#(This Sonic's staying for a while yet.)

[quirkle2]

[zombie au] yeagh

[spiritualrisk]

i love drawing characters just hanging out,, todays victims. them. 

[triplethreatsonic]

Hey so... I've been working on this again

[trashcreatyre]

Woa, angst and vague au lore be apon ye

[bluedudewithatude]

———- Hey

Is this thing o̴n̴?̶ ̴I̴s̵ ̷a̶n̴y̸o̷n̸e̵—̷-̷ ṯ̶́h̴̰̀ẽ̴̠r̸͚̋ḛ̶̏?̶͎͛

F̵͚̒.̶̦͠ ̸̳͝ṟ̷͝.̷̖͝ ̶͓͐0̶͉͠.̵̜̏ ̷͔̔N̸̢̕ ̵͈̓.̷̠͐ ̴̀͜t̸̢̚ḭ̸͌ ̶͓̅E̵̬͛ȓ̸͉ $̶̙́

—̷-̸ ̵C̵o̸m̸e̷ ̸o̶n̴,̸ ̵w̵o̴r̸k̸ ̵w̵i̶t̵h̷ ̶m̴e̵—̵here!̵ Ah! There we go! Finally!

Hey, guys! S' been a while! I know I've been kind of all over the place and doing some different things... but hey. You know me!

No one can get rid of me that easily!

[lightgriffinsect]

the urge to binge rewatch all my blorbos’ mods

[moviestarmartini]

alta suciedad. — franco colapinto x f!reader

summary: while interviewing franco, you misunderstood what he meant with 'talented with his tongue'. lucky for you, he's more than willing to actually show you his skills.

wc: 2.9k

warnings: interviewer!reader, hispanic!reader, porn with an ounce of plot, set during media day of the austin gp, casual sex, oral sex (fem recieving), p in v, unprotected sex, pull out and pray, mean dom!franco, dumbification, degradation, a teeny amount of praise, aftercare, spanglish/sentences in spanish.

A/N: based on this request and took some inspo from this other anon, i'm literally giggling typing this in order to publish it. no specific song for today even though there's a few references even in the title. hope y'all are hungry!!

“I’m talented with my tongue.” 

You didn’t have that much experience when it came to interviewing professionally— you’d been a kid reporter at the same sport you strived to get there, and in the course of getting there, you’ve seen a thousand and one million things that impressed you. 

But this? 

Your mouth hung open, giving him a few rapid blinks while your brain processed the information. 

“You wanna see?” Franco Colapinto insisted, not reading your expression well enough, or ignoring it at the very least. 

“¿Aquí?” You blinked, unable to process the event in the main language of the paddock. You were one of the youngest reporters there, but that didn’t mean you were inexperienced. That had just completely caught you off guard. 

Franco cocked a brow before showing you and the camera how he could manipulate said organ so the sides touched and a tiny hole formed in the middle. 

Yet again he surprised you, or more you surprised yourself with how further down the gutter your mind was at. 

“Oh, good!” You snapped out of it, but he had seemingly finally connected the dots, or so the smirk in his face made it seem like it. 

“Well, thank you for having us, Franco. Good luck during the weekend.” Your  composure was back not even two seconds later, the cameraman soon signaled the transmission was off. A relieved sigh left your lips while your shoulders relaxed, giving your coworker the mic and transmitter to take to the media tent just a few steps away. 

You were just turning back to head there as well, ready to get immersed in writing a report before your name was called. Your heels turned you around by force of habit, not realizing the tone in the driver’s voice might mean trouble. 

“Yes?” You asked politely, hands clasped in front of you to avoid any chance of fidgeting. Your little crush was idiotic, or so you considered it from the day you first interviewed him. 

“¿Qué vas a hacer hoy?” He took a step closer in order to ask the question, hands stuffed in the front pockets of his jeans. 

“¿Perdón?” You realized that sounded rude, your voice repeating a better answer soon after. “Seguir trabajando, why?” A frown settled between your brows, head leaning slightly to the right. Where was this going exactly? The confusion only settled further when you noticed his eyes darting around before leaning in. 

“Si querés que de verdad te enseñe que puedo hacer con mi lengua, entra al motorhome después de las siete, te dejo la puerta de atrás abierta. Mi cuarto está a la izquierda.” And with that, he pulled away, turned around and left. 

You did the same, convinced the idea was just a figment of your imagination, the drought you’ve been suffering for more than a year to get there tricking every nerve in your brain to believe those words. It was settling into the late afternoon, and you worked at a pace Sonic would envy. His words bounced around your gray matter, and after much debating you stayed after the six pm mark, when everyone else left. You peered your head out of your station noticing how the place was almost empty. It was Thursday after all, the whole crews were not active until the following day. 

The curiosity got the best of you, and you packed your bag to head there, skittish at the sight of anyone who crossed your way— or at least the few that did. 

No one was used to walking behind the team buildings, never mind during what’s considered after hours. Your breath got stuck in your throat when you noticed the door ajar, and no one came in nor out to justify the fact. 

“Thought you wouldn’t come.” Franco’s voice snapped you out of the hesitation, arms crossed over his chest. 

“I thought I was supposed to come in by myself.” You got the bravery to counter with the way your heart sped up with adrenaline coursing through your veins. 

“You’re late.” Franco’s response was quick, witty. His tone made you raise your brow; it was… different. Commanding, you could pinpoint. 

“I shouldn’t come out and get you, vení.” Before you could even process it, he took your arm and dragged you inside, going straight down the hallway and taking a left before the door closed shut— no witnesses visible to what he had just done. 

“You can sit wherever you like.” He invited, his voice was back to its playful tone. You nodded, putting your bag down by the door and sitting on the small couch near a corner. 

“Sos muy bonita, ¿sabías?” He complimented while finishing to fix up his room, side eyeing you. 

“Why am I here? What do you want?” You asked bluntly, not accepting the compliment. 

“Look, if you wanted me to write positively about you on the piece, you already got it.” You carefully watched him take a seat next to you, and you both turned to face each other.

“Tonta también, ¿no?” It was as if you were ignoring each other’s words, and before you could get offended, his fingertips brushed your hair out of the way of your face. Any smart quip you could’ve thrown at him flew out the window, your lips parting. 

“That’s just how you looked at me earlier. When you thought I was referring to something dirty. Tontita.” He inched closer. You couldn’t help but do the same, a bit eagerly, eliciting a laugh out of his lips. 

“Do you like me?” It was his turn to be blunt. Without hesitation you nodded, squeezing your lips into a thin line after realizing that might’ve been a mistake. An embarrassing one at that. 

“No pasa nada. Vos también me gustás preciosa…” His voice trailed with his head leaning closer, lips brushing against the prickled skin of your neck. “…inteligente…” A kiss pressed to the area. “…y al parecer, puta.” 

The gasp disappeared between the blurred lines of your lips and his crashing, the term disappearing in your mind while you kissed him. Your hands gripped the material of his team shirt while his own lowered down your back, pulling you closer, almost on top of his lap. 

“¿Hacés esto mucho? Sneak into other drivers’ rooms?” He asked while leaning back down to kiss your neck with a twinge of more harshness, ragged breath leaving your lips while you shook your head ‘no’ 

“¿Sos muda? Habla.” There was that commanding tone again, his fingers delving into the skin of your thighs to squeeze what he wanted out of you. 

“No. Nunca.” You replied with a gulp, leaning your head back to recieve more kisses as a reward for your answer. 

“So I’m the lucky winner?” It sounded something between a compliment and a joke, and you decided to humor him a little with a smile. 

“One could say so.” You replied, thinking you’ve gotten the gist of it. 

“I’m surprised. With that skirt…” He shook his head after tutting, making you figure out the context of his words. You were into it enough to not get offended by the allegation, normally would have defended yourself with the fact it was terribly hot outside. You didn’t like dressing similar to the rest of the reporters in the paddock, and maybe this once it played both in your favor and against it… sort of. 

His lips captured yours again, his tongue swiping your bottom lip. You weren’t dumb— even if he liked to say so— parting your lips without complaint, feeling the way your tongues tangled together while he pushed you down until your back hit the fabric of the furniture. 

The open mouth kisses started redirecting their path down your jaw, following a trail down the length of your neck. He took the opportunity to breathe your scent. 

“Olés tan rico,” He groaned, the growing erection in his jeans pressing against your upper thigh. 

“I can already imagine how that pretty pussy tastes. Can’t wait to make you cum just using my tongue.”  The idea made you shudder, his hands raising your top to move it out of the way while he kept kissing back. You took the initiative to just pull it over your head and throw it somewhere else. 

“You’re so good, stripping for me without having to ask.” Franco cooed, his pace slowing down when his mouth reached down your belly button, making him look at him expectantly. 

What you didn’t expect was for him to just tug on your denim skirt up to completely move it out of the way without removing the piece, his knuckles brushing the spot marked with your aroused slickness, your hips involuntarily twitching to lean closer into his touch. 

“Si solo te he besado y ya estás re mojadita,” Another coo left his mouth, this one with a certain amount of jest in it. You felt deeply embarrassed in a way your face displayed it, only making his smile grow in size. 

Franco almost ripped off the underwear and chucked it somewhere in the room. No moment to adapt was left at your disposition, his tongue pressing flat against your wet core. The noise of a moan coming from you clashed with the hum of satisfaction he felt from the sheer taste of you. 

“So sweet,” Franco praised, and those were the last words to come out of his mouth before he started to back up his words from earlier. 

The whole situation felt like a dream. Not only the fact he made an advance upon noticing how far down the gutter your mind was, but the fact you even came there in the first place. Not that you regretted it, with how he flicked that sensitive nub with the tip of his tongue.  

You didn’t believe his promise earlier— thinking it was just silly dirty talking— but he was proving you wrong. Your moans were the perfect evidence, fingers tangling in his curls while his left hand rose up to grope your exposed breast. 

The shuffling noise outside the room made him perk up and away from your dripping cunt, chin glistening with your wetness. He pulled his index fingers to his lips to signal you to be quiet before continuing, but his attempt fell futile. You were reaching your release quick, his magic working a little too well. There was no warning; his other hand left the grip on your thigh to cover your mouth, holding it down a bit too roughly to send a message. 

Your muffled moans and cries only set him off, teasing your entrance before licking the trail up to your clitoris, suckling on it. He fluttered his eyes open, and the sight was nothing but completely arousing. Your eyes were rolled back, column arching up while his expert affections tipped you over the edge. Your thighs simultaneously shivered and lightly squeezed his head, and it was enough for Franco to decide he was in heaven. 

Once the overwhelming sensation started to wear off, your legs relaxed, allowing him to pull away. With a clearer mind you noticed how his chin and lips glistened before removing the substance with the back of his hand, as if it was just sauce from an actual meal. 

“¿Por qué me mirás así?” Franco wondered at your blissful expression. “¿Ya te enamoraste, putita?” There was no verbal answer; he was eager to link his lips with yours again in yet another sloppy makeout session. This once, however, you couldn’t pretend you didn’t feel his erection pressing against your inner thigh. 

Taking initiative, your hand lowered down his torso to fumble the button of his pants a little before being able to undo it. A groan followed by teeth tugging at your bottom lip was the reaction you gained from jerking him off slowly under his underwear. That gave you enough confidence to swipe your thumb across the leaking tip in order to tease him. 

The sound of a moan from him echoed inside your mouth, a hum from satisfaction leaving consequently. However, your moment of dominance soon faded with his hand slapping yours away before spreading your legs even further— to the point it pulled on the muscles of your inner thigh just a little, the burning sensation mushing with pleasure— the skirt hiking up to rest on your torso. 

“Do you want me to fuck you?” He leaned in to whisper, feeling him nudge your entrance in order to tease you. The sensation that followed was something similar to your brain shutting down, managing to only nod. The smell of his cologne, his body pressing down on you. 

Franco, Franco, Franco, Fran— 

“¿Qué pasa tontita? Say it.” He egged you on, threatening to push himself inside, but not making it far enough to bring you satisfaction. 

“Yes, por favor.” You begged, getting a chaste kiss for a reward followed by the intrusion spreading your warm walls. You saw the way Franco tried to keep it together, the façade crumbling under a groan. You felt too good. His mind could only pinpoint your body under his, the warmth hugging his stiff dick and electrifying every nerve of his being. 

His mind couldn’t stop chanting your name. 

“Move,” You asked nicely, though it came out in a huff. He found himself too enthralled to complain at your tone, instead complying. 

The lower tone of his moans harmonized with the high pitched of yours, the sound of skin frantically coming in contact filling up the room enough for both of you two to forget what could possibly be going on outside. At least it had been a while since you last heard people outside doing whatever. 

“Dios, que apretadita estás,” Franco groaned out loud, his lips brushing against yours. You took the leap, closing the distance between the two of you. But you couldn’t get much out of it due to your own fault, moans interrupting the session. 

“No, besáme.” You whined when he pulled away slightly, and a smirk rose at his lips before he locked them with yours, pace increasing. You struggled to engage further, the moans and groans interrupting. 

