#I ain't gonna do something they might be uncomfortable with of course...

[aviradasa]

Hi :) ! I hope you're doing well <3 . I was wondering if you could do some Larry Johnson x chubby!fem!reader hdcns, along with some Sal Fisher ones too ? 🖤 Ily !!

Yesss there is not enough chubby reader on here, and as a chubbier girl myself, I couldn't wait to write this!! And Ilyt 🖤🖤 I hope you enjoy these Lil HCs

Larry and sal x Chubby!Fem!reader HCs

Separately of course

{Fluff} Warnings: some swearing,mentions of creeps but that's it.

Masterlist

Larry:

Ok, to start, Larry with a Chubby Reader is a match made in heaven

He doesn't care you got a Lil meat on your bones his literal catchphrase is

"Well, there's just more of you to love."

He lives by it.

You will never see him be one of those guys that tells you not to eat something cause 'you gotta lose a few pounds'

Naw he don't give a fuck. It's your body he loves you no matter what.

Also, I've touched on it in the past, but I think Larry is a touchy guy.

Like not even in an inherently sexual way, it's literally just how he shows love

With you, it's all hugs,kisses,cuddles,grabs, and squeezes.

He loves how soft your skin feels even in the spots with bumps or stretchmarks he still loves it.

He would lowkey like to trace your stretchmarks. Or maybe paint them. I could see him turning your stretchmarks into like a cool as lightning piece.

Also, he would love just laying on you. He gets hella comfortable just laying on your thighs.

And if he gets the chance to fall asleep on them. That's it he's out like a light for hours.

But if you move, he will wake up and be like

"Where the fuck are you going?"

He's also your number 1 defender/Protector

cause ain't nobody gonna talk to his girl in a way he don't like.

Someone makes fun of your weight.

Well, now they are insecure about their own.

He's all about treating others how they treat you.

He has and will make a bully insecure the same way they made you insecure, but while he does it, he's talking you up the whole time

Cause you're perfect.

Now, if someone is hitting on you, he's lowkey proud like

"Yeah, my girls, great, and nobody else can have her"

But if they are making you uncomfortable or just downright fetishizing you ( i hate when this happens and if it happens to you to im so sorry)) he's getting you tf outta there, and who knows. He gets feisty he might try to square up with them 😭

He's just really awesome.

He takes care of you and loves you so much

To him, weight doesn't mean shit. He loves you for you. Your personality is what matters to him. And he will always be there for you.

Even if you're feeling insecure, he's pulling you outta that state of mind.

But let's be honest with him, it's almost impossible he never gives you the chance to feel bad about yourself.

He reasures you before you even realize you need it.

Overall, he's just a great boyfriend no matter what size you are

Sal:

Alright, sal is just the sweetest damn thing on earth

You think he gives a FUCK your a Lil Chubby?

Naw

I mean, when he was younger, even he was a little Chubby.

Plus, the guy got his face blown off. He's not the type to judge

He's just happy that he has someone that he loves and that loves him for who he is.

That's what means the most to him

And he does his best to show it.

He's not as touchy as Larry, but he still is big on it, especially farther into your relationship

The more he trusts you, the more it becomes

He lives for your hugs. He finds it really comforting. You're like a little pillow

Like if he wakes up in the night from night terrors or a vision. He will just grab you and pull you into a cuddle

The next morning, you wake up, and you have to poke him to make sure he's just sleeping and not dead

You just have that calming effect on him. idk

He is just always holding you

Your hand,your waist, an arm over your shoulders (if he can reach)

He also does not care about what you eat.

He's just like girl do whatever you want.

If you do wanna lose weight ok just do it responsibly.

Don't hurt yourself in any way.

Honestly, this could go for both him and Larry.

Getting onto the topic of protection

sal is a sassy dude.

especially as an adult. Dude, hit 19 and said fuck it I'm done.

Someone insults you for your weight ok well sal is talking shit on their whole bloodline.

he has a roster of insults he's come up with over the years

And he can be mean as fuck 😭

And the thing is, he doesn't even swear a lot while doing it. He is pulling up with words that even you're just like, "What?"

So just cause they said something to you, he's not only making fun of them but also there intelligence without even trying

Who needs to swing when you have sals attitude.

Now, if someone normally hits on you, he doesn't really care he might wait for them to leave, then chuckle about it with you

But if they are full on like touching you or fetishizing you, he don't let it slide.

He lowkey finds it fun to fuck with creeps.

Like, don't get me wrong, he hates what people do it to you in public, but he just loves the chance to talk his shit

just watching him make fun of them. cheers you up. just cause let's face it

he's 5'8 as an adult, and he's kinda lanky, so watching him make fun of someone bigger than him is hilarious

He has made a dude cry.

It was hilarious. You lowkey forgot the dude had full-on grabbed your ass

But yeah, other than that, Sal just doesn't give a fuck your chubby your a human being and he loves you.

And he always will.

You're also never insecure with him. He lets you know how beautiful and lovely you are and how much he appreciates you.

And you do the same for him

You guys are just the best together 🖤

[stupidlittlespirit]

glad you’re feeling better!

would you be comfortable sharing a sneak peek of the next chapter 👀

if not I totally understand please prioritize your well being!

Listen, I don't have a chapter sneak peak for you BUT..... because I'm making you all wait so long for this next chapter and I feel bad, I'm gonna give you a small snack.

This is an unpublished thingy that I posted on a little discord server that I'm in and people liked it there so I figured you might enjoy it here. It is just a very short warm-up drabble that I did ages ago and never used again. It's a bit messy and stuff, but whatever. It's set during MtB but it isn't really anything to do with the series. Just a little snippet of life within it:

I Got It Bad (and that ain't good) Rating: NSFW (only slightly) Type: Drabble Tags: Kissing, implied sexual stuff. Very, very tiny inference to muses but meant in no certain way. No pronouns/body described. Word count: 1233

When he's feeling contemplative, Ford likes to play the piano.

He is, like so many other things he turns his attention to, wonderful at it. 

Ford likes jazz. He pretends he's a classical purist but you've found the record sleeves on the shelves near his desk, you’ve done a little snooping, and you know they rarely correspond to the vinyl inside. They're just for show. He plays it mainly in the evenings when he's treating himself to a glass of scotch; he'll listen to a particular artist (this week it's been an awful lot of Duke Ellington) and then recreate it on his own instrument. 

He'll start small. Just a slow, leisurely tinkling of the ivories as he finds his rhythm, and then he'll settle into his groove and flex yet another of his many skills as you listen from another room while you tidy up.

If you're especially lucky, he'll ask you to join him and give him feedback on it. 

He doesn't care about the feedback, of course, because he knows he's good and so does everyone else, and you're sure he's just using it as an opportunity to show off but you never mind. 

He has, in typical Ford fashion, always refuted your accusation: “I assure you, I certainly am not,” he'd said one evening with a knowing smile, as you'd watched from your seat beside him. “I merely know that you like jazz and I play because you listen,” and you'd felt such an intensely affectionate warmth bloom in your chest that you'd dropped the point immediately.

(And when he had added on a quiet: “Plus, I like the way you look at me when I do it,” and you'd made him hit a bum note when you’d leant up to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, then, well, who can blame you?) 

Your favourite thing to do, beyond simply enjoying the melodies, is to watch his hands and fingers as he works. 

He'd been a little apprehensive at first, once he had noticed, but you had been quick to reassure him that your interest was appreciative, if perhaps salacious, and not even close to judgemental. 

“Would you be uncomfortable if I took a video?” You ask one dark winter's evening, leaning against the piano’s top while you observe him. “Just for myself, I mean.” 

“Whatever for?” Ford responds without missing a beat of his metronome. 

He's going away soon. He and Stan set sail in two days time and it’s a long trip this time, which means for four months, four long, agonising months, you’ll be without him. It’s almost too much to bear and your heart feels like lead at the thought. 

“Because I’m going to miss you and I’d like to have something to remind me of you when I feel like shit,” you say. 

The corner of Ford’s mouth curls upward a fraction and he spares you a thinly veiled, heated glance, his cheeks turning pink. “I thought our plan was to give you plenty of reminders the night before….?” 

Your stomach flutters. 

“I’d like more than bruises, if you wouldn’t mind,” you say, biting down on a smile. 

Ford laughs under his breath and after a moment, says: “And it’s just for you? The video?” 

“Of course,” you reassure him. “I don’t have to, I just…. Your hands are my favourite part of you and I think about them, often.” 

Too often, some might say. 

Ford laughs again, a little louder this time. “Not my dashing good looks?” he teases. “Or my dazzling personality? You wound me, my dear.” 

You grin. “All of the above,” you say with a shrug. “But especially your hands.” 

“Is that so?” Ford says, taking one hand from the keys to pat the empty space beside him. “And what, pray tell, do you think about them?” 

You go where he asks, taking up a seat at his side obediently. “Lots of things.” 

“Such as….?” 

He’s fishing for compliments, you both know it, but does sound genuinely curious, too. 

“I think they’re the most beautiful hands I’ve ever seen,” you say, giving him exactly what he wants. “And I think about how they fit in mine. I think about how they feel, how your thumb rubs over my knuckles when we hold hands and how your little finger does the same on the sides, you know, just because you can do that….”

“Anything else?” Ford asks, voice warm. 

You smile, eyes transfixed on the way his fingers tick across the ivory. “And…. I like to think about how you hold my thighs when you have your head between them. The way you hold onto my hips. How your fingers taste when you put them in my mouth.” 

Ford makes a soft sound, somewhere between a contented sigh and an aroused groan, and his hands falter momentarily before he restarts his playing. 

“Is that so?” he says, hoarse. 

“Mm,” you hum absentmindedly. Your head is full of those same thoughts right now, your mind’s eye blurred with the memories of Ford’s fingers climbing underneath your jeans and inching past your underwear. Of touching you so intimately that you have to press your thighs together slightly to sate the longing. 

Ford catches it. 

“You’re thinking about it right now,” he mutters, and his tone holds no question.

He’s stopped playing. His hands are frozen over the keys. 

“Aren’t you?” you answer, eyes still on them. 

Ford exhales slowly through his nose, shaky,  restrained. “I’m always thinking of you,” he says simply. 

You tear your eyes away to look up at him, only to find that his gaze is already on you. 

Ford’s eyes are molten, half-lidded and hot, and they flick down to your mouth and back up to your own. 

“You’re terrible,” he says, in such a way that it’s obvious he means it in the most complimentary context possible. “A terrible, terrible influence on an old man like me.” 

A smirk creeps onto your face. It’s always satisfying to see the effect you have on him. “I can leave, if you’d like me to. I have plenty to do and I-!” 

Ford pushes the stool back with one leg, your combined weights little more than a minor  inconvenience to him, and he hauls you into his lap before you can even finish the thought. 

You laugh, loud and bright, and fling your arms around his neck to hold on tightly to him and avoid sending you both to the floor in a heap. “Or not,” you concede. 

“Never,” agrees Ford, and then he’s kissing you. 

It’s slow and tender and white hot as always. 

You can feel his arousal press between your legs and it’s enough to make you smile against his mouth. 

“What a dirty old man you’ve become,” you say dramatically, nudging your nose against his. 

“I'm only what my muse makes of me,” Ford says raggedly. “And you are an awfully seductive force, you know….” 

“So I've been told,” you smile, one hand wandering below to palm him gently through his slacks. 

Ford groans, low and deep, and tilts his head back. “I'll make a deal with you,” he says quietly. “I swore off them a long time ago but just for you, just this once: if you keep doing that, I'll let you take footage of any fucking thing you like….” 

You grin. 

“Deal.” 

[tinyraptorhands]

Oiran of Musutafu (Prelude)

MAJOR WARNING!!

((MDNI: Eventual smut, dubious consent, prostitution, uncomfortable topics of trafficking, sex slavery, (if you know about oiran culture, you know its gonna get rough), talks of abuse, examinations of the body, virginity idolization, childhood trauma. I reccomend you look into Oiran culture. Its extremely sad but very interesting. However, I might take some liberties that are not historically accurate-I did this for convenience's sake and because I don't entirely feel comfortable writing about some things in Oiran practices.))

"It looked beautiful...yet something was off..."

You were only six.

A man that smelled like fish and smoke dragged you away from the ramshackle house your mother and you lived in. "Momma!" You screeched, trying to dig your little heels into the dirt path. The man yanked you roughly, muttering something about not being worth the yen.

You broke free for a moment, rushing to her side. Suprisingly, the man let you. He walked over slowly, stopping just behind you. You slammed your little body into hers, sobbing. "I don't wanna go! I don't! Please!! I'll be a better daughter, I'll take care of you, I swear!" You gripped onto her threadbare kimono, knuckles white. She knelt down, cupping your face.

"Little one, I love you. But I can't keep you. You'll be well fed, and wear nice clothes. You'll be warm in the winters, and cool in the summers." She said softly. She coughed a little, and said hoarsely, "mama will come visit you." She smiled.

"...You promise?" You sniffled, face sticky with tears and snot. She wiped your face with the edge of her kimono.

"Of course, my little dove. Of course." She smiled sadly.

Your mother was very ill. She did what any woman low born and without a living husband would do.

She did what she thought best.

Maybe, in time, you would understand that.

"You both done?" The man gruffly asked. Your mother let out a shuddering breath, and hugged you once more. She tucked the little doll she had made for you all those years ago into your yukata belt.

"Yes." She turned you around, a kiss on the crown of your head. You sobbed as the man once again grasped your arm, sure to leave a bruise.

"Try that shit again and I'll have you tossed to the rats." He huffed. You sobbed louder as you walked away with him.

You were put onto the back of a cart like cattle, nothing to cushion your knees. The man looked at you with a smirk. "Hands out."

"What?" You sniffled. He didnt wait.

He took a length of jute rope, and grabbed your wrists. You cried out as he tied them together tightly. "Sorry, kid. Gotta make sure you ain't gonna run." He tied the other end to his waist, long enough to where he could ride the horse pulling the cart.

He didn't seem very sorry.

You rushed to the end of the cart, stumbling as your arms strained against the restraints.

"Momma!!!" You screeched one last time, watching her sickly frame lean on the doorway of your ramshackle home. Your hair stuck to your face, greasy and unkempt. You watched through the strands as the only home you knew grew farther and farther away.

You would remember this moment. The dirt, still muddy from a previous rain, petrichor hannging in the air. A few children you had played with before eyed you as the cart passed their own homes. The sounds of chickens, scrambling away from the dirt path as the horse clambored on. The familiar smell of pig shit, dirt and straw soon faded away, only leaving the smell of the man in front of you and your own body odor.

You cried for what seemed to be forever. You curled up in the cart, hugging your knees to your chest. Eventually, you tired yourself out, sore eyes sliding shut as the motion of the cart carried you off to sleep.

A few hours later, you felt the man nudge your cheek with his hand. "Ey. Wake up." Your eyes fluttered open, crusted with tears. You rubbed them, and blinked yourself awake.

He was squatting in the cart, holding up a bamboo canteen and something wrapped in a bamboo leaf. "Eat this and drink some water." He commanded.

You stared, and took the items warily. He sat across from you, unwrapping his own food. You observed him for a moment, eyes still sore and red. He opened the leaf, unveiling what looked like...

...white rice!

Your eyes grew big.

You never had white rice before. White rice was for the nobility, you were told.

You looked at your own. You quickly unwrapped the bamboo leaf as he had, and...

Yes. White rice, sticking to the leaf and grains shining in the midday sun like pearls.

Your mouth watered. "...I can eat this?" You murmured in awe. The man looked over to you and smirked.

