#*【 ☂ ┊ ❛ does it matter

[txmxkis]

another terrible side effect of this political climate for me personally is that i feel like i have to do everything i have ever wanted to do right now before/in case i might not be able to anymore

[theseancekid]

anyway i'm still noticing new details on my thousandth rewatch of the umbrella academy pilot episode like the fact that when Klaus is sitting at the kitchen table hugging the guitar, his boots are placed on top of the opposite end of the table?? In fact, Klaus is barefoot in almost every scene, which makes me think that they were initially going to keep the comic book lore of Klaus only being able to use his powers when he's barefoot. Much To Think About.

[rainychaoloveshack]

AAAAA—

I’ve been searching for Sonic x reader req’s…

can I ask for a Shadow x reader where both were experiments for Maria’s cure? Where Shadow had a slight hatred and annoyance towards them because at times Maria would give time for them to hang out. Then blah blah blah after her death and the fall of the ark. He sees them again where they have a flower shop now, then finally after years Shadow gives in to apologize as he realizes he’s not the only one who mourns for Maria.

ﾟ ⋆ ﾟ ☂︎ ⋆ ﾟ 𝐏𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐅𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬. 𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐡𝐨𝐠.

it’s been years since you saw his face, and even longer since you’ve seen hers.

⋆°•☁︎ content . shadow x gn!reader, angst, so so so many mentiona of the word “flower” (it’ll drive you insane) warning. brief mentions of vomit.

☂︎ wc. 1.8k ☂︎ a/n. huehehe flowers go brrrrr. i got kinddd of experimental with this one and tried to branch out more emotionally. i hope you like it ^^ wouldve wrote in some more but i didnt want it to be too long… my fault :( i just love angst lol

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

“[Name], ah, this is really, really cool!” Her fingers weave the stems together like a beautiful melody, overlapping with one another to form a gorgeous pattern in her palms. “When you were learning this at first, you should’ve told me! I could’ve learned it with you!” She gives you a fake little pout, soon to be replaced by her ever-shining smile. “Now I can make you and Grandpa flower crowns all the time! Though, I don't think he’ll wear them…”

And you can’t wait for the moment that she hands you one of her own, one made on her own time, with no assistance from your end. A true testament of her love for you; one you would never doubt, gift or not.

Paired with your hydrangeas and carnations, roses and daffodils. Every little flower at your fingertips; ones you thought she would adore. Put and grown with love right on the Ark, with the help of Professor Gerald. The fact that you had decided to cultivate life on the Ark caught his attention, and it might’ve not been possible without his assistance with your little hobby. Your garden wasn’t just that, though. It wasn’t a simple piece of eye candy for passersbys; they weren’t allowed to take a single step in it.

It was for flower crowns; something you had learned just to impress her. A secret hobby, just for the two of you to play around with. No one else.

Not even Shadow.

“Oh, and I can make some for Shadow too!” Her fingers graze over the petals on her newly made crown, a mixture of light blue flowers and red ones, along with your favorite color. Three colors mingled into one beautiful piece.

Shadow… You haven’t seen him for a while.

Even if you didn’t want to admit it, you two had always been competing for her attention, her love, but she had managed to share it between the two of you. Was it greedy of both of you to ask that from her? Her saccharine self? It’s not like you’ll ever know the answer now.

You’ve never gotten along with Shadow, despite you two coming from the same origin. Natural competitors. But neither of you had ever engaged in any sort of conflict directly, maybe a snide remark or two from him but that would be all. Most of the hatred was from him. Deep down, you know you wouldn’t be opposed to being his friend.

So why does he look at you so harshly?

… It doesn’t matter. As long as you can act as her medicine, her cure, helping her heal from both her illness and what bothers her, that's good enough for you.

It’s been fifty years. Fifty years. You don’t want to remember the specifics, but it’s been more than that now. A couple of years of change, you’re sure.

Your left hand clasps over your right, your fingertips rubbing over your knuckles slowly. Everywhere you look, it’s her. Every flower in your shop; it’s almost like you can see a glimpse of her figure and face through the petals.

Hydrangeas. Carnations. Roses. Daffodils. Every little flower at your fingertips; ones you knew she adored. Grown with your everlasting love for that girl clad in blue; remembering the click of her heels as she would run over to you with a new crown in hand. You wish you could’ve kept each one she gave you, even if they would’ve all wilted by now. Wilted flowers have their own kind of beauty in a way, but maybe it’s only you who sees it.

Remembrance is an aching feeling. Swirling around in your stomach, at times even threatening to spill out of your mouth in the form of vomit and puke. Pouring itself out of your body through tears and bile. And no matter how hard you try, it seems to stay present. Even after all these years.

Before that emotion fills your mouth again, the sound of the bell rips you from your thoughts, the door swinging open. You swirl your body around, putting on a smile to greet your new customer. It’ll be another day, just like the last one.

… What?

“It’s you.” He says, clearly in disbelief at the person he’s seeing, just over the counter. “Hmph. So that idiot was right.”

Is… Is that him? Him?

Shadow?

“Are you in shock that I’m still alive?” Not at all, no. But the words don’t pour out of your mouth, instead letting out shaky breaths as he looks around your humble flower shop; similar to how one would gaze at a picture frame of an old family member. Solemn. Melancholic. 

“I’m not here for some stupid greeting. I came for… A bouquet.” He almost seems uncertain about his reasoning. Even after seeing you, he doesn’t look angry. Not even surprised. Curious? You had heard his name throughout the years, but to meet him not anywhere else, but here, now.

Remembrance is an aching feeling.

“Those.” He points to a bunch of delphinium together, a light, bright blue. “And these.” His fingers graze over a dark red bunch of roses, his ear twitching at the sound of your immediate shuffling, going for the delphinium first. Something’s telling you in your heart to not get so close to him. It’s the aching; you’re sure of it.

Naturally you would question why he would need such a bouquet, but it’s not your place to wonder in that manner, especially now. Just do your job and go.

Shadow stares at a certain flower you keep away from the door, away from prying eyes, but still on sale for people to take.

You keep it away on purpose.; those kinds of flowers are your favorite ones. Sometimes if work is slow for a peculiar day, you’ll get lost within the petals, tracing over every groove of the plant, and even the stem itself, taking note of the way they feel under your fingertips.

“These too.” His footsteps almost echo through the store; or is it your imagination weighing heavy on you? Your head turns to see he’s going up to your favorite flower, picking one up by its stem to twirl it over between his fingertips, before dropping it back down. As you make your way over, he seems to notice and backs away from you, retreating to the counter. So even he doesn’t want to chat.

Fine with you. If he hadn’t bothered to come by all of these years, why did you expect him to care? But there’s a back thought in your head, telling you you’re lying about those statements of yours.

No matter.

As you pick up your favorites from its spot, settling a couple into the growing bouquet, you finally notice the mixture of flowers. How important they all are.

