris kick right now, let’s look at that.

I honest to God can’t remember if I’ve discussed this before, so sorry if it’s redundant, but one of the main points of pez dispenser debris is that the conflict is Man v. Self to the exclusion of all else.

Like, to an extent, there’s a secondary conflict of Man v. Society, but that 1) primarily (but not entirely) exists in Izuku’s past and 2) feeds into the Man v. Self conflict by being the primary driver behind both Izukus’ actions.

I decided to eschew any kind of genuine conflict between Izuku and the people in his life because I didn’t for a second want the narrative to get confused by considerations about whether it was safe to have told his loved ones about his past.

I very easily could have chosen to explore a plot line where the people around him feel betrayed or question him. At the very least, Mirio could have had a moment of “what the fuck, man, I’ve spent my whole career being looked down on as the world’s Quirkless hero and you didn’t think to fucking mention you grew up Quirkless?”

Close to the entire class has been vulnerable with him. Todoroki told him about being abused his entire childhood. He knows about Uraraka’s financial traumas. Iida nearly killed that guy the one time. Kirishima made him look at that suspicious bump in the unfortunate place.

These are kids who have spent the past three years in the trenches together. They’ve been in actual, life or death scenarios since the age of 14-15, and the only thing that they could count on was each other. And then here they are, at the very end of it all, and they find out that the guy they’ve been trusting with their back the whole time seemingly didn’t trust them enough to tell them a single detail of his life before they met him.

They could have been a little more conflicted about the revelation. At the very least, they could have questioned deeper how their friend went from 0 Quirks to a suspicious amount of Quirks when they spent their entire time at school with Guy Whose Entire Thing Is Transferring Quirks And Like. Trying to Murder Kids Who Are Specifically Them took personal issue with every single field trip they’ve ever had.

But every single outside POV is like “obviously we can trust him. It’s Midoriya. Anywho I will now be questioning my own character because he can’t be the problem so it must be me.”

If I explored plot points like that, it would have divided the conflict’s attention between Man v. Self and Man v. Man. The plot would have to devote time and focus to resolving Izuku’s issues with his loved ones and regaining their trust, and that would have detracted from a major theme of this fic, which is that this wasn’t about not trusting the people around him. He didn’t tell them because of an internalized issue.

Midoriya trusted his friends with his life. This wasn’t about fear of them rejecting him because he grew up Quirkless. The conflict is with himself.

I also eliminated sources of external conflict by having it all come out to the entire class all at once. I didn’t want to waste plot resources on what Izuku would naturally do in this situation, which is try to hide the little shit by all means necessary and quarantine his very existence. There would be too much time and energy wasted on slowly revealing the truth to select members of the class one by one.

And don’t get me wrong, that could have been an interesting plot—it just wasn’t the one I wanted to write.

This fic is about having to grapple with the part of yourself that is still hurt and angry about it. The part that cannot process the past to the point where you fear it endangers your future. You want your trauma to just go away and not exist anymore, because things are better so it means you shouldn’t have to be them anymore.

The older Izuku wants the younger one to be gone. He wants him to, at the very least, stop talking about what happened in the past and accept the future for how it is, because he doesn’t want to lose what he’s gained. But in doing so he mirrors the denial of self his younger counterpart is being far more explicit about.

Because both versions of Izuku are refusing to believe the other is them.

Young Izuku is doing it in a very literal way. That guy ain’t me. He killed and replaced me. There is absolutely no way I am him. He refuses to accept that there is any version of him who could become like his older self.

But the older Izuku is doing the same thing, just in a less literal sense. Hes almost acting like his old self is somehow legitimately a distinct entity. He slips and says it to Aizawa—stop looking at me like I’m him. The older Izuku wants to just bulldoze over his past and pretend like it doesn’t belong to him, but it just doesn’t work that way.

That’s the conflict I wanted to capture for this fic. Just this absolute refusal to reconcile your past and your future because to do so would require processing the trauma you’ve been through. And so I cauterized off all other sources of conflict, because they’d just detract from what needed to be center stage.

#pez dispenser debris #Midoriya Izuku #a lot of people in the comments are telling the younger Izuku to just accept that that’s him but like. older Izuku needs the same message #I find the interaction between izuku and aizawa so fascinating really #Izuku just wants to let this all go #tiny Izuku isn’t really a person he’s a quirk manifestation so there’s no crime to investigate #but he is a person #he is exactly who Izuku used to be #and that’s one of the reasons why aizawa can’t let it go #that’s one of his fucking kids #and they once hurt impossibly badly #and he cannot let that go #fundamentally both versions of Izuku are approaching the other from a place of unspeakable pain that has no real direction #young Izuku is in the hurt #every single day is suffering #he has had to fight to be alive and it’s just. not. fair.#no other kid has to justify their existence and he has to fight for his #every single person in his life save his mom seems to think the world would be better off if he was dead #and he hurts his mom every time she sees how people treat him #he is desperately trying to find a single fucking sign that his existence is worth something and there just isn’t anything #and then he wakes up and actually he’s the most beloved boy alive #it’s just that you know that reason the whole world wanted you dead? yeah they were so right about that. you’re actually only worth #something as Quirk Jesus. really this isn’t proving you right it’s proving everyone who ever hurt you right. be happy champ you made it #you know except for all the ways you didn’t #except older Izuku is approaching this as the guy who has felt every ounce of pain the younger version has felt with five more years stacked #on top. he pulled himself out by his fucking fingernails. he fought to live and he did that. he fucking did that. he has spent his /entire #life/ struggling. and he made it. somehow he made it. and no one gets to judge him for what it took to get there because he fucking did this #but then. suddenly he’s being dragged back down to how it used to be.#he’s had less than three years of being /happy/. he spent /fifteen years/ eating abuse #who wouldn’t be terrified at the idea of any of that coming back?