“No, besáme.” Franco replicated your plea from earlier before laughing between heavy breaths. 

You couldn’t do anything but pucker your bottom lip out, not finding the words to complain about how mean he was being. Besides, all coherent thoughts disappeared the moment you felt your second orgasm peeking from behind you at a rapid rate. Your nails dug into the uncovered skin of his forearms, just below where the team shirt started covering his biceps. 

“¿Por qué me apretás tanto?” He hissed before falling upon the realization, deciding to keep having his fun with you and slowing down. 

“Fuck— ¡¿qué te pasa?!” You groaned, feeling the release reeling down into a sensation of being completely stuck midway. 

“Dale, decime lo que quieres. De forma bonita, como vos.” He kept his thrusts slow and deep, trying to contain his own release from the pulsating walls squeezing the life out of his cock. 

“I wanna cum,” You felt the embarrassment of having to request that out loud settle in your stomach, soon washed over by the sensation the quickening of his hips gave your core. 

“Si, si. Franco, that’s it,” You cried out, hiding your face in the crook of his neck while your thighs shivered once more. 

Your cunt was so warm and tight he almost didn’t pull out. Almost. After a groan left the back of his throat, droplets of white painted your lower abdomen, thankfully not staining your skirt. 

He kept himself supported by his forearms, allowing him to lean in and kiss your forehead and cheeks. 

There wasn’t much to be said, you knew that, and so did he. Carefully, he fixed his underwear and pants before getting up, muttering something under his breath in his attempt to find the wet wipes he knew he had… somewhere in the organized clutter of his room. 

“Dejá que te limpio,” His voice was tender, the wet tissue dragging across your skin to remove the seminal liquid, before another carefully cleaned the sweat off your forehead and neck. 

You thanked him with a nod, unable to hold eye contact for long. Once you felt comfortable you sat up, fixing your clothes and hair before getting up on your legs, still a bit wobbly. You took it upon yourself to clean the damp spot on the couch where you laid, still embarrassed by the whole ordeal. 

Quickly, you slipped your underwear on, unaware of the pair of eyes following your every move with a cold calculation. 

“¿Qué vas a hacer hoy?” The question he asked to what seemed to be ages ago popped up again, making you turn, just as confused as you were earlier. 

“Dormir… cenar. Ya veremos, dijo el ciego.” At your cheeky response his laughter echoed through the room, arms folded over his torso. 

“¿Habrá un espacio para mí en esa cena o nos vemos mañana a la misma hora?” He took a step closer. Then another. And another. Until he stood in front of you, leaning down enough to whisper in your ear. 

“No importa si no me querés ver hoy en la noche todo caballeroso, mañana procura llegar a tiempo y controlar esa boquita.” Yet again, his voice electrified goosebumps all over your skin. 

What did you just get yourself into?

[rainychaoloveshack]

May I request Shadow or mobian!reader in a time loop. One of them is stuck, the other is blissfully unaware and won’t remember every time it’s reset. You can pick who is stuck! They are Asking for help and then the other giving a sudden smooch? Maybe more… than a smooch? Little heated if you so desire. They’re not yet together, or aware of the other persons feelings until that little kiss. After the loop is fixed, it’s awkward cause the one that was stuck in the loop knows. Like what’s the aftermath shsosnszk

ﾟ ⋆ ﾟ ☂︎ ⋆ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐝. 𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐡𝐨𝐠.

you’ll love shadow even after every reset possible. no matter what.

⋆°•☁︎ content . shadow x gn!reader, angst to light fluff, friends to lovers, slight suggestive material warning. light mention of not eating/drinking for days, implied depression.

☂︎ wc. 1.6k ☂︎ a/n. i loved this request sm. like this one just spoke to my angsty soul. might be the longest thing here yet; sorry its too long ^^’ srry this took a while! i was flip flopping on who i wanted to be stuck ^^’

likes, reblogs, and especially comments are extremely appreciated!!! (i like chatting to you guys!)

Two hundred and thirty-six days. That's how many times you’ve watched the clock strike twelve exactly on Saturday, signaling to you the day had started over again. Never to watch the next day pass. Forced to live everyday like its a new one, yet still subject to HIS charming nature, even if he’s so stubborn in the way he shows his affection towards you.

You try your best to switch up the routines as you go nowadays, trying to excite your life, yet nothing ever works. The clock strikes twelve as it always does. At this point, it’s become numb; infuriatingly so. Some days you’ll gain that motivation back to try something different, whether it be surrounding yourself with new people to serve as a distraction, or trying to dig deeper into the cause of your time loop, to no avail. And other days you rot inside your room, staring at the clock on the wall, watching it tick. And tick. And tick, until it hits twelve again.

Some days you’ll forget to eat and drink, sometimes on purpose, first finding comfort in that pitting feeling in your stomach, finally feeling something after so long, but soon falling numb to that feeling too.

The only reason you have the strength to keep going is the belief that you’ll see your friends again. No matter what. In your timeline, without any interference.

Nothing changed today. Another day wasted, yet someone raps on your door sharply, forcing you to open your eyes gently and utter a small ‘okay’ to let them in.

… This hasn’t happened before. Why is he here?

“You’ve been stuck in here all day.” Shadow grumbles as he pushes your door open, the door squeaking on its hinges, with the moonlight already shining through your blowing curtains. “Have you even gotten out of bed today?” He says sternly, walking over to your bedside and nudging you, causing you to stir out of your resting state. You had already given up for today, so the plan was to just fall asleep until tomorrow.

‘Tomorrow’... What a dream tomorrow is to you.

Turning over, you meet his crimson eyes with a dull sigh leaving your lips, briefly glancing over to the clock set on the wall.

10:35 PM. It’s almost twelve. One more hour. One and a half.

He shifts his weight to one of his feet, setting a hand on his hip as he growls down at you. “No one saw you today, so Sonic told me to go and check on you. Especially since it’s this late and you’ve been missing for all of today.” He scoffs, clearly aggravated at your lack of energy or action. “You couldn’t at least tell one person that you 're going to stay inside all day?” Your blankets drop down to your lap as you sit up slowly, peering up at him through the blurry haze of your mind.

“At least I know you’re alive.” He says, walking over to your covered window to peel the curtains back, letting the moonlight illuminate your room with a soft, white glow. “Come on.” Shadow sits across from you on the bed, tugging the blankets away from you to encourage you to get up.

Why is he so persistent? Why can’t he just leave you alone? But even then, he’s still so…

Lovely.

Suddenly, tears prick and poke at the back of your eyes, welling up to the corners as they threaten to spill out and drip down your cheeks. Shadow stares at you as you hang your head low, refusing to meet his gaze as you try to shove that feeling away, despising that feeling of your throat tightening, even if you’ve begged to feel something other than despair for the longest time.

Of course. He doesn’t know what to do, but he’s still so charming…

“[Name]?” His hand presses against your calf under the blanket, slightly leaning forward to see the tears fall on your face, your shoulders trembling. “Wh-What’s wrong? Is it me?” A tremble flows through his hand; barely noticeable to someone who wouldn’t be paying attention to such a small detail. “[Name], tell me what’s wrong. Why’re you crying so suddenly?” Shadow murmurs, grabbing you by your shoulders to try to ease your worries.

Tell him. Tell him. Tell him you’ve been living every day hoping it’s the last one. Praying to be ripped from this curse. Tell him Tell him Tell him Tell him Tell him Tell him Tell him Tell him Tell him Tell him Tell him Tell him Tell him Tell him Tell him Tell him Tell him

“What?” Shadow’s ear flicks in an odd manner, clearly confused at your sudden declaration. “I’m sorry? … Time-looping?”

And so you shatter. Break in front of his eyes; incessant ramblings about you feel like you’re going insane, yet the only thing to bring you back down to earth is getting to see him everyday on this agonizing, pitiful day. 

Something in his heart really does want to believe in you, truly. Although disbelief stands present in his head, he’ll reach out to you anyway. No matter what.

“[Name].” he utters your name, his gloved hand grazing your cheek to wipe a stray tear away. “I…” Shadow stares into your eyes, trying to fight back the shock from showing on his face. His hands twitch as he reaches out for yours, grazing the back of your palm. “If you really think that you’re… Looping; then I believe you. I promise.”

What?

This is different. New. Two hundred and thirty-six times. Never had something like this happened before. Two hundred and thirty-six. Two hundred and thirty-six. Two hundred and thirty-six days. Five thousand six hundred and sixty-four hours. 

It feels like your head is going to split into two, pulled and ripped apart by the hour and minute hand. It’s agonizing. But it’s something.

“[Name].” Shadow tilts your head up from your chin to face him. “I…” It looks like he’s at a loss for words, not that you blame him. 

“Come here.” He says softly, beckoning you closer to him with two fingers. What in the world does he want? Even though you ask multiple questions in your head, you lean in closer anyway to-

Huh?

His lips brush against yours, and it’s slow but sweet; still hesitant before he presses them further onto you, nipping at your bottom lip, almost desperate for something more. Deeper. Deeper. Even more so.

“[Name],” he growls in between pants, his voice trembling at the end of your name. “[Name], [Name], [Name], [Name]...” Shadow keeps on saying in between your kisses and breaths for air, almost like a record constantly on repeat. His palms press into your shoulders, pinning you down on the bed, as he leans over your trembling form. His eyes dart to the clock hanging on the wall, before looking back at you, cupping one of your cheeks.

He really feels the same way about you? He does? Your head subconsciously leans into his touch, pressing your face against his hand, desperately wanting- No. You have to feel the warmth coming from him.

“I’ll use whatever time I have left to spend it here with you. Even once it hits twelve; you have my word.” He whispers, leaning in to kiss you again…

Your head's pounding, the blankets laying heavy on your body this morning. Strangely heavy. Ugh. The mental toll of last night might be hitting you already, even if it’s another reset.

Wait, no, it’s not the blanket. If it’s not the blanket, it’s…

“How’re you feeling?” Shadow murmurs, raising his head off your chest to look at you directly. It’s really nerve-racking… But not in a bad way, somehow. “Are you sore anywhere?”

His question makes you cock your head to the side in confusion. Sore? Why would you be-

No. More importantly, what in the world is he doing in your bed? The day starts with your alarm ringing, but it hasn’t done so at all. In fact, it’s later than you would usually wake up; the clock’s hands say so.

Wait. So it’s really Sunday? Is it?!

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Shadow chuckles softly at your bewildered face, opening his mouth again to respond, but your arms toss around him, bear-hugging his body tight against yours.

“Ah, okay, okay, you’re happy; I get it…” Shadow grumbles, starting to pull away from you, but the tears welling up in the corners of your eyes makes him stop his protesting movements immediately, reaching up to wipe them away. “Oh come on, don’t start crying again.”

… Again? 

Your happy sobs are cut short by your own shock; this morning is getting both happier and weirder by the second. Again? So that means he knows it all? Everything?

A rare smile spreads across his muzzle, his eyes staring thoughtfully into yours. “Two hundred and thirty-six times…” Shadow starts, brushing his hand across your shoulder, and your face heats up gradually at the mention of the number coming from him. “So you really were telling the truth.”

You never told him that number. No way. Shouldn’t it just be like another reset?! Did he really remember your breakdown? No way, no way…

“When you mentioned the loop, something was telling me you were right, even if it sounded absurd.” He says, pausing his thoughts to think a bit harder about the situation. During this, he lifts himself off your body to sit at the edge of your bed, stretching his arms out in front of him. “I just…” He mumbles, his voice softening with his own strange embarrassment. “If it was really a time loop like you said, I wanted to try something I knew I wouldn’t regret.”

All time stuff aside, something else is nagging at your mind…

Did you two really do all that stuff last night?

Shadow peers over at you, before turning his head away; surely holding back some laughter by the way his shoulders shake, cupping his hand over his mouth.

“It’s nothing; don’t worry about it, then.”

(the set-up took longer than i thought it would, sorry for the yapping…)

[superscourge]

alright yall.

so ive decided that in the resurrected au, much like meta, mephiles ends up getting a synthetic mobian body as well! he is now a hedgehog (allegedly...?) but he has basically the same powers as he usually does

the reason he ends up with this body is because while scourge did release him from his prison again he was unable to exist without being tethered to this dimension by something, which is why he attached himself to scourge and took his form via his shadow. he later transferred his attachment to infinite and took his form as well (although this time it was in a spiteful, mocking gesture lol), and finally he was able to have his own body thanks to the same process metal sonic went through to have their organic body, which means he was able to finally exist without being bound to anyone else!

and yet he stays...?