"Yeah. Thats what its there for." He said, voice gruff. "What, too good for it?"

"O-oh, no! I just...never had it before..."

You looked at it. It was too pretty to eat. He sighed, getting up.

"Yeah, guess you wouldn't, huh?" He threw his trash off the side of the cart to the ground, a few precious grains still stuck to the leaf.

You looked down, and ate carefully.

It was sticky, and somewhat sweet. You wished your mother could try it.

Maybe when she came to visit, you would get her to try some! She would love it!

You were excited at the idea of sharing some white rice with her.

The man took a large squig of something in his laquer gourd and got up, heading back to the horse. Your arms tugged slightly as he sat. "Don't worry," he huffed. "You play your cards right, and you'll have plenty more where that came from." He chuckled, snapping the reigns as the cart moved once more.

You licked the leaf of any rice residue and even chewed it, not wanting to waste a drop.

A place with more rice than that? Maybe the emperor adopted you! Your childish wonder began to take effect.

If the emperor took you in, maybe you were now a princess! And you would marry a prince! Maybe your mother was secretly the empress, and your father the emperor was now coming to get you.

And he could make your mother better again!

You now felt excited.

Maybe this wouldn't be so bad.

The red gates were large, and in the middle of the bustling city. Were these the red gates of the castle?!

As they opened, you noticed it looked just like the city, only more colorful. Red lanterns were strung about. Little girls your age ran from teahouse to teahouse in fancy kimono, and important looking men walked by, hands tucked into their yukata as they laughed. You saw some beautiful looking women in elaborate hairstyles walking by, their kimono bright and colorful, their faces painted like a doll. They looked demure, some being trailed by another young girl, or next to a man who seemed like he won the jackpot. You looked up, seeing some of the same women, staring down from the balcony of the teahouses, lazily smoking a pipe or fanning themselves. One looked like she had just gotten up, her yukata slipping off her shoulders. Bruises looked to be on her neck.

How strange.

It looked beautiful, yet...

Something was off.

The cart pulled to a stop in front of a large red teahouse. You could read a little bit of Kanji, your mother teaching you a few words.

The sign read, "Midnight Rose Teahouse." More red lanterns swung around it, a distinct smell of jasmine and rose wafted from the entrance. An old woman came out, a small and feeble thing, cane in hand as she looked up at the cart. She had bright make up on, looking unsuitable for her age. "Is this the girl?" The woman croaked, withdrawing a pipe from her obi belt. The man grinned.

"Yeah. Got a decent price for her."

Price?

Did the emperor pay for adopted children? Maybe this was a minor stop. They would go to the castle, right?

As the man lead you off the cart, you looked around. "Where's the emperor?"

The old woman looked at the man. She mouthed her unlit pipe, chewing the end of it. "What did you tell her?" She chuckled.

The man barked a laugh. "Not a thing. I guess she has a good imagination!"

What?

He untied the rope from his waist, and the woman huffed. "Better not have marked her wrists up."

"C'mon, Miss Chiyo, I've been doin' this for years. I'm gentle with the little ones." He handed her the rope. "Now, about my pay..."

You watched as the two negotiated. What was going on? You heard something about a virginity, and the state of your dress. She grimaced, the wrinkles on her face creasing her make up. She looked back at you.

"She looks like she rolled in pig shit."

"Nothin' a little cleaning won't do." He answered, itching his ear with a pinky.

The old woman huffed. "Well. Let me examine her, first."

The old woman tapped her cane twice, and two men came out of the entrance. She withdrew a knife, cutting the rope restraints.

You rubbed your wrists, and then looked up, hearing two sets of footsteps.

They looked somewhat handsome. Well, the one with dark hair did. The other looked like he had too much food. "Aizawa, Toyomitsu." She nodded to you. They nodded back, and grabbed your arms. Your heart raced, suddenly feeling panicked. As she lead the three of you into the teahouse, her cane echoed in the small walkway. You wanted to tell them you could walk just fine, but something told you that wouldn't even matter.

The man who brought you here hung back, arms folded as he withdrew a pipe. You looked back at him, and he didn't even bother to spare you a glance.

Where were they bringing you?

Soon, you found yourself in. What looked like a small office. A low lacquered desk sat in the middle, an ornate chest of drawers on one side, and other fine trinkets lined the other. A kimono stand hung in the back, black silk with gold and white chrysanthemum painstakingly painted and sewn on.

It was beautiful.

But much like everything around here, felt wrong.

"Hold her up." She sighed, rolling up her sleeves.

Wait, why did they need to-

You suddenly felt the old woman kneel, feeling your legs.

You tried to move away.

Why was she doing this?

Her hands were cold as she squeezed your upper thighs. She peeked in between, slapped them lightly and nodded. She began to feel your calves.

Your body was repulsed, and you went to kick out of reflex. She grabbed your ankle in time, giving it a harsh squeeze. You stumbled slightly. "Enough." She said coldly. You cried, fat twin tears streaking down your face. You were always taught to respect your elders, but this...She began to examine the soles of your feet.

"Please, I don't know what you want!" You sobbed. Just as she was about to examine you further, you screeched; arching your back and straining against the two men.

The fat man looked sympathetic. "Madam, I think shes-"

As she reached for your yukata sash, your body reacted before you could help it.

You suddenly felt yourself urinate in fear.

The old woman clicked her tongue. "Pissed herself." She muttered. She leaned back. "Shes fine. Healthy."

The men adjusted their grip on you. She wiped her hands with a handkerchief, and then began to poke and prod at you further. She pulled down your eyelids, opened your mouth, felt your tongue, yanked at your earlobes. You felt like a horse being sold to market, and trembled like a newborn foal. She eyed your chest, nodded and palpated your stomach. "Yes, she'll do just fine with some training." She took a hand. "She has nice fingers and hands as well. Her body will develop nicely, too. She'll grow up to be quite a little doll." She then pinched her nose. "With a good scrub."

Huh? Doll?

"The perfect Oiran, huh?" The man's head popped into the doorway. Chiyo grunted, waving her hand dismissively.

"Yes, yes. Maybe so. A good find." She beckoned to the man, going to the desk. She rifled through an ornate looking box, and began to count yen.

...that much yen could save your mother and cure her ailment.

Wait.

Oiran?

She turned to the dark haired man. "Go take her to the other young girls for a scrub. Then once shes fed, send her back here. The girls will give her some clothes. Toyomitsu, go make her some food. Rice and miso soup, maybe some leftover fish as well." She pulled out a small pouch, and poured the counted yen into it. She tossed it to the man who brought you here. "Catch."

He caught it. "Pleasure doing buisness with ya, Miss Chiyo."

The sale was made.

"Yes, whatever. Now get out. Your stink will drive away my customers." Chiyo whipped out a fan from her obi, fanning herself. "And Toyomitsu-get Tomura to scrub the tatami in here. Can't have my office smell like piss."

"Sure thing, madam!"

You didn't know it at the time, but soon you would.

Your world was now the red light district.

You felt the lanky dark haired man take you away, the fat one splitting off into another area of the teahouse.

He had handed you off to a few girls a little bit older than you. "Get her good and clean. One of you, lend her something clean. Madam's orders."

They were...nice? You weren't sure. They had taken you into a large communal bathing area, laughing as they commented on the amount of dirt came off you.

"Goodness! You're pretty, but you really reek!" An older girl, Nemuri laughed. She had pretty periwinkle hair, and was a few years older than you. She explained that her name was her birth name, but 'the madam' gave her a courtesan name. She was Hydrangea.

"Court-a-san?" You echoed back, as she dumped more water onto your head. You sputtered, and she giggled.

"Yes, once you start your training, she'll give you a courtesan name! Madam loves flowers, so she'll probably name you after some kind of plant."

You didn't want a new name. You wanted to be (y/n). Because thats who you are. A girl your age; Ochaco, began to scrub your arms. She had an odd hairdo, it looked like she was shaved all except a patch of hair on top of her head.

Actually, her, a girl named Mina and another froggish looking girl named Tsuyu all had the same hairstyle. The others helped bathe you while they bathed themselves. "Is this all of you?" You asked suddenly. They all must be working here as tea makers? Its a teahouse, yes?

"Oh, goodness, no. The others are working right now-since its the evening." Nemuri said, and another bucket of water was poured over your head. Three older girls named Hagakure (Lily), Jiro (Violet), and Momo (Marigold) laughed among themselves.

"Hopefully she'll not have to deal with Midnight." Hagakure said, pouring water over her back from a wooden bucket.

You looked over at her. "Midnight's not a flower name." You said. Momo nodded.

"Thats because shes the matron's daughter." The black haired beauty said. "Shes special, and also the highest earning courtesan." She said as she lathered herself.

"But shes also a bitch." Jiro added, scrubbing her hair. "She hits all the young Kamuro and yells at them." The girls shushed her. "What? Its true."

Kamuro? Goodness, there were so many words you didn't know. "Whats a...Kamuro?"

"Its all the girls who haven't started training yet. You, Ochaco, Tsuyu and Mina are all Kamuro." Nemuri explained, lathering your hair. The smell of lye and lavender sharply hit your nose. "You act as a serving girl. You'll take some basic lessons when you aren't serving us and the courtesans."

"Yeah, and one day, we'll be the best courtesans yet!" Mina said, grinning at you. She began to wash herself. "And maybe get bought by a handsome rich man!"

"Ooh, I hope I get bought by a samurai!" Ochaco said wistfully.

"Samurai? No, aim higher!" Mina squealed.

"A daimyo?" Tsuyu spoke up, her voice almost resembling a frog in her raspiness.

"No, the shogun!" Mina said.

The older girls laughed. "Such lofty goals." Momo said, smiling warmly.

You were still confused. "Why would people buy you for serving tea?" You asked.

They all went silent.

"Oh, madam hasn't told you why you're here?" Hagakure asked, tying her hair up.

"....No?" You looked up, Nemuri stopped her scrubbing.

She looked down at you. "....She'll tell you soon enough."

"And you'll learn. Quickly." Jiro said, rinsing off. "You'll have to." She said under her breath.

It grew quiet, as if something solemn was said.

After all, they were once like you.

Unknowing, at the bottom of the food chain.

A clean slate.

Unblemished by the hard truth.

Once you were scrubbed to completion and given a simple cotton yukata (the nicest one you've ever worn;), The lanky man came to fetch you. He took you to the kitchen, where the fat one gave you a hearty serving of sticky white rice and miso soup, with a side of fish.

The man who brought you here was right. White rice, and even more than what you had earlier!

You scarfed it down quickly, to the amusement of the fat man. "Goodness, if I had every girl eating like you, I'd run out of food!" He teased, patting your head. You coughed as you felt a piece of fish go down wrong. "Slow down, no one's gonna take it from you, kitten!" He handed you a cup of water, which you gladly took.

Even the water tasted clean.

You could get used to this.

"Is she done yet?" The lanky one asked. He looked perpetually tired, with the shadow of a beard and tied back scraggly dark hair. "Madam's getting antsy." He folded his arms, leaning against the doorframe.

"Relax, Aizawa. This is probably the best food shes had in a while. Lookit her! She needs to be fattened up!"

"Not like you I hope, Fat Gum."

"Fat...gum?" You looked up at the fat man. "Is that your name?''

"Oh, I mean...its a nickname they all give me. So...yeah! My real name is Tashiro Toyomitsu. But Fat Gum's fine!" He slapped his big belly for emphasis. It jiggled like tofu, making you giggle.

The man, Aizawa as he was called, rolled his eyes. "Alright. Enough chatter. Eat up, kid. Then madam's gonna tell you how things go around here. Among other things." He said, ominous sounding.

You frowned. Fat Gum tousled your hair again. "Don't fret, little one. Its not so bad." He wiped some sticky rice from your cheek with his thumb.

You looked at him innocently. "...Whats gonna happen?" He sucked his teeth, and looked at Aizawa, who shook his head.

"You'll see." Fat gum said, a small sympathetic smile graced his features.

Aizawa had you in a death grip, forcing you into a kneeling position. You screeched as Chiyo (or as she told you to call her, 'madam') began to cut your hair. Fistfuls fell down at your feet, and you cried. "I don't wanna be bald!"

"Oh hush up! And quit squirming. Aizawa, keep her stready!" Another chunk of your hair fell to the ground.

"I'm trying." He said, sounding bored.

"Well try harder or I won't pay you!"

His arms tightened around you, and she turned, setting down the scissors. She picked up a shearing blade. "Now, hold still you stupid girl, or you'll bleed out."

Bleed out!?

You sobbed, too scared to move now as she sheared your head to the skin, all except a patch of hair at the top of your head. She grabbed a piece of white ribbon, and tied it into a small pigtail. "Alright. Its finished." She stood back, grabbing her cane as she sat down, tossing the shearing blade on her desk. Aizawa began to brush away the hair and you continued to kneel, too shocked to move. Your hands shakily went up to your head, feeling naked. Raw.

"W-why?"

"Its the standard haircut for all Kamuro." She said, lighting her pipe. Aizawa left with the hair, preparing to discard it. You watched him leave.

A weighted pause followed.

"Are you thinking about running, girl?" She asked bluntly. You turned to her.

"What?"

"Running away. Alot of girls want to. Hell, some even try." She sucked her pipe. "And if that happens, we punish them."

You stared at her, eyes wide. "...Punish?"

"Yes, punish. Usually a beating." She looked pointedly at you. "We paid for you, and we'll invest in you. That means we'll be spending good coin on you." She blew out smoke, tendrils coming out of her nose like a dragon. "You'll pay us back by being a successful courtesan, serving and entertaining clientele. Usually men with money to burn. Maybe even one day, you can pay for yourself to own pretty things. Buy back your freedom even. Or have rich men buy you things, or take you as a mistress."

You frowned. "Why?"

"Why what?" She looked bored.

"Why do I need to pay you back? I didn't ask for this." You said, voice wavering. She smirked.

"Smart one, aren't you?" She tapped her pipe again, the smell suddenly burning your nose. You stared at the burning ash in the small tray. "They never ask for it." She said simply, as if that was the answer.

You frowned.

"You'll be good. Do as your told, speak when spoken to, and you don't dare try to run." She said, her voice suddenly strict. "You'll shadow a courtesan, and maybe if you're lucky they can take you on as an apprentice."

You wrung your hands, looking down at them. They were scrubbed clean, pink and rosey.

"Are we clear?"

You nodded. "Yes, madam." You said softly. She sighed.

"Good." She was quiet for a moment. "Remember," she leaned over, using her pipe to raise your chin, "this is for your freedom. Your new life begins here, (y/n). You were a weed. And only here, will you bloom and become a beautiful flower." She tapped your chin, and leaned back. "That is, if you do as your told."

You were quiet. "...and I can have white rice at every meal?" You asked.

She gave a small chuckle. Her mouth twitched, giving barely a smile. "At every meal."

That night, you slept with the younger Kamuro girls in one large room. Mina had handed you your doll, and she explained that she kept it for you. "I remember my first time coming here. I had a piece of a comb from my mother. But it was taken away from me. I wouldn't want the same to happen to you." You had thanked the bubbly girl, and settled in your new futon beside her. Tsuyu and Ochaco were unable to go to bed early that night, and had to attend to their respective courtesans. They wore pretty kimono, and their hair tufts were also styled prettily. Mina's courtesan had the night off-something about a menstruation?? You didn't know.

You never felt more uncomfortable, yet comfortable in your entire life. It was an odd feeling. You heard Aizawa pace the floors along with another man you had yet to meet, patrolling the teahouse. Their lamps would shine through the paper sliding doors, a warm glow and their shadows casting over your small bodies. Oddly enough, sometimes you heard muffled moaning and grunting up above you. Was someone sick? You clutched your doll. You tried to shut out the odd noises and Mina's snores.