Delphinium. Roses. Your favorite.

These are the ones Maria always made flower crowns with.

You hesitate on looking his way, already noticing his gaze stuck on your back, so you keep picking the flowers up, settling them snugly into the bouquet in a sort of pattern.

“I’d like some bits of chrysanthemums in there too.” He suddenly mutters, and you comply with his request, making your way back over to the counter afterward.

The chrysanthemums are a bright yellow, reminding you of the way her blonde hair flowed, mingled with the colors of whatever crown you had made her at the time. You wouldn’t be surprised if she had begged Professor Gerald for a way to preserve them. Thinking about such a thing is so melancholic.

 You take the time to wrap a red ribbon around the neck of the bouquet, securing it with a bow to make it more presentable, but knowing Shadow, if he’s any bit of the man he used to be all those years ago, you assume that these blossoms would be going into a vase anyway. He’s not the type of person to leave a bouquet out, is he?

While you mutter the price under your breath, Shadow slips out the exact amount onto the counter, his motions swift. He outstretches his hands, not a single change in expression as he accepts the flowers, then settles them into his arm, hugging it close to his torso. He wants to get this over with; you can tell.

The silence between you two is unbearable. Would it cause that much harm to ask about his flower choices? Why the ones she-

“Yes, Maria liked these ones.” Shadow utters, his fingers brushing across the delphinium. His brows furrow, remembering bits and pieces of both of your pasts together. “She always made those flower crowns with you.”

Of course, he will mention her; how could you be so stupid? 

“She made some with me a handful of times.” Shadow says plainly, clearly not enjoying looking back on those memories. Not that he would mind if it was just him and Maria, but that activity was plagued with you. His own thoughts of you. After all of these years. “I think she preferred to make them with you.” He scoffs. “Said it was your special hobby together. I never cared for your hobby.”

You bite your tongue but decide not to say anything as the seconds pass with silence. Suddenly, a deep sigh leaves his lips, your little flower shop falling still with his sudden change in demeanor. The way his shoulders fall, with his head hung low, not daring to look you in the eyes with a small flick of his ear in your direction.

“I’m sorry.” Shadow murmurs. “For all this time I thought of you as just a nuisance.” He shakes his head, pushing up against the counter with his free hand. “But she wouldn’t want me to think of you that way… I don’t want that for myself either.” 

Shadow tosses a crisp fifty on the counter along with his still-present payment; clearly overspending for his single bouquet. “Goodbye.”

Your fingers press nervously into the table, nails scratching at wood, eyes plastered onto his distancing figure as he walks away, bouquet in his arm.

Say something. Anything.

His footsteps slowly die out, turning around slightly to meet your eye. “What was that?” Shadow cocks his head to the side, eyes widened slightly, clearly in shock at your goodbye. 

It’s customary for business owners to want their customers to come back. Repeated business means more profit. More money to tend to your shop. More happy customers. More smiles. More flowers. Her flowers. A way to remember her by.

Maria.

So it’s as simple as that.

Please come again.

A small grumble rises from his throat as he turns away from you. “I’m gonna ask for the same thing next time, okay? Remember it.” Shadow doesn’t let you get another word out, as the bell chimes above him, pushing open the door to leave you standing there in awe.

That remembrance doesn’t ache as bad anymore.

[maybe-moonchild]

CHAPTER 3

summary: in which there is a sleepover and you learn that adrenaline really clouds your judgment. WC: 4.4k

ﾟ ⋆ ﾟ ☂︎ ⋆ ﾟ

Neither of you move for a really long time. Maybe it isn’t all that long, you can’t really tell as you stand on the corner in silence until Fisk’s limo is long gone. Neither of you can figure out the right thing to say at a time like this. 

Peter finally settles on, “Are you alright?” 

You can’t quite tell what you are feeling right now. 

No. Really. You really have no idea. 

Are you mad? Okay, a little bit. It wasn’t like you had a blast, but, you’re also not dead. Then you remember that there was a gun pressed to your temple so maybe you are actually mad. Is it at him? Not quite. Peter hadn’t been the one to do it but it was his fault that it all happened. Except… he didn’t know this was going to happen the one night in eight years that you’re around. You know that you both haven’t been friends in a long time but your mouth still tastes sour at the thought of why he would get involved in the first place. And now, a crime lord knows your face and you name-

“Fine,” you breathe out once you manage to snap yourself out of your spiraling thoughts. You study the shallow puddles of rain that have congregated between the cracks in the sidewalk. Tension and the recent rain makes the air thick, filling your lungs and both alleviating and suffocating you. 

“Are you sure?”

He’s doing it again, stepping closer, tilting his head to try and catch your eye. He just wants to see you. He just wants you to look at him so he stops holding his breath.

You comply, peeking up at him through the corner of your eye. “I’m sure.” To emphasize your point, you try to give him a smile. It is pathetically awful, but he finally inhales. “I’m okay. A bit shaken up, but…”

Terrified? Frustrated? Livid? Hurt?

“Fine,” you shrug, finding that the word accurately describes how you are feeling. Not good, not bad; not injured, not… not shaken up. Just�� fine.

He hums as he considers your answer, eyes flicking around your face and deciding if he believes you ornot. His proximity makes you want to step back if it means that he’ll stop scrutinizing you. 

At least you weren’t the only one unsure of what to say; choking on words that so desperately wanted to claw their way out of your throat. You swallow, forcing them back down where they will hopefully remain for another eight years. He seems to be considering something as you both stare at his shoe, scuffing the cement. 

“You can stay here tonight,” he offers quietly. Peter’s hands are shoved so deep in his pockets that it makes his shoulders hover by his ears. You shake your head even if it does sound like an inviting option. The alternative was trekking all the way back to your apartment at 2 in the morning and praying that Katie wasn’t still up, or god forbid, hosting an after party with Flash. 

“I really ought to head back.” Peter deflates even more when you step back. Space is good. Space between you two was good. It was normal. Having an unspoken distance wedged between Peter and you was your normal for the past eight years. 

“Oh.”

Do not look at him. If you have to see his kicked puppy look, you’ll cave. You always fucking caved when he pulled that out, intentional or not. It wasn’t like you were turning him down because you were mad- or maybe you were; you didn’t know anymore. 

“I should get going.” You attempt another pathetic excuse of a smile in the hopes to reassure him that you are perfectly fine. “I think I just really need to shower and sleep…” When the first rain drop pelts against your forehead, you trail off. You reach up, swipe at it and frown at the moisture on your fingertips. Within a matter of moments, it’s down pouring. Fat drops of water exploding on both of your heads and clothes, threatening to soak through your shoes and drenching your hair. 

“Oh come the fuck on,” you curse under your breath, throwing up a hand to shield your eyes. You glare up at the sky and think profanities at the universe for, somehow, making this worse.