[nixoon-again]

i have so many thought about tails growing up. like sonic gets more like tails, tails gets more like sonic in a way but worse.

sonic learns how to show more affection through words and actions, where he didn't know what how to deal with his emotions and buried them deep for no one to see, he learns to be more open and grows as a person who wants to be here with his friends and family, and learns to share his worries with his family too.

while tails — raised by an 11 year old who didn't talk much, didn't stick around for long, didn't like long hugs, felt trapped in too many people, hated being stuck in one place, wanted nothing but the fresh air in his quills away and alone yet so selflessly helping everyone he can — grows into a person who doesn't really know if his emotions even matter or what he should do with them. he doesn't want to cry, he doesn't want to be seen crying, he doesn't want anyone near him in his more vulnerable moments. he loathes the idea. he questions himself every night whether he actually loves his friends and family or whether they love him or are they just being nice for the sake of an unlovable kid. it's drifting them apart, it snowballs from the solo adventure tails was so excited to go on. he doesn't know how long that adventure is going to be or should it even be called an adventure because really its just him running away from the people whose presence is starting to suffocate him, he doesn't know if its the idea of hugs and "I missed you"s and celebrations that makes him want to run or his inability to handle his own emotions anymore. he's not fond of physical contact, he would rather not use his voice, he doesn't want to stay here anymore, there's an itch within him to get away, get away, get away.

but he can't. that's not who he is. so he returns and suffocates.

sonic tries to surprise him one night after a successful project by making dinner. he welcomes the fox, now taller than him, with open arms and a warm smile. tails looks at him, knows sonic is offering the hug this time for no reason but simply because he can — and where a certain 8 year old would've been ecstatic at the sight and would've ran into his brother's arms and wouldn't have let go, now is a different story. tails doesn't know what to do. he looks lost, none of his seemingly infinite knowledge helps him in that moment.

sonic notices the distress and asks if everything is okay but tails, having heard it so many times in his life, simply says "nothing. you worry too much."

tails barely touches the food, neither of them talk, he doesn't sleep. its 1:34 am. he gets the tornado and leaves.

sonic waits because regardless of everything, tails always comes back.

[tornado1992]

Sonic and The Black Knight AU in which Sonic’s from that world, he’s an explorer of some sorts and he does technically live in Camelot with his brother Miles, but he spends most of his time traveling around and getting new stuff for his brother to weld and forge with.

One day while returning to Camelot and looking for minerals or cool rocks he finds a sword in a stone, great! New materials for his brother! he can surely make something better than this old blade or upgrade it.

He takes the sword out effortlessly. The sword can talk. Great(?

He brings the weapon to the town, people start to notice the obvious magical artifact and voice goes around about “the legend being fulfilled”.

Oh, that legend. Yeah, no.

He just wants to show his little brother a cool sword, not become ruler of a whole kingdom thank you very much, it doesn’t matter if he “fulfilled the sacred prophecy”, it’s just a rumor until he decides it isn’t. And he doesn’t want it to not be a rumor.

Rumors travel fast, but he is faster.

The talking sword started doubting if he was worthy of the throne after spending no more than an hour around him, not shutting up about how “you’re already running from your kingdom and you haven’t been crowned yet”. Good. Maybe he could convince the sword to tell the people he would make a terrible king if the disdain in its voice gave anything off.

They arrived at the blacksmith’s shop, his brother’s shop, he shush’s the sword down as his brother runs to hug him, instantly pulling away at the sight of the weapon, his twin tails happily wagging gentle circles behind him as he asks Caliburn (what a name) anything and everything that there is to know as a talking sword. Caliburn just asks him why does Sonic call him “Tails” (nice try of a joke mate).

The very rude sword being perplexed about how someone as “reckless and careless” as him has “such a brilliant child in his care”.

Well, not a pretty mineral or shiny rock, but a talking sword seems interesting enough to make his brother happily ramble almost all night long, taking karma in his name as he wears Caliburn’s ear(?) off as he did with him.

Well, he could tell the kid all about his latest adventure in the morning, right now he could focus on cooking his brother a new dinner dish with spices from his latest travel destiny. A small bedtime story (about the knight’s of the round table by Carliburn’s request) and a few ear scratches later and you got a snuggled sleeping fox kit ready for the night.

The sword stays near them, looking at every move Sonic made, as if analyzing him in confusion. What a rude weapon, he might not be good king material but he’s peak big brother material.

He might not have enough on him to give his brother a bigger workshop or expensive materials, but he will give him everything he has if it means keeping him happy, they may not live in a big castle or have fancy dinners every night, but he swore from the moment he met the fox that he would do everything in his power to keep him safe.

As long as his big bro was around, he would never go hungry again, he would never sleep outside again and no one would hurt him again. He won’t ever feel unloved again.

Sonic might not be able to give him the world, but he’ll give him everything else.

His little brother’s sleeping form slightly trembles in his tiny bed, curling himself in his small blanket, covering his body with his fluffy tails, (sometimes Sonic thinks he’s more “Tails than “Miles”, pun intended). it’s been kinda cold lately, their humble home not making much favors to keep them warm even with the forge still on, but he doesn’t think he’s trembling because of the cold.

It’s okay, he didn’t wanted to sleep in his makeshift bed today anyway, he’s been away from his brother for enough time and he doesn’t mind staying right beside him to fight the little fox’s nightmares away and sharing their warmth for comfort. He nuzzles beside him, the kit instinctively moving to hug him and hide his face on the crook of the hedgehog’s neck, gentle purring and soft humming filling the silence of the night.

The next morning Caliburn greets him loudly “Good morrow, king Sonic”

Hell.

He doesn’t know what could’ve changed Caliburn’s opinion on him from one moment to another, but now thanks to that he has knights kneeling before him, the royal wizard offering him their nation’s secrets, a talking sword lecturing him all day long about “a king’s duty and heart”, and the whole kingdom practically demanding him to rule.

It’s not a very tempting idea to say the least. Organizing diplomacy gatherings, hosting balls and knighting warriors is not really his thing, and hell, the kingdom wants it to be his thing.

He offers the throne to whoever wins a crusade? “the winner must defeat his majesty first”. He tries to put back the sword in the stone? “The sword chose you, my liege, it is your destiny”. He tries to show the high commands how bad of a kind he would be? “His majesty is such a humble king, even in all his might”.

So, so eager to make him king. They tried to drag him to the castle so he could “know his new home”. They offered him to make changes to royalty’s way to make it “enough of his way”. They showed him the perks of having power, “a king does as he pleases”.

But what could he really offer them as a king? He can fight bad guys and make allies for sure, but even if he wanted to, would that be enough?

He kinda regrets not spending enough time around the kingdom before, maybe if he did and the people actually knew him they wouldn’t be so insistent on him of all people being king, talking magical sword be damned.

His brother knows what’s going on, he keeps mostly quiet about it, not wanting to disturb the hedgehog with the subject when he actively is trying to avoid it, his only opinion about it being shown a few nights after his return to their home. He’s tucking the fox in for the night, Caliburn silently watching them from the other side of the room, a sleepy squeaky voice fading with a yawn in a last effort to reassure his big brother while he runs his finger’s trough the fox’s bangs.

“You could give this kingdom anything… you already gave the world to me”

That’s all it takes.

Alright, he’ll be their king, but he will not sit on a fancy chair all day, won’t have a personal army following him around and definitely won’t be educated in “proper royalty manners”, you want him to be the king? The king does as he pleases.

The high council or whatever can take care of the bureaucracy, alliances and all the boring stuff, they’ll have the control over most of the kingdom (just how they like it, right?)

His first decree? Right after his coronation, the only time he actually stays in the throne room longer than five minutes, he actually wears his crown, he’s bearing the sacred sword when he calls his brother to the center of the room “I dub thee Miles “Tails” Prower, the crown prince of Camelot”.

He’s the king now, it’s only logical for his little brother to be the prince, the crown prince, direct heir to the kingdom’s throne.

He’s the prince, and the prince can get whatever the hell he desires, so bring him all the minerals and heavy armory, and show him the secret library! Little bro needs stimulation and there’s only so much he can do with a blacksmith’s mediums. His room? Bigger than the king’s! His food? Get him all the neighbor kingdom’s candy if he asks for it! His education? Give him all the books known in the world, get him all the minerals and bring his workshop inside the castle!

What he had was enough for his little brother before, but it might not be enough for him just yet. Time to give him the world that he already promised him.

Prince Miles does have a nice ring to it.

[sameschmidtdiffname]

Hey I love your work so much!!

I was thinking of maybe a Mike Schmidt x reader where the reader is all like “I’m not good enough for you, I don’t deserve you” stuff and then like Mike makes it up to the reader to show them that they are more than enough 🫶

Sure, but it's gonna hurt!

Blue Sunrise

Mike Schmidt x Gender Neutral! Reader

Summery: All is well, yet you aren't. A fact that disturbs and irritates you so, even if it shouldn't.

Tags: No use of Y/N, no use of gendered pronouns for Reader, SFW with brief mentions of smut, pre-established relationship, set during the movie but that's honestly not very relevant, hurt/comfort, Reader and Mike both have PTSD, this isn't projection, bed rotting, depression, self-loathing, night terrors/nightmares, panic attacks, sleep deprivation, mentions of medication, lack of self care, slight self-harm (scratching), breakdown, nosebleed.

Notes: *in sonic snapcube dub voice* heyyyyyyyyyyyy what's upppppppppppppp it's meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee (STOP!!)

                     ▪︎◇{¤♧���♧¤}◇▪︎

6:34 A.M.

The dawn is gentle, the sky a soft blue behind the thin, cheap blinds that cover the bedroom window not that far in front of me. If I wanted, I could get up and open the window, revealing the surely beautiful and gorgeous sunrise that waits for me just outside the blinds.

But I don't. And I won't.

Birds sing gently outside, waking up and fliting about here and there. It's my favorite part of the day, quite frankly. When I can, I open the window to allow in the fresh, cool air, moist with the morning dew, unmuffling the bird's songs as I drift off to sleep, my schedule mostly in tune with Mike's for his night shift. Sometimes I manage to stay awake to greet him when he returns home. It's always nice when I do. His smile is lazy, his strides long and slow as he makes his way to the bed, peeling off his work clothes and crawling under the covers with me. Sometimes he'll press himself against me, his lips finding my neck as his hand dives between my thighs, his fingers trained on one goal as he murmurs against my skin how much he's missed me. Sometimes I wake to this.

There's a part of me that wishes he'd do this today just so I wouldn't have to think.

The lock on the front door rattles as someone attempts to insert a key into the hole. It doesn't matter how long he's lived here or how he uses those keys every morning, he still takes a moment to make sure he's using the right one, and on the first try he usually isn't. So it takes him a solid minute to unlock the door and enter the house. If we had dogs, they'd surely drive us insane from his routine. It slightly drives me insane already. But I'm technically not even supposed to be awake, so I never mention it.

When Mike finally enters the house, the first thing I hear after the satisfying break of the doors seal ringing throughout the living room is a deep sigh as Mike's backpack lands in front of the coat rack. He should be quieter about setting it down. I would be. But I think he assumes we should be so deep in sleep it really wouldn't matter, and it honestly doesn't make much noise. Just a slightly dull 'thud' against the thinly carpeted floor.

Next I can hear his car keys land in the bowl they're meant for. Again, he's a bit too loud with it all. At least, while people are sleeping. But it's not really a bother. In a way, I like it. It gives me a routine to memorize, his sounds before he'll trail to our room and come press himself against me.

The rocking recliner creeks softly as he sits in it, lazily undoing the laces on his boots before he tosses them towards the coat rack. And next he'll duck his head into the fridge I'm sure and look for the leftovers I put into a big bowl for him to warm up - which he won't, because he's a psychopath who likes cold food. - and then when my alarm goes off, he'll come to wake me up, rising from the old couch where he's very quietly reading his book while he eats and do whatever he has to do to prevent me from slipping back into sleep. He's very good at that job. Especially when he uses his tongue.

But today there's a break in the routine. Today, his footsteps are padding towards our room, the door quietly opening as he slips in. I can hear him let out a soft sigh as he tugs on his hoodie, pulling it off and then discarding of his jeans, which muffle the clack of his belt buckle as he slips them off. Left in his undershirt and boxers, he crosses the room to open the blinds and the window, letting in the fresh air and leaning against the thin windowstill for a moment. Now, I can see him.

He looks rested, a little more than he should for having just finished a night shift. I keep telling him he's going to get fired, but he always wiggles his way out of that conversation. The bags usually under his eyes aren't too deep this morning, which while problematic is relieving. His skin is pale blue from the dawns light that pours into the room. His dark curls are more thick on the top of his head, clumped together from him not brushing them after his shower. He must've used too much conditioner, because his hair also looks thicker than it usually does. The breeze blows his oversized pale blue shirt against his chest as he leans forward, allowing his eyes to close as he takes in a deep breath. It feels like an overly private moment. Like I've intruded by watching him. I don't see him like this much when he isn't alone. When he's with me or Abby, he's alert. Somewhat on guard. It's like he's watching us to make sure we're okay. He's too used to things falling apart in an instant. But when he's alone, physically or emotionally, the walls crumble away to reveal a man who enjoys peace. Who smiles softly as he bends down low, resting his chin upon his arms, letting the dawn greet him and being the supposed first in the house to greet the dawn. And I feel like a stalker for watching him. A scene that feels as if I've stolen what will now only exist deep in my mind for when I want to remember one of the few times he has truly ever looked at peace with the world. It's a scene out of a painting. As private as a prayer. I should grant him more privacy, but I don't. In a captivated and enchanted way, I can't.