You hoped your mother would come visit soon.

As the night carried on, your tears gathered. You missed your mother's warmth, and the smells of home.

You were not a weed. That old woman was wrong.

You were your mother's little dove.

And you always would be.

And when she visits, you would tell her the crazy things you were told, how mean Aizawa and the madam were and the strangeness of it all, and she would whisk you away.

She would.

She definitely would.

So why did it feel like a lie?

((This one might be slow to update, but will definitely be quicker once I finish the Pro Mama series. I had this in my head for a while now, and hopefully you'll enjoy it! More pairings and tags soon! I was nervous about writing this because of the topic, but I hope I toned it down somewhat without loosing the feeling, if that makes sense.))

[aizawas-dryeye]

➭take it slower, make you lose control (satosugu)**

content: loss of virginity, anal sex, oral sex, teasing, premature ejaculation, top!gojo, bottom!geto, au of some kind idk maybe college, i imagine them being like 19-21

words: 4.2k

ko-fi

!!MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!

jus two bros exploring sexuality

uhh also im trying to format my fics different so if this looks like dookie ass then keep it to urself MWAH

• • •

Geto wasn't entirely sure if Gojo was being serious when he proposed they sleep together, after an otherwise casual discussion of sexuality. Now, staring at the 'u comin over?' text, he remembers exactly who he's dealing with. Satoru Gojo isn't one to back down from anything he deems important enough for his time and attention. And it's clear he's invested in this. Perv...

Carding a hand through his hair, Geto sends a quick text back and makes his way to Gojo's dorm. The walk there is agonizing. It's just long enough that the anticipation-induced anxiety starts clawing at his chest, but short enough that he doesn't have time to fully prepare before he's knocking on the door. Gojo opens it with a wide, smug grin on his face that makes Geto wanna crawl into a hole and die of embarrassment.

The second Gojo opens his mouth to undoubtably say something asinine, Geto grumbles out a "Don't," and pushes into the bedroom. He earns a giggle in response before Gojo turns to splay himself over the bed, all long-limbed and far too cocky about all this.

"Sooooo..." he hums, pulling his sunshades down his nose so he can stare at the younger man with those frighteningly pretty eyes. Geto shudders to think what all he can see with those eyes, especially in this moment.

"Top or bottom?"

There's a beat of stunned silence that makes Gojo throw his head back in a fit of laughter. "Oh come on, Sugu. There's no point in gettin' shy now, right? I mean, we are about to have sex," he says, like it's the most casual thing in the world. The teasing lilt in his voice sets Geto's face ablaze, and his eyes widen so much he's surprised they don't pop right out of his skull.

"Hey now, I never actually agreed to this," Geto huffs out quickly, trying to compose himself, but the way he's awkwardly shifting his weight from foot to foot under Gojo's gaze is a dead giveaway. The latter takes a second to rake his eyes across his friend's tense body before sucking his teeth.

"You're here, aren't you?"

This is torturous. Leave it to Gojo to turn any situation into an uncomfortable nightmare for Geto. Like he lives to torment him. He doesn't even have time to think of a rebuttal before Gojo is sitting up on the edge of the bed, and beckoning him closer. Not unlike a deadly siren, he thinks, before his feet automatically obey the command.

He makes sure to keep a healthy amount of distance between them; an anxious little display that makes Gojo scoff and pull the man closer by the waistband of his uniform pants.

"Lighten up, Sugu," he purrs, now tilting his head back to look up at him. His expression shifts momentarily, a flash of sincerity across his face that calms Geto's anxiety, if only a little, before falling back into that familiar smugness. "I ain't gonna bite. Unless you want me to. Of course."

The line is so cheesy it actually makes Geto's lips quirk up in a little smile. He rolls his eyes and lets Gojo paw at him, knowing how touchy he is.

"Shut up," he mumbles before glancing around the room— the posters on the wall, the messy sheets— any and everything to avoid looking down.

His thoughts are racing. Is he even ready for this? Obviously he is, he's here and this has been plaguing his mind for months, but it's all so overwhelming and new. Geto's had sex before, sure, but not like this and certainly not with a close friend. Picking at his chipping nail polish, he musters up enough courage to look at Gojo finally. Might as well go all in.

"I think... bottom?"

Gojo grins like the Cheshire Cat and digs his fingers into Geto's hips, surprised at how giving and squishy the flesh is. In one quick motion he flips them so their positions are swapped, Gojo now bending to his knees in front of his cherry red friend.

"Say no more, Sugu!" he chirps. He absentmindedly runs his hands up and down Geto's thighs, unknowingly setting his blood on a fire trail straight to his crotch. If Gojo notices he doesn't say a thing, and Geto can't decide if that's better or worse. "You ever had anything up there? Any of your girlies try to sneak a finger or two?"

Oh god, that makes his cock twitch, just the thought of it. Geto shakes his head, eyebrows furrowing slightly. An annoying little gasp escapes him when Gojo's lithe fingers untie his harem pants.

"N-no," he breathes. "Nothing like that." The sound of Geto swallowing bounces around in Gojo's head like a sparkly little bouncy ball, gets him all excited with anticipation.

"How sweet! You wanted lil' ol' me to pop your cherry?" he giggles, makes Geto cover his face with his palms and groan. Gojo uses that opportunity to slip the waistband of his pants down. Then his boxers.

His eyes widen when Geto's cock springs up and slaps against his lower belly.

"Christ, I'm a little relieved I'm not bottoming now. Thing looks like it could level a city."

Geto's blush only spreads, even yelps when the cold dorm air hits his junk.

"Do you ever shut up?" he grumbles, peeking through his fingers down at the all-too-pleased albino.

"You already know the answer to that, Suguboo," Gojo hums, pouting his lips a little. With a mischievous glint in his eyes, he leans down so his face is mere inches from Geto's dick; so close he can feel the heat of it on his lips. "But I can think of something to help keep me quiet for a bit."

Geto doesn't even have time to think before his cockhead is enveloped in the tight, wet heat of Gojo's mouth. It shocks him, makes him choke on a gasp before his thighs squeeze around Gojo's lean shoulders. It's not that different from when girls have sucked him off, but in the exact same vein, it's like a whole new world. It's got the same addictive warmth, but it's more practiced. Maybe because Gojo sucks a lot of dick, or maybe it's the simple fact that those with penises know how the organ works better than those who don't. The fact that Geto's balls tighten at the thought of his best friend choking down dick should probably concern him, but his brain is far too fuzzy to care right now.

"O-oh, fuck," is all he manages to get out before his eyes roll into his skull, and he falls back onto his elbows. He swears he feels Gojo chuckle around his dick, and however silly that is, it sends delicious vibrations down his shaft that have his hips bucking up for more.

Gojo complies easily, happily inviting the entire length into his warm, welcoming mouth. When he gags, Geto's hand flies to his white locks to pull the strands by the roots. His grip only tightens when Gojo very slowly begins to bob his head up and down— up and down and up and down— slowly building up speed when he feels the thighs around his head tremble.

"Toru... T-Toru, oh fuck."

The needy hitch in Geto's voice makes Gojo's cock fight against the fabric of his pants. He pulls off his dick with a pop and quickly replaces his mouth with his hand, the sound of lewd shlicking mixes with Geto's heavy breathing like a symphony.

Blinking up at him, Gojo catches the way sweat clings to his forehead and neck already, so gorgeously it makes him bite his lip.

"Think you're ready for my fingers?" he asks, all cheeky.

Geto swallows immediately and nods, letting out a whine that he tries to cover up by clearing his throat. It's utterly humiliating, how he's been reduced to this after some deepthroating. Not that he wants to stop, no, he wants to lean into it like a sunflower turns to the sun.

And Gojo can tell. Any Gojo Clan member worth his salt can easily decipher body language with his six eyes, and Satoru Gojo can see everything. Beneath that shaky, nervous exterior, Geto is about two seconds away from crawling the walls like a horny demon. Without any further urging on his part, Gojo reaches into his bedside table to retrieve a bottle of lube. As he warms the lube between his long fingers, he swallows Geto's cock down again, resuming the torturous pace he started with.

He starts by stroking Geto's balls with a freshly slick hand. And slowly, ghosting across his perineum to get him used to the feeling, he provides new sensations cautiously despite his own desperation. Geto stops breathing the second his index finger runs across his hole, slicking him up like a whore, if he's honest.

Then Gojo pulls away again to whisper, "Take a breath for me. Gotta loosen up," and Geto obeys like a trained dog. The stretch isn't unbearable at all, but it's new and it's a lot. It makes Geto's eyes pinch shut, tummy muscles tightening from the intrusion that seems to go on and on.

When his finger is entirely and snuggly fit in Geto's hole, Gojo gives him a grace period to adjust, kissing up and down his cock to distract him from any pain.

It seems like the millisecond Gojo feels Geto's muscles relax, he's pulling his finger back out only to drive it in deeper. He's just stroking his insides for now, making sure to push just right, before quickening the little thrusts.

"See?" Gojo says, excited grin plastered on his glossy lips. "Not so bad, huh?" He's far too adorable to be nuzzling Geto's cock, but here he is, nearly purring with every shaky breath the man above him takes.

"Haah, yeah... mm-hm," Geto whispers. He wants to say more. God, he wants to say a lot more, but he refuses to add to the already mountainous ego Gojo has, so he clamps his hands over his mouth to muffle any noises coming out.

Gojo's determined though, leaning down all inconspicuous like to suck one of his balls into his mouth, humming around it while he easily pushes in a second finger. Geto's elbows give out and he lets his back hit the mattress, sinking his teeth into his tongue to keep from crying out.

"Hmph." Gojo pulls away from his balls with a pout. He immediately reaches up and snatches Geto's hands away. "S'not fair if you hide from me. C'mon, stroke my ego a little. I don't care if you think it's embarrassing."

Geto means to roll his eyes in a bitchy way, but instead they roll back when something inside him is struck, forcing an almost pornographic moan out of him. Gojo's fingers hone in on his prostate and ram against it in quick succession, watching the cock in front of him pulse so hard it kicks up a little. Makes his mouth water so much he leans down and leaves wet, sucking kisses on the tip, like he's making out with it.

"F-fuck you..."

Gojo slows down, "Hnnn..." humming like he's really thinking about it, like he isn't dragging his tongue up and down a cock. "Think you're still too tight for that, Sugu. Wouldn't wanna hurt ya," he teases, in a playful, melodic way.

Even with his words, Gojo squeezes a third and final finger past his tight rim and continues fucking the hole. This time he doesn't give Geto a minute to get accustomed to the stretch, and it makes his whines grittier. He reaches forward and grabs a fistful of white hair again to anchor himself as Gojo brings him closer, and closer, and closer—

"N-no, no fuck. Why'd you stop?" Geto whines, chest heaving when Gojo pulls away completely, leaving him feeling uncomfortably empty. He hardly knows what's happening when he's being stripped down, the only thing keeping him sane is Gojo's low, purring voice, all deep like dark chocolate.

"Just wanna make your first time extra special 'n have you cum on this dick." He speaks right against Geto's ear, even gives the stretched lobe a little nibble. Then suddenly, Geto's being forced up and flipped around like a rag doll. "C'mere," Gojo drags him across his lap so he's straddling his naked thighs— when did he get undressed? "Heard riding is easier on virgins."

"I'm not a virgin," Geto snaps, because it's the first thing that pops into his head, and every teasing word out of Gojo's mouth feels accusatory.

Gojo quirks an eyebrow up. "Oh? You let someone else fuck you up the ass before? Careful Suguboo, I might get jealous."

"No, I— Shut up. Y'know what I meant," Geto says, trying to ignore the way his voice cracks. His cheeks are crimson now, completely at a loss for what to do next or where to put his hands. Or where to look. It certainly doesn't help that he can feel Gojo's own erection beneath him.

It's cute, how Geto's eyes dart off to the side, eyebrows all scrunched up with... embarrassment? Overwhelm? Whatever it is, it makes Gojo wanna tease him.

Geto makes a surprised sound when he grips his wrists and guides his hands to rest on his chest, before greedily kneading at his thighs. His hands absentmindedly massage the trembling muscles while snaking up to squeeze his ass just a little.

"You ready? Got you all nice 'n prepped for the real thing," he says lowly, wanting to give no indication of his impatience if he can help it. This isn't about him, after all. Geto sucks in a breath and quickly nods, and that's all Gojo needs.

He reaches a long arm down and snatches the forgotten bottle of lube from the floor and squirts a good amount on his dick, wasting absolutely no time to smush the head up against Geto's hole. It makes the raven-haired man yelp a little and lean his weight on his hands to jump away from the sensation, effectively crushing Gojo's chest.

"C-careful!"

"Hey, alright. Don't run from it, yeah? I'll be slower, m'sorry," Gojo wheezes, pouting his lips in a little apology. He grabs one of Geto's hips in one hand and gently guides him back down to get him used to the slick, blunt end of his cock. Just rubbing between his cheeks and hole, getting the lube fucking everywhere.

The sound of slick squelching is even louder now. The way the cockhead pushes against Geto's hole just enough to stretch it before pulling away is heavenly, and he finds himself grinding his hips back to feel even more. He doesn't even realize Gojo is panting along with him, eyes all glassy, until he squeezes him and curses.

"Fuck— can I? Real quick, it won't hurt. I promise," he begs, pretty lips falling into an O shape when his tip catches on Geto's hole again. It's as if the resistance in his body gives way when he dares to glance down at Gojo, greeted by glassy, crystalline eyes that beg for him. Amazingly, Geto doesn't bust right then and there, and he quickly nods his head only to choke when the first inch of dick is slipped inside.

To be fair, Gojo was right. It doesn't hurt too bad thanks to all the prepping, but it's mind numbing. So much so, Geto's thighs give out and he falls even farther onto the cock already spearing him. The two let out long, almost embarrassingly loud moans in tandem. Like their brains both shut down from the sudden intrusion.

Even though he's a bit more coherent, Gojo still can't stop the way his hips buck up on instinct, chasing more of Geto's addicting heat. It strikes something deep inside him, makes his vision white around the edges as he gasps for air.

"A-ahhh hah, god! W-wait wait wait!"

The coil in Geto's tummy snaps and his muscles contract as Gojo's cock unintentionally forces an orgasm out of him. It happens so suddenly, it's like his body goes into autopilot, unable to do anything but cry out and sink his nails into Gojo's chest to try and ground himself. The shockwaves roll through him like a tsunami, making him tremble and hiccup, unable to do anything but ride it out. He doesn't realize how much he actually came until he blinks his eyes open to find streaks of creamy white all over his friend's abdomen and chest, some even landing on his lips, mortifyingly enough.

Gojo looks positively wicked, staring up at Geto with blown, lusty eyes that almost overshadow the pride plastered all over his stupid face. "Already? Fuck— were you really that pent up?" His tone is teasing, maybe to distract from the dull pain of sensitivity that shoots through Geto. Maybe he's just a dick. Whatever the case may be, he gently helps him ride it out, offering slow, shallow thrusts and greedy hands exploring wherever they can reach.

"Oh, god. S-shut the fuck— nngh! Cocky fucking bastard..." Geto hisses, though his voice pitches up near the end. He feels his eyes roll back a little when Gojo pushes in a little deeper.

"M'allowed to be cocky, ain't I?" he asks, voice like a damn vixen as his tongue darts out to lick at the cum that lingered on his lip. "Just came all over me and you're still hard? You have no idea what you're doin' to me." As if the twitching cock in Geto's ass wasn't proof enough of how Gojo was feeling, he just likes to hear himself talk.