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dykedvonte · 10 months ago

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If Ulysses has a million haters, then I'm one of them. If Ulysses has one hater, then I'm THAT ONE. If Ulysses has no haters, that means I'm dead. If the world is with Ulysses than I’m against the world.

#this is slightly joking but like also not but also like am mixed on Ulysses on many factors #infuriating because i sympathize with his pain but it’s like #he is a well written and fundamentally flawed character whose hypocrisy I found doubly in #black characters I can tell were designed by white people with a semblance of an understanding of activism and bipoc oppression #but not enough for the character to not feel like hand holding for the majority white audience #plus personal grips with the whole twisted hairs thing and reference to slave braiding patterns #Ulysses irks me as a black person on a weird personal level and I can go into debt on why him being black is a big detractor for him to me #like he continues this cycle of distancing himself from his roots before remembering over and over again through his actions #he leave so much in his wake that the courier ends up correcting or helping like in honest hearts and old world blues because he’s self #righteous in a subtle way even to himself that he believes he stand out of his one man rule when he does not play an active hand #saw a post talk about how you choose to continue moving through his story and can leave at any moment and this it is partially your fault #but what of the oath that is set before you and is forced to take that he set up #I do not have to walk it but when I do the steps are not my own but those taken for me #you have to go out of your way to change it which is not something he expects because he’s playing by a story he’s been perpetuating in his #head about you two and the effect one man has when he’s continually been that one man more so than you as many of his actions directly lead #to the one you go through also the irony in the flag he continues to bear being the real reason he has no home #like he reps it when the package is likely enclave and thus use the same symbol #also still can’t get over how anyone could have delivered the package and he tries so hard to act like it was the couriers destiny or fate #when this was the one case of chance and that once man was likely a enclave engineer and how it’s really is never one man #it the process and he’s so annoying about it like he’s a cool character but if you don’t believe in his philosophy or already went through #these ideas cause they are very common talking points in poc especially BIPOC spaces he’s just old hashings and stunted #fallout #fallout new vegas #Ulysses you upset me but I’m like I feel you could be better if you weren’t so incessant #I don’t think I ever want to make a serious post stating this about him just because I’d start yapping and it’d never get finished #ulysses fnv #fnv ulysses #lonesome road

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5a-alf · 1 year ago

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As of late I've been obsessed with two fandoms: Les mis and Merlin (yes I'm ten years late on everything) so rightfully I decided to mash the two and this is the result

A Les Mis Merlin!AU,

starring Enjolras as Arthur and Les amis as the knights, bar grantaire that is gonna be Merlin.

Enjolras is a prat in a different way from Arthur, he tends to fail to see from others' prospective and is quite oblivious to feelings and emotional nuance. As a noble he would lack the ability to understand _why_ poor people/sorcerers _don't_ fight for better treatment. He expects them to. He doesn't understand having too much on your plate to do that, nor fearing for your life

Grantaire as Merlin would be a much more reclutant Emrys. He is a cynic, but it'd stem from being constantly scared of death. He'd bring Enj down a notch and make him see the reality of being a commoner, or of having magic. He is so strong he is afraid of his own power, and he doesn't want the weight of the responsability; every magic person is counting of him and he is convinced that he would fail them if he tried.

In this AU magic would be banned in Camelot by the king (role that would fit Javert to a T, ignoring the familiar relations) but Arthur!Enjolras would be pro magic from the start, AND somewhat open about that position. He is the head the knights and has a inner circle made of Les amis that are also pro magic.

I think it would make the most sense for grantaire to keep the magic to himself, even after knowing their stance on it. Maybe it could be revealed that he is a magic user early on, but he would keep being Emrys under wraps. Destiny is shit anyway.

He would gladly lay his life down for Enj and do anything for him tho, as we well know. He would bicker and fight and piss him off but his magic IS for Enj. He believes in the future of Albion just because he believes in Enjolras; destiny is shit and he won't be its bitch but one thing it got right, grantaire would not stop at anything to keep his king safe.

The other characters are more muddy:

I think Cosette could be a (good!)Morgana. Enj's half sibling, with powerful magic. BUT she could also be a good Gwen, with Marius as Lancelot and Jean Valjean as the town forger.

With Cosette as Morgana, Eponine could be her Gwen (and Cosette x Eponine x Marius would work so well here). Gwen!Eponine makes sense because it would keep her lower class status AND would put her in the position to be Grantaire first and best friend in Camelot.