I'd never tell him this, but in this moment he looks like his mother. And not in the sense of him being her son. No, based off of the few photos I've seen of her in more private, intimate instances, like when she was holding a very small Mike on her lap on his second birthday, or when Mike's father had stolen a photo during their honeymoon when she wasn't looking, Mike looks just like her. Quiet, serene, not hiding anything from anyone because there's no need. At this moment it is just him and the gentle, late winter breeze that makes my nose begin to sting. He's beautiful. Just like she was.

The moment comes to an end, and now it is just a moment that exists only within my mind as his eyes open. The blue dawn brings out the green in his eyes that's usually hidden by artificial light that overpowers the amber, turning them mostly black in some instances. That's the color I thought they were until I saw him in proper daylight. His long lashes bat once, twice in an almost sleepy manner as he shifts his focus, now turning his head to look at me. I shut my eyes quickly, my canines biting into my tongue to force myself to keep a straight face. But it's too late. We made eye contact, even if it was only for a second, and now he knows I'm awake.

"Sweetheart?" He whispers softly, his voice low and slightly gravelly in the way it always is. His 's' and 't's just a tad sharp, clear as always when he speaks. I hear the floor groan as he pads towards me.

I don't speak. I'm not supposed to be awake. I should be asleep, he would rather I was asleep. I tried to be asleep.

He stops in front of me, I can hear the floor groan louder as he crouches in front of me. He's trying to decide if I'm awake or not, if maybe he'd been tricked into thinking we made eye contact. But something convinces him he hasn't, and the bed sinks as he places a hand upon the mattress to support his weight while he kisses my temple.

"Hi," he whispers against my skin, placing another kiss just above the curve of my brow. "Good morning." He places another kiss on the space between my brows, his lips now trailing up to the middle of my forehead. "You look so pretty like this."

Like what? My skin shining with oil, my nose dirty, my body heavy from not having moved?

Something makes him pause when his lips find my cheek. He keeps his lips pressed against my skin for a moment before he pulls away, licking his lips as he looks closer at me.

"Hey," he whispers softly, a finger finding my chin. "Open your eyes."

I don't want to. When I do he'll instantly know what I've been doing, and I don't want to handle it. I don't want to deal with it.

His hand slips under my head, between my cheek and my pillow.

"Sweetheart, your pillow's wet," he says in quiet surprise. "Open your eyes, talk to me."

Hesitatingly, I obey. Cracking my eyes open and trying not to reveal how horrid the dryness in them feels after allowing them rest for a few moments after keeping them open for what could have been hours at this point. Mike's face is inches from mine, his brows furrowed in concern as his eyes scan for other obvious signs of distress.

"Hi," I croak in a tired, unused voice as I try to pretend all is well. Mike unfortunately knows better.

"What happened?" He asks concerningly, taking in the tone he does whenever Abby is upset, fretting over me like I'm an injured child as both of his hands cup my face, his lips finding what he's confirmed are thin, itchy and salty tear tracks, placing several, feather-light kisses along them.

"Nothing," I answer honestly, my voice still cracking. "I'm fine."

"Your eyes are red, baby," he says softly, pulling away to look at me again while his body inches closer. "You look like you've been crying for hours."

Ha. I wish. If I had been, maybe I'd feel better about everything. But instead, I've been lying here since Abby went to bed, feeling numb and dead internally as I willed myself to be upset about anything. Work, bills, the color of the walls. I'd succeeded maybe twice, little tears streaming down my face for a minute or two. But then they would stop, and it would feel as though I couldn't cry. Really cry. Like there was some emotional, maybe physical block preventing me from just truly letting all of my emotions out in a possibly hysterical fit. One that would mean I could connect to my humanity. I don't know what's wrong with me. So, instead I just say "I haven't cried."

Mike opens his mouth to call bullshit, but his brow furrows tighter as he thinks. "What's wrong?" He asks again, now lifting my head to allow one arm to slip underneath so I can lay upon it.

"Nothing," I answer again, truly unsure of what to say. "I'm really okay."

And I am. Work is fine, I am fine. Friends are fine. I don't have entitlement to be upset.

"Is it another episode?" Mike asks softly, now pulling his body onto the bed to lie next to me, fully committed to being partner of the year over here. Ugh. Great.

"No," I answer quickly, averting my gaze. Mike's hand cups my cheek, his body cool compared to mine. I'm soaked in sweat from sleeping - read: laying motionless on the bed since 9:30. - in too warm of clothes in too warm of a room under too warm of blankets. I probably stink. Meanwhile the morning air makes Mike feel refreshing. He's perfect. I'm a mess.

"It's okay if it is," Mike says softly. "It's nothing to be ashamed of if-"

"I'm not having an episode," I say firmly, cutting him off as though it will solidify my statement more than his if I finish mine first. "I'm just not."

I don't pretend to be perfect. I'm not, and I never will be. I know that's okay. I know episodes happen, and that I'll be okay. I've been so much better lately on my new schedule. I'm working, I'm happy.

I have absolutely no good reason to be in the midst of a depression episode. One where the memories won't leave my mind, where I can't sleep, can't think about anything but the past. It plays in my head over and over again, and I can't stop it. Even though I try. I read, I journal, I bathe. But I don't feel real. People don't feel real. Mike is disorienting in the sense that he is the only thing that truly feels real. Where the pale color of the sheets seems hypnotic, his slightly tan skin contrasts to remind me this place really does exist. The furniture and details of the room seem as real as something from a video game, renderings that aren't as realistic as they could be that blend into the wall more as you look. Flat. Nothing. But the freckles on his nose are real. Strikingly real. Overly real. It's as though someone took their time to place each one, carefully deciding their color, their opacity, their placement. I want and love each one, but at this moment they slightly torture me by drawing me into a comforting trap.

"I haven't had an episode in over a month, I'm better," I attempt to say in a firm, solid voice. But I'm too tired, too worn out. My chest burns both from anxiety induced heartburn and how shallow my breathing has been for the past several hours. Mike looks sad, and I hate that. Deeply.

"You have been doing better," he says softly, like a reassuring parent. "I've seen that. And I'm so proud of you."

But I still have this. I'm still like this. I still can't have people wrap their arms around me from behind because I'm instantly taken back to when it would end in me collapsed on the ground, panting, crying, calling out for help that just wouldn't come. I still can't wear shirts with too tight of collars because it always end with me half naked, ripping the shirt off while hyperventilating. That was how I had to tell Mike. For our first Christmas together he bought me this beautiful turtleneck, knowing I liked the style but didn't own many. A dark evergreen color, affordable but a lovely tight-knit material, I adored the thing. But the moment the shirt was over my head, the neck felt like a hand suffocating me, and though I tried to tolerate it fie as long as I could, it only took one casual graze of his hand along my back to send me reeling into a corner, hyperventilating, sobbing, blubbering like a terrified child as I clawed at my neck while he tried to get it off of me.

'I'm so proud of you.' The statement feels like a backhanded reward. It feels as though I'm an idiotic child who just can't learn their ABC's or basic fundamental math. It feels like I'm a small toddler surrounded by adults looking at me full of pity in their eyes while they think 'well, you'll never be normal by any means. But maybe one day if you're lucky, you'll work in a Subway.' But they don't tell me this. They just praise me for existing. 'You woke up today! You put on clothes today! You didn't kill yourself!' It makes me want to scream. Yes, even at him. I want to grab him by his shirt and scream until my voice is shattered 'don't praise me for the bare minimum! I'm not a child!'

But I know he's not. I know he feels the same way when he slips back in progress as well. There was a solid month last year where Mike's insurance refused to pay for his sleep medication due to some paperwork slip and such, something they eventually realized was a complete blip on their end. But that month was hell for Mike, who could barely sleep well even with the medication. His easy smirks were replaced with cracked lips, skin raw from constant biting. His eyes were filled with paranoia from lack of sleep, and worse were the night terrors. Mike didn't even know he was still capable of having them, usually sedated by his meds well enough that if there was a nightmare, he just stayed asleep. At worst he'd wake up in a haze, maybe a very short yelp if anything. But without his meds, it was screaming. Constant screaming. There were nights he would wake after only an hour and he'd start, his voice shrill and reverberating off the walls as he thrashed in the bed. You couldn't console him, touch made him worse. When it happened, you simply had to leave the room and pray he would be okay. The episode could last anywhere from five minutes to an hour, and you would know it was over when all you could hear was broken sobbing, quiet and childlike in nature. Then I would return to the room, and there he'd be. Sometimes wrapped in blankets, sometimes his shirt torn off of himself. Usually sitting either in the dark corner of the room or on the floor of our closet. Red, angry marks would trail along his skin from clawing at himself with his uneven nails, some of them being actual cuts he'd managed in his terror. I'd carefully clean his cuts with cotton balls and hydrogen peroxide while he silently stared ahead, too ashamed to speak or make eye contact with me. And too terrified to sleep again.

Sleep deprivation didn't help, either. One day I saw him with a Redbull stuck in his hand, seemingly never empty despite how much he drank from it. At first I thought it was one, than I realized it was three, then I realized I didn't really know what number he was on. It was surprising how well he could take the new, unusual load of caffeine that tastes sickly sweet without so much as a twitch of an eyebrow. I didn't realize he was trying to starve off sleep until the next morning when his leg was bouncing a mile a minute and he was snapping at every little thing. That day he had a breakdown over dropping an unpeeled onion. And that's when it slipped out.

I didn't judge him. I was terrified for him, but I didn't judge him. And I could tell the same was true for him when I would have my slips, though mine looked different. Mine looked like a lack of self care and rotting in our bed, staring pointlessly ahead until he would lift me off the bed and carefully guide me to a warm bath, where he'd gently wash my skin with a soft rag like I was a newborn while I stared ahead at nothing. At this point we had learned to tell the oncoming signs of each others episodes, and how to starve them off. And if we couldn't, how to help each other through them.

Usually, I don't mind. But today, it hurts. It all hurts.

"Have you eaten?" Mike asks me gently, his thumb gliding over my cheekbone as he wraps me in his embrace, careful of where he places his hands on my person. Like I'm a bomb.

I don't want to be treated like this anymore.

"Yes," I sigh in an irritated voice, like it's the most inconvenient thing he should ask me such a question. But I haven't. I feel empty and yet too full at the same time, and guilt pounds behind my left eye with the ferocity of a headache that I can't just mother myself.

Mike doesn't believe me. He'll pretend he does, but the press of his lips betray him as he takes a deep breath in like he's trying to tell what wire to cut next.

"Would you like to have breakfast with me?" He asks softly, his thumb still stroking just below the raw corner of my eye. It burns. All of it.

'No,' I snap in my head. But I just tighten my jaw and press my own lips together.

"I'm not really hungry, but thank you," I say in a tight voice. Now he's going to pretend that's okay, and he'll go get his breakfast. Then he'll pretend he can't finish it all, joke lightly and say I gave him too big of a portion even though he eats like he's still a growing teenager, and offer me little bites as he "tries" to finish the rest, then eventually trick me into finishing it. He isn't slick, and I'm not a child.

"Hey," he says in a light whisper. "I was thinking maybe we could go out today? All three of us? Or I could call Max, see if she'll watch Abs for a little bit so we can get away?"

Distraction. Cute. I don't need it.

"That could be nice," I admit through half gritted teeth, not meeting his eyes. "Where to?"

"Anywhere," he says too quickly, obviously relieved to have a straw to grasp at. "Your choice."

Guilt twists in my chest like an alien creature settled in my lungs, burning as it begins to slither its way towards my throat to suffocate me on its wrath. He doesn't need to do this. Can't he see how well I'm doing?

"How was work?" He asks me in an attempt to keep me talking. Mike doesn't like silence, not like this. Not really any time. There's always noise throughout the house, whether it's a show on in the background or white noise from his cassette player. He can't stand silence. Especially from people.

"Work was..." Fine? The usual? Non-eventful?

"Good," I decide. Mike presses his lips together again. Stop doing that.

"Yeah?" He asks in a slightly tight voice.

"Yeah," I confirm in a tighter voice.

"You didn't... call out or anything?"

My bottom left back molar feels like it might snap from how tight my jaw is. "Why?" I ask, venom unintentionally creeping in.

"Just asking," he says quickly.

"Why?" I press harder, wanting to know who told on me. Abby hasn't even had the chance to speak with him.

'It's because he knows your patterns,' I think. 'He's trying to gage how serious this is.'

"Maybe we could go out for breakfast? We can wait until Abby wakes up, go get some Waffle Hous-"

"I'm not having an episode," I snap quickly, more harsh than I intended. My tone makes him flinch slightly, his eyes shutting for a moment as he takes another breath in. Now I'm scared he'll pull away.