He grips at Geto harder and makes him grind down against his hips, laughing when he lets out a yelp from overstimulation before he relents. Even tucks his hands neatly behind his head and gives Geto a look, as if to say 'go on'.

Geto swallows, lets his heart slow to a gentle thumping in his chest and wills the heat in his cheeks to cool down. Looking down at Gojo for long is still impossible it seems, so he squeezes his eyes shut and hesitantly— very hesitantly— rocks his hips back. The pressure is immense, almost overwhelming. The feeling of Gojo's cock stretching his hole past anything he's ever felt makes him hiss.

The sensitivity of cumming still thrums through his skin but, little by little, it fades and morphs into something euphoric. The stinging stretch gives way to pleasure faster than he'd thought, and soon he's adding more force to his movements. And while it's clear the only thing Suguru Geto has ever ridden in his life is a bike, Gojo can't help but find his sloppy, uncoordinated thrusts charming. He probably should help him, at least guide him by the waist, but the way his berry-pink face is screwed in concentration is downright adorable. It doesn't even matter that his grinding does little for Gojo's own pleasure.

"That's it, that's it Sugu. Take your time."

Even though the words burn through Geto's ears, he doesn't miss the blatant crack in Gojo's voice. How his tone is breathier, even strained, as if he's fighting himself to maintain composure. Now Geto understands the pride Gojo was feeling. It swirls around in his chest, gives him a boost of confidence to move with more precision. Suguru Geto has cracked the almighty god that is The Strongest.

It takes time, but eventually Geto is able to set a steady pace, rocking himself back and forward until the pain of the stretch is gone completely and gives way to pleasure. It's still sloppy, but every other glorious thrust has Gojo's cock gliding near his prostate, not quite there.

"Hmm—! Mmm, fuck," he huffs. He looks like he's about to collapse already, all dazy-eyed and shiny with sweat. The previous orgasm took a surprising amount of energy out of him, but Geto is stubborn. It's like he's forcing his body to keep going, to keep humping his best friend like a dog because it's all he can muster. There's no way he'll be able to make himself cum like this, not after the magic Gojo pulled.

"Here, here," Gojo huffs, his hands scrambling to grab Geto's hips, his thighs. "Lemme help, baby." He tucks his hands under his bottom and lifts him, coaxes him to lay forward, and Geto goes easily. Makes himself right at home in the cozy space between Gojo's neck and shoulder.

This position punches a sob from Geto. It's so much deeper. Deep in his fucking guts, he's almost sure he feels it in the back of his throat.

"O-oh fuck! Fuckfuckfuck!" His voice is utterly wrecked now. While Geto is always soft spoken with Gojo, this is completely different. It's guttural, raw almost, his tone pitched in the prettiest whine. It makes Gojo clench his teeth, his cock throbbing with every punishing thrust he gives. There's no way he can last like this, not with the way Geto's hole pulses around his dick like it can't keep up. It's honestly a surprise he's lasted this long.

Gojo arches, head digging into his pillow and making a mess of snowy white hair, and lets out a low moan right in Geto's ear.

"Haah... B-better like this, huh? Yeah, I know it. Fuck! Fuckin' know it, baby," he pants, thrusts quickening until the bed frame slams against the wall; it's definitely annoying his neighbors. Fuck 'em anyway, they've never experienced this. Never fucked a hole this sweet and addicting. His teeth are clenched so hard his jaw aches, absolutely nothing on his mind except to keep rutting into the tight, squishy warmth wrapped around his dick.

"Fuck, fuck! Not gonna last."

Geto is too fucked out to even hear him, can only cling to Gojo and whine with drool dripping down his chin. His balls tighten, cum begging to release, and the contraction makes him tighten around Gojo's hardness. It presses the cockhead right against his sweet spot and he sinks his nails into his shoulders. A coil deep in his stomach gives and then snaps, forcing him to gasp, eyes wide and blank as he paints his and Gojo's chest with cum again.

The second orgasm is near torturous, it pushes its way through his nervous system like an electrical wire, making him twitch and moan.

"O-oh fuck, fuck! Cumming! Fuck, cum— mm!" The words are forced out of him before his jaw tightens and he can only whine and growl as he mindlessly humps Gojo's cock to ride it out.

It's all enough. It's all so good. The way Geto cries, the way his ass pulses around his cock like a cunt, just everything. Gojo swears it makes him go blind when he finally cums. His grip on Geto's ass tightens just as his balls draw up as he cums, filling the sweet hole like he's trying to claim it. A thrum of jujutsu fills the air before the lights in his dorm shatter, scattering glass across the floor and bed.

Neither man is conscious enough to care or even notice— though Gojo's infinity switches on out of reflex, shielding them both from the shards— as they work each other through their own orgasms. It's euphoric. Almost magically romantic, but neither would ever admit to that.

Slowly, their bodies relax into one another. Geto still trembles above Gojo, but that's to be expected. The latter on the other hand works on catching his breath, suddenly uncomfortably aware of the sweat dripping down his face, neck, balls. He reaches up and cards a hand through Geto's messy hair, pulling spit-covered strands from his red face. A pleasant chuckle leaves his lips when he glances down at his friend.

"You with me?" he asks, all but coos at Geto, like he was the most precious thing. He musters a nod and his eyelids blink heavily.

"Intense, huh? The first time always is," Gojo says, making sure to keep his voice soft. He shuffles a little and gently lifts Geto so his softening cock slips out. He makes a sound of discomfort that Gojo shushes before he's nuzzling back into his neck.

He pulls the plush blanket over the two of them and makes sure they're both tucked in tight. It's silent for a few minutes as he lets Geto come back to reality and really bask in his newfound experience. He's almost nervous Geto is overthinking or even regretting this before he mumbles something into his neck.

"Hm?"

Geto moves a little and clears his throat. "Said thank you," he says, voice all hoarse and dreamy. Gojo smiles and plants a kiss on his head. Granted all that took place, the kiss wasn't surprising, but it still makes Geto's stomach flutter.

"Of course Suguboo!" Gojo says, his cheery tone mixing with the exhaustion overtaking him. "And I so wouldn't mind doing this again, you know?"

Geto snorts and pokes him in the rib.

"Perv." His voice is sarcastic, but a small part of himself cringes because the thought of doing this again with Gojo fills him with heart pounding excitement. He shouldn't be this ready to possibly become fuck buddies with his best friend— maybe more— and that realization shocks him. Fuck, they really need to talk about this, but for now, Geto hums and snuggles closer to Gojo, basking in his body heat, and lets the soothing feeling of him playing with his hair lull him to sleep.

[allykatsart]

Well if pecc is at the hotel debating with the others if he stays or goes which side would he argue for? Pecc gives me “I’ll switch to the winning side” energy. He has no choice in being loyal to Alastor but if he felt like the hotel stood no chance against heaven he would argue for leaving the place. It’s not that Pecc isn’t loyal he just doesn’t see the sense in fighting a battle that’s already lost. What do you think?

Who is Peccantum?

Sorry this took me so long to answer, it got buried in my drafts!

During Episode 7, Peccantum is at the hotel nursing a wicked hangover from Episode 6. So, yeah he's at the hotel while the others are debating what the fuck they're going to do. Probably taking more than a few painkillers too.

He's not an idiot. Even tho angels can be killed (which he knew about), the hotel still doesn't stand a chance. It's like... 5 guys against the entirety of heaven's army??? Maybe he could count Alastor as like 10 more, but even then it's suicide to stay!

Yet Peccantum and Husk have to defend the hotel if if Alastor is staying. It's not likely he'll give them a chance to leave, anyways. Niffty might get a choice? He seems to really like her. Both Angel and Pentious aren't stuck here either, so with them gone it'll just be; Charlie, Vaggie, Alastor, Husk and Peccantum...

Husk and Peccantum are in the middle talking about it when Angel pipes up.

"Who the hell said I was leaving?"

The room echoed with those words. Both Peccantum and Husk stared up at the spider demon. Peccantum couldn't say for sure what Husk was thinking, but it was probably the same thing he was.

Had Angel lost his damn mind?!

"Did you not hear the part about certain death?" Peccantum questioned harshly, "Or the part where we're going to get erased off the fucking map? Of course you're leaving."

Angel crossed both sets of arms. There was an expression Peccantum had only ever seen on his face once before. Something hard and solid, immovable.

"I ain't deaf, bell-boy." Angel spat back, "But I don't leave my fucking friends to get slaughtered."

Whatever spirit had overtaken Angel last night was back. Peccantum was pretty sure he was sober this time too. Friends... Angel never used that word lightly.

Pentious also chimed in, looking offended. Like Peccantum and Husk weren't trying to save his afterlife! He was hooded up and everything.

"You really think we'd jussst leave the hotel becaussse of a little threat!?" Sir Pentious put a hand on his hip, gesturing dramatically, "Fuck! No!"

Husk let out a heavy sigh and sinked down into his seat. The circles under his eyes seemed darker than ever before. His feathery brow was furrowed, like he was the one with the hangover and not Peccantum...

"...you ain't gotta sacrifice yourself for us." Husk's voice was low, but it didn't have the bite that it usually did.

Angel looked between Husk and Peccantum, "Really? An' what exactly would I do after, huh? Go back to the studio so Val can throw me around?"

Whatever Peccantum was going to say, it died in his throat. Angel glared at both of them, defiant.

"I came here t' get away from Val. Where the fuck am I gonna go if this place is gone?!" Angel's tone raised, and some emotion was starting to pour through the cracks in his voice, "What am I gonna do if you're all gone?!"

Husk's ears flattened back, and something in his expression softened, just ever so. Peccantum could practically feel the bartender's conviction wavering. Damnit!

Sir Pentious cleared his throat.

"If I may...?" He slithered closer to the group, "I may not have the sssame convictions asss our resssident spider... But I too have my reasonsss to stay-!"

"It's not about what you want!!"

Peccantum winced at the volume of his own voice. It had come out more of a shout than he meant. The room went silent, staring at him. An uncomfortable twinge pulled in his chest.

He cleared his throat and tried again.

"It's-It's about... minimizing our losses. The more people escape this extermination, the better." He slowly sat back down on the couch, running his hands through his hair, "We- It's- I don't- Y-You'll find something else, you'll have to..."

It was silent. The air seemed to thicken with unspoken words, and Peccantum found himself choking on them. His head started to pound again, now without the noise of people to distract him. Fucking hell, we're hangovers always this bad?

He rubbed his temple. This was going nowhere, and now his stupid voice was betraying him... Wonderful! He went from the best day of his life to the worst one in less than twenty four hours.

"Would ya stay?"

Angel's voice broke the quiet, and Peccantum glared up at him.

"Of course I'm-"

"If you had a choice." Angel interrupted him, and there was something searching about his gaze, "If Alastor wasn't involved, if it was just you and us and what you wanted to do... would you stay?"

"I-Its not about-"

"What if it was? What then?"

Peccantum's jaw hung useless open. It was like his brain stopped working at the most inconvenient times. He couldn't let them stay- He had to make them see reason-

Staying up late into the AM with a new invention to work on. Game nights with board games and strategies. Laughing for the first time in what felt like forever...

He hasn't thought about that before. why bother asking a question you already knew the outcome of? But he didn't have an answer for Angel. He-

Last night. Cherri offering to get him a drink. Dancing until he couldn't feel his hooves anymore. Sitting in the gutter, piss drunk, officially considered Angel's friend. Humiliated, but not Alone...

Before he could give Angel a response, Husk chimed in.

"Let 'em, kid."

Peccantum blinked up at the old cat.

"It's their afterlife." Husk slowly sat up, looking more tired than ever, "Let 'em choose how they wanna spend it, don't take that away from them."

Pentious crossed his arms and nodded, agreeing with the bartender. Angel's expression softened as he stared at Husk. Something like real appreciation, or maybe...

Peccantum sighed, holding his face in his hands.

"Fine." He muttered, "You can stay if you want. May it be on your own heads..."

If he had a choice....

The hotel had been the first real project in his afterlife. He didn't have anyone outside the hotel. He didn't know who he could trust. But ever since Alastor called on him, he'd been dealing with the hotel and the drama that came with.

If it was just him...

It was definitely a change of pace! Beforehand, he had only gone to his job, came home, and worked on his spells. Maybe the occasional stop for food. But now, there was so much more to his life. Both good and bad.

And his friends...

At the hotel, there was Sir Pentious. A brilliant mind with humor and ambition to match. There was Husk, who called him 'Kid' and watched his back. There was Angel, who was fierce, strong, and knew how to kill somebody seven different ways.

And what he wanted...

Then there was Alastor, who both scared and fascinated Peccantum. Just by watching him, Peccantum picked up new tricks every day. Alastor could command a crowd just by greeting them. It wasn't just the raw magical power Peccantum admired about Alastor, it was the respect too.

...would he stay?

...

Would he? Would he give up the only home he had chosen for himself for safety? Would he abandon Charlie and leave her to her fate?

No.

No, he quite liked it here, actually.

Damn it all...

[the-tartan-spartan]

OOC POST

Just another one shot about their date :)

As they took their seats at a quaint and rather...unusual diner, Caz would say, he had never seen this place before. Despite knowing this town like the back of his hand, he was quite sure that he had never been here before.

Caz looked over at the menu, the words blurred together, the letters dancing around on the paper. He squinted, the letters improving a little bit. The feeling of anxiety clawed at his stomach like a fox in a stinkpit.

Dallas knew him better than anyone.

And yet.

He didn't know the dark thoughts that plagued his mind, the ones that whispered horrible, unspeakable things.

That he was a disappointment, that he was worthless, unlovable.

And the worst part of it all? Dallas would still love him anyway. Even if this turned sour and they tore eachother apart, skin to soul.

"Whaddya thinkin' of gettin'?"

Caz snapped out of his thoughts, his eye darting up to meet the warm, honey gaze.

"I..uh, dinnae ken yet." Caz admitted, giving the menu a quick glance. "What are ye gonna get?" He asked and Dallas hummed, a small smile spreading across his face. "I'm not too sure yet."

"What is this place, anyways?"

"It's a bit of a dive. Some place we can be ourselves without judgement, if ya catch my drift. Take a quick gander at the clientele." He nodded to his left,

Caz glanced around the diner, and it seemed to be a mixture of both men and women, with a handful of androgynous looking people.

Some in duos, others in groups. Two women sat across from one another, chatting away and giggling like schoolgirls. Another duo, two men, were sitting across from one another, one laughing a bit too loudly, causing the other to go red and start scolding him in hushed tones.

"See? No one's givin' us a second look." Dallas assured, and Caz nodded.

"I'm glad ye thought o' tha'.." he trailed off and Dallas' smile widened.

"Anyways, the food's alright, could use a lil' work, but it's fine for the price. An' they've got a great bar, which is what I come here for."

Caz chuckled a little bit.

"Well, if ye're here, tha' must be a good sign, aye?" He offered and Dallas shook his head, chuckling as well.

"They got a pretty killer shepherds pie, too. Ain't too shabby, actually. You wanna try it?" Dallas asked, and Caz gave a half shrug. Seemingly trying to hire a hole in the table with his eye.

"Hey, you okay, Caz?"

The concern was evident in his tone, and Caz could only shrug. "I..dinnae ken, lad." He sighed, the nausea still not leaving him. Amongst their people, huh? What did that say about him, though? Did Dallas expect him to be the girl in the relationship, and himself the guy?

"Is there something wrong, Caz?"