I think that what would make the most sense about the line of succession would be for Enj and Cosette to be half siblings, children of a Duke who had an affair with Fantine (not that Fantine would...you can make this tragic); Fantine then married Jean Valjean (posing as a noble) to keep her honor and give Cosette a father (Valjean is perfectly aware of all of this. They made a patch). Tragedy struck and Enj parents die, so he is taken in by Javert (the king, enj's father brother) because he doesn't have any other descendant and Enj is now the second in line.

Fantine dies and Valjean is discovered to be an impostor posing as noble, and is forced to flee. Javert takes Cosette from him because he know the truth of her birth, so she is rightfully in line for the throne too.

I think most other roles could be shuffled around getting more distant from canon Merlin; we should have Joly as the court physician (or at least apprentice, as opposed to grantaire). Musichetta has her hands full running The Rising Sun, or another tavern/inn. Jehan is a druid in my heart, he could be Enj's contact with the old religion and its people.

Also Jean Valjean could be good not-related-to-Grantaire Balinor. It would give him a reason to be in hiding, and to be hated by Javert

Anyway this is all I have for now, but I'll probably add more later

#lets hear your thoughts on this yall #les Miserables fandom is quite dead but i have the cup of life in my hands so you better wake up #yeah i know enjolras would never want to be a king #he is for the Republique™#but hey #once he is king he can always dismantle the monarchy #unite albion democratically #would Courfeyrac be Gawain? charming lovable emotionally intelligent and always in love #marius as Lancelot is perfect if it wasnt for the fact that marius is the one with like...#the richest background lol and lance is THE commoner #the round table makes perfect sense for them #also i didnt specify but obviously this is enjoltaire #grantaire would make so many Sun King references #spend hours thinking about enj in the crown #he would lay at his feet by the throne and worship the man and meanwhile anj is like “okay how can i Lose all this power and distribute it?”#their relationship is always unbalanced because there's SO much devotion coming from R #and i think that in this case it would come out as R being obsessed with the idea of Enj as a king #because thats the prophecy #thats what it says and out of all of it thats the only thing he can and will get behind #but E is so much more than the future king and is quite uncomfortable with being put on a pedestal #he believe is equality and justice and so until R sees him as a person he wouldnt get too close #he feels as is all that devotion puts distance between them #and its not kike the devotion is going to be to ed down as time goes on #but R would start to see his flaws and his humanity and would start to love more Him than the Idea of Him #and hey this is a merlin that actually IS at the tavern drinking when you cant find him #well most of the times at least #les amis de l'abc #EXR #eponine/marius/cosette #les mis Merlin!AU

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rafeysbunny · 3 months ago

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‧₊˚ ⋅ i'll show you, rafe cameron

stepbro!rafe x fem!reader

masterlist

synopsis. in which your stepbrother kindly offers to show you porn for the first time.

warnings. stepbro!rafe, innocent!reader (but she's not an airhead), virgin!reader, smut, fingering, rafe putting in just the tip, oral sex (fem receiving), rafe licks his own creampie.

word count. 4k.

author's note. idea by @matts1andonly. english isn't my first language so there might be spelling mistakes, don't hold it against me. enjoy!

it's past midnight when you finally slide out of your bedroom without making a sound. you have been waiting patiently for your mom and ward to go to bed so you can do this without risking getting caught. wheezie is already asleep too, sarah is out with john b somewhere, and rafe left the house earlier, not telling anyone where to, so you know he's going to arrive late, as always.

it's the perfect moment.

rafe's room is down the hallway, so you make your way there quietly not to wake anyone, your barefoot feet making soft footstep sounds when you walk. once there, you open the door as carefully as you possibly can, knowing it creaks every time it gets open. this time, thanks to god, it does not.

you manage to sneak into the dormitory unnoticed, then shut the door behind you. the place is dark, only a faint glimmer of moonlight coming in through his curtains, but you want to lay low, so you don't turn on the lights. by all means, the dim lighting is enough for you to spot what you're looking for.

rafe's mac, laying there on his desk.

what's the point behind all of this? you might be wondering. well, let me answer you real quick. turns out, this handsome, muscled college guy has invited you on a date. problem is, you have never been on a date. you haven't even hold hands with a guy romantically before, much less kissed or fucked one. you simply refuse to come off as a prude, which honestly you are, but that dream of a man doesn't need to know that.

and that's why you have decided that it is a good idea to break into your stepbrother's bedroom and borrow his laptop, since yours broke last week, to watch porn in it for the first time.

well, now that you hear it out loud, it probably sounded better in your head. anyways...

you stroll towards the desk with languid steps and sit down on rafe's chair, small hands reaching hesitantly to open the laptop. you turn it on and the screen light illuminates your pretty face right away. you swear your fingers are shaking a little bit as you open up the browser and type 'porn videos' on the search bar.

somehow, you feel like you are doing something wrong, and you can't seem to shake the guilt away. either way, you don't back out. you click the enter button and, after just a few seconds, a million search results pop up. honestly, you don't know where to start, so you click on the first one, which redirects you to a website called pornhub.

the home page is full of videos, the first thing to catch your attention being the obscene thumbnails of each one of them. your cheeks flush a deep shade of red. you read some of the titles as you bite your lip nervously, realising most of them contain the word 'stepsister' in them, and you wonder if that is the only content posted on this page.

how innocent of you not to know that the website is making recommendations based on your stepbro's most searched tag.

before things escalate further, you spot rafe's airpods max sitting there on the desk and decide to grab them, connecting them to the laptop and putting them on —this way you can make sure no one overhears anything. after that, you spend a few more minutes scrolling through the page, during which you discover that there's a ton of categories to choose from.

how are you supposed to know which one to pick?

you are so invested in your little research, headphones canceling the noise, that you don't hear neither rafe opening the front door nor him walking up the stairs and, surely, don't notice him standing behind you until he speaks. and it's too late by then.