"We... don't have to talk about this right now," he says softly, opening his eyes again and wrapping his arm around me tighter. "Let's just focus on breakfast."

The guilt pounds in my kidneys, which are sore since I haven't left the bed since I laid down after putting Abby to sleep, but I did have a full water bottle around 3:00 in the morning. It's not Mike's fault I backtracked. He's just trying to be nice. I'm the asshole here.

"I'm sorry," I say in a small voice, dropping my gaze and biting my tongue between my canines again to stop the tears that are now willing to come freely to burn my eyes during such an inappropriate moment.

"It's okay," Mike says softly, placing a kiss on my forehead. "Don't even think about it."

'Don't even think about the fact he's just trying to be a decent person and you can't even say 'thank you,'' a grating voice in my head chides me. 'What, you're too good for a free meal?'

"I'm sorry," I repeat softer, my nails digging into my wrist that I'm holding to keep control over myself. Mike's hand is searching for mine, ready to pry it away to prevent me from doing what I need to to prevent the waterworks.

"Hey." Stop with the 'hey's. "I said it's alright, you're okay."

It's all bad. Everything's bad, and it's not going to get better. I keep thinking I'll get better, I keep thinking I'll be okay. But every two steps forward is one step back and I can't keep doing this redundant bullshit for the rest of my life. Am I going to be 40 at the office Christmas party sneaking off to freak out in the bathroom because something triggered me and I just can't get a grip on things? Am I even going to make it to 40?

Mike is comforting me, cradling my head to his chest and rocking me back and forth. And his shirt is wet. I don't like that his shirt is wet, it should be dry. Why is it fucking wet?

"It's okay," he's whispering in my hair while horrid choking sounds come from somewhere around us. Maybe the other room? "You're alright, it's okay."

I'm aware it's alright, I'm aware it's okay. Why are you wet? Why does my head hurt?

"I can't- sleep," my voice chokes out between guttural sobs, my face pressed into his chest. "It's all nightmares."

Oh. Shit. That's me. The wetness, I did that. My bad.

"I know, it's okay. How long?" Mike asks softly. What, are you gonna call my therapist?

"A week," I moan into his chest. My ribs expand with each recycled breath I steal from against his chest, and I can feel him trying to gently tug me away so I can get one with fresh, cold air instead. I don't let him. My lungs burn more. "They just won't stop."

"It's okay, it's only temporary," he says softly, his hand pushing away some of the blanket to relieve me of the boiling warmth underneath. The cold air is refreshing against my skin, even through my clothes are soaked with stinking sweat.

"No, it's not!" I cry hysterically into his chest. "They don't go away. None of it goes away. I want it to go away!"

He's nodding, rubbing circles on my back as I grip his shirt hard enough it may stretch.

"It'll get better. It did for awhile," he reminds me.

"But I'm back here. I always end up back here. I was doing so good!" I sob, feeling the wetness on his shirt begin to slightly thicken, probably due to snot. I try to sniff it back into my sinuses, but I think that just draws his attention to the new fluid he's covered in.

"That's okay. You'll do even better next time. And if you don't, that's okay too." Don't say what I think you're going to say. Do not. Michael, I'm serious, don't- "I'm still proud of you."

Fuck. Ooooooff!

This is the real release of my emotions. Now I'm gasping, choking, sobbing, making horrible sounds that sound like a European ambulance siren wailing through the streets to announce someone's dying on the way to the hospital. My head throbs with the pain from the heavy crying, and I may give myself a nosebleed from the passion of it all. And Mike, his patience thick and durable, just holds me through it all. Letting me soak his shirt, dirty his skin, grab at him blindly while I wail like a spoiled child, just repeating the phrase over again. 'Proud.' What pride. What honor to be had at such a breakdown. Yes, very understandable.

"I should be better," I sob into his chest. "You deserve better."

"What?" He laughs lightly, and at first it feels mocking, but then he's pulling my head away fron my soaked enclosure and his eyes are so gentle for a moment I know the light laughter is simply from surprise. Then his eyes widen and he's back in parent mode.

"Don't leave me. Don't leave me!" I choke out while gripping his shirt. At first he thinks I'm talking about our relationship, then he realizes I'm not letting him pull away.

"Sweetheart, you're bleeding," he gently explains. "Let me wipe your face. I just need tissues. I'm not even leaving the bed."

But that's too much. Let me bleed, let my head throb, let this headache take the vision away in my eye from how bad it hurts. Let anything happen so long as I can stay in this moment. Don't break the spell. Don't let me go numb again.

"Don't leave me," I cry pathetically, my eyes all scrunched together in the same manner as wailing infants, my grip on his shirt not breaking. Sure enough, there on the wet spot of his shirt is a dark stain of blood that should hopefully come out if we wash it fast enough.

"Let me do that," I'm saying as I try to peel off his shirt now. "Let me wash it."

He's gently guiding my hands away. "Don't worry about it," he says gently, kissing my hands and wrists like they might break even from the delicate graze of his lips. "Let me take care of you."

He does this all the time. He always takes care of me. I should do more. Be more. For him.

"You deserve better," I choke out, feeling like I may suffocate from the tears. Mike's brows furrow in concern, and he grips my chin very carefully as he makes me meet his eyes.

"Hey, no. Get that out of your head, it's all okay," he tells me softly, staring at me like if he can't verbally convince me, his hard stare will do the trick. "I don't want to hear you talk like that."

"I should be better," I repeat, my crying lessening slightly as I try to hold eye contact.

"You're getting better," he reminds me. "This is the happiest I've seen you since we met. You'll get back to that. Hell, you could feel the same way tonight. It's okay. Take a day off. We all need one, even normal people," he says softly, stroking my hair as he kisses my forehead. "Can you just let me take care of you in the meantime?"

No. Go away, let me rot.

"We can still go out for breakfast," he offers gently. "I can still call Max, or we can all stay in. I'll set up a nest in the living room so you can watch TV. Works you like that?"

Stop. Stop being nice to me, stop trying to make me feel better. It all just feels awful. I don't want this guilt, someone takes it away.

Mike must sense my overwhelmed emotions, because he places another kiss on my forehead before asking if he can clean my face again, and this time I say yes. He pulls away, which is still upsetting but less so. I don't make a deal out of it this time at least. He opens a drawer, searching for wipes and pulling them out before turning back to me.

"Do you want to sit up?" He asks gently. I bite my tongue to prevent another mocking thought directed towards me and nod. Bones crack as I do, my kidneys hurt worse. But at least I finally moved.

Tears still streak down my face as Mike wipes away the snot and blood, his large hand gently cupping my face as he does. There's a soft smile on his face, though I'm not particularly sure why. And when he's done, he runs his thumb along my bottom lip before placing his own lips on top of mine. They're chapped, one spot raw from excessive biting. But there's still some leftover chapstick on them, and it tastes like grapefruit.

I tug on his shirt, one hand sneaking under it to feel his cool skin underneath. He gently takes my wrist once more, then pulls away. A silent rejection. He knows that I'm just looking for a distraction from my emotions, and in a moment he'll offer a much healthier one. He does discard the shirt, leaving his chest bare, but only so that he doesn't smear my fluids back onto me as he pulls me in for another embrace.

"We'll be okay," he promises. "Everything will be okay."

"What if it's not?" I ask in a quiet, strained voice.

"Then it'll be okay later. You can take time to not be okay," he says.

There's a short silence before either of us speak. And when I hear his voice hitch in the way it does when he's about to say something, Abby's alarm rings crystal clear in her room. Then the sound of a truck rattles by on the road in front of the house. Birds continue to sing. And my pours feel so clogged I'm sure my skin will be lashing out for days.

But it'll all be okay.

                             ¤▪︎{♧}▪︎¤

"Can we have some fluff to reco-" no. Suffer.

Taglist:

@cassiecasluciluce @gh0u1ishly @joshhutchersons-slut @schmidtsbimbo @sugarevans @wompwompwomp57 @jhutchissupercool @laurrrelise. Thank you for your support pookies!!! <3

               •▪︎Masterlist▪︎•

[brainworms-all-night-long]

A two parter story about Nine not keeping his mouth shut when asked and the result of that, which he didn't bother sticking by and see through, of which Part 1 is at the ready and spans 7,870 words!!!

Also taking this out of the tags and saying the two locations mentioned (the seamstresses and Oakley's) are my friends @erissaacorn's oc ideas that I yoinked for my own nefarious purposes!!

Part 2: Mesure once, cut twice

---

His foot met soft grass that was slightly wet either from morning dew or recent heavy rain, and the portal closed right behind him.

Putting his hand above his face to block out the bright sun, Nine looked around the new universe.

At first, he would've written it off as just yet another Green Hill with the rolling grassy plains and radiant blue sky, but upon closer inspection, there were barely any hills and the grass seemed far too irregular to be that of the ever-present universe he keeps stumbling upon.

Whatever this place was, it turned out he didn't find himself too far away from a village, which, he wasn't sure was all that good news. Dealing with people, and especially strangers, was still far from his favorite activities, but the fox decided to shoot his shot anyway, seeing as there literally wasn't anything for as far as the eye could see but grass and more grass.

"Well hello there new face!"

...Of course.

"It's not too often we get outsider visitors, what brings you here!"

The ever-familiar blue hedgehog stood just ways off next to him with his hand outstretched for a greeting handshake.

Nine figured it was only polite to return the pleasantries, although his attention was immediately grabbed by the clothes this Sonic was wearing and just how young he looked.

The simple, golden crown sitting on his forehead, with a collared baby blue, long-sleeved shirt with wide cuffs adorned by gold and darker blue pants tucked into yellow, knee-high boots sure was something that Nine didn't think in any universe to be the hedgehog's style, especially not for his younger self, but he's seen all manner of things at this point.

"The name's Dream, guardian of the positive apples, nice to meet you."

Alright, color him even more curious in the first five seconds.

"Nine, I am... just passing by."

Nine looked around inconspicuously and found no twin-tailed fox in sight. Strange.

"Oh, well, depending on how long you plan on staying, I could be your tour guide!"

The chipper attitude of this Sonic must've rubbed off on him already as he didn't have it in him to decline, and nodded.

Following after the exited blue spike ball, the casual chatter and ambiance of the settlement almost immediately enveloped him, and he dared to say it almost felt cozy. The houses were made almost fully of wood and frequented dirt paths layered with rocks tied them together.

The inhabitants that noticed him — both human and mobian alike — gave him strange looks, but besides being used to that, the fox decided to chalk it up to looking extremely out of place in a primitive (ahem, simple) place like this.

Sonic on the other hand waved at and greeted almost every other person they came across. This means he must be either really popular, or everyone here knew each other by default given the relatively small size of the village.

The further they went, and the more porches with children picking and throwing grass at each other while laughing they passed, the more... picturesque, it all looked.

Like a drawing he'd find in an old, discarded storybook at the bottom of a dumpster an orphaned little fox would find and read through day and night over and over, wishing he could just go there.

Nine shook his head.

With living in the story book came suspension of disbelief, followed by an ominous, uncanny feeling. It all looked way too happy and clean, but he saved any further judgement for later.

"Here's Oakley's, the carpenters, where he can fix or create anything made out of wood! Though he's been kind of sick lately and the golden apple I gave him doesn't seem to be helping much."

Coming back to the present, Nine noted the second mention of the so-called 'golden apples' after they passed by a large dark brown house with a busy porch.

It was lined with chairs and other pieces of common wooden furniture, with its doors and window frames carved into charming patterns.

He particularly lingered on a cute wooden duck with wheels for feet and a string tied around its neck sitting on one of the tables. Not that he wanted it, but the fact it was most likely carved by hand, so he simply admired the craftsmanship. That, and it was the closest thing in his line of sight anyway.

They passed by a fruit stall next, and the smell of fresh fruit convinced him he felt just a little hungry. Though he learned to be careful with the food items from other universes at this point, after a few unfortunate events.

No matter, his pockets were empty both of any money and any other item he figured could have the same value as an apple to people in here.

"C'mon take one, we can't have our guest going hungry after all!"

Sonic seemed to read his mind though, or it was simply reactive generosity that the fox had no intention of declining. It was just an apple after all. Most likely. Hopefully.

Perfomatively wiping it into his shirt, Nine enjoyed the fruit to its full capacity as he followed the hedgehog around with no end goal in mind.

While in any other universe he'd find backseat shopping the most mind-numbing activity imaginable, he didn't have it in him to be frustrated in the slightest here for some reason.

Sonic dragged him back to the present yet again by pointing at another larger than the rest house.

"And this is the shop of our seamstress. She can tailor you the most beautiful, or if function is more of your thing, durable attire from almost any piece of fabric in no time! Though you can never expect where a conversation with her leads haha."

"Did she tailor your clothes too?" The fox asked mostly because the more he looked at the hedgehog, the more out of place he felt among the average villager here. Everyone was mostly wearing dark brown, beige, or white, simple clothing with aprons and hats, while Sonic looked like he should sit in a castle or a chapel of some sort.