Dallas was leaning forward, he placed his hand over the other man's gently. "Hey, I can see somethin's troubling ya, what's up?"

Caz didn't meet his eyes, and instead focused on the table.

"How's this work?" He asked, and Dallas' brow furrowed in confusion.

"How's what work?"

"You're the girl, right? I'm the guy?"

Dallas was a little confused, and didn't seem to have a good answer for him. He was a little caught off guard by the question and almost laughed.

"No, not necessarily. There's no girl and boy, really." He explained.

"There's just... two people. People who love each other."

"An' what if I dinnae want ta be the girl? Would you make me?"

"Cameron..."

His voice was soft and gentle, similar to the way an exasperated mother might talk to her child. Caz's eye darted up to meet the concerned expression of the other, immediately feeling embarrassed for asking such a silly question.

"There Is no such thing as boy and girl in this typa thing, it's...just different. We are who we are and that's the end of it. You don't have ta act any sorta way, an' you don't have ta do anythin' that makes you uncomfortable. Just be yourself, I wouldn't want anyone else."

"Dinnae have to be no lady?"

"If that's not your cup o' tea. Were ya a lady before this?"

"Of course not."

"Then it's no problem, then. Now, whaddya want, hon?" His gaze softened, Caz felt his cheeks heat up slightly as he stared at the menu. "Shepards pie sounds grand."

"That's a mighty fine choice. You'll love it, I promise. Any drinks?"

"A lil' scotch wouldn't hurt."

"Sure, hun."

After they ordered, they made light conversation, talking about the new project the engineer was working on, and what the Demoman had been up to recently.

Still, he had to admit he wasn't fully listening, the term echoed in his head.

Boyfriend.

It felt weird to think about, but also comforting, in a way.

Caz glanced down at their hands, their fingers interlocked.

He couldn't help but notice how perfect his hands fit.

He squeezed them gently, and he heard a soft chuckle.

"You're thinkin' awful hard, Caz. Anything I can help you with?"

Caz's eyes flickered up to the soft smile.

"Nah, it's nuthin' important."

"If you're sure."

They chatted idly, as time passed the sun grew low and the crowds began to clear, empty glasses crowded the table space. Dallas paid before they left, despite the other's protests.

They were both a bit tipsy, walking a few paces apart from each other, not too far but not too close.

Caz stopped for a moment, before they had to exit the alley, grabbing Dallas's hand and pulling him close, and closer yet still

Until their faces were mere inches from one another.

Caz took a slow, deep breath, their eyes meeting. Neither of them spoke for a moment, and before he could second guess himself, their lips met.

The kiss was slow, and careful.

As if they were testing the waters, and the taste of liquor still lingered on his lips, his tounge exploring the inside of his mouth, feeling his tongue ring.

God, his stomach was doing flips.

When he pulled back, Dallas was staring at him, a mix of surprise and joy evident on his features.

"What's gotten into ya, Caz?"

He sounded genuinely surprised.

"I... I love ye, Dal. I really do."

He leaned his forehead against the others, his arm wrapped around his waist.

"An' I'm sorry. Sorry fer puttin' ye through all the pain an' bullshit I did."

"Oh, Caz.."

Dallas's expression was tender, he leaned in and pressed his lips to his forehead, causing his cheeks to go red.

"I forgive ya. An' I love ya, too. Don't you ever doubt that."

His grip on his waist tightened slightly, and he buried his face into the crook of his neck.

"Now, let's get home before someone sees us."

He could only nod, and they began to walk back to base, breaking their hold on one another before they exited the alleyway, back to reality.

[eksentrismi]

do u think u could do a SWF alphabet for ur hyde? :3

I actually have no idea what SWF alphabet means, but I assume that you mean this template-thing here. If not, sorry lol, feel free to correct me in a new ask or such. (Unless it's something really inappropriate.)

Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?) = It really depends a lot on who the person giving him hugs is. A total stranger, then lol nope, he's gonna shove them away hard, start an argument/fight or bite them. A friend, meh, depends on how deep the friendship is; if it's a friend he barely knows much, then he doesn't accept the hug. If it's a really close friend though, then he'll accept the hug just normally. But if it's a partner of his, oh boy, he's gonna hug back and he ain't letting go. His hugs are tight, almost choking and strangling, strong and the type of hugs where he barely wants to let go and once he does, his scent is all over the person who just hugged him, lol. His hugs can either be extremely comfortable or uncomfortable, people can be the judge of it tbh.

Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?) = As ironic as it is, but in general; he despises pretentious people. He despises hypocrisy with all his might, despite being one himself (as well, *cough*, he's Jekyll). He hates secrecy, hiding from people, or generally just hates anything that reminds him of the fact that he does not truly really exist perhaps. He also doesn't exactly enjoy the company of people who are cowardly and sensitive, or too shy; though he's the type of person, who enjoys making people face their fears or changing their views on living itself. Corruption basically, he just makes people show their true nature and bring the absolute worst in them. Though tbh, my Hyde's still got some limits; he's not the type of person who enjoys inflicting pain or abuse towards his loved ones, especially a partner.

Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?) = Simple answer here: no. He loathes the idea/concept of getting married and having a family. He's not opposed to the idea of living together with a partner though. He just never wants to get married really, unless he deeply cares about his partner that much to that level. When it comes to regular household chores though, like cooking, cleaning etc? Cooking is like the only skill that he's actually quite good at. Other skills then are horrendously poor. He's awful at cleaning, which leads to him then living in either really chaotic-looking environments (with lots of clutter everywhere, furniture here and there etc) or there's just garbage everywhere. He doesn't mind it though, it actually just describes him in some oddly funny way. I mean, there still is the word "order" in disorder.

Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?) = Yet again, greatly depends on who his partner is and how he feels about them. If he didn't really care for the partner to begin with, he breaks up with them with a simple letter (or text message in modern times); then moves on like nothing happened or going all "oh well, it was fun I guess". And if he did care about them deeply, he's heartbroken and would definitely hesitate with the break-up. Willing to do compromises, willing to fix any possible issues (though nothing related to himself, that's not gonna happen). Not wanting to lose the very person he loves and deeply cares about. He's an overly emotional man after all, break-ups absolutely shatter him if it's with somebody whom he truly loves and adores. That's an incredibly rare situation, of course, because it is extremely difficult to ever be that trusted and loved by him out of all people... but still. <3

[themadlu]

Ugly Monster, Ugly Jumper – Pt. 1

Pairing: Aradin Beno x F!OC

TW: Aradin is still learning not to be a total racist (he's improving, give him some credit please!)

Thanks @spacebarbarianweird for beta-reading!

Aradin's eyes narrow into slits as he steps into the frozen inner courtyard, looking for a familiar grey face and a shit-eating grin. The moon barely peeks above the severe towers of the building, but its pale light reflected on the pristine snow is uncomfortably bright. Or maybe he spent too much time cooping inside the dimply-lit guests' quarters.

Two weeks as a lodger—guest— at the Monastery of the Yellow Rose, and his body is still thrown off kilter by the seemingly eternal nights. It just ain't right; even the beauty of the clear starry skies is starting to irk him the wrong way. He'd take the endless sunshine of the summer over this, even if it makes him go blind.

Hells, his balls are close to dropping frozen on the ground.

Aradin doesn't understand how some monks of the past saw the glacier on the spine-shaped mountain and decided it would be an ideal spot to set shop. Perhaps they saw a distorted poetry in the dark expanse before him: followers of a broken god settled in a broken place.

Wouldn't surprise him; religious types were just that weird.

As if summoned by his thoughts, a familiar voice reaches him, steady against the incessant winds.

"Morning, sleepy-head! Over here!"

The young man's cheeks redden. He blames a particularly strong gust of frozen air. Definitely the wind's doing. He grumbles, raising his scarf over his face and walking towards the figure on the opposite side of the courtyard.

Of course, the damned woman would be so chirpy on a morning like this.

Is it that early, though? Aradin doesn't know. Might as well be late afternoon with how the blasted moon shines above him.

Chiyo waves at him from where she stands with her back to the main balcony. She is fronted by a group of exhausted kids attempting to wield their quarterstaffs – orphans from the valley towns, Aradin wagers. They look half in awe and half scared shitless.

He's not surprised. Chiyo, the little shithead – his associate, his partner in crime and law, his lover, and so much more – used to terrify him too. Not that he'd ever openly admit it. She puts up a rather fearsome figure with her corpse-grey skin, snow-white hair and fire-red eyes.

Talk about the clothes, not making the monk.

She stands straight and secure against the winds as if the mouth of a vertiginous chasm wasn't just a few steps behind her. Aradin has to stop himself from tackling her and carrying her to the inner courtyard.

Chiyo grew up here; this is her home. She'll be fine. Besides, they've faced worse dangers than a slippery glacier.

"Morning, shithead. So, you talkin' to me still?"

Chiyo clears her throat. Aradin was never one to back down from a confrontation, and he ain't gonna start now.

"Because, after last night—"

"Right, time for your morning meal, children! Berries and whipped cream are waiting for you in the refectory. Hop, hop!"

Aradin scoffs. "What, cat still gets your tongue in public?" He asks, half in mock, half in worry.

"Private matters do not require an audience, Aradin," Chiyo replies, face neutral as always. Almost always; he's still learning to read her minute expressions.

She offers him her hand.

"Come, walk with me." Aradin scoffs but accepts. When their fingers intertwine, he caresses her smaller palm with his gloved thumb. Chiyo gives him a sideways look – not wise to take your eyes fully off the path if you don't wanna end up a corpse in a valley.

"What? Girl, your walks are giving me frostbite in places I didn't know I had. Is this punishment for yesterday?"

Yesterday…he fecked up. He is self-aware enough to admit that, at least.

"Aradin, please." Chiyo lets out her quiet laugh, and Aradin's shoulders finally loosen. "You said something dumb, true, but my father is a Drow on the surface, he is not new to prejudices. It won't be your opinions that break him."

That hurts. His opinion matters so little.

Aradin knows he doesn't possess a winning personality; he's been told enough times that he knows it to be not a complete lie. Sure, he doesn't care when it's the high-and-mighty types complaining, the spoiled employers who value their coin so little they happily waste it on adventurers like him for the smallest issue. He cares enough when it's those he cares for who chastise him.

His father thought him genial enough, but Remira had her complaints. Liam too. Zevlor and the other tieflings had plenty of – somewhat justified – issues with him.

He normally brushes it off. But Chiyo, she went through the trouble of climbing her way into his weary soul, and he'd be bloody damned if he lost that now.

He wants to matter to her. Wants her to like him. Love him, ideally. So he wants – needs – her parents to like him or at least tolerate him. They started on the right foot, and he is pretty partial to them, albeit in his own way. Until…

That's bullshit! Bloody true what they say of Drows, then.

Chiyo's mother is incredible, her skin spider-webbed with scars and wrinkles and clear, clear eyes, but still, a force to be reckoned with. He is rather glad he met her in her eighth decade of life – an impressive feat in such a harsh environment – because he is sure she'd have kicked him to the other side of the White Worm Glacier after what he said.

What good do Drows do? If all they do is slaughter each other and whoever crosses their path?!

Old habits are hard to die. Aradin mentally kicks himself in the balls. Only he could have said something like that in front of a real fucking Drow.

Chiyo breaks the silence. "So, my father is totally fine with it. You can't be blamed really; not many surface-dwellers meet Drows. Though…I'd hoped you knew us – knew me – well enough to know not all underelfs make killing a hobby."

His old slur on her tongue almost made him retch.

"Listen, I—Ya know I can be impulsive and I have had wrong opinions before, I…didn't mean nothing. I was an arse."

Aradin stops in his tracks to take Chiyo's face in his hands. He cradles it, fiery eyes fixed on his brown ones. He caresses white hair away from her scarred forehead, where the broken base of her horns cuts through thin skin. She only clips her bangs back with him; he feels a surge of affection and pride at the realisation.

He straightens, wanting to tell the truth because that's what she loves in him. No matter what people think, he'll say it as it is.

"I still think Drows—some of their customs at least—are fecking shit. Killing all sons? Feeding them to spiders? Burning your daughters alive?" The young man sees a different Chiyo born to a different mother and murdered as a child because of jealousy or mania. He sees her too-kind father in a puddle of his own blood. He shivers.

"But I said it wrong. Ya know I ain't the most articulate with words. I want to apologise to your father." Chiyo takes his hands off her face and kisses his gloved knuckles.

"Bloody hells, girl, don't distract me! I'm trying to—"

Her lips are on his and, in an instant, his traitorous body is on fire.

They're both panting hard when she withdraws, but she sports a shit-eating grin, and he an affronted look. Way to make him into a lovesick fool.

"Thank you," she says, smiling brightly. "I accept your apology, however piss-poor it was."

"Hey, now, ya little—"

She kisses him again, undeterred, and this time, Aradin cannot contain a moan at the heat of her pressed against him. Bloddy hellish heritage always making her run hot.

"You can apologise to my father at dinner; he'll be busy with his research until late. Besides, today it's The Night of the Starving Ghost." Chiyo wiggles her pale eyebrows, as if Aradin should know what the hells the Hungry Ghost or whatever is.

"The what now? Isn't it, like, Midwinter or somethin'? Or have I lost count of the days?" He snuggles into her and pulls her tight into his embrace. So warm.

"No, you are right, it is Midwinter. But that's in Baldur's Gate. Here, it's the night of the Starving Ghost."

"Mmhm." She's threading her fingers through his curls, and Aradin stops minding the cold altogether. "Tell me more."

Chiyo smiles against his throat. "There is a legend from Northern Damara, of a king who withheld food for his court during a particularly long and harsh winter. The snow didn't let for over a year, the sun didn't return in spring as it should have."

"Damn."

"Damn alright. A group of villagers from the nearby land of Vaasa came to him one day. They were skin and bones, hungry. They barely survived the walk to the castle. They begged for food, any amount of food, for themselves and their families." Chiyo raised her head to stare into his eyes.

"Vaasa is an untamed land, even harsher than Damara. The king refused. Vaasa's ruler was a witch-king then, and Damarans saw all Vaasans as cursed. In reality, fear was jealousy, and it made them callous. The king felt proud: his court could survive the winter, while the witch-ruler's could not, despite his alleged powers."

Aradin stared as Chiyo's face became deadly serious.

"The Vaasans were sent back to their homes empty-handed and starved to death. Damara's leader was pleased to see his powers were greater than the witch-king's. But the gods do not forget. For his crimes, Damara's king was turned into an evil spirit after his death. Forced to wander the glaciers in the dead of winter, gorging all he comes across into his swelling stomach, crunching on the meat and bones of all animals."

The winds whistled through the empty yard, and Aradin swallowed thickly. The glaciers were so lifeless.

"What kind of food can anyone hope to find here?"

Chiyo smiled. " If no animals are found, he eats people. Humans, elves, any creature you can think of."

When did it get dark? Aradinhas suddenly realises the moon has disappeared, swallowed herself by hungry clouds.

"The Starving Ghost is damned to roam these mountains, always full, forever hungry. You can see his shadow on the snow when the moon shines bright in midwinter. Legend says only one thing will keep you safe from him."

"What? What is it?"

"A special ugly robe."

"Ugly…the feck are you on about?"

[your-divine-ribs]

The Christmas Wish Part 4

Words: 2.8k

I intended to also add Van’s POV to this but I wanted to get something posted this weekend so that’ll be next part. Sorry if it’s naff! Hopefully some cute moments coming up in the next part 🤍

The Christmas Wish Masterlist Main Masterlist

🤍 Sacha's POV 🤍

I'm still partially in shock as we all make our way down the corridor and push through the outer school door. I'd been dreading seeing Grace's dad, I was totally expecting the worst from him and I truly thought I'd be desperate to get away after an uncomfortable and awkward meeting. Instead here I am, watching his kids practically dragging him across the car park, excited chatter filling the chilly winter air of Christmas trees and tinsel and fairy lights.