Peter stays quiet as he watches you, squinting and ducking his head even though you are both getting drenched. He wants you to come to your senses and agree to at least come inside so you can call a cab from there. 

When it becomes clear you have no intention of being reasonable, he decides to give in. “Let’s go,” he sighs incredulously, hand wrapping around the crook of your elbow to gently tug you along. You don’t put up a fight and the both of you pick up the pace until you’re running to the front doors. 

Neither of you really says anything as you follow him through his apartment complex. Water drips from your hair and clothes, shoes squeaking against the old, cracked tile. There is a musty smell in the hallway that just intensifies the old age of the building. 

At least his actual unit has been renovated in the past 5 decades. 

Peter and Ned’s shared apartment is one of the better ‘guy’ apartments you have been in. It’s relatively clean; floors and surfaces devoid of garbage and a few dishes in the sink that are likely from only earlier today. There's a few posters on the walls, protected by cheap, simple frames but are actually quite cool looking overall. The plants clearly belong to Ned because Peter had been a notorious plant killer as a child; always forgetting about their existence until the leaves were long brown. 

You stand awkwardly by the front door as he ushers you in, his wet hightops landing on the doormat. Your fingers twist and pull at the hem of your dress in the attempt to give yourself something to do as you look around. It’s easier to see more details after he flips on a lamp, dim light stretching the shadows peaking around furniture. 

You should be crying, you think. You should be freaking out, panicking because you’d had a gun to your head and Wilson Fisk knows your name. 

Instead, you’re too busy wondering if there is a single photo of you hung up in this apartment amongst the others. 

Probably not. 

“I just uh… couldn’t leave you out there,” Peter sighs, “Do you need anything? Something to drink? Eat?”. He runs his hands through his damp hair once he’s discarded his wet jacket on the dining room chair. At least he’s no longer watching you. Instead, he gracefully slips into the kitchen and reaches for two glasses hidden in the cabinet. His back is towards you, muscles tight under his shirt-

You clear your throat and look away when your face burns. “Uh, no. I'm good.”

Peter glances over his shoulder at where you are still tensely standing in his entry way. You’re too distracted by his apartment to do anything more than try and look for glimpses of the boy you once knew. 

When you don’t move any closer, he slowly comes to you. Each hand is adorned with a glass of tap water. You do look up at him this time, fingers still twisting nervously in the bottom of your dress which easily gives away how uncomfortable you feel. Both of you are too worried about the other not wanting to be here. 

“Are you warm enough?” Somehow, his voice is even softer, tentative and gentle like he’s expecting you to suddenly freak out. Hell, you still might. “You should change. I can grab you something?”

Peter raises an eyebrow at you and extends the glass. It’s so stupidly cliche that you nearly flinch when your cold fingers brush his and you want to beat yourself up. You take it in your hands but don’t actually think you can drink it because of how unsettled your stomach feels. 

It’s funny how similar and different he manages to look at the same time. Same messy brown hair that he never cared to brush, same big brown doe eyes, and same awkward but witty demeanor. 

How much do you really know about Peter Parker?

Shaking the thought from your head, you finally find the ability to speak. “Yeah. That’d be great. Thanks.” Your smile is still half hearted but it's what you can manage at the moment.

By the time you step out of his bathroom, donning a pair of his sweatpants that bunch up around your ankles and an old Midtown High School T-Shirt, you feel a little better. Not much, but it’s a start. Anything is better than your damp dress and jacket. Plus, his clothes smell like him-

Not like that matters. 

You find Peter sitting on the couch. He’s wearing his own dry clothes, elbows resting on his knees while his leg bounces anxiously. The second he hears you approach, his head snaps up and his eyes find yours. 

“Thanks,” you murmur. You decide to slowly lower yourself onto the opposite of the couch before glancing at him. He gives you a timid smile that seems more hopeful than forced. Peter just can’t stop shifting in his spot like he can’t make himself comfortable. It’s probably because of the eight years of history hanging over your heads. 

He breaks the silence first. “It’s almost three in the morning. We should both probably get some rest-”

“Why did you steal the files?”

If the question surprises him, he doesn’t show it. In fact, he looks more disappointed than anything, like he’d been hoping that you would have let it go until at least the morning. But no, because here you are, staring down at the floor and chewing on the inside of your cheek in the hopes that you don’t fill the silence. Your eyes remain on the floor, boring holes into the faded wood like you’d somehow find the answers you were looking for in the cracks

The Peter Parker you knew didn’t steal. Didn’t steal candy bars from bodegas or lunch money from weaker kids. 

The one sitting beside you, so close that you could touch him if you raised your hand. That Peter Parker, stole files from Manhattan crime lords and didn’t flinch when someone waved a gun around or forced him into a limo. 

Hanging his head is a good way to hide his guilty expression. He mirrors you in looking for an answer hidden in the floor. Jokes on him, it’s not there.

“Because it was the right thing to do. People would benefit from that information being out in the open rather than in the hands of a criminal.”

“That’s not what I mean and you know it,” you snap back. This time you actually do turn to face him but he won’t look up. Not when he can barely handle the feel of your stare.

You continue after running a hand through your damp hair. “I mean why? What on earth were you doing that put you in the position in the first place to take it? And why did Fisk talk to you like he knew you? And why were you not freaking out?” “I was too freaking out-” “Oh please, you barely even flinched the entire time there was a gun being pointed at you.”

Peter wants to protest but quickly snaps his mouth closed. You’re right. Having a gun trained on him was pretty much a weekly (probably more) occurrence. Having a gun trained on you? Oh, yeah. That easily makes the top five worst moments of his life. 

His leg hasn’t stopped bouncing up and down, teeth chewing at his lip like he's chewing on what to say. What kind of lie can he come up with when you have to be the hardest person to lie to. Part because he feels bad but also because you can always know when he does. 

“I was just being nosy… and I wanted to see what he had.” Peter shrugs dismissively. The second he manages to look up, the glare you're fixing him with makes him immediately jerk his head away. 

Right there. 

Right there, you have your answer. 

That he is never going to give you one. Not something that is the truth. Nothing that gives you any insight into why anything that happened tonight happened. 

Disappointment slams into you so hard that you want to choke on it. You can’t even bring yourself to look at him. The same way you felt at the age of fourteen, back when you’d try and approach him in the hall between classes. How he’d blow off your attempts at making conversation with one word answers before hurrying away. 

Blowing you off, again. Yeah, this felt a lot like that. 

You drop your head into your hands which catches his attention. As the adrenaline continues to wear off, you can't tell if you want to cry, scream, or all the above. 

“Peter,” you say slowly, the drawn out words quiet and strained. “I had a gun to my head.”

That reminder is enough to make him wince. The last thing he wants to do is brush over the severity of what happened. He leans forward, staring at you when he hears the pleading in your voice. All he wants to do is lean forward and grab your hand but he doesn’t. 