"the fuck are you doing, sweetheart?" he blurts, complete and utterly shocked to see his naive stepsister fuckin' watching pornhub.

well shit, maybe you aren't as innocent as he thought you were.

you jolt instantly, jumping out of your seat as you feel all the colour draining from your cheeks. no way rafe just caught you in the act. this can't be real. despite how bad you want to run away, you are left with no other choice but to turn around and face him, wishing the earth would swallow you up.

"i– this is not what it looks like, i swear i can explain," you stutter nervously, taking of the airpods with trembling hands. from here on, the anxious rambling begins, "i wasn't doing anything... this guy– well, i... i uhm– i got a date, 'kay? with this guy from class and– listen, i know this is silly, but..."

"jesus christ, baby, slow down, 'kay?" he stops you, his heart nearly melting from how cute you look, so shy and flustered. he almost feels bad for interrupting whatever the hell you were doing here.

the colour has returned to your cheeks, and you are all flushed now, from head to toe. your face feels like it's on fire; you have never been this embarrassed before.

"could you please start over?" he asks, hoping to hear a coherent explanation to why you are in his room, in the middle of the night, and watching porn on his laptop.

you take a deep breath, fidgeting with the hem of your top. you are so deeply ashamed that you don't seem to remember that you are wearing nothing but a flimsy white singlet and a tiny pair of matching panties. rafe's very aware of that fact, though, hungry eyes trailing all over your beautiful body.

"i've got a date with a guy from class," you start explaining, white teeth nibling occasionally on your plump bottom lip, "but i've never dated anyone, ya' know? i've no experience, and i don't want him to think i'm pathetic if we..."

"fuck?" he finishes your sentence, a roguish grin spreading across his handsome face.

if possible, your blush deepens even more at the vulgarity while you mutter a quiet 'yeah' in response.

honestly, he is a bit jealous of that guy. not only you are willing to let him fuck you, but you are also trying to learn how to do it properly so he has a good time doing it. yeez, what a shame for him he is going to kill him as soon as he finds out who he is; there's no chance rafe's letting you near any other man but him.

"i thought, uhm, maybe watching that would help..." you add coyly, his silence making you more nervous.

it is cute how you try to avoid saying words like 'fuck' or 'porn', like it is a crime to pronounce them or something.

"you know what? let's watch it together," he proposes.

there's a mischievous glint in his eyes that doesn't go unnoticed. you swear your cheeks might just explode at any second, and you can't help the pathetic stutter that comes out when you talk. "uhm, i don't think that'd be appropriate," you refuse, shaking your head.

"why not? you want help, and i can help you here, sweetheart," he answers, his voice surprisingly soft and gentle —unlike rafe, "that's what big brothers are for, aren't they?"

he takes a few steps in his direction until he is standing right beside you. then, he grabs the laptop in his large hands as he flashes you a wicked smirk, his curtain bangs falling messily on his forehead. you gulp, having him so close makes you feel a certain way; you cannot deny that.

"you, uhm, being my stepbrother is exactly why not," you stammer as you tilt your head back to look at him, his height towering over you.

"bullshit," he retorts, huffing. "you trust me?"

your first mistake is, probably, trusting rafe cameron. "yeah, i do, but..."

"that's why 'm perfect for the job, baby," he interrupts you. his words are clearly intended to manipulate you, but you are way too innocent to notice it, "i'm probably the guy you feel most comfortable with, aren't i? i can give ya' all the advice you need."

to be fair, he isn't wrong about that. you don't have any male friends, and you are honestly too embarrassed to ask your girlfriends for help on this department, not wanting them to think less of you. plus, rafe is a guy; he knows better what guys like, right?

"wouldn't it be kinda... weird ?" you ask, clearly hesistant.

"weird?" he repeats. "no, 'course not."

only a few more sweet, reassuring words is all it takes for him to gently coax you into watching his favourite pornos with him. his cock starts to harden in his pants just at the thought of having you like that. when you finally accept, he swears he's on cloud nine.

god, he's been wanting you for months now; he can't believe this is happening.