"Are you really sure you don't mind me tagging along?" I say as Van comes to a stop in front of a flashy looking red sports car, fumbling in his jacket pocket for the keys. "I can always pick up the stuff I need for the Christmas wreaths on my way in tomorrow, it's not a problem."

I can't help but feel like I'm intruding on a precious family moment, but Van won't hear any of it. "Why put yourself out when we're heading there right now? We'd love you to come with us wouldn't we kids?"

Cries of "yeah course we do Miss!" and "you gotta help us choose a tree!" burst from the two children and I can't help but grin from ear to ear, buoyed by their obvious excitement.

He opens up the passenger door and shunts the seat forward, urging the kids to clamber into the back. "C'mon you pair, you're gonna have to both get in the back. We can't expect Miss Wilson to squeeze herself in there can we?"

"Err... it's Sacha," I remind him. "We're not in school now. And I don't mind sitting in the back. Not at all."

Even as I'm saying the words I'm filled with doubts as to how I'll be able to manoeuvre myself into the car gracefully without flashing too much leg. It's so low to the ground the suspension's practically scraping the tarmac, the back seat a cramped-looking space that I'd likely have to contort my body into. It's definitely not a practical family vehicle but I suppose what should I expect from a rock-star, even one with children?

"No way, you're up front with me," Van smiles and I feel a little twinge of excitement radiate through me which I try to ignore, turning my attention quickly back to the car.

"It's a really nice car, very fancy!" I enthuse, letting my eyes trail over the sleek contours, the garish fire engine red paintwork standing out starkly amongst the drab coloured family saloons parked on either side.

Van lets his hand trail proudly over the soft-top, almost petting it. "Just picked it up last week, bloody gorgeous ain't it? Bit of a tight squeeze for four though. Wasn't really thinking about the practicalities when I bought it."

"Can we have the top down Daddy?" I hear a little voice come from inside.

"Not in the middle of December, we'll freeze!" Van laughs, sliding the seat forward and ushering me into the passenger seat. I slide into the leather seat self-consciously, holding my skirt tight to my thighs. Van waits until I'm settled before he shuts the door.

I've never been in a car like this before in my life. It's a far cry from my trusty little Fiat 500 that I trundle to school and back in every day. I glance around at the impressive interior, wondering what something like this might cost.

"Can't wait for the summer," Van says as he takes his seat behind the wheel. "Cruising along with the top down, tunes blaring out, the wind in my hair..."

"You'll just be moaning about messing up your hair the whole time!" Grace giggles from the back and I laugh as I see Van sticking out his tongue at his daughter in the rearview mirror.

"Well? It's good hair!" He smirks, making a show of running his hand through it.

"Grandma keeps saying when ya gonna get it cut?" Leo pipes up and Van is quick to reply that Grandma knows nothing about style.

I can't stop grinning hearing Van's easy banter with the kids and I'm beginning to see where Grace gets her outgoing, cheeky nature from. I fasten my seatbelt just as I hear Van firing up the engine which roars into life with a throaty growl.

"Just listen to that," Van murmurs as he revs the accelerator a few times, the delight on his face evident. "Goes 0-60 in about 4 seconds!"

I raise my eyebrows and nod my head, trying to look impressed even though the thought of travelling so fast so quickly frankly terrifies me.

"Can we go fast today... please!" Grace cries. "You're always on about how quick it goes but then you never show us. You always drive so slow-ly."

She drags out the word for effect and Leo makes loud vrooming noises. Van starts to inch the car forward.

"I told you before, I'm not driving fast with you two in the car... precious cargo ain't ya?"

There's booing and grumbling from the back and I turn my head towards Van, surreptitiously sneaking a glance at his handsome profile as he's concentrating on navigating out of the tight parking space.

"I swear if I scratch this paintwork..."

"Mummy says Daddy bought this car 'cause he's having a mid-life crisis...whatever that is!" Grace suddenly announces and I have to bite down hard on my bottom lip to stifle the laugh that nearly bursts free.

Van doesn't look quite so amused, his face scrunching in embarrassment which morphs into an awkward grin as his eyes flick quickly across to me. "Yeah well... mummy says a lot of things," he murmurs, then he drops his voice even lower. "Is Gracie like this in class too?"

"Oh yes," I grin, also talking in hushed tones even though the children clearly aren't listening, chattering away to each other in the back. "If Grace has something to say then she'll just come right out with it, she doesn't hold back."

"Have no idea where she gets it from!" Van chuckles, then he's pulling out of the car park, the momentum of the acceleration of the car pushing me back in my seat even though we're not even travelling that quickly. I'm not into cars at all but even I can't deny there's something kind of hot about the thought of all that power thrumming underneath the bonnet.

Van asks for directions to Harvey's and I start to tell him before we're interrupted by the raised voices of the kids squabbling in the back. I twist around in my seat to see what the altercation is.

"I get to pick this time," Grace demands, pouting sulkily at her brother. "You had your go this morning."

"But it only takes five minutes to get to school. That's only enough time for one song!"

Grace is resolute. "I don't care, those are the rules! You'll only go and put something rubbish on anyway. We don't wanna listen to 'baby shark' again!"

"Ughh had that stuck in my head all morning," Van grumbles, then he reaches into his inside jacket pocket to produce a phone which he holds out to me. "Here ya are, pass that to Gracie will ya? We take it in turns to take control of the music on car trips... unless you want a turn Sacha? Seems only fair you being an honorary guest an' all?"

God, why does the sound of him simply saying my name make me feel all warm and gooey inside?

I take the phone from him, feeling far too shy to reveal my basic music tastes. "Oh no, I'll pass thanks. We don't want Grace to miss her turn do we?"

Grace smiles victoriously and thanks me as she leans forward to take her dad's phone, immediately jabbing at the screen.

"Should be already connected," Van calls to her. "And pick something decent to put on... especially seeing as we've got company."

"I'm on your Spotify account, so you're bound to like it," she replies, and I glance at Van just in time to see that awkward little smile surface again.

"I've got a really wide range of music tastes nowadays. Touring and meeting other musicians really opens up your ears to new stuff. There's all sorts on there. You never know what you might find."

"Any guilty pleasures?" I tease, intrigued as I hear Grace giggling from behind me.

"Me? Nah... I'm not remotely guilty about any of the stuff I listen to..."

And then, as if on some perfectly timed cue, the tinkling opening bars of Mariah Carey's All I Want for Christmas begin to blare out from the car's speakers. Van's jaw practically unhinges and the giggles I've been suppressing since we first got into the car finally burst free.

"I never would've had you pegged as a Mariah fan!" I laugh as Van splutters, clearly embarrassed.

"I'm not, I swear! She must've clicked on some generic Christmas playlist."

"But Daddy... it's your Christmas playlist," Grace is quick to pipe up. "You picked all these songs yourself. Remember?"

"I swear, every shred of dignity goes out of the window when you have kids," Van mutters, but he's laughing, little creases forming around the corners of his eyes, an adorable tinge of pink lighting up his cheeks. "And you can't have Christmas without Mariah can you?"

"Definitely not!" I laugh along with him, before I'm trying to maintain a mock serious tone. "I mean, I'm not a fan at all but I'd be very disappointed if this particular song wasn't on your hand-picked Christmas playlist."

"Phew... am I off the hook then?" He flashes me a toothy grin, but before I get a chance to answer, two little voices sound out in perfect harmony.

"I just want you for my own, more than you could ever know... make my wish come truuu-uuueee..."

"It's your bit next Daddy!" Cries Leo.

Oh... this just gets better and better. I look across at Van again whose cheeks are getting pinker by the second as he shakes his head. "Err... not now Leo."

"So you can hit Mariah's high notes then can you?" I tease, throughly enjoying watching him squirm.

"You should hear him Miss, he screeches sooooo loud," Grace cuts in and I glance back to see her covering her hands with her ears whilst she winces dramatically.

"Hey... less of the screeching," Van interjects. "I've got the voice of an angel, I'll have you know!"

"Well if it's that good then I think I need to hear it," I say, as both children erupt into chants of "sing Daddy sing!"

"My throat's actually a little sore right now, think I might be coming down with a cold." Van finishes off his sentence with a weak cough and it's quite obvious that he's faking it, but it's also quite obvious that his children aren't backing down from their pleas.

"No you've not... liar!"

"Yeah that's rubbish! And we always sing this song together!"

"Sing Daddy... please!"

"God, they're more demanding than the fans," Van groans but I can see his resolve is being ground down. What I'm not banking on though is his next line as he comes to a stop at a traffic light and looks across at me with a mischievous smirk. "But if I am gonna sing I think it's only fair that Sacha sings too... we're all in this together."

Now it's my turn for my jaw to fall slack, my eyes widening as I protest.

"Oh no I can't... I can't sing at all... I'm tone deaf..."

"No you're not Miss!" Grace blurts out excitedly. "You always sing so prettily in class... and you lead the school choir don't you? You're a good singer!"

I'm visibly cringing much to Van's amusement, the biggest shit-eating grin stretching wide on his lips. "Ahh... it's all coming out now! Look... we're not gonna get them to shut up if we don't do this. We'll never hear the end of it."

"Oh my god I can't believe I'm actually doing this," I mumble, my whole face in flames as I raise up my hands to my cheeks.

Mariah's still warbling away shrilly on the car stereo, and I figure I might not even see Grace's dad again after this so I take a deep breath, looking straight ahead out the car windscreen so I don't have to look directly at him as I start to sing.

"Oh, I don't want a lot for Christmas, this is all I'm asking for..."

And to my horror the whole car falls silent to listen to me.

"But you didn't even join in!" I gasp in surprise, but my words are cut short as Van starts to sing.

"Oh, I just want you for my own, more than you could ever know. Make my wish come truuuu...uuuee..."

His voice is the perfect mixture of smooth with a throaty rasp that makes me suck in a breath, and he scrunches his eyes shut briefly as he rises up to hit the high note. I'm staring with my mouth agape, I can't help it, and then our eyes meet as he looks right at me to sing the next line.

"Oh, baby, all I want for Christmas is youuuuu."

"Youuuuu, ba-by..." Chime in the kids, loud giggles emanating from the back seat that thankfully snap me out of my trance.

Van's smiling widely at me, his face all lit up from within and his eyes sparkling with a youthful exuberance and an errant thought flashes through my head...

Shit... I'm in trouble... I like this guy... I REALLY like him...

But as soon as the thought pops up then it's gone. I'm swept up in the moment, singing along with everyone, hamming it up as we all mimic Mariah's signature high-pitched vocals as the song plays out. I'm having so much fun I completely forget where we are for a moment, and the actual purpose of me being here with Grace and her family. Too late, I see the turning for Harvey's shoot past in a blur out the passenger window.

"Ahhh... you just missed the turning... sorry I got completely distracted," I say, quickly giving Van directions as he indicates for the upcoming roundabout.

"No problem," he replies, navigating the roundabout to bring us quickly to our destination.

"Here we are kids!" He announces as he pulls into a free parking space. "All ready to get this tree then?"

"Can we get a real one rather than a fake one?" Grace calls hopefully. "That's what Alex bought mummy last week. It's huge!"

Van's cheerful demeanour disintegrates instantly at the mention of the name which is unfamiliar to me, and it doesn't take a genius to work out that Alex is likely his ex-wife's new boyfriend. He's obviously still wounded and far from over the breakdown of his marriage and I should be filled with sympathy but instead I feel an unexpected rush of completely misplaced jealousy that I really have no business feeling.

"There's loads of trees here to choose from," I say purposefully brightly, tearing my eyes away from Van to address the kids. "Ellie bought a six foot Norwegian pine here just last week. It looks gorgeous in her living room all decorated up."

"Six foot?" Echoes Leo. "Is that as tall as you Daddy?"

"Uh-huh," Van says as he powers off the ignition, turning around in his seat to face the children. "So how big's this tree of mummy's then kids? Is it as tall as me d'ya think?"

Leo shrugs whilst Grace looks thoughtful. "I dunno... Mummy couldn't reach up to put the star on the top though so Alex had to pick her up to do it... just like you used to do..."

The kids likely don't notice the shadow that flits across Van's features but I notice it, a ripple of emotion on the surface that he admirably recovers rather flawlessly from. He plasters on a smile full of enthusiasm as he leans on the headrest, telling his excited children that the tree they're going to get will be much bigger and better than their mum's, and how they'll take it home with them to decorate up that very evening.

"Umm... Van... errr... sorry to interrupt," I venture cautiously.

I don’t want to ruin the moment, I really don’t, but my practical primary school teacher's brain tends to assess scenarios very quickly, pinpointing and zooming in on probable complications. I wonder if Van's even considered how he's going to fit a majestic seven foot pine into his tiny little sports car to transport it home.

“Yeah?” He whips his head around to face me, eyes bright and eager.

“There might be… ummm …. a little problem... you know... with the logistics of getting a tree that size home in this car. Not sure if you've thought about that."

But it appears that Van already has, a huge grin stretching wide on his face as he reaches forward to pluck his phone from his daughter's hands. "'Course I've already thought of that... that's where Larry comes in!"

[dragonholler]

Field Notes II

I have been slogging through marshlands for the last three days, and I still have a week of travel before I reach Marquet. This is what I get for deciding to take the back road instead of taking the lane like a normal traveler. I was so excited about the nature and the mud and the funny trees that grow out in the wetlands, I completely forgot about the nhipids.

Generally speaking, I don't mind bugs. I'm out traveling a good chunk of the time, and you don't pick a career that requires sleeping rough if you have a severe aversion to things with more than two legs.

But the nhipids, Dys alive! I swear, if I find one more of these little bastards in my boot I am going to launch the damn thing into the nearest bog. Not even intentionally, it will just happen the second my heel connects with all those teeth. Frankly, it's a feat of restraint and patience on my part that I haven't squished one already.

But that's the thing with nhipids. They're colony creatures- you squish one, you make an enemy of them all. Which is incredibly inconvenient when they're the size of a button and composed mostly of teeth. I spent fully half a bell coaxing one out of the sleeve of my jacket yesterday morning. Miserable.

When I get back to civilization I am buying a puff net and billing it to Al, that'll do it. I don't care if I have to drape it over me like one of those shrouds those buckwild courtiers use to hide their faces while they eat endangered birds, if it will keep these things out of my hair while I sleep it will be worth it.

On the positive side, I lost whatever tail the shitwizard put on me about a half-league out of Hamitsdown. Wuss. I'm not surprised. Darnas doesn't seem the type to work long-distance, and honestly I don't think anyone working for him is paid highly enough to get knee deep in. . . whatever I've been kicking through these days.

As mucky and bug-filled as it may be, I'll still arrive at Marquet's farm in plenty of time to do some real kicking around for a few days. Get the lay of the land, maybe try some mushrooms. Provided they are a) safe for consumption and b) he doesn't see me eat anything that usually ain't. I've never had a blue tri-cap, I wonder what one of those would do to me. The red ones just make my eyesight go double for like an hour.

I haven't decided what I want to focus on for this interview. I'm interested in Marquet's whole mushroom raising thing, for sure, but where am I going with it, you know? Probably what he's growing and why it would be worth poking at, maybe something in there about his farm hands, how he got started, how his goals for long-term, etcetera. I will think on this as I hike- we're uphill and sticky today.