It feels wrong at this point. He’d hurt you enough tonight.

“I know.”  Another apology almost falls from his mouth until he decides to suck in a shaky breath instead. “I know that and I’m so… I am so sorry.”

What do you really know about Peter Parker?

“I know that,” you sigh in defeat and sit up. You know how sorry he is. That he’s only begun to beat himself up over it. Whether or not he was sorry about the whole thing was never a question.

You and Peter were clearly exhausted and tensions were running high. Even if he was used to the whole Spider-Man thing where he swung around New York, saving the day and finding himself in copious amounts of dangerous situations, he wasn’t used to you. Having your presence back in his life would take some getting used to. 

If you even were back in his life after how tonight went. 

“You have always been the guy that stands up for what’s right.” There’s only a few inches between your fingertips and his. While you stare at the floor, he’s staring at your hand. “And no matter how hard you got knocked down, you always got back up. It was something I've always loved about you but… stealing from a guy like Fisk? Putting yourself in harm's way like that?”

You can’t even think about it. 

“I’ve gotten a lot of knocks,” he says with a solemn chuckle that he doesn’t feel. “A lot.” It was an attempt to lighten the mood but it just makes you suck in a breath. The smile falls right off Peter’s face, not like he would even call it a smile. 

After a long moment, he tries again. “I’m still the same. I promise.” He’s not sure if he really believes it himself. His thumb brushes your knuckle and you pull your hand away to shove your damp head off your forehead. 

“You are but you aren’t.” There’s too  much exhaustion coursing through your veins for you to be angry any longer. Now that the adrenaline is gone, it's impossible to be mad but that doesn’t mean you won’t be in a matter of hours. 

It’s at this moment that you realize that he didn’t even consider calling the cops tonight. Worse, neither have you, until now. Why did calling the cops not cross your mind until now? That should've been the first thing- That’s a stupid bullshit problem for tomorrow because your head might explode.

“Look, it’s late and- can we just go to sleep? I still have to meet my parents in the morning.” Peter nods at your request and pushes up from his seat. “I’ll just sleep here on the couch. I can just head out in the morning.”

Peter shakes his head vehemently. “No. I’ll sleep on the couch. I took you away from that party and put you in danger. Just let me have this.”

Normally, you would have at least argued to prolong the inevitability of giving in and letting him take his own couch. You just can’t tonight. An exhausted sound falls from your mouth, knuckles digging into your eye sockets as you stand. 

Both of you are relieved when you follow him to his room. 

Once he flips on the little lamp, you're able to take in the space. The bedroom screams Peter Parker. You can pretty much take inventory of all of the things you’d seen in his room at May’s. Your eyes find the collections of photos on the walls and, again, you wonder if your face is hidden up there. 

“Are you sure?” you ask from the doorway. He glances back at you, his face brightening ever so slightly. 

“Yes.” He replieds quietly, sitting on the edge of his bed so he can pull back a corner for you to climb in. It takes you another long shared look before you give in for good. You take his spot as he stands, climbing onto the sheets before he tugs the blankets over your legs. 

Neither of you can think of something more to say. The rain is still coming down hard, rattling the window pane in his old apartment. He reaches over to the bedside table and presses a button and the light turns off. In the dark, he feels a bit more secure. 

“Try and sleep.” Peter whispers, though it feels too much like a plea for him to feel good about. He didn’t deserve you.

He’s going to leave. You don’t actually want him to go.

You grab his forearm before you even realize what you're doing, his muscles solid under your palm. For a long moment, it’s painfully quiet. So painfully quiet and you know you have to say something. He’s waiting for you to say something. 

“Can you just-” you start, hesitating and letting out a huff. The words feel stuck in your throat. Once you say them, you can never take them back. “Can you just stay? Like when we were kids.”

Peter blinks. It’s the most simple thing you could ask. You’re not asking him to tell you what he’s been up to. 

You’re not asking for answers.

You’re just asking him to stay. 

All he wants to do is to stay. He doesn’t need any more prompts than that. 

“Yes,” he whispers softly, a faint smile tugging at his lips, “I can do that.” Your head hangs in relief before you scoot over to make room for him. The bed dips under his weight as you both settle onto your sides, covers tucked up under your chins. Flashes of lightning illuminate his face and you half expect him to suddenly be nine years old again, soaking wet, and missing a tooth. 

Just like as kids, when you’d sneak in each other's windows when you couldn’t sleep. 

“Thank you.” 

A soft breeze blows in the window in the dead of night, and Peter doesn’t stop you as you shift closer and he smells you. You smell like that shampoo you used to use on his hair when you were twelve. When he showed up at your window with a pout, streaked with dirt, and burrs tangled in his hair because he fell out of tree. 

Your head is facing his way, and the soft exhale of thanks you murmur catches his breath in his throat. He didn’t realize just how much he missed the feeling of laying next to you. 

A flash of lightning makes him blink, as if to convince himself that he’s really here and not dreaming. 

“Like we were kids?” he asks hesitantly, laying on his back and lifting up his arm. You nod and decide that nothing needs to be worried about until tomorrow morning. Clearly, you’re traumatized from tonight and cannot be held accountable for your actions. Scooting closer, you tuck yourself against his side. Your head finds his chest and he doesn’t hesitate to pull you closer. 

Peter knows you belong there. 

Just him and you. 

For the first time tonight, you finally feel warm after being caught in the downpour. There’s only a few inches of bare skin shared between you two from where his arm is wrapped around you. Your hair tickles his cheek and he rests his chin on the top of your head. It’s the most comfortable either of you have felt in a very long time. 

“Can I ask you a question?” 

You nod, his heartbeat palpable under your head. It’s you that moves first, reaching up to trace the seam of the collar of his shirt. That seems to give him the courage to let his hand trail up to the back of your head. His other hand rests limply on his stomach, fingers resting so close to your own that he was itching to close the distance.

His thumb traces the nape of your neck, his heart rate picking up with each second. 

This was always how it went with you. So subtle, so quick, but you always noticed it. 

And now, as he thinks back on your shared life in those quiet few moments, he regrets every moment he’s spent away from you in the last eight years. 

But you’re different now; the years apart have changed you. Just like they’d changed him too. 

“Do you remember when-” Peter pauses, his fingers still playing with your hair in the dark. He’s never been so thankful for invisibility than this moment. “When we were seniors… In Flash’s yard at that party he had for graduation-”

“Why are you asking this,” you breath out so sharply that it cuts through his words. When he goes quiet, you can feel him still from where you’re still tucked against his side. Your head lifts up off his chest to look at him, unflinching when you're both nose to nose. 

You can’t, for the life of you, figure out why he would want to bring this up. Why would either one of you want to relive that moment?

You hate this moment.

You hate this moment so much that just the mention of it is like a slap to the face. 