"c'mere, baby," he eagerly instructs you, getting on his bed.

he sits with his back resting on the headboard and pats the spot between his legs to invite you to sit there. he places the laptop next to him, the pornhub website still open on it. you move slowly towards him, cheeks slightly flushed from the embarrassment as you settle on the mattress in between his parted thighs, your back pressed to his hard chest.

he wraps one strong arm securely around your waist, his hand coming to rest gently on your tummy. with his other hand, he reaches for the laptop sitting beside him, carefully bringing it closer so the two of you can see the screen properly.

your heart is beating so fast in your chest that he can probably hear it, too. the way he is touching you is not making it easier for you to stay calm, either, his fingers tenderly tracing patterns on your belly over the thin fabric of your shirt while he scrolls through the page.

he seems to sense your discomfort and chuckles low in his throat, his warm breath tickling your ear. "relax, sis," he whispers teasingly, his voice laced with amusement. "i'm not gonna make you watch anything that'll traumatize you."

"it's just– this is a bad idea," you babble, fidgeting nervously when he finally clicks on a video and a pretty young woman appears on screen.

the actress is beautiful; she has a gorgeous body and face. her lips are full and pink, and she has these big, expressive eyes that appear to gleam. and you don't realize it, but she looks exactly like you.

the scene starts playing; in it, the girl is watching some movie with a guy that, apparently, is her roommate —at least that's what the title says.

"shhh..." he hushes you softly, his voice barely audible over the sounds emanating from his laptop's speakers. "just watch. don't overthink it."

"okay," you answer between gritted teeth.

your pretty eyes are fixed on the laptop while you try not to cringe at how bad the script and acting are, which is nearly impossible, to be honest. despite that, you keep watching in silence as the video plays, growing more flustered as the clock ticks.

you didn't know mouths could be used for that... interesting.

as opposed to you, rafe's pretty chill behind you, like he's unbothered by this whole situation —he's actually hard as fuck inside his pants, the thing is you haven't noticed. you wonder how he can act so unfazed, since you keep pushing your thighs together to try and soothe the throbbing sensation building in between them while you take in the lewd actions occurring on screen.

you weren't expecting your body to have this reaction, and now you don't know what to do to make it stop.

rafe soon becomes aware of the way you keep letting out soft sighs and squirming in his arms, plush ass rubbing against his cock every time you do it. it's a miracle he is still holding back, though he doesn't know how much time he will be able to.

he's not even paying attention to the video anymore, his entire focus put on you. he finally ventures to lean in, his hot breath grazing the shell of your ear as he whispers, "you know, i could do that to you..." his hand slowly slides to your plush thigh and he gives it a gentle squeeze.

his movements are measured and controlled not to scare you, but your breath hitches in your chest at his actions either way, body tensing up in his grasp. your brain is telling you to push him away, but the insistent throb in your sex doesn't like that idea, not one bit.

"you– you could?" you utter quietly, not taking your eyes away from the laptop.

rafe notices the uncertainty in your voice, but the way you haven't pushed him away yet emboldens him to continue, his large hand gradually sliding north.

"yeah, baby," he murmurs huskily against your ear, fingertips brushing along your inner thigh. "i could put my fingers inside you, just like he's doing to her..."

his words make you blush heavily as a little gasp is released from your pouty lips. "would it feel good?" you ask naively.

your eyes are transfixed in the sight of the guy on the screen pushing his fingers inside the girl's pussy. god, she seems like she's enjoying it so much... and you desperately want to feel like that too. you can't even bring yourself to care that it's your stepbrother offering to show you.

rafe's fingers creep higher and higher until they're barely brushing against your cotton panties. "yeah," he growls huskily against your ear, "it'd feel real good, sweetheart. i promise..."

you shudder, a sweet little mewl escaping your throat involuntarily. you can't help but blush at your own reaction, slightly embarrassed by it. you tear your eyes away from the screen, head falling back against his chest as you look up at him.

"it's throbbing, rafe..." you whine, self-control slipping from your hands. "can you make it better?"

rafe's fingers finally make contact with your wet underwear, pressing against your clit through the fabric. he rubs gentle circles around your sensitive nub, his other hand curling around your supple thigh to spread your legs wider.

"oh, baby, you're soaked through your panties..." he pants out.

your body literally melts into his touch like butter, perfectly shaped brows knitting together in a frown of pleasure. the girl in the video moans, and you do too, both sounds echoing in the silence of his room.

taking your moan as an invitation, rafe carefully hooks his fingers in the gusset of your panties to push them aside, exposing your sopping cunt to the cool air of his bedroom. then, he traces your wet slit slowly, leisurely, as if savoring the velvety feel of your skin.

"such a pretty little pussy..." he praises, eyes hungrily taking in the pink expanse of flesh.

you squirm and let out a soft whimper, biting your lip right after to avoid keep making noises; the last thing you want is to wake up your parents or wheezie. rafe notices your struggle and swiftly reaches up to cover your mouth with his free hand, muffling your sweet moans.

he gathers some of the wetness dripping out of your cunt before trailing his fingers all the way up to your clit, rubbing it gently. your eyes roll back, hips bucking up against his hand instinctively. the way your swollen bud throbs beneath his fingertips is going to make you mad. he begins to touch your clit in fast, tight circles, his other hand still holding your mouth shut to keep you quiet.

he leans in to whisper against your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine, "if you make a sound, i'll stop, got it?"

you nod obediently in response, making your best effort to comply; you don't want him to stop doing this, never. as a reward, rafe slides a thick finger down your slit and presses it against your clenched entry, steadily applying pressure until your tight muscles finally give in and allow his digit ingress.