"Not really, no, mine and Night's clothes were given to us by our mother."

"Tch, you look almost like a lost prince." Nine remarked with a smirk while noted yet another unusual mention of Sonic's seemingly biological family. Though the remark was meant as a sort of a pseudo compliment he wasn't sure it sounded like it.

"You think so, haha!"

Sonic ran with it though and didn't seem bothered by his attitude in the slightest. That was always just a matter of time anyway, but Nine decided to turn his attention towards what appeared to be a small bookstall that they stopped in front of now.

Small as in, one shelf of books sorted by... nothing as far as he could pick out, with a tiny mouse girl behind the counter.

Upon hearing Sonic's order she carefully handed him the book from the bottom shelf, instructing him to be careful with it, to which Sonic gave a smug nod yet held the book like it was made of porcelain until he turned back to the fox.

"Alright I think this is actually all I wanted, we can finally return to the tree and I can introduce you to Night too."

Sonic said with a smile and the book safely tucked under his arm.

Fine, so safe to assume that Tails exists in this universe. It's honestly jarring that he hasn't seen the other part of the seemingly inseparable duo no matter the universe yet. If anything he in vain expected the bright yellow fox to jump them a few streets back.

Perhaps he was sick and that's why Sonic went shopping for him?

They were about to continue their way and Nine was looking for a place to throw the leftover of his apple when a group of kids that paid him no mind almost ran him over, giggling. He wanted to curse them out and noted the two red foxes among the four of them, before his attention was dragged just a bit higher.

"Dream! You have not forgotten about the garden, have you?"

A female voice suddenly yelled out, but Nine ignored the mystery woman with all of his attention on the absolute behemoth of a tree sitting atop the hill in front of him.

Literally, how did he not notice that sooner was beyond him, but questioning his peripheral vision aside, he decided to nonchalantly turn his head back to face Sonic and the woman.

Her notably black hair was tied in a high ponytail and she held a set of baskets on her hip. Sonic stood just a ways away from her, looking between the items in his hands, the woman, and Nine, with his startled eyes lingering on the fox.

"Um, this is kind of important, if you could take this up and to Night?"

Sonic sheepishly extended the items forward, and normally Nine would've protested at the sudden turn of events, but decided to wordlessly take the two things from the hedgehog's hands instead.

"Ah, are you sure he doesn't want to go with us?" The woman inquired with an almost sickly sweet demeanor that Nine was immediately not fond of.

He eyed her, but tried to make his distrust not all that noticeable when he declined

"No thank you, I don't really do gardening."

"You sure darling? we could use an extra pair of hands."

"Miss Katheryne come on, no need to drag an unsuspecting passerby into pulling weeds eh. I'm well equipped for that job alone."

Sonic dragged her attention from the fox as he tried to pry one of the two baskets from her grip and Nine let out an internal sigh of relief.

She let the hedgehog take it while the other container fell over to her side and she let out a nervous giggle "Alright alright, well, enjoy your stay little one, you're of course welcome to stop by at any time."

Afterward she wordlessly turned around, with Sonic waving him a temporary goodbye.

Nine kept his eyes on the duo before they disappeared over a corner and were out of sight for good. He decided to not bother dissecting the out of pocket interaction as he made his way up the hill. The grass was quite slippery still, which made it difficult to secure his footing and not fall over every other step.

Quiet noises of both distress and laughter immediately sent him on alert however, and he was willing to sacrifice a bit by speeding up his ascend. Each longer step he took with little help from his mechanical tails saved a few centimeters of the incline and he wasn't all that out of breath by the time he met horizontal ground again.

The picture-perfect facade of this universe fell just as hard as the little fox that was shoved to the ground with a yelp by a young bear, who then mercilessly smoothed the fox's face into the ground, effectively muffling any noise he made afterward.

Nine stood frozen for just a second before not thinking twice and giving into the sudden spark of rage in his chest. Wrapping the string holding the bag together around his hand, he steadily made his way towards the little group.

These were surely the same four kids he saw run up the hill just a while ago, if those two cackling red foxes were anything to go by.

One of them grabbed onto Tails' bangs and forcibly lifted his head back off the ground and snorted, most likely finding the kit's face welled up with tears amusing.

Nine spared only a second for eye contact and using the fact neither of the kids noticed him so far for building some momentum into a swing.

The bear's shoulder was harshly met with a bag of apples — that surely felt more like rocks — as he was knocked off the kit and toppled over the red fox.

His pained grunt was mixed with a surprised gasp from the rest of the group left standing, and that's when Nine remembered he had much more effective tools of offense than one bag of fruit.

His mechanical tails sprawled around him, their tips pointed threateningly in front of each of the kid's faces and they all flinched back.

Nine couldn't help the smirk that made its way onto his face.

Good.

One amongst them, a human boy with dark black hair tried to play tough by yelling out and trying to get into his face. Nine felt in no way intimidated by him however, even if he was taller, as the kid was scrawny and had no real weapons that could hold against his. Nine bared his teeth and posed himself just a bit above the ground, which appropriately made the human, alongside everyone else, reconsider and back away just a bit more.

"Tch, you think we're scared of you?!"

Nine narrowed his stare towards the red fox holding his shoulder. A face he recognized and one that he already made turn tail and run the other way when he was much younger and weaker.

Nine made a bluff strike that aimed at the fox's chest. The runt appropriately jumped back with any confidence he had dissipating and unease taking over his posture.

"Yes."

"You're way over you head, freak."

He heard the human boy lift a rock and throw it his way. It would've been a successful hit to his head had he not effortlessly blocked it with one of his tails. For a second before that he considered catching it in his hand, but decided to rather keep to a reasonable limit of his abilities to avoid getting too drunk on his power high.

"Pot calling the cattle black."

Nine simply stated with a grin as he picked up the rock nonchalantly.

The human gulped as Nine made him his clear target, by all means wanting to return the rock full force back to sender, except at the last second he shot it towards the bear that was already on his way down the hill.

With a yelp, he didn't manage to dodge it and the rock hit his ankle full force.

A fearful face betrayed any bravado the bear might've posed in his statue and Nine's grin only solidified when his ear flicked back.

Apparently, to drive the point further in, and fairly demonstrate the fact he wasn't stupid, he made another bluff strike behind him, spooking the yet uninjured red fox who thought it was a good idea to sneak in a failed surprise attack.

A loose brush with a metal point to his nose seemed to be what finally made the kids decide he wasn't worth it and they promptly ran off the hill while cursing under their breath.

Which left just him, and his lookalike alone under the tree's shade.

The sudden shot of adrenaline slowly dissipated, and he fully reveled in the small catharsis of knowing he was still more than intimidating enough to deal with a pathetic group of bullies like that.

Nine let out a sharp sigh and snapped his mechanical tails back in place, then finally turned towards the person he went up here for in the first place.

Or where he though he would be, but instead found just flattened grass.

The next best place to look was the tree branches above, and sure enough he saw a pair of scared blue eyes looking tearfully back at him.

Nine dropped the bag of apples to the ground unceremoniously and tried handing over the book, basically beckoning the other to come back down.

With all the sudden movement though, Tails all but flinched and retreated further into the tree's crown.

Nine knew that even when the immediate danger was taken care of, his first and then overall impression wasn't exactly friendly, but that was by design.

He sighed.

"I'm not gonna hold my hand out forever. Sonic- Dream sent me to give this to you."

A a bead of silence was followed by a while of rustling leaves and finally a thud sounding from the other side of the tree.

Trained pointy ears peaked from behind the tree trunk and Nine's hand officially gave out.

At long last the other fox showed himself fully and Nine could properly analyze him.

This Tails wore the exact same attire – albeit now dirty from mud and grass – as Sonic. Except the color scheme was purple and brown, with a roughed-up golden cape draped around his shoulders and the simplistic crown smooshing the three strands of fur on his forehead sported a hollow out of a crescent moon.

He went to take the book, but Nine's hand sprung back a little too fast and Tails hesitated.

With a deadpan expression Nine didn't react too much on it and waited until the other finally let his hand fall empty and free.

He figured that he could at least offer the basics of sympathies, although not make it seem like he was high and ready to patch up the kit's, hopefully, only superficial injuries.

"Nothing broken?"

Tails shook his head.

"Good."

Nine then took a few steps back and slumped against the tree, finding a comfortable place between the roots.

At a loss on how to carry this interaction further, Nine crossed his hands over his chest and looked to the village bellow. While at it, he realized he most likely marked himself a future target, if the human kid's familiar features had anything to say but he digressed.

Whatever whiny tantrums they'll throw is at most a future him's problem.

The face of the red fox flashed fore him and Nine to turn back towards the other sitting under the tree.

"How often do you have to deal with those."

Albeit his question might fall on mute mouth since so far this Tails hasn't spoken a word, though Nine hoped it was just the result of stress as he didn't feel like navigating a nonverbal conversation.

Tails merely grabbed the golden cape around himself like a protective blanket while, thankfully, trying to find his voice.

"I-its, um, it's a rare occurrence really I j-just..." He shook his head and slumped back against the bark, seemingly trying to sink into the ground bellow. "Thank you, anyway."

Tails stared at his book that he finally opened in his lap, but it was obvious he wasn't reading, mind stuck on and busy processing other things.

"...It's not often someone bothers with that."

The insecurity in that barely audible whisper apparent, Nine grit his teeth. He had a faint inkling he knew exactly what was going on here.

"Have you tried fighting back?"

Tails fiddled with the corners of a few pages with his eyes downcast before answering "Not really. I'm sure if I did it they would just get meaner, anyway."

Fair point, which for a second made Nine reconsider his immediate and almost absolute suggestion. Fighting back without any means to secure victory and make it stick would cause more harm than good.

Looking back down and around, the view from up here was pretty enchanting to say the least, and the air seemed slightly lighter too.

His attention was soon back to the tree however, and the shimmering specks of fruit hanging from it. It was hard to immediately tell with the sun hitting some of them directly, but they were two different colors.

Nine marked them as the golden apples Sonic kept going on about.

Eventually, his eyes ended up back down, looking at the little fox huddled on the ground. Upon more careful inspection, this Tails also looked really young, maybe around six or five years old, and the notion of that made him frown when counting in his banged-up state.

Ignoring the current bruises and messy fur, there was an obvious scar on the bridge of his snout, what was definitely dried blood under his nose, multiple patches of ripped fur from his otherwise bushy namesakes, and quite heavy eyebags under his eyes.

Nine also noted the kit contradicted himself right in the second sentence he said, but after noticing all that, there was no way Nine's buying the previous scene being a rare occurrence.

Tails is universally bullied most commonly for his namesakes — and that's a fact as he came to find out — but that usually ceases after his pretty much fated meeting with Sonic. Which, doesn't seem to be the case here for whatever reason.

Nine eventually tired of standing in the middle of the hill and sticking out like a sore thumb, so he made his way towards the apple tree and sat one clump of roots over, next to the kit as nonchalantly as possible. Although he made a makeshift chair of his mechanical tails as he didn't really feel like sitting on damp and uneven grass.

Giving it a few seconds to get comfortable, Nine then peered over the wood separating them. The uncharacteristic deviation from the almost universal relationship between the fox and the hedgehog kept nagging his mind.

"Does Dream know about this?"

The tense silence from the other was more than enough of an answer.

"Why don't you tell him, I'm sure he'd be able to do something about it."

The guardian's downcast expression turned sour, with a few creases appearing on the book's pages.

"I don't think so. Everyone loves him, but only because it literally makes them feel good when he's around. And that he has trouble saying no to people when they ask something of him, so they find him useful."

Finally giving up, Tails closed the book and set it aside, then hugged his legs close to his chest and rested his head on his knees.

"I'm sure if he went against them because of me, they would not take kindly to it."

Nine soaked up the words and was actually taken aback by the bluntness, but it seemed that so was Tails himself.

"I'm sorry this is, um. You're not from here, are you? I'd rather not make this one of your problems, I don't think you have to see too deep into it."

Nine realized his expression has gone too soft at that, and took his time to distance himself from the other.

Yeah, yea Tails was correct in fact. There was no reason to care about something that will ultimately be inconsequential to him. A few minutes in, it was obvious this universe was far from ideal place for him to stay, as one, he definitely doesn't feel like raising two orphaned kids in a village so obviously biased, so whatever squabble or interpersonal relationship wasn't his business. And two, there was little to no technology present besides handcarved wooden ducks, which would sooner or later drive him insane.

He let complete apathy wash over him and grabbed the MTC in his hand.

But while he could just get up and leave at any moment...

Looking at the other fox from the corner of his eye, he couldn't help but feel just the tiniest bit of sympathy hold him down.

He knows more than anyone how much it would mean if someone stepped in just once before he had to do it himself. And if the technological state of this village was anything to go by, that would prove to be just a bit more trouble for the Tails in here.

"The name's Nine by the way."