Peter was a teenager. So were you. Neither of you had spoken- really spoken, since freshman year. You shoving through Midtown High’s senior class, all crammed in Flash’s house, trying to catch up as he slipped outside. You were trying and he was shutting you down. Things just kept escalating. The solo cup spilling strawberry vodka and sprite on the grass because your hands are occupied with clinging onto his shoulders. Your back pressing into the siding, legs looped around his waist and his tongue swiping against your bottom lip-

“Because I…” he pauses, unsure of the words that need to come out. They’re on his tongue, but he’s not sure he can actually speak them. “I just…”

Because I want to kiss you right now.

It’s too dark for you to make out much of his expression even that close up. Yours is hurt, you can feel the emotion settling on your face like a stupid, fucking billboard with your thoughts. Even in the dark, he can read you better than anyone else. 

“You just…”

A flash of lightning illuminates the room  momentarily, leaving you to wonder if this moment is just a figment of your imagination. It can’t be; you just might die if this wasn’t really happening. You don’t pull away from the intensity of it like you should before he can catch up to the moment. 

He could probably lean down right now, and you’d pull him in.

So, he does just that.

This is the third time you’ve kissed Peter. 

It’s nothing like the first time, when you were both eleven and didn’t even know what kissing even was.. All chaste and sudden, nervous giggles and never spoken about again. 

Or when you were thirteen. Awkward and in front of too many of your classmates at the hands of spin the bottle on a dirty hotel floor. 

This? This is just the two of you. You and him and the dark. The rain drumming against the window muffles the world around you to the point that you aren’t quite sure that anything else exists. It doesn’t need to.

One of Peter’s hands tangles in your hair, tipping your head back to deepen the kiss. The other makes a home on your waist. You cup his jaw, pulling him closer and kissing him harder. If you think, you’ll stop. God. You really don’t want to stop. 

He kisses you with every ounce or emotion he can manage to pack into him. He kisses you like he’s known you his whole life, but never actually touched you before. He kisses you with all the missed years, the tears and the loneliness, the guilt, the regret, and the love. 

And as he kisses you, his hand snakes down your body and he pulls you closer. 

Everything is silent, save for the rain tapping on the windows and your ragged breaths together.

You and Peter fall asleep that way, pressed together and tangled in the sheets. At some point, your kisses turn slow and tired, eyes closed from exhaustion even if you really didn’t care about seeing. Neither of you attempted to move away as you happily accepted unconsciousness with your limbs intertwined. 

Peter had always been a heavy sleeper. 

It’s what makes it so easy to sneak out of his apartment the next morning without waking him. But… maybe, you  also did it because then you would have to acknowledge... You didn’t know what you should have been acknowledging. 

So you slip out the door, leaving nothing behind but his folded clothes, a note thanking him for not letting you get killed, and the smell of your shampoo on his pillows.

[starletdust]

Sibby!! :3 neuvi with a ftm lil wrio.. please..? /nf

(dada kins neuvi and doll kins wrio so..)

cg neuvillette + ftm little wriothesley !!!

| masterlist |

tryin out a new format kinda ……. ⁽⁽◝꒰ ˙ ꒳ ˙ ꒱◜⁾⁾  i lov this silly color thing sigewinne mentions becus we lawv her

☂︎ ; when wrio is little , it’s usually because of stress / being overworked ૮꒰◞ ˕ ◟ ྀི꒱აneuvillette does his best to make sure he takes breaks !

— sigewinne is a big help with this , too ૮꒰˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶꒱ა

☂︎ ; neuvillette will often have to make sure wrio is being nice to himself , physically & mentally !!! always reminding him to drink water , helping him be healthy when binding , and sending letters to check up on him when he’s especially busy !!

☂︎ ; most of the duke’s gear is gifts from neuvillette / sigewinne , and are mostly stuffies and teethers / pacifiers ૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა wriothesley doesn’t really have a specific age he regresses to , he’s just baby !!!!

☂︎ ; very low-energy little … because it’s almost always from a bad scenario , he usually just likes to be cozied up in ideally neuvillette’s lap , but just being there in his office is alright too ໒꒰ྀི˶˃ᆺ˂˶ ꒱ྀིა

☂︎ ; even if he isn’t bouncing off the walls with excitement for it , wrio loves sea creatures and any animals soooo much when tiny !! you can expect the happiest babbles from him when out on a stroll and there’s an otter peekin out of the sea ૮꒰˶ᵔ ᗜ ᵔ˶꒱ა

☂︎ ; such a selfless boy , maybe to a fault .. will rarely voice his true opinions about whatever subject , and will try (and fail) to hide any sort of dissatisfaction from his cg ໒꒰ྀི ∩ ⸝⸝ ∩ ꒱ྀིა

☂︎ ; no matter how he regresses , he’s always just a little bit vigilant , just like in his true childhood — though some pets and gentle words will easily get him to relax ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و

[“DNI with this post if: transphobic/homophobic, NSFW-centered, ddlg/k1nk, anti-xeno, proship, anti-agere, basic DNI”]

!! probably could’ve included more of the transness …… TwT

[muekyn]

a/n: drunk eren confesses his love for you on a rainy day ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ☂ i didn’t know how to end it so apologies it ends abruptly ehehe ;;;

t/w: mentions of alcohol

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

small droplets of water formed on the windowsill of your bedroom. they glistened with a multitude of colors, taking your attention away as you heard the soft pitter-patter of the rain outside.

bottles of apple cider were littered on your table, scattered in an unorganized mess. one was tipped over, dripping onto the carpet. you made a mental note to clean it once you had the chance.

your breath was flushed with alcohol, a mixture of fermented apples and spiced cinnamon. you had one too many ciders; your senses intertwined with the room around you. dizzy and dazed, you slumped deeper into the bed, head propped against the wall.

“hey,” breathed a low, deep voice. “hey, were you even listening?”

you glanced up from your drunk stupor to look at the figure across the room. oh right, you almost forgot that eren was here with you.

“yeah… what were you saying again?” you managed to slur out, head tilting in the boy’s direction.

he let out a small huff. “you’re ridiculous.”

“and drunk.” you retorted.

you could see a small smile fall on his face. he was holding a bottle of cider, periodically swigging it. there was a tint of red on his cheeks, it was evident he was drunk himself.

he ran a hand through his long, unkempt hair. “well, just forget about it. it’s nothing important.”

“oh no, no i’m listening now, tell me.” you adjusted yourself from your comfy spot and leaned in closer, hoping it would show eren that you were interested in what he had to say.

“mmh. no, i changed my mind.” eren glanced away from you. it was odd. usually eren was a loudmouth, willing to speak his mind about any subject you two brought up. the fact that he was clamming up, and the fact that you were plastered, made you curious on what he said before you spaced out.