"so fuckin' tight," he groans under his breath at the feeling of your narrow pussy engulfing his finger.

withdrawing his finger almost all the way out, he teases your entrance with the tip, making you tremble with anticipation before pushing it back in to the knuckle, his palm cupping your mound as he starts to thrust in a smooth, lazy rhythm. you swallow a whiny cry while your eyelids flutter shut, pretty face scrunched in a blissful expression.

rafe works his finger in and out of your slick pussy slowly, marveling at how your velvety walls flutter around the digit. he curls it inward, searching for that special spot that's guaranteed to drive you wild.

after a few experimental pokes, rafe's fingertip finally brushes over your g-spot, eliciting a muffled moan from under his palm. he smiles wickedly against your skin, and you shudder in his grasp, pleasure waves running through your body.

"that's it, sweetheart... feel good?" he croons softly, fingering you nice and deep.

you can't bring yourself to reply, the sensation of his large digit fucking your pussy, added to the constant rubbing of his palm against your puffy clit has your mind feeling all fuzzy. your body language is the only answer he needs, though.

rafe leans in to tenderly nip at your neck, his hot mouth latching onto your slender throat as he keeps pumping his finger steadily in and out of your dripping cunt. he knows you're close when he feels your inner muscles starting to clench erratically around his digit.

"rafe," you moan onto his palm as you feel this new, strange sensation building in your tummy, pussy tingling so nicely.

heaven help him. hearing you, his stepsister, moan his name like that makes rafe's hard dick throb almost painfully against his zipper.

and then it happens. the coil in your belly suddenly snaps and you have to bite onto your lip harshly to keep yourself from screaming as you cum for the very first time, on your stepbrother's hand. rafe continues to pump his finger in and out of your spasming cunt as you ride out your climax, wanting to prolong your pleasure.

when you finally come down from your high, you're all shaky and flustered in his arms, panting heavily to try and catch your breath. he has a satisfied smirk on his lips while he slowly withdraws his slick digit from your quivering hole to bring it up to his mouth and lick it clean, savoring your taste.

"did so well for me, baby," he coos as he uncovers your mouth, gently turning your head to the side to press a kiss to your swollen, red lips.

you return it sloppily, eyes fluttering shut in the process, and you sigh contently against his mouth. he can't help but rock his hips against your ass, rubbing his hard on against you.

"did i make you feel good?" he asks between little kisses, his breathing growing uneven. you nod in response. "yeah? then it's just fair you make me feel good too, sweetheart... wanna do that f'me?"

"yes," you whisper against his lips without even thinking, feeling him smirk into the kiss.

"such a good girl," he praises.

at some point, the porn video playing on his laptop ended, so he simply closes it up and tosses it away, the device landing somewhere on his king size bed. then, he turns you both around, until you are laying on the mattress and he is on top of you.

he is quick to undo his pants and yank them down, just enough to free his raging hard on, which bounces against his abs. let me tell you this, he's big, the tip pink and fat, already leaking precum.

suddenly, realization hits you. this is your stepbrother for god's sake, are you really gonna let him fuck you?

he notices how your body tenses up, one hand reaching to stroke your plush thigh reassuringly while the other wraps around his shaft, giving it a slow pump.

"hey, baby, relax..." he whispers gently, "i'll put just the tip in, yeah? there's nothing wrong with that."

you hesitate. his strong arms slide beneath your legs to tug you closer. then his cock brushes your pussy and you whimper. how are you supposed to say 'no' ?

it's just the tip.

"mhmm, 'kay" you end up agreeing with a little nod.

rafe flashes you a lopsided smirk, his hand gripping his cock again while the free one yanks your panties aside once more. keeping eye contact, he slowly glides the fat head of his dick up and down your drenched slit, coating it thoroughly in your arousal. you shudder as his tip eventually meets your puffy clit, the gentle rubbing sending shivers down your spine.

"rafe," you whimper.

rafe's eyelids droop, a low hum of pleasure escaping his throat as he continues to slowly drag the reddened head up and down your chubby pussy lips with squelching sounds. his breathing grows heavier the longer he teasingly rolls it against your slick folds, reveling in your breathy whimpers. he feels like he's about to burst already, pre-cum steadily leaking from the tip and onto your flesh.

he can't fucking take this anymore.

with a slow, gentle thrust, he sinks his cock into your warm, slippery pussy, just the head breaching your entrance before he pauses, savoring the initial penetration. his eyes lock onto yours, his pupils blown wide with lust.

"jesus, fuck." he grunts.

your cunt starts fluttering around him. he has barely slided the first two inches in, as he promised, but he's so thick that even that feels like a tight fit. you let out a moan, which mingles with a strained groan from rafe as your velvety walls clench tightly around his swollen cockhead.