Dysthet, I hope Al never sees this. He hates my "unedited shitstack". Or, as I like to call it, my notebook.

Okay, so, as I sit here huddled in my insufficiently warm packnest (I had to add on padding to stop shivering- haven't pulled that trick in a bell or two) at ass-o'clock in the morning, once again attempting to will a hot beverage to appear in my hand (still can't light fires with mind, still trying), I have been struck with the uncomfortable knowledge that I. . . don't actually like how close to Desire's tower I am going to have to pass today.

It's not as bad as it could have been- she's closer to the main road than she is to this swamp by a couple of leagues, but I still hate it.

I did the calculations, and I should, theoretically, be out of her range by an acceptable margin. This is, or course, entirely dependent on her being in her tower while I pass (it's gonna take me at least the entire afternoon and a chunk of the evening), and banking on her not having extended her field too dramatically. Which, to be honest, would be a waste of energy, but that doesn't mean she wouldn't do it. She could easily give herself a boost by attaching some intention to one of her beasties, and if one of them gets close enough I'll. . . well, I might still be fine.

It's not like she'd recognize me, physically anyway. But I don't know how much of me Murdoch gave her, what she might of done with it, how attuned she is, or how interested their whole crew still is in me, or if they still have Sana on my ass about it- there are a lot of things I don't know, and I can feel myself spiraling about it. 

But this is why I travel light. I'll put on some muscle and start hauling ass, maybe I can get by before dusk falls.

One million cenz for me! We dropped down the last rise of the mountain and around Desire's wood in record time, and we’re nearly back into the marshes. I might even be abl-

.

.

.

Okay, I definitely jumped the lede on that one. I just spent a disgustingly sweat-inducing three bells stuck up this tree while one of Desire's hounds took a nap not eight yards below me. The poor thing was half-baked and already rotting, she must have been running it hard for ages already. It was breathing so heavily, it must have lost half its ability to scent- it didn't so much as glance up my tree, which was a relief, sure, but doesn't speak well of Desire's care and keeping habits. Not that they were ever that good. I could have gone the rest of my life without being reminded of that smell.

It should be far enough gone now. I'm going to put a few more leagues behind me before I stop for the night, I think.

While this little jaunt may have been a closer call than I am comfortable with, the important part is that we're through it. Which I will continue to tell myself until I stop sweating.

I'm right around the ridge from Marquet's border, and I've spent long enough slogging through swamps and keeping off any path, trail, or otherwise way-marking route that I'm confident I'd have lost anything that might have been following me, just in case. It's poor form to bring trouble to interview subjects, and I'm not planning on starting today.

Afterwards I won't need to be anywhere with any hurry, so I think I'll take the long way back to Hamitsdown. Any distance I can keep between me and one of Murdoch's, the better.

EC

[xxdreamscapes]

diary 052325 | 11:30 pm

focus on the people who stay + trust your experiences

Focus on the people who stayed, not because they have anything to gain but because they think you're a good enough person to try and do the work to understand you.

There were times I lost sight of the people who chose me because I was too wrapped up in people who clearly didn't want anything to do with me. Friendships that only took and friend groups that clearly had underlying issues. It's a childhood wound for a lot of people, trying to be liked by people, trying to change the story. Trying to win over un-winnable situations. I'd like to think I know better now.

There was one friend I had, met in ninth grade, who was always kind despite how people had treated him. A big softie. I realize now, he reminded me of myself, the parts that were good, the parts that were constantly taken advantage of by others and I think I resented him for it. How he didn't stick up for himself, or others. But I know we were all trying to survive, and I know he did the best job he could. He was the type of person who didn't want anybone to feel bad.

If I invited him to anything, he'd always be there. He'd always offer to help or teach people things, never asked for anything in return. He'd spend time making and getting thoughtful gifts. We shared a love of food, laughed together, and shared struggles. Despite all that, I only saw him as everything he wasn't. In all of my ego, I'd shoved aside someone who genuinely cared about me because I felt, I deserved better, that I deserved more. Without even questioning how I even showed up for him. I'd taken someone I cared about for granted, someone who stuck by me well through community college.

I became a ghost, because it was easy and because I was coward. I'd never expressed to him when I felt uncomfortable with something, I'd never had conversations with him that could've strengthened our friendship. I never gave him the chance to be a person. I needed that win. To add to my long list of traitors in order to feel vindicated about how I was treated in the past. A clean break, I convinced myself. I'd cut people off in the past for worse infractions, but this one was just my need to feel superior. To be right. About everything. I'd get to say that it was inevitable, that they never measured up. It was wrong. I was wrong. And maybe someday I'll get to tell him, I'm sorry.

So as a twenty-something, this is how I know when I end things with people it's my last resort. That it's because they deserve to stand on their decisions and behaviors. I've made effort to bring up things that bother me so that we can grow together. To admit when I'm wrong or when I don't have all the information. To see if someone can let go enough control to sit with discomfort or give me my space. Because I've given people so. many. chances, not as test, but as a way to show me they'd stick up for me, not raise their voice, or lie to me (omissions —about very normal things, I might add— are still lies). I really resent accusations of me not being able to raise issues before a blowout. Because I have. From my past mistakes, I've learned to. Truth be told, for someone like me to get to that point where I have to ask for space, I absolutely fucking have. They just forget. The same way they carelessly throw out a couple empty ~I'm sorries~ before inevitably doing the same thing again. Of course it hurts me when I'm being talked down to like a child who doesn't know any better. Kids are so much more receptive than you might think. Word of advice, don't patronize people you care about.

How many times can you scream for help before someone notices? Of course I'm gonna have a menti b that seems dramatic and "out of nowhere" to you. Common sense ain't that common.

I have learned from the ways my past relationships have dissolved. It's why I'm not afraid to talk about the things that I've been through. It's why I don't act so above love or making mistakes. Why I allow myself to feel the full extent of my emotions without making it into a joke, or shoving it down. It's why I'm not afraid to be the first to say I'm sorry — without deflecting. Even in moments where I've been wronged. Someone not being the perfect communicator doesn't automatically invalidate their experiences. It's just another way for you bitches to deflect from your poorly thought out behavior.

˚₊‧ ˗ˏˋ ⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆

Of course I hurt over things that've happened to me. But the thing is, it's never enough to run my life anymore. I'm a person which comes with a lot of emotional whiplash. It's not linear, right? There's no use in pretending we're perfect or that people we cared about never existed. And I'd rather feel everything than nothing at all. Like some of you absolute roaches („• ֊ •„)੭

Stick up for yourselves and stand by it xx

[officeobject]

Poll drama: My response to the teenage boy poll about them scaring me

Okay, so like, besides the platonic horn horn answers, in which case, get your hormones checked, but also, AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA, and OH MY GOD, and NO WAY, YOU ACTUALLY FEL THAT TOO AND YOU FEEL IT TOWARDS ME - like besides that (in which case, I ain't stopping you from texting me if you want to, even if I could), I got some new results:

I wanna say to all those who still choose that they wouldn't talk to me: GOOD.

Those who do not wanna bring fear into my life - well, that's very nice of you ... UNFORTUNELTY MY FECKING GHOST COULDN'T BE THE SAME -

For those who would do something else to scare me: ... now I'm concerned -

For those who choose to only scare me on Halloween: Fair enough, see ya on Halloween!

And yeah I saved my reaction to the last one, which is: ... you could just text me - like, yeah, you may represent fear and pain and whatnot, but I'll still in the end judge you for the person you are, so like, don't worry, you could just talk to me - I WILL be scared, it'll be fine, I can get UNSCARED, etc.

And those are my reactions :) ! They're probably not gonna see it :( ...

Also I find it - like, not sure if I'm the only one - but I find it kinda weird how I, like, get questioned about if I'm not making someone uncomfortable who is 30, alright? And also I'm getting hoped to be a teenager due to how I talk about them, alright? But like, I'm not getting questioned when I'm being nice or making weird polls like https://www.tumblr.com/officeobject/766244580147478528/anniversary-of-character-my-squish-is-exactly-like?source=share (the one this is about), and also, the same person sees my relationship with Colby as perfectly fine - like, it's not fine for me to watch a 30 year old and vent about it, but I'm allowed to ask teenage boys if they'd do the platonic equivalent of flirting with me, and I'm allowed to just let my ghost cuddle me and watch me poop - like, don't get me wrong, I think I'm creepier than anyone else thinks me to be, justified or not, but like, am I wrong and tired, or should it not be considered more weird how I talk about Colby and the fact that I'm cuddling with him, a teenage ghost of a real teenager, IN MY BED - but like somehow, nah, it's weirder that me, who is a kid compared to a 30 year old, watches them like an admiring kid - like, I just don't know the standards, and I'd expect at least ONCE to defend my relationship with Colby, but like, I guess not - like, it's just somehow not weird to people that I can at least TRY to stop him, but I just ... don't - like do you get what I mean?

Like, okay, I'm not allowed to be childish and stuff about some 30 year old (who CAN see me and watches me back by the way), but I can be weird about teenage boys? To be honest, for all people know, I could literally be a teenager, and the number 1 age-guess for me, is "16", according to my age-guess poll, but like, still - but like, yeah, sure, I'd scare a teenager away for free if they want me to, with my overly personal questions, weird ways of phrasing things, and - well basically how I treat Colby, and I GUESS that was kind of the point of the poll - I don't know, I was just in the mood of watching platonic simping, unintentional or not, and of course, making fun of Colby and stuff.

Now I WILL respond to an ask I got, in FULL, but my unofficial lawyer for non-governmental purposes, has to come back with like a response template or something, because I'm so bad at socializing and defending myself, and man, I'd accuse myself of anything or doubt myself or whatever - but yeah, over all, I am NOT being a creep - well towards that 30 year old anyway, I don't trust myself with that ghost (then again, I might be paranoid), and like, my 30 year old stares back - we just stare at each other, might do the platonic equivalent of flirting, stuff like that.

Gotta go, but like, my point is: talk to me if you want to, and also I'm being haunted, and also, I'm weird.

[frick-it-sugar-spice]

irl (blogposter)/i have been playing around with trying makeup as a not quite but weekly to almost daily thing for maybe a little over a year and a half? with mixed results in terms of like how I feel about it and skill

pretty safe to say I am all on board with eye makeup. eyeliner has never been much of a bother, except when I stab my eye on accident, and it's been used through lots of phases of life. colorful additions like eyeshadow and glitter are newer. I like the glitter bit. Highligher kinda stuff. Still pretty subtle with it in comparison to what I wanna try. Lotta gold and copper put on real light, little bit of silver now n then. Sometimes a bit if blue or green or pink.

Lip stuff is a big no. Chapstick and chapstick only.

Nail stuff has been hit or miss for like over a decade. Black is usually fine. Really BRIGHT Colours if the mood is right but it can still set off some uncomfortable racing thoughts. And it can only be finger nails or I have near instant and crushing bad feels which is loke weird but makes sense with how self expression evolved from hiding painted nails under socks to accepting it blahblahblah

And a little bit of.... I guess polling or a census might be a term? Researching? Ctrl+F-ing the past? Of past feels and thoughts before trying something new to make sure I have a good idea of how it's gonna feel

Anyway long story short I'm learning how to do the lil wing swipe with eyeliner and did a good job today and did a bunch a lil hearts under my eyes because 'course I did I was feelin a certain kinda vibe

Lmao sib called me evil gay (affectionate, was supposed to be "emo gay" but fumbled. A good laugh was had) i mean it ain't a wrong assumption that was kinda the vibe. Not entirely but I didn't feel like finding the right colours and wanted to try a specific brand thing anyway

[guilty-pleasures-and-dead-doves]

Arknights [Free Wolf, She-Wolf]

Chapters post

Chapter 5: Sex and Legacy

[Chapter 6] To have and to hold

After everyone finished eating the breakfast Croissant provided, the Emperor stood up in his chair.

"Aight, time to talk strategy for bagging Bison the bachelor. Texas, didja have a plan of attack?"

Texas tried to not let her discomfort show. "Have you ever asked me to handle contract negotiations?"

"Not your best strength," he agreed kindly. "But hey; you got the right idea. Sora?"

The idol fiddled with the hem of her skirt. "I've always been happy when you, Yith, and Croissant helped with my contract negotiations."

"Welcome," he replied magnanimously. "So, you two want me to lead you to victory?"

Texas and Sora looked at each other to gauge the other's opinion. Neither felt entirely comfortable handing over their agency in this particular matter, but neither felt confident handling it themselves. If nothing else, listening to the Emperor's plan might give them some ideas.

They nodded to their benefactor.

"Aight then: To war." He held up his pocket-terminal and keyed in a call. "Yith, deliver the message."

The Emperor hung up faster than the girls could ask, "What message?"

Their boss projected calm surety. "I sent Bison an invitation for a casual meeting with us here, in our home turf, tomorrow. He's gonna think it's a new development in our cooperation to set up the new trade-route with Nuova Volsinii."

He managed to smirk without lips. "Of course, it's actually a trap."

"Wait!" Exusiai said in delight, rocking back and forth in her backwards chair. "We're actually just going to kidnap him after all?"

The Emperor squawked a laugh. "I wish! That would have been a lot of fun. But for this, we're not playing pranks. We're playing for keeps.

"Texas don't need anyone's help to grab Bison. She could punch his V-Card before he knows what hit him."

He paused to let the girls giggle. Texas hid her face behind her hands, but allowed herself a secret, microscopic, nervous smile.

"Nah, the trick is keeping Bison. Which Eurill and the Lungmen Guard Department would have some opinions about. Even the rat and Wei would step in for such a foul play.

"Texas and Sora need to grab Bison so's that he wants to stay kept. Even if it means standing against his old man. Convincing him to do that is gonna be easier if we can get him away from Eurill and their butler, first."

In the adjacent kitchen, Croissant looked up from the dirty dishes and asked, "Might'n't they suspect us?"

The Emperor snorted in annoyance. "I cain't tell you if Eurill suspects something like this or hopes for it. One way or the other, he didn't nix any of the previous meetings, and we didn't jump his kid before. Unless Texas told him about this idea before any of you, he's not gonna know anything's changed."

"An' iffin the butler follows him this time?" Croissant asked, having put the last of the dishes in the washing machine.

The Emperor waved dismissively. "If Yith cain't distract him, worst case is we wait to spring the trap another day."

Exusiai rocked her backwards-facing chair again. "Okay, so what kind of trap is it?"

The Emperor didn't answer right away, and the girls watched his nonchalance crack in the way he crossed his flippers over his chest and turned ever-so-slightly away.

"Aight. Down to brass tacks." He didn't relax, but he at least straightened up.

"But I cain't sugarcoat it. This ain't gonna be polite or pretty." He looked around the table at all of them. "Any of you can leave at any time, but if you" — he looked pointedly at Texas and Sora — "leave every time you get uncomfortable, you're getting nowhere. Ya dig me?"

They nodded again.

Croissant spoke up, "Iffin it comes to that, Exusiai an' I can step out instead, if it'll help."

Exusiai nodded.

"Sure," the Emperor said, "But if you're smart, you're gonna stay. I'm gonna be dropping pearls of wisdom, and best to snatch 'em up now."

No one left. Croissant took her seat at the table.

"Aight. Lemme start by ripping off the bandage that hurts the worst. Croissant, Exusiai, listen up.

"Texas, you're a Christmas Cake, and Sora ain't far behind. Your best time to marry was yesterday and your second best time is ASAP."

All of them flinched to some degree. Croissant opened her mouth, but he waved her to silence and continued.