“awh, cmon. you know you can tell me anything ‘ren.” you scooted yourself from your spot, hanging your legs off the edge of the bed. you tapped the bed, beckoning eren to sit with you. “come sit.”

eren clambered out of the chair he was in. he almost lost his footing, stumbling his way to you. he plopped himself down on the bed beside you, bottle still in his hand. he had a somber look written on his face as he turned to look at you.

“it’s just… do you really want to be going out with someone who has a face like a beaver?” eren said lowly. there was a hint of annoyance in his voice as he took another swig from his bottle.

you sighed loudly. how many times has eren said this? “i told you, we’re not dating. stephen and i are just friends.”

eren let out a grunt in response. it was clear that your answer wasn’t satisfactory to him.

“i promise ‘ren. you’re my best friend, i’d tell you if i was dating anybody.”

eren sat there, silent. he took another swig of the bottle, seemingly finishing it. he set the bottle down, and stared off through the window. you sat there, looking at him, waiting for a response. even though he was your best friend, it was incredibly hard to read him. you couldn’t tell if he was upset, angry, or just drunk.

“besides… why does it even matter?” you added.

eren looked at you. his face was completely red, cheeks flushed with alcohol, while his emerald eyes were staring into yours. you could feel yourself growing hot with each second he spent staring at you. it felt like an eternity, just staring into each other’s eyes while the soft sounds of the rain hit the windowsill.

“i’m… just your friend?” he finally said. his voice was soft, much softer than usual.

you took a second to process what he just said. when the realization hit you, you stared at eren, unsure of what to say. he sat there, unmoving.

“well… what do you mean?” was all you could muster. maybe you were misinterpreting things.

“i mean that…” eren trailed off, suddenly scooting up to you. he placed his hand on yours, staring deeply into your eyes. you felt like he could consume you with just his gaze. he leaned in closer, lips brushing against your ear. “…we could be so much more.”

you let out a small squeak. "eren..."

he nuzzled himself against the crook of your neck. "just tell me you want it too."

eren leaned into you more, laying you down on the bed. he was half on top of you at this point, leaving light pecks on your neck while whispering sweet nothings into your ear. “you’re so beautiful… gonna make you mine…” eren was slurring his words, completely wasted at this point.

the two of you laid there for a while, eren giving you light kisses on your ear and neck while you whimpered, running your hands through his hair. you could smell the alcohol that emanated off of his body, the spices hitting your nose. the rain was soothing, ever so slightly tapping against the glass.

you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him in closer. he positioned his head to look at you, a drunken smile plastered on his face.

your lips were brushing against each other's, eyes fixated on one another. you inched forward, just enough to press your lips against eren's. eren's kiss was gentle, his lips were soft and warm. you melted into each kiss. he pulled away, your lips still touching.

“you’re everything to me.” eren confessed. "i love you."

[sturnstarrz]

introducing… ☘︎ fwb!chris [au]

hilarious, effortlessly cool, almost always in a good mood. in his sophomore year of college and majoring in engineering but his true passion is drawing. if he’s not listening to music or smoking a j in the park, he’s most likely working on a new project in his sketchbook that’s taking him hours to perfect, but when you compliment him he always insists, “it’s just some shit i drew when i was bored. not that big a deal, kid.” obsessed with the black cat he recently got stuck with after his roommate found him hiding underneath a car in the school parking lot.

you’ve always wondered how one person can be so humble and kind yet have an ego the size of texas. he’s aware of how attractive he is and that practically every girl in the university swoons over him. and he definitely notices when you’re even the slightest bit jealous, no matter how hard you try to hide it.

♫♪ listening to… future, kid cudi, metallica

♡ favorite food… pepperoni pizza

✿ favorite class… art history

best paired with… ☂︎ cautious!reader [disclaimer: no specific face claim/body type/skin color]

she prefers to wear sunglasses when out in public, especially at parties or the bar so she can get out of having to interact with people she doesn’t know. she thinks it makes her “less noticeable and unapproachable” even though chris says it does the complete opposite. she’s already read 3 novels since the start of the spring semester and her major is journalism. she’s known for writing the most extensive and impressive essays, often making extra money from students who pay her to write one for them. she just might be an academic weapon.

she takes the best aesthetic pictures. she’s funny and sarcastic, constantly keeping her friends on their toes with her wit. she’s a sweetheart, an empath, a good listener. but she’s also somehow the most emotionally detached person chris has ever met, quick to shut down serious conversations or open up. she's so cautious to prevent anyone from getting too close to her. so it makes him wonder if she really means to hold his hand a little longer than she should.

♫♪ listening to… cocteau twins, deftones, outkast

♡ favorite food… sushi

✿ favorite class… world literature

a/n: hiii it’s ari!! i cant wait to start working on and posting more of this au <3 the fwb trope is one of my favorites and i have sooo many good prompt ideas for this!! i’ve already wrote a drabble if you want to read it. ᰔ∴☁︎∴

[discendia]

Ranking reveal please ! "5 most compatible with rio amongst khr cast' ✨️ ( — romantic ! or not! it is up to you.) maybe, with explanations?

This question was really hard, Jojo! You know I'm bad at explanations. I tried to do my best, but I think there's still some bad influence from my tiredness here... (I'm much better now, I'm free again, hehe).

─────── ⛆⋅☂︎⋅⛆ ────────

જ⁀➴ Fuuta's ranking: the five most compatible characters with Rio

Takeshi: Two sides of one coin, who's head and who's tails? Where does your existence start away from him?

Rasiel: The long-forgotten twin, weak, buried in the past, the one who's thirsted for the spotlight.

Longchamp: Purposefully erased from existence and in a never-ending quest for love.

Bermuda: An eighth color does not exist in the rainbow. Live in the darkness, fueled by hatred until your day comes.

Iris: Sleep your way to the top, use men in your favor, enslave the horse.

Huh? This doesn't make sense? Well, it was raining... Wait, let me channel the ranking planet again.

─────── ⋆⋅⚝⋅⋆ ────────

જ⁀➴ True top 5 characters compatible with Rio

1. Takeshi.

No one will ever be more compatible in any aspect while you stay on the healthy side but beware because you could also be each other biggest disruption, silk thread turned into chains, a velvety caress into sharp thorns.

2. Dino.

Shared values about the importance of family and a vision of future, this strong core is what keeps you going no matter the adversity. You always felt comfortable with each other, his warmth is a safe place for you. No wonder why many people believed the false rumors about you two way before you started dating.

3. Adelheid.

A deep care for their loved ones, a will to put everything on the line for them. You soften her harshness while she hardens your rain into ice. (Plus, you look great together, tall queens).

4. Fon.

Calm surfaces hide lethal weapons. His is not apparent but you were always drawn to power. So is he, he didn't miss your potential. So many lessons to be taught, but he'll give you one: do not bleed yourself out of kindness by stepping on broken glass.