"gonna– might just nut already, shit" rafe mutters through gritted teeth, fighting the urge to just drive forward and hilt himself deep. "so goddamn tight."

your hips buck unconsciously against his, making him slip in just a tad further —which nearly makes him lose all his self-control. somehow, he manages to keep his shit together, hips rocking slowly to thrust in and out of you while his veiny hand strokes the rest of his shaft.

you're totally enthralled by the sight, liquid heat pooling in your belly while you watch him use your body for his pleasure. he looks so good, you can't believe he's real. your chest fills with pride at the knowledge that you're making this greek god feel good.

this is the fastest rafe has ever cum, the movement of his hips becoming jerky and sloppy after a few minutes as he spills his sperm inside you. he's panting heavily, sweat beading on his brow while his fist squeezes the base of his cock tightly.

you're left wanting more when he slowly pulls out, pussy stretched out and leaking white spurts of cum. he gazes down at you with a smirk, lightly tapping the head of his dick against your swollen clit, which has you writhing beneath him.

"so fuckin' gorgeous stuffed full of my cum," he whispers, his cock smearing the sticky substance all over your slit. you mewl in response. "hmm, 'm sorry for making such a mess on your pretty pussy, sweetheart, lemme clean it up, yeah?"

you blush in response when he leans forward, throwing your creamy thighs over his broad shoulders, to put his mouth onto your sex. you almost cry at the heavenly feeling, his playful tongue delving between your folds to lap up his own release. he cleans you up thoroughly, only to mess you up again right after, his spit soaking your cunt as he makes you cum again.

after tonight, you are cancelling that date, that's for sure.

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honey-tongued-devil · 4 months ago

Text

▶[Arcane preference] reacting to you wearing their clothes [Jayce, Viktor, Ekko, Vander, Silco, Jinx, Vi, Caitlyn, Mel, Sevika, ]

If you know me, hello little deers, I'm back! If you don’t know me, welcome! Just a heads-up that I don’t use "Y/N," but rather the impersonal "you," and even though I talk about clothes, no sizes or weight are involved. Enjoy the read!

Jayce:

- It’s not that rare when you’re together; he’s a real gentleman through and through. If it’s cold, he’ll give you his jacket, his scarf, anything to keep you warm

- But when you’re the one taking his clothes, it’s different

- When he sees you walking around the room in his shirt, just after waking up, something in his brain malfunctions

- It’s how it fits you, no matter how big or long it is, it seems like it was made just for you, to give you that look

- And to him, it feels like some kind of subliminal ad, as if the universe is making you so attractive in the simplicity of that gesture just to tell him he needs to hurry up and put a ring on your finger so he can enjoy that sight every day

- It’s hard for you to get anything done in the morning when he wakes up with those thoughts

- Those are the days when you stay in bed, cuddling under the covers, with him looking at you, hand on his cheek, getting more lost in you by the second

Viktor:

- For Viktor, the idea of a “little thief stealing his clothes” is an interesting one

- He’s never been a fan of tight-fitting clothes, plus, with his physique, it’s rare for anything to fit snugly anyway

- That’s why, except for his Academy uniform, the rest of his clothes are comfortable and at least two sizes too big for him, without mentioning Jayce's oversize ones in his closet

- What Viktor didn’t expect was that, once you started liking them, you’d just take them straight out of his drawer

- The first time he knocked on your door to ask if you’d seen his shirt —the very one you were wearing— he first stopped, confused, wondering how it had ended up on you

- And then, though he didn’t show it, he paused to notice with satisfaction how well it wrapped around your body

- Sometimes he pretends to forget his clothes at your place, just to see them on you, and to get them back with your scent on them

- For the nights when he feels lonelier

Ekko:

- Communism

- There’s not really a strong sense of what belongs to whom at the Tree, although some clothes (jackets in particular) eventually get so personalized that no one dares to take them anymore

- The first time you grabbed Ekko’s jacket, it was simply because you were freezing, it was really cold, and he was resting, so he didn’t need it

- But when he saw you wearing it, his pupils dilated so much you could notice it despite his very dark eyes

- Ever since then, it’s him who gives it to you and insists that you wear it, because he likes it: there’s something extremely intimate and deeply personal about walking around with you in his jacket

- It’s like marking you as his, but really, also reminding himself of it

- And Ekko may be proud, but one thing you quickly and painfully learn in the alleys is to say ‘I love you’ before it’s too late, and that small possessive gesture makes him feel fulfilled because it’s like he’s telling everyone that he couldn’t live without you

Vander:

- Vander’s clothes have this super-secret ability to change depending on who’s wearing them. For example, what are shirts on him turn into dresses on you

- When you put them on, even just for the sake of convenience, you find yourself laughing in front of every mirror you pass by

- And if he notices, he can’t help but hug you from behind, leaning down to rub his nose against your neck, smiling against your skin

- “You know,” he says every single time, “it looks better on you than it does on me,” and no matter how false it might be, in his eyes, it’s truer than almost anything else

- After seeing you a few times in his grown-up man's clothes, he decided to dig through an old box to find the clothes from when he was younger and mend them before leaving them folded on your side of the bed, like a little gift

Silco:

- Silco’s strangest habit was the connection he had with his clothes: they looked like Piltover garments, except for the boots and the shirt under the velvet vest, yet they were torn, poorly mended, and worn out in several places

- Despite being the richest man in the undercity, he never changed them

- The only newer piece in his wardrobe that he used to wear was his coat, which was in perfect condition, scented with cologne, and lined with soft velvet that followed the direction of your fingers when you touched it