The fox's ear flicked towards him, followed by an unsure expression.

"Nightmare."

That sure is... a peculiar name.

"Big brother calls me Night though, which sounds very similar to your name actually." Tails gave a weak smile at that and finally turned his head to face Nine.

"Hmm, yeah it kinda does." There wasn't much that came to mind in terms of an answer to that though, and he let the conversation die right after.

Wait. Oh was this like, a sun and moon type deal. Dream and Nightmare, purple and yellow, golden and black and all that.

Nine playfully rolled his eyes at not getting the very obvious theme sooner.

Though, Idly sitting here made him realize just how exhausted he was from his constant hopping back and forth between all manner of worlds, so he figured there was nothing wrong with taking a little break from all that. Maybe he'll stay overnight and a bit of tomorrow after all.

Or maybe he'll just take a nap right here and now and set out again afterward.

He crossed both his legs and hands while keeping his ears trained for the smallest movement going around.

The purpose of it was defensive, just in case anyone else gets any funny ideas while he appears low on guard, but it leaned in the side effect of making him soak in a stray bird song, undertoned by the rustle of hundreds of leaves under a gentle, albeit slightly chilly breeze that was nicely canceled out by the warm shade the tree provided.

Even if he could never truly afford to relax, this was probably the closest to something like that he'd ever get. That is until he finds a proper home. Hopefully.

"Where are you from though, I never seen anything similar to those metal tails you have."

That threw a wrench in his plans. Although it was rather foolish of him to assume Tails would just, be quiet the whole time, and not wonder about the random stranger that just wandered into his favorite hiding place for all he knows.

"Where I'm from is not important, I'm basically a homeless wanderer at this point." Nine settled on forcing out. And his place of origin really meant nothing to him. If anything he was glad most of his memories of New Yoke were faded and unclear as were that of Shatterverse. He didn't belong to either of those, and so there was no use in remembering them.

"You look really familiar."

"No duh, I have your exact face- don't worry about that too much though." Nine quickly backpedaled, he didn't feel like explaining the concept of the multiverse right now, as he warily stole a glance at the other fox.

"Well, maybe a little less babyish but still."

"No not like that I mean- yea nevermind."

Tails went silent again, seemingly regretting his choice to speak up in the first place.

A small pang of guilt hit Nine when he saw the other shrink into himself again, and he sighed.

"Ok, well then what do you mean?"

It took a second. But the guardian took time to regain the bit of his confidence to speak back up.

"...Those, metal tails of yours, when you were scaring off the other kids a while ago, they made your silhouette look like someone I frequently see in my dreams."

That... was sure something Nine wasn't expecting to hear, but he'd be lying if he said some curiosity wasn't piqued. This universe sure had its way of doing that.

"As in, a prophetic way or..?"

"In a nightmare way, actually." The other stated matter-of-factly, but when Nine creased his brow, he immediately went on defensive

"Don't take it as me being rude or superstitious! I'm really not! It's just, uh, an observation." He then chuckled weakly, most likely hoping to decrease the tension, but Nine was neutral with that notion honestly, not even knowing whether he should think anything of it at all.

He never attributed any deep meanings to dreams, as they were just recreations of his lived experience, which, were far from pleasant. Whatever Nightmare here is going through is the same most likely.

But it made him think, that maybe little him would be proud to have have a silhouette someone would see in their recurring nightmares, a bit.

He placed one of his mechanical tails in his hand and for the first time after a long time, carefully examined them again. Their dull casing was scarred by dents and scratches from their years of active use, with the gear holding this particular segment firmly kept in its place with the neon underglow still active.

For a second he was back in his workshop as a much younger self, grinning like a maniac after he connected the last of the needed pieces together and finally tried out the finished tails (after many failed prototypes) with an immeasurable amount of pride in his chest.

He smiled, reminiscing, until the guardian's small voice shook him from his stupor.

"Anyway, you said Dream send you here?"

He let the tail fall from his hand.

"Pretty much. He wanted to come along but some lady stopped him and dragged him off to clean weeds or something. I don't remember."

"And she just let you go?"

"Begrudgingly, but yea. Why?"

Tails went quiet again, picking at the tips of his namesakes with pursed lips.

"The villagers...they don't really like me."

The fox started slowly with his ears pinned back.

"But they don't want Dream to know that. So some of them will distract him and keep him occupied, while others will- well, I don't know how much you saw but, they're usually a bit more vicious than that."

Tails shook his head and finally uncurled from his position, picking up the book again.

"I was just wondering for how long he'd be away again. If Katheryne took him then it's probably until sunset..."

The way the little guardian spoke made it all the more clear this was not just a repetitive torment from the side of the stupid kids, but a calculated move from the adults as well.

Sudden anger began to bubble in Nine, but he wasn't sure who it was directed at. He'd much rather dismiss it as Tails reading too much into it, but it's him that lives here, not Nine.

Something about that woman's insistence he'd come along before Sonic interjected now justified his negative hunch about her.

The anger must've taken to the surface and Nine lost control of his facial features, as whatever was his face showing alerted the fox next to him.

"But you won't tell him, Right? I- I already said I can't drag him down with me, you can't."

Nine looked at him for a second, for some reason stumped for an answer. The simple decision would be to just say fine, and leave it at that, turn away, and forget about this world just like the others. But that self-evident and most rational decision didn't seem all that appealing based on the very little window he had just seen into this universe.

He'd be a liar if he kept telling himself he didn't care for the kit. Even if it was more of a project-y sort of rage towards the people here he doesn't even know, than sympathy for his situation (for some reason).

Nine internally groaned and forced himself to seal a promise he wasn't 100% sold on keeping.

"I won't say a word."

Tails well, it was hardly a smile he gave once his shoulders finally dropped with the release of tension, and he sunk back to his spot.

The words fizzled out once more.

Sun continued its path through the blue sky unbothered by any event beneath it and ever so slowly dimmed as silent minutes ticked by. Eventually, the leaves were accompanied by the flicker of book pages as Tails finally started reading.

Nine began to thread the line between sleep and consciousness when a sudden yawn ripped through him.

The kit next to him audibly flinched and Nine toppled back into being mostly aware of his surroundings. His nose twitched in annoyance.

"I um, I forgot you were here." Tails laughed nervously. Nine attempted to ignore him however and tried to take the only long term functioning remedy for that yawn.

Tails didn't let him have it as he suddenly hopped up and snatched the bag of apples Nine dropped off not that far away, making it Nine's turn to flinch.

"We, I mean, me and my brother don't really have to eat, but it's nice to just munch on something sometimes. Don't know how it's with you but I assure you apples from here taste amazing!"

Nine took the offered apple from the kit's hands but then simply dropped it into his lap.

"Yea I already had one today, thanks either way."

"We'll then you can keep it for your travels!"

All he gave was a small nod, as uninterested as he could be.

"I'm sorry I keep talking, but, one last question."

Nine fought with himself to not audibly groan.

"Um, just how long will you stay here?"

Instead, he huffed, fully abandoning the idea of the nap.

"Probably the night and I'll set out in the morning."

But he suddenly stopped himself when he realized his tone had just a bit too much of an edge to it, not to mention he hadn't used it consciously. Just sitting here, he felt more frustrated than back in the village with Sonic dragging him around like a dog on an invisible leash.

He side-eyed the kit next to him, but he felt insane for the dots it made him connect, so he brushed it off.

He was really tired is all. And someone constantly had to interrupt his attempts at getting a proper rest.

Tails simply hummed in acknowledgment and returned back into his reading.

Unfortunately, Nine was completely offset now and couldn't put his mind to rest no matter how hard he tried.

Letting out a sigh through his nose he looked up and leaned his head just a bit more roughly, yet intentionally, into the bark of the tree.

That sigh must've been just a decibel too loud when Tails's ears lowered and he began apologizing

"What are these apples about."

Though Nine couldn't care less about listening to pointless "sorries" while transfixed by the peculiar fruit hanging above him.

Tails perked up ever so slightly instead. "Well, without going too deep into the magical-mechanical aspect of them they're like, little fruits containing concentrated either positive or negative emotion, which is marked by their opposing colors. Though a better contrast would've been black and white, but can you imagine white apples?"

The kit was pointing towards the fruit hanging above them as he spoke with that was definitely an attempt to end a part of his spiel humorously, although Nine wouldn't say succeed.

"Their shared existence on one tree holds the balance in the emotions of everyone in this world, as far as I know."

Nine sure wasn't expecting a whole ass sudden info dump, but despite it, he sure had questions. He went to open his mouth, only for Tails to silence and answer his question immediately.

"You're not allowed to take or eat them though, since they're way too powerful and overwhelming for one person to hold and can be only lent for a while with our permission, since I and Dream are the tree's guardians and all that..."

With what great confidence Tails began to speak, slowly fizzled.

Nine let the remark of neither of them exactly doing their jobs die on his tongue, and instead, he decided to indulge the kit next to him, he was the one who started with the questions anyway.

"Can you eat them?"

"Well... we've never really tried. Besides, just holding the apple gives more or less the desired effect anyway. That leads to no one really caring for the negative side of the tree."

Tails trailed off again, deciding that the grass beneath him was super interesting and he needed to rip a few blades of it to closely examine them.

"And I was... born from it. Which is why you're so irritated right now."

Nine raised his eyebrow.

"So you knew...?"

"I can sort of weakly sense the emotions people around me are feeling. So yes. Doesn't help that being next to me only intensifies the negative ones though."

Tails was fully curled on himself at this point, hiding in the golden cape that would actually fit Sonic's vibe way more than Tails' but asking about that would either have the kit shrink even more or let him loose on another info dump.

"You're full of them though, even without my influence."

Nine simply chuckled in agreement at that.

"So with that logic, Dream has the exact opposite effect?"

Tails silently nodded.

"Fascinating."

Even so, Nine didn't mind getting to know more of this apple stuff. It's both an outlandish yet genuinely interesting concept if he says so himself.

Feeling a little less red string on a corkboard, Nine found himself curious still, mulling over random questions while Tails went on and on explaining them.

Their conversation leading to Nine explaining random robotics trivia that Tails followed up with his own limited knowledge and questions went back and forth. It let time flow on quite easy again, until they were interrupted by the sound of someone familiar huffing his way up the hill. With that, Nine was made aware of just how much time has passed when he looked at the dark orange to pinkish sky draped in a low sunset.

Soon enough, a dirt-covered Sonic holding a square bag to his shoulder, with his sleeves rolled up and gloves sticking out of his pant's pockets, greeted them energetically.

"Haha, glad to see you two getting along!"

The foxes waved back to him, and the hedgehog bent over leaning on his knees while struggling to catch his breath.

"Sorry for taking so long, Katheryne can really be a handful sometimes."

Regaining a bit of his strength, he took the two extra steps and stopped in front of Tails. He than brought the bag off his shoulder and immediately dug through it.

Sure enough, it was made clear the bag was a first aid kit — or at least what would be considered that for the times this universe lives in — when Sonic laid out a few bandages and tiny bottles with clear liquids. He covered the opening of one with a piece of clean white cloth while Tails put his hands out in protest.

"Sonic I'm fine don't worry about-"

"Shush no excuses, now show me your nose."

With great reluctance, Tails let the hedgehog hold his muzzle and wipe off the dried blood, before he moved on to the mud still staining the front plain of his face.

"It smells horrible."

Tails scrunched up his nose and physically tried to shake the aggressive scent off him while Sonic carefully rolled up one of his sleeves, revealing a bloodstained bandage that must've been a few days old already.

"I know bud, I know."

Nine watched them silently, unable to fight the sympathy that the fox kept garnering from him at this point.

Huh, if the emotion aura stuff is true it would only make sense the two being near each other would cancel out and make the area neutral.

Either way, the fact Sonic came prepared meant he was aware enough to know Tails keeps getting hurt when he's away, which made the relationship just a bit more confusing again.

"You didn't happen to ruffle each other up while I was gone have you?"

And of course, Nine would be the prime suspect for Tails gathering the new injuries that weren't there in the morning. He was bout to say what happened exactly, when he was hit with Tails' pleading eyes and the promise to keep his mouth shut.

"N-no worries big bro, I just fell off the tree because my cape got stuck in the branches, it's fine." Luckily, Tails seemed to have a mildly convincing excuse at the ready, and Sonic turned his full attention to wrapping the now-cleaned gash in his brother's arm.

"If anything he's super nice, did you know that there can exist machinery so advanced it can be programmed to flawlessly mimic biological beings?"

Sonic froze for a second, unsure of how to reply, while he rolled up the dirty bandage.

"That, huh. That sounds kinda scary actually. Is that a common thing for where you're from?" The guardian asked, turning his head towards Nine.

"Kind of not really? It's mostly just an outstanding feat of engineering that was achieved only a couple of times, so no need to worry."

He couldn't tell either of them who the replicas were based on now, could he?

The hedgehog merely nodded while Tails went on, either to distract himself from the sting in his arm or just because.