5. Kusakabe.

Intense loyalty on the sidelines. That day you chose a person to follow to repay your debt. In days of struggling, you know there's someone who understands how it is to deal with difficult people.

[hargreevesenterprises]

WELCOME | ABOUT US (☂︎︎) | RULES

It’s important to note that this verse is a mixture of both the comics and show - therefore different pieces of lore and information will be taken from both. The most relevant aspects to this blog in particular includes:

- There are a few differences in powers. Most of the siblings have a combination of their comic + show abilities. So Klaus will have his telekinesis, Diego will have his ability to hold his breath indefinitely, Allison’s rumors may occasionally border on reality manipulation/bending, etc.

- The siblings use their code-names/numbers far more often in casual conversations. For example, you might see someone refer to Luther as “Space” or Allison as “Rumor”. The exceptions to this are Ben, Five, and Viktor - Ben because “The Horror” is also the name of the creature his power is summoning, Five because he just prefers it, and Viktor because he obviously does not have one at this time.

- Similar to the comics, Diego has lost an eye (and wears an eyepatch) and Allison has lost an arm due to an incident with Dr. Terminal and has a prosthetic. Luther, however, has not gone through his accident yet, and his body is still human.

- Viktor is not aware that he has powers and is still actively taking the medication Reginald gives to him as he is under the impression it is for his anxiety.

- Five never time-traveled so the siblings do not know about the Commission or any of the characters related to it. That isn’t to say it doesn’t exist in this verse - they’ve just never come across it.

- Five and Luther aren’t biologically twins in this (even though that’s really funny and one of my favorite details from the comics).

- Human Grace never existed. This version of “Mom” does not have a name and was simply made to care for the siblings when they were children.

- Villains are much more common in this universe - all the ones from the TUA comics exist and will be mentioned fairly often.

- The setting of the Academy itself is far more like the one described in the original “Pilot” - I’ll be vague about the type of technology that exists but Reginald is an inventor so mentions of that will be added in.

OOC Details:

Pogo, Grace, and Reginald will also be making appearances/answering questions (though not as often as the siblings).

Responses will be formatted in three main ways - Message (As though the typed out the response themself), Interview (Character is actively speaking to the asker and will have dialogue/actions written out) and Scene (a longer version of “interview” that will usually involve other characters and an actual setting). You can request a format or just let me choose based on what you ask.

When speaking about Viktor, he will always be referred to by his preferred name (the only exception is obviously when he is referred to by his number) and pronouns. No matter the comics, Elliot Page and Steve Blackman’s portrayal of the character in the TUA show is a man (I will not debate you on this) and any transphobia will result in an immediate block. In character, he has not completely transitioned and is still somewhat struggling with understanding his gender identity so if hearing someone discuss those types of things makes you uncomfortable - take this as your warning that this blog may not be for you.

[myhappyxending]

For the naughty asks!

☯ : If you're comfortable with it, write a drabble about our muses doing something naughty. If not, put a strikethrough across this one in your reblog (or simply don't do it; your blog, your rules ;3).

⚔ : Does your muse have any specific kinks?

Á : Is your muse loud in bed?

☂ : How long does it take your muse to hit climax, usually?

☺ : How often does your muse masturbate?

super extra naughty indecent dirty raunchfest the meme!!!! aka, NSFW ASK MEME]]]PLEASE ASK ME!!![[[ - @that-obsessed-gay-girl

☺ : How often does your muse masturbate?

Regina masturbates only when she cannot be with someone physically and the urge is overwhelming. Climax is a way for her to unwind when she's wound extremely too tight. So she will take matters into her own hands when it's absolutely necessary.

☂ : How long does it take your muse to hit climax, usually?

Every time is different. The circumstances, how turned on she was, how desperate she is. It will all matter with how long it takes. If she's too much in her head, it takes longer. If she's got a lot on her mind, it will take longer. Sometimes she make her partner feel like she needs the to hurry up and be done. She doesn't mean to though, and she doesn't want to hurt their feelings so she tries hard not to let herself get to this mindset.

Á : Is your muse loud in bed?

That also depends on the situation, circumstances, and location of where the sexual situation is occurring. She can be loud, for sure, but she can also be restrained in her vocality.

⚔ : Does your muse have any specific kinks?

Regina is very much someone that likes to bite and scratch. She may (lightly) smack her partner's ass. She very much would get off on being praised. She's also not shy about giving her partner praise if she feels it.

☯ : If you’re comfortable with it, write a drabble about our muses doing something naughty. If not, put a strikethrough across this one in your reblog (or simply don’t do it; your blog, your rules ;3).

Regina's hands have nowhere to grasp as Chris' mouth is pressed against her most intimate of areas. Her eyes are clenched tightly shut as a shudder skates down her spine. Her knees are weak. If it wasn't for the other woman holding her firmly to the shower wall, she knew she would be fall.

Her lips part slowly as her tongue peaks out and a whimper escapes her throat. Her hand finally comes to rest on Chris' head, grasping at the short hair that she found there and tugging it.

She wasn't going to last long at this rate. And the truth is that she wants to come. She wanted so desperately for the other woman to make her come apart and be her undoing.

"Yes," she hissed, before biting her bottom lip. "Right there."

[lielove]

☂  : Does your muse like rain?

meme

tw ; heavy mentions of abuse.

in short ; she doesn't like it.

it was an inconvenience once she started her career as an idol ( and subsequently her burst into the entertainment industry as a whole ), and when she was living with her mother... it meant that she'd always be home on those days.

and she hated those days.

on the days that the weather was clear or cloudy her mother would be gone. she'd get drunk with her friends, she'd be trying to pickpocket people on the streets. ai didn't know the logistics of it all, she just knew that her mother liked to steal from others, and days where it wasn't rainy were the days when she'd be gone the longest.

so when it rained, it meant that she'd be berated more, she'd become the target of her mothers rage quicker ( she always was the target, but... it was worse on the nights where she couldn't leave the house ). it felt like she was a mouse trapped in a maze with no exit in sight.

❝ ...close your eyes, ai focus on the rain. if you focus hard enough you'll drown out her anger until you can't hear her anymore... ❞ thoughts like this would constantly be repeated in her head as she just waited for her mother to wear herself out.

once her mom got arrested and she got sent to the children's home... she used the rain to drown out the other children's voices, they were always so loud... especially at night.

it was annoying.

no matter how much she plugged her ears, it was like it never stopped.

and then... once she entered the entertainment industry. rainy days meant that things may not go as scheduled, things not going as scheduled means she won't be able to make money, she won't be able to see her fans... all in all, a big waste of a day.

[txmxkis]

had some nasty thoughts before falling asleep last night and made the terrible mistake of not writing them down

[theseancekid]

i know you're more season one focused [ur so real] BUT if/in your own interpretation of s4 where klaus were to lose all his powers and be stranded in ordinary normyville cold turkey, how would/did he handle the life change? canon didn't really get into it beyond germaphobia cause they're cowards, but i'd love to hear your thoughts on if/how the change might've changed him

Headcanon Questions | Always accepting!