- Sure, there were ceremonial outfits, pajamas, and something comfortable yet always elegant, but he had worn them so little that they almost didn’t seem like his

- That’s why one day you simply decided you were bored, and while he was in a meeting, you could take the opportunity to try on the ones that fit you

- But that little fashion show from his wardrobe to the mirror probably took longer than expected, and definitely you were too focused, because you didn’t notice the tall figure watching you, leaning against the doorframe

- “Don’t take that off, I’ve got an idea or two,” his voice broke the silence, making you jump

Jinx:

- Her clothes are more like a flea market than a wardrobe: there are men’s clothes, women’s clothes, from Piltover and Zaun, intact, held together by metal staples, clean, splattered with paint, torn from explosions, some so small you wonder who they could even fit, and some so large that you and at least four of her father’s henchmen could comfortably fit in them with room to spare

- She’s the one who tells you to grab something from the pile the first time you ask to help her with her calculations and experiments, and in the end, you choose something comfortable rather than something intact or clean

- It took her a good half hour to notice, and then another hour to stop talking about it

- It was something she hadn’t done since she had a family, sharing clothes with someone else, and suddenly she realized just how much she missed it

- Every now and then, she’d give you oversized shirts on purpose, just to disappear under the fabric and snuggle up to you, where she felt sheltered enough to feel less vulnerable

Vi:

- Vi’s mentality was interesting because, by accident, if she noticed you were eyeing someone’s clothes with interest, somehow the next day those clothes would end up on your bed

- Vi would do anything for you; if it were up to her, you’d be dressed in pearls and gold, but neither the place nor her situation allowed it

- That’s why she never offered you her clothes: the older ones were tattered, barely definable as rags, which she stubbornly patched up every month

- The new ones were stolen, spoils from street fights, but they always came in looking battered and worn, or worse, stained with blood or strange substances, so they weren’t good for you

- When she saw you wearing a sweater from her wardrobe, stained and burned in spots, the first thing she felt was guilt

- She hated not being able to treat you the way she wanted to

- But from that day on, she made sure to at least wash her clothes before putting them away, and slowly she learned to love the clothes you stole a little more than the others

- That sweater, for example, she would defend it with her life

Caitlyn:

- Whenever you stayed over at her place, she always made sure to provide everything for you: slippers, socks, pajamas, anything you might need

- And it was always the highest quality you had ever seen

- So seeing you in her clothes wasn’t new, although she sometimes liked to have you try on things she didn’t wear anymore, partly because she couldn’t due to her important name, and partly because she spent half her time in uniform

- Those little fashion shows almost always ended with her on top of you, while you are very busy figuring out how to stay quiet so none of the servants, or worse, her parents, would catch you

- It didn’t matter if the clothes didn’t suit you, being able to see you in so many different lights made her fall even more in love with everything about you

- The final blow? One day she decided to look through the enforcers’ uniforms to find one that would fit you, and for the first time, she saw you in clothes that matched hers

- There was something about it that made her hope that uniform would change the chemistry of your brain too and make you join the force, just so she could spend more time with you, just so she could see you like that more often

Mel:

- For Mel, it wasn’t an event: she was used to everything, mastering her emotions, and seeing you wearing something of hers had only left her confused for a second, from which she quickly recovered, smiling at you

- “It looks really good on you, you know?” she had asked

- It didn’t bother her. Objectively, you seemed stupid borrowing those elegant clothes tailored exactly to her body

- It almost felt like heresy to wear the clothes of a goddess-like figure. But the goddess had sensed something, and she began buying and commissioning outfits for both you and her, matching, so you wouldn’t feel like you were missing something

- But there was one moment, a specific one, where seeing you in one of her dresses had left her speechless

- When you told her that the sweater was so beautiful it was almost a shame knowing she couldn’t wear it on the day you’d marry her

- And Mel Medarda came from a land of war, where it was hard to get attached to people, let alone objects

- Yet from that day, that piece of clothing became a constant for her, even if it meant layering or pulling it down to keep her shoulders bare

- Because it no longer just warmed her skin; it began to warm something deeper, something she hadn’t even realized she had

Sevika:

- Her clothes reflected her line of work: dirty, unpleasant, dangerous

- But despite that, she would drape them over you herself, no matter how worn they were: if she thought you might be cold, without a word, you’d find a sweater or hoodie on your shoulders

- And even though she’d glance at you from the corner of her eye, she wouldn’t stop watching you for a single moment when you wore something of hers

- It was a matter of homeland—there was no ownership in Zaun, not even last names, as even the family you belonged to was irrelevant compared to what you could do

- And the gangs, thugs, and troublemakers wouldn’t hesitate to steal what was yours

- But you were hers, and you couldn’t be stolen. And that shirt was hers, but she didn’t feel mutilated, like she normally would, when you wore it

- In fact, she loved it, opening her arms to invite you to snuggle up, holding you carefully so the prosthetic wouldn’t bother you, adjusting the clothing on you ten, a hundred times, almost unconsciously

- And when you wore her clothes, it felt like for a little while, you could wear her skin too, to understand her better, and she suddenly seemed more vulnerable

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