"Nine knows so much about machines, and he told me so many cool stories he got from traveling all over the place!"

"Huh, sure would love to go on an adventure like that someday." Sonic mused after carefully placing all of the supplies back into the medical bag.

"Well why don't you?"

Nine asked without hesitation, because if there was one thing he learned at this point, it was that Sonic cannot stay in one place for long. Even if you embed his legs into concrete, he'd either go insane or find a way out.

"We can't go anywhere, since we have to stay near the eyeshot of the tree to not let anyone get any funny ideas." Sonic sighed.

And that seemed to be true here, except the responsibility keeping Sonic tied down was something he couldn't run away from.

"Do you guys like, live here? Under the tree I mean."

"Hmm pretty much. Well in my very humble opinion it's much better than in a closed off hut built somewhere in a ditch."

Sonic threw the bag up and it's straps caught on a nearby branch. He tugged on it to make sure it will not slide down before climbing the tree himslef and stretching his hand out for Tails to grab on.

"It could do with something to keep the rain out though."

Tails commented and followed his brother up into the crown again, where he basically disappeared between the leaves.

"Sleeping on a tree can be hardly comfortable."

"Hah, says the one who sits on cold metal."

Sonic shot back with a finger gun pointed at Nine.

"Thermodynamics. The metal doesn't stay cold for long."

Sonic's attitude dropped a bit at the most likely unknown word to him but he brushed it off, finding the most comfortable branch to sit on, and leaned back on it. Maybe leaned back too much, as he toppled over and hung upside down from the branch like a bat.

"Thermowhatever's when wood is all you're used to sleeping on since birth it is more comfortable than a rigged bed."

"Agree to disagree."

"Mimimi."

Sonic mouthed back, but Nine didn't mind it much, banter with Sonic was fun.

"So you said you'd stay the night?"

Tails' disembodied voice was accompanied by an unnatural rustle of leaves.

"Most likely yea."

Suddenly the world went dark for Nine as suffocating weight was thrown over him. His temporary panic was intercepted by Tails' giggles and Sonic's tone that couldn't contain its humor properly either

"It gets cold at night, and I doubt anyone here would be willing to let a stranger inside their house at this hour. Not to be mean or anything, just safety for safety's sake y'know."

The sudden darkness turned out to be a yellow and navy blanket with sun and moon patterns. Nine assumed it to most likely be tailor made for them by the mentioned seamstress, but that was besides the point. The blanket was indeed a good insulator so it served its purpose.

"Thanks." Nine mumbled and somehow put the blanket over himself in a more comfortable manner. "Why do you go to sleep so early anyway?"

"And who told you we're going to sleep eh." Sonic swung himself back up into a proper sitting position, crossed his legs and rested his chin on his hand. "Again don't take it personally, but we can't leave the tree unsupervised, like, at all. Though I wouldn't mind if we could go on an adventure like you're on." Sonic sounded like someone elbowed him at the end of his sentence.

"So you're just gonna stay up the whole night instead."

"There's two of us for a reason duh."

He's gonna be kept under a night watch, how lovely.

Unfortunately, Nine knew it wouldn't be possible to enter deep sleep when someone's watching him, or is aware of his presence at all. He would of course give it a few minutes maybe an hour or two if he bears it, because he needs some rest at the end of the day, but he'll hardly make it till morning.

Feeling his head lulling to the side he shook himself awake. Opening his eyes, Nine turned towards his MTC with full intent of activating a portal and leaving without a trace, but the image of Tails with terrified eyes welled up in tears surfaced in his mind uninvited.

Nine exhaled with more force than needed.

He looked up, the hedgehog's leg dangled off a branch carelessly meaning that if either of the guardians fell asleep, it was Tails.

With great effort, Nine got up to his feet and flew the extra distance needed to be at eye level with the hedgehog.

He flicked Sonic's nose with full intent of breaking the promise he settled just a few hours back.

"Ow what the-"

Nine quickly covered the hedgehog's mouth and cursed himself for not thinking just one step ahead. Tails has to be unaware until Nine is already on his way, the consequences weren't his to deal with.

Sonic didn't take kindly to the gesture, unsurprisingly, and while mumbling curses, he grabbed the fox's hand in an attempt to shove it away.

Nine didn't budge though "Be quiet and meet me at the bottom of the hill. I just have something to tell you and I'll be out of your guys' fur, I promise."

Nine put as much urgency into his whisper as he could while keeping a finger to his mouth.

Sonic narrowed his eyes and looked over his shoulder at his sleeping brother, before sighing.

"You better not be playing me for a fool buddy."

But Nine was already halfway down the incline, not letting his legs suffer the way they did when going up, he elected to just glide down.

By all accounts the guardian finally caught up to him and exclaimed "Woa you can fly?!" after Nine landed.

The fox's eyes were fully concentrated on his MTC as he fiddled with the coordinates.

"Yes and by all accounts, Night should too."

"Wait what."

"He has two tails doesn't he?"

"Yes but I'm not sure those are exactly build for flying..."

Sonic scratched his head, while Nine was one confirm click from opening a portal.

"Now, I've been asked specifically to not tell you anything, but listen up."

He wasn't sure just how strong Sonic in this world was but if he was worth a damn, he'll do something to save his little brother.

[rubywolf0201]

Hot take but whenever I see people saying that Amy is a civilian, there’s the unfathomable rage within me that wants to make me scream ‘THAT IS NOT TRUE!’

Amy in her very first modern appearance was first seen going on with her mundane life and she complained about how bored she is and that she wishes to be on adventures with Sonic because of how fun and exciting it is!

This in particular tells you that she does not like being stuck in one place and that she craves for the same sense of adventure and excitement like Sonic does.

Also, throughout her appearances in the mainline games, Amy was never portrayed to be the ‘careful one’. She’s just as out-of-pocket as literally every one of the Sonic cast is. Yet her being out-of-pocket also leads her to do lots of good deeds like guiding a robot who is emotionally conflicted, making someone remember their promise that their dead friend made or even helping out two ordinary civilians into a rescue mission while still looking for Sonic.

Making Amy be the ‘stay in the kitchen’ type character is a great disservice because all she ever cared about is being part of the fun in whatever adventures that Sonic is up to.

[molinaskies]

This cover is so important.

This is one of the retail incentive covers of IDW Sonic issue 1, 5th Anniversary Edition, illustrated by Adam Bryce Thomas and coloured by Reggie Graham. When I look at it, something about it tells a story to me, and that story is beautiful.

Sonic and Amy are at the Riverside Romp with Cream and Vanilla, but the rabbits are clearly giving them some space while doing their own thing.

Riverside is the town where Sonic and Amy meet for the first time in the comic series. The archway that holds the sign is also one of the decaying legs from Eggman’s crab mech, the first mech they fight together. Riverside is incredibly symbolic to them both, like how Never Lake would be in the games.

Their journey started rocky at Riverside. They couldn’t see eye-to-eye and had different approaches to how they both could help restore the world after the war. And yet, they still fully respected each other, dishing out compliments and praise and a desire to work together (in different ways). Amy even professes her love for Sonic and vows to him that she never wants to change him, and he bashfully asks her to stay with him in return. They cared for each other, loved each other, immensely then, and now, they’ve chosen to return to Riverside stronger as a pair and as individuals.

Sonic and Amy spend their day together, but they’re both their own people. Amy fawns over the sweets and the loving decorations while Sonic ogles a chilidog. They both indulge in their interests, but close together. One doesn’t need to be exactly like the other, and neither of them want that for the other. As long as they know the other’s there and always will be, that’s all they need. Being their own people despite their connection is what strengthens their bond, because the admiration they have for each other and their differences is so high.

But then, they still want to be together. They dance and cheer with interlocked fingers while sparks fly between their hearts. Cherry blossom petals sway around them, delighting in new beginnings and young love. Sonic and Amy compliment each other, bringing out the brighter sides of theirs souls. Amy’s having the time of her life, living in the moment knowing that Sonic is there with her now and always. But, beautifully, Sonic’s living the moment with with her, taking in her excitement and beauty. He usually doesn’t allow himself the pleasure, but he can’t help it, now.

Sonic and Amy have such a deep understanding of each other that it transcends language. They are in love, and I am in love with them.

[sp00kcanwrite]

Hear me out- i'm cooking here some idea! Like- what if Sun wukong, Macaque (separatedly) met an Reader who is an Goddess of the Moon, like, not like Chang'e but mostly THE Protector! One of the elements, like, they met her when she was humming a tune while sitting on a little moon shape floaty thing (The Design might be inspired of Moonlight Cookie From Cookie run Ovenbreak/Kingdom! So you get an idea of how to do it <33) Some Headcanons??? I'll gladly love to read it! It can be Some fluff or something about them both having a crush on The Reader (bro's gonna go wild if they found out Reader is lesbi-) (jk,jk, just an nerd joke from the moonlight x sea fairy story)

Just an fan of Moonlight Cookie here! Love your fics <33

Stay healthy and keep yourself all good

-This dumb nerd

I LOVE COOKIE RUN TO!

This is my first,and (probably will always be) my favorite request ♡♡♡

MACAQUE X MOON GODDESS! READER

Maybe a bit OOC

_____________________

MEETING!

Macaque never thought he'd stumble into a moon goddess but here he is!

After a fight with wukong, in wich macaque barely got away, he fled to a usually empty lake surrounded by woods .

He didn't expect the isolated area to be occupied by a women with almost glowing skin and a ethereal dress to be sitting elegantly on a Cresent moon like platform that floated 5 inches away from the water of the lake and gave off a white glow.

The woman hummed a soft tune that would put thousands of children to sleep. Though it was very quiet macaque would've been able to hear it from a mile away, he almost fell asleep as he felt the insomnia he's been plagued with for years slip away.

His black claws gripped onto the bark of a tree as he watched the lady for, he doesn't even know how long at this point.

Maybe his grip was to strong as the wood eventually let out a booming Crack and fell forward, right into the lake. The water splashed over the woman sitting in a Cresent moon.

HEADCANONS!!

I won't lie that man fled as soon as the wood gave out, faster then sonic i swear. Yet he found himself coming back to the same lake, to hear the same humming tune that you sung.

After awhile, I'd say 4 weeks, you'd finally introduce yourself. And boy did that shock the raven haired monkey as he thought he was being rather sneaky.

It takes a while for him to warm up to you but patience is perfection! And trust me eventually he did, and soon that friendship blossomed into something else.

He thought of you every night, everything about you intoxicated the guy. Your humming, your face, your eyes, and even how quiet you spoke.

He knew he had it bad but couldn't convince himself to confess, so what does he do? He ghosts you

For a pretty long times (cough 8 days) until you finally take actiona and burst into his dojo, your moon staff in hand, and demanded a explanation on why he was avoiding you.

After a long while of bickering he accidentally slips out a confession, you paused completely when you heard the words come out your mouth.

Oddly enough..you didn't mind it

MEETING!

Ya'll know how in the books he was described to be a light weight drinker? Yeah it was true. And he's a man of bad luck to run into the same moon goddess that he treated so rudely in the past.

He was stumbling threw a forest, god knows how he got there, and ran into a glowing woman that sat sleepily on a Cresent moon. And when I say ran in I mean it, he ran full force into you by accident of course.

By the time you got up and held him by his collar the man was knocked out, he wanted to smack him over the skull buttt that wouldn't be very "elegant" for you (definitely not because you knew he was THE sun wukong)

So you dragged him to FFF mountain, all the way into the shame shack and threw him on his bed. But sadly this powerful demon had, in his sleep, gripped onto your flowing gown and pulled you onto the bed with him.

No matter how hard you wiggled or squirmed you were stuck being wukongs brand new stuffed toy for the night.

______________

He was out like a rock, you had to summon your staff and hit him a couple of times before he even opened a eye.

But oh boy when he did you screamed louder then any siren could in all 7 seas. Not from fear, but from hangover shock.

You scoffed at his girlish scream and turned your nose up to his lazy apology. As you went to the door the great sage folded over on the ground, and started breathing heavy? Was he gagging? Why- OH CRAP

I don't think I need to say what happened next, it ended with him bent over a toilet and you helping him up. You don't know how or why but you stayed for a good 6 hours just listening to the obviously touch deprived monkey, you could tell by how he clinged on your arm, ramble on and laugh at his antics in the past. Tha antics that caused alot of trouble to the moon you protected.

Turns out the great sage has some overpowering charm as you found yourself showing up to his house again

And again

And again

Until you memorized flower fruit mountain like it was the back of your hand.

The lonely great sage found himself growing fonder and fonder of you each day, he wondered why his heart beat so much, why his palm went sweaty or why he felt hot around you.

Until it hit him the day you cooked him a peach pie.

He had hearts in his eyes as he held your wrist, catching the steaming pie with his tail he looked you in the eye and said with much confidence.

"I love you!"

"I like woman-"

(JK)

(JK)

You stared with shock as the monkey man confessed his feelings, and as hard as a asteroid hitting the moon your lips crashed with his.