OKAY so like, I’m gonna try to be organized in this response and respond to this in a sort of chronological order of what I think Klaus' timeline would be after arriving in a powerless timeline...

I think, for the most part, Klaus would be totally fine without his powers?? He wouldn't relapse back into his addiction like the show seems to suggest, that's for damn sure. And I mean, of course it would definitely be an adjustment— in the first few years, Klaus would definitely still rely on his siblings (he’d probably still wind up at Allison’s place, or maybe even with Five or Luther) just because, like, my dude has never had a job in his life?? he doesn’t know what the fuck to do now that he’s not running this constant, decades-long marathon???

Because like. The thing is: aside from maybe Luther and Ben, Klaus is the only sibling who couldn't turn his powers off at all. Klaus has spent over 30 years living with something that he couldn't avoid and couldn't dampen without hurting himself in the process and idk I think somewhere along the line he just got so used to hurting himself and numbing himself, so to take away that pain is liberating, but I also think there's a part of Klaus that would genuinely kind of mourn the life he could have had all these years if he'd never had the power to begin with :(

So all of that is to say: there’s definitely an adjustment period where he realizes that actually he doesn't know who the fuck he is outside of his addiction and his powers. Maybe he hops around from sibling to sibling, or maybe he stays with Allison and takes up knitting again, and writing, and maybe he starts to pick up Claire from school and help her with her school projects and he finds that actually, he kind of likes that kind of thing. And that doesn't mean he turns into a bubble-wrapped grandpa overnight— Klaus is still Klaus. He's still impulsive, he's still weird and curious and mischievous. But maybe instead of going out on a bender, he prefers to do karaoke night with Claire.

Like, the longer I think about the germaphobia thing, though, the more I realize that I actually don't prescribe to that characterization...at all. Because that entire concept hinges on two predications which are: 1. the idea that Klaus, without his powers, is afraid of death. And 2. that Klaus has something to live for.

And I don't think either one of those things would be true, at least at the beginning of s4. Even without the guarantee of immortality, Klaus is never truly afraid of death. In his mind, he never really planned on living past the age of 20. In fact, every time Klaus has gone into the void, he never wants to leave. The void is where Dave is, and his mom, and all the crap television his heart desires. He's died a thousand times by this point, what's one more?

Plus, if we're being honest...before his relationship with Claire and Allison really forms, there's not a whole lot that he would even be motivated to stick around for in the first place. like sure, his family would be bummed if he kicked the bucket but like, they don't need him?

So ANYWAY yeah I mean I think powerlessness would be a genuine lifesaver for Klaus, even if it has comes with some complications! On the one hand I think it would give him the opportunity to get clean and really grow into a version of himself that he's happy with (and YEAH maybe he does clip coupons, and maybe he's a little softer around the edges), but on the other hand, I think adjusting to powerlessness would also force him to realize that if he only has one life to live, he has to make his own meaning out of it.

[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…)

[fearhidden]

☂ aksel & dylan

send me ☂ + a ship, and I’ll tell you who...

yells at the other for leaving wet towels on the bed.

dylan. i don't want to say he yells because he doesn't seem like a yeller over that kind of thing, but aksel is the worst about leaving her wet towels on the bed, especially the one she uses to wrap her hair up in after a shower. she'll just mindlessly toss them with the intention to pick them up, but alas. it happens and luckily, he's there to scoop it up.

whines when the other forgets what they wanted after going grocery shopping.

aksel. first off, does she really need an excuse to whine about something? and her version of whining is far more bitter than most. she will absolutely be dramatic about it until she's satisfied that he's paid his dues. is it petty? yes. is it kind of fun for her? also yes.

leaves five half drank bottles of water in their room.

aksel. she's a powerhouse of a woman and is very business oriented and has laser focus... but that's the problem. she puts all of that focus into getting the job done and then she forgets almost everything else. so, she has a nasty habit of being far too busy to keep up with where she's been or what she's doing outside of whatever business fire she's putting our for her brothers or father. so she does have a bad habit of grabbing a water (though let's be real, sometimes it's wine bottles or something overpriced) and leaving it to sit because she forgot about it.

initiates a quickie while at somewhere they shouldn’t.

both? this feels like a cheat, but it depends on the day and where they are? no doubt that dylan would be the one to initiate a quickie if it's in spite of the family business or if it's before some fancy dinner that he's not excited for. though, the same could be said for her when she visits his side of things. if there's something she doesn't want to do, or if she's feeling frisky, she'll initiate a quickie, even if it means they have to be careful. risk vs. reward for her and the unfortunate thing is that she'll always think it's worth it.

surprises the other with their favorite fast food for dinner.

dylan. it's not that aksel isn't thoughtful enough, but he just seems so much more like the caretaker in their relationship and aksel has never really had that? she was basically raised by a different nanny every year and never really had a chance to feel as if someone was genuinely taking care of her because they wanted to and it seems like with the whole family dynamic of "we do things for each other and we help out no matter what" kind of thing, he'd be the one to surprise her with fast food. plus, she doesn't do fast food on her own, so it would definitely take him being like 'it's okay' for her to make the jump.

is massively hungover after celebrating their anniversary.

dylan. only because aksel took the appropriate steps to avoid a hangover come morning time and even then, she's still got a bit of a hangover, but it's definitely dylan that's battling for his life come morning.

argues for double stuffed Oreos over regular.

aksel. she doesn't even really like oreos that much, but she is a firm believer that double stuffed is the only way to go because it's the only way to guarantee that both sides of the cookie get enough filling because yes, obviously she has to take them apart because why would she eat them together?

buys $200 worth of baby things after finding out they’re expecting.

dylan. only because aksel would have a hard time connecting to the fact that it's their reality. she never planned to be a mother and it would take her a little bit more time to adjust to the thought? whereas, dylan seems like he'd want to over-prepare for what's to come and seeing as he's close with his family, it also seems like something they'd all want to do? by comparison, her family would question if she even wants to have a baby. she'd come around though, and then it would be a major hit to her bank account because their baby would have everything under the sun.

insists that they each get their own popcorn at the cinema.

aksel. she likes to put chocolate in her popcorn, so it can get kind of messy. she's also not big on sharing. she grew up with a lot of brothers. they shared everything and now she wants a little something to herself. she'll offer him a few bites of her sweet and salty mix up, but he definitely has to get his own popcorn if he wants more than a couple of bites.

@waywordhearts — aksel binici and dylan rutledge.

[thetravelingymleader]

☂  : Does your muse like rain?

Oh hell yea I do! I especially when it's pouring hard and it patters against the window... it's super relaxing.

I also like it when I'm out on the road camping. Rain ain't gonna damper my spirits no matter where I go!