"If Bison don't want to marry soon, he can wait at least another 10 years. By then you're in your thirties or worse, and he's looking for younger women. He's got all the leverage there, and you've got none. So this is only gonna work if you can make him hot to get married right now."

He waited a moment for that to sink in, and then somehow smiled grimly. "Good news: This is the easy part.

"You're in that sweet spot of still being young but also older than Bison. You've got that 'older sister-figure' or 'upperclassman' appeal. Different blokes have different strokes, but most boys Bison's age lose their minds when older girls like you show them any interest."

The Emperor watched Texas silently relax at this.

Sora saw an opportunity to offer potentially useful information: "I think he had a crush on Mostima."

Exusiai whipped around to stare at her, shocked.

The Emperor nodded his head and then shook his head. "A little 'yes', a lot 'no'. Big difference between wanting to bone someone and wanting to 'be' someone. Bison wanted to prove himself as a transporter who could go anywhere, and Mostima had already been everywhere. He did find her attractive, but trust me, he was thinking 'role-model' more than 'wife-material'."

Exusiai found herself nodding to that, and settled down.

The Emperor pressed on. "Y'all didn't make the same impression on him, but he still does think you're role-models, too.

"Pay attention, because this'll be on the test: The same man can look up to you and want to go down on you, but no man can do both at the same time. A man's got to cage the beast to remain professional.

"That's why sexual interest from an 'older sister' hits boys so hard. They get trapped between deference and desire. Got no idea how to handle it.

"You can totally abuse this. If you two want your boytoy to touch you as little as possible, while you just use him for his money, make sure to keep him stuck in 'deference' for the rest of your lives together. Keep him timid enough and he might never dare try a divorce."

Texas and Sora started protesting, but he raised his flippers and wagged the tips up and down in a calming gesture. He then hopped down from his chair to the floor, and waddled over to the windowed wall overlooking the city. There, he could fully disassociate and pretend he was talking to the air, or perhaps his own reflection.

"If you do want Bison to give you everything he's got, at some point you've got to hand him the reigns and let him take over. Invite the beast out of the cage."

He threw both flippers up in a gesture of surrender, wavering them towards his ears like he was prepared to block out their voices at any moment. "Now, however much either of you want to bang Bison is none of my business. I don't need to know, and I don't wanna know.

"But I'm telling you that if you want the best shot at winning, you had better promise him all of the sex. Keep the promise or not, right now he needs to think that you will give him as much as he wants, in whatever way he wants, whenever he wants it.

"Remember, you need to convince him to rush into this. Overwhelming sex appeal is not only your surest method to do that, it's also exactly what you have to expect your competition to offer.

"And you two cain't think that offering a two-for-one deal will be enough." He waved a flipper at the city outside the windows. "For all we know, there's some gal out there willing to let Bison sleep with any number of other women, as long as she gets to be the first and only wife."

He waited a bit, but heard nothing but chairs creaking.

"Is that it?" Sora asked, unhappily.

====

Chapter 7: To love and to cherish

[azlrse]

Is This Jealousy? (Various FNAF:SB Animatronics x GN Animatronic!Reader hcs)

CW: jealousy themes, possessiveness (not in a yandere way) and so much fluff.

A/N: I've been posting so much CRK fics that I almost forgot that I also write for Security Breach. I hope this my compensation for my FNAF readers out there!

‿︵‿︵ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ・❉・ ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ‿︵‿︵

Glamrock Freddy 🎤

Congrats! You finally established a relationship with the lovable bear and mascot of the Pizzaplex! Now, the relationship was really sweet and this animatronic bear fell for you even deeper when he becomes your boyfriend.

But here's the catch, Freddy wasn't the kind of guy to be overly possessive towards you but becomes sad and extra clingy when he felt this really weird feeling he felt whenever you payed attention more to the children or towards his friends.

Not gonna lie, he loves his friends! Hell, they're the reason why the both of you got together in the first place after months of waiting for the both of you to confess to each other.

For the sake of his friendship and of course for you, he "tries" to suppress this lingering feeling he felt.

Did I mention that he's really clingy whenever he felt jelly? Yupp, he would hug you out of nowhere and gives you so many kisses. He also gives out words that could make your hearts swoon over him. This makes you weird out at first but really loved to be spoiled by him.

But when his feelings of jealousy got the best of him, he tries to avoid you. The feelings of insecurities haunts him, making him think that you might leave him for a better lover.

"Starlight, do you think you could have a better lover than me?"

"Of course not, Freddy love. Is something the matter? You've been avoiding me for days and whenever I tried to talk to you, you just went somewhere else."

Your boyfriend explains that he felt feelings of anxiousness, sadness and a bit of anger when he saw you talking to anyone else other than him. Then, it hits you like a ton of bricks struck above your head.

"I sense that you're jealous, aren't ya sweetheart?"

"Uhhh what's jealous?"

You explained to him this new concept to your boyfriend, even this simple word, Freddy doesn't know what's the meaning of it. Even though he felt this feeling days ago.

After you gave him lots and lots of affection to make up for his soft jealousy, you reassured him that you won't leave nor abandon him. You're finally contented for the animatronic who took care and loved you to bits.

Montgomery Gator 🎸

Unlike Freddy whose already in a relationship with you when his jealousy first showed up, Monty's feelings of jealousy is kinda...... different.

In fact, this animatronic has a huge HUGE crush on you.

Even when he's head over heels for you, he flirts towards you heavily (but not to the point that's quite uncomfortable). He loves seeing your face going red whenever he tells you such endearments like sweetheart and babycakes.

If you flirt back, he would literally pass out in happiness. 😭💕💕

He's quite prideful that he ain't had a crush on anyone else but for you? Man, he can talk about you for hours. From your charisma, to your talents and to your adorable voice he loves to listen.

Jealousy is something he commonly felt towards his rival, Glamrock Freddy. But when it comes to you, ohh man, you better prepare for his presence cause this guy ain't leaving your side.

This alligator of an animatronic would do anything for you to be his. He would call you out by those endearments whenever he sees you around and puts his hand on your waist with a smug expression when the two of you would walk around.

Monty would lightly threaten the security guards or the adult visitors who would send suggestive marks that he would take them to bits if they don't stop those stupid antics.

He didn't know that you also had feelings for him but you were incredibly shy when it comes to confessing to him. Also, you were quite scared. Not knowing that if those actions he did towards you were actually real and he didn't fake it and plays with your feelings.

When his feelings of jealousy got the best of him, he would literally drag you off to somewhere secluded. You tried to talk to him on what's going on but cuts you off by kissing your lips.

"I ain't wasting my time for you to be mine, I can't wait anymore babycakes."

Monty would be so happy when he felt you kissing him back as you placed your hands on his shoulders.

As the both of you pulled away, he hugs you tightly and asks you for you to be his significant other.

"I would love that, Monty dear. And also, I can sense that you were quite jelly there before you confessed to me-"

"I am not!"

‿︵‿︵ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ・❉・ ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ‿︵‿︵

Do not republish, edit, or repost to other websites.

Reblogs and likes are appreciated! 💕

[piko-rose]

Not Again - Act 1 - Incident

OH BOY OH BOY

This is the newest addition to my series of Sonic Movie stories- (Which I'll explain in the future very soon) of events before the sequel and we are starting STRONG with this one.

This is going to be chock full of angst and fluff like you've never seen it before, and yes, this has some trigger warnings.

There is nothing extreme in this story, but there will be some things some readers might find uncomfortable. If it's not your cup of tea, you don't have to read it. But other than that, this is not a violent story, but it is pretty emotional. (I promise you it has a happy ending but we're obviously not there yet)

You would let me know if I'm doing the TWs right.

I'll be releasing new parts of the story once or possibly twice a week. I, of course, cannot promise that, but we'll wait and see. XD

Alright, I think that's all I have to say other than HAPPY READING!

-

THIS SONIC MOVIE FANFIC IS BASED ON AN HEADCANON OF MINE. I WOULD FLIP OUT IF THIS ACTUALLY BECOMES CANON. XD

TW: BLOOD, SLIGHT SWEARING (IN THIS CHAPTER)

"No hero is afraid to stop bad guys from robbing a bakery, not even Sonic. But all heroes must have weaknesses, and that weakness came out of the dark like a bullet. Literally."

The sirens wail from the distance. The sound blares louder as the car speeds to it's destination.

"Wait! Do you hear something?"

"Like what?!"

"...THAT!"

One of the crooks point to the window, showing the sheriff's car driving quickly to the Sweet Dream Bakery Shop. The other robber sighed. "You've got to be kidding me. Quick! Grab all of it a get out of here!"

"YOU! Get back, NOW!" The robber points their weapon at the clerk, who took their orders and slowly backed off. "D-Don't shoot!" She cried. "If you do as I say." The robber's tone was cold and quiet, yet demanding.

"Which one of you pests called the damn sheriff?!" The other robber from the far right called out to the three customers, laying on the floor, barely looking up at the criminal. "WHO DID IT?!"

Jasmine, the owner of the bakery, slowly raised her hand up enough for the shouting criminal to see. "HA! Reeeaal classic." They scoffed. "You REALLY think you can save the day by just simply calling the sheriff?"

"He's not the only one who's gonna stop you troublemakers." Jasmine growled. "WHAT DID YOU SAY, YOU MOTHER-"

Suddenly, the door slammed opened, revealing Wade Whipple. "FREEZE POLICE DON'T MOVE!" All in one sentence, aiming his taser at one of the crooks. One guy near the register rolled his eyes. "Seriously? This doofus? He ain't gonna make us do crap!" He barked. "First of all, that was uncalled for." Wade said, looking slightly offended.

"Alright guys, this is your one and only chance to stop what you're doing right now!" Tom called out through the speakers. "If anybody gets hurt, we're gonna do this the hard way! Got that?!" He demanded.

Wade looks outside to see his buddy, then back at the bandits. "You better do as he says. You'd hate it when he's angry." He whispered to them. "He's usually a pretty chill guy." The criminals looked at each other, thinking about their next move, smiling. "Let's see how angry he can get when he hears: OFFICER DOWN!"

Then they raised their gun at Wade. His eyes widen, but doesn't back off for one second. "Y-Yeah, no, that ain't gonna happen! Don't even THINK about making that happen!" He roared. "You guys have five seconds to leave the building!" The sheriff's voice roared from the megaphone outside.

"We have plenty of time to handle this situation." They chuckled, preparing to pull the trigger, when suddenly…

"SURPRISE!" A quick blue light flashed by the crooks, running all over the place. Everyone in the building try to keep up with the mysterious blur, but is blinded by confusion, including the criminals. "What's wrong, guys? Can't keep up with the Blue Devil??" He called out, running on the walls now.

The guys looked at each other, knowing exactly who is trying to distract them. "Uhhh, Tom?" Wade called out to the sheriff from the building, staring at the crowd of light blue streaks. "Should we do it the hard way now, or…?"

Tom, slowly putting down the megaphone on the hood of the car, watched in awe. "Oh, God…" He sighed.

Sonic, finally coming to a stop on top of a counter, glared at the criminals as lightning spat out of his quills. "YOU!" One of them hissed at the space hog. He crossed his arms. "Sorry for disturbing your mission but no one is gonna steal anything! Not even a single sprinkle! Seriously, who would steal pastry?" He shrugged. "This is the Sweet Dream BAKERY shop, guys! I mean, come on."

"We weren't gonna steal some cakes, gremlin." They snarled at the hedgehog. Sonic, giving them an "heartbroken" expression, placed his hand on his chest. "I feel so offended…" He then gave them a cheeky grin.

"It doesn't matter what you losers are stealing, what really matters is that I'm gonna KICK YOUR BUTTS!" He jumped up in the air, giving one crook a roundhouse kick to the face, knocking him to the ground and dropping their weapon. Jasmine jumped. "Jasmine! Get out of here! All of you, now! Go, go, go!"

Jasmine, including the costumers getting back on their feet, began to run out of the building. "WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DO-?" Sonic rolled up into a ball and zipped straight to their gut. They cried out and fell to the floor, clutching their stomach. "You were saying?" Sonic sarcastically asked.

Sonic then grabbed one of the bar stools and swung them straight to the baddie's face. Wade's jaw dropped, including his weapon. "Whoa…" "Pretty cool, huh?" He beamed, giving him a wink.

"SONIC!" A voice called out from outside, which startled Sonic at first. Tom ran into the building to see one of the crooks lying down on the ground, including a bar stool. His ocean eyes widened scanning the room, making sure there's nothing broken. Then, he glared at the little hedgehog.

"No need to thank me, Tom!" He boasted. "The bakery is now safe thanks to me!" "First of all… HOW…-" Tom raised his voice but took a deep breath before he could fully explode. "…Did you hear about this?" He asked, still giving him the look that should scare the ego out of Sonic.

"You told me to stay at the police department, but when I heard on the radio that there was a robbery-" "That brings me to another thing… Second…" Sonic knew that he's gonna raise his voice once more, big time. His shoulders rise up, and he cringes. "I TOLD YOU STAY THERE BUT YOU DIDN'T!" "I told you!" Wade said to one of the unconscious crooks.

"This is the SECOND time you did this this week, Sonic Wachowski!" Tom continued. "First, the "Dog-Catcher" incident, and now THIS!" Sonic has been going into some criminal scenes lately. Wanting to be the big hero, kicking butt and saving lives.

But he is only a kid. Sonic isn't supposed to be doing this kind of stuff, even if he has such incredible power.

Tom feared this would happen multiple times, he just pray that Sonic will listen to him just this once.

"Tom, relax. I already stopped the bad guys! I stopped the robbery! No one even got hurt!" Sonic said. Wade points at the crook laying on the floor. "What about that guy? They got hurt." "Uh… Because they were robbing the bakery, Wade??" The hedgehog corrected.

"Sonic, it doesn't matter. You shouldn't have gotten into the scene with no warning!" He lectured. "What if you get hurt? Huh?" "Well, I won't get hurt. Because I'm the fastest thing alive." He said.

"What if?"

"I won't."

Tom took a deep breath, calming himself down before he continued. "Sonic, I'm just saying. I worry about you when you do this kind of stuff." His tone was more quiet and soft, but still tense somehow.

Sonic sighed as well, just wanting to get the conversation out of the way and celebrate the victory. "Tom, if I can save the town from Robotnik, then I can save the town from anything." He walked away, out of the building. "You worry too much."

Tom's eyes widened again.

Worry too much? The heck does that mean??

Tom gently held Sonic's shoulder to stop him. "Sonic, it's my job to worry about you. I know you saved this town before but you're just a kid." Sonic quickly turned back to face Tom, looking surprised. "You're too young to be a hero!"

"How long will it take to convince you that I can take care of myself?" Sonic complained. "I just want you to understand that you're putting yourself into dangerous situations." Tom kneel down to Sonic's level. "You can't keep doing this! I have every right to worry about you if you keep this up!"

"You don't have to worry about me!" Sonic said. "Like I said, I'm fast! I can avoid any bullet from miles away."

From behind the counter from back inside, the robber cocked their weapon.

"Plus," He continued, now stern. "I already am a hero, Tom." He exhaled sadly, looking down at the ground. Tom took notice of this. "Let me look after this town. Let me look after you."

Not only does Sonic wanted to protect his home, but he wanted to protect the one person who changed his life forever. He knows he can protect the town and the town has been quite peaceful. Zero bad guys tried to kill him, at least ever since Robotnik was banished to the Mushroom Planet a few months back.

But people are actually trying to mess with this town? Not on Sonic's watch. Especially when it comes to messing with his friend.

His father.

And as much as he looks up at him as one, he can't let anything happen to him. Not even having the chance to actually call him his own father. He refuse to take that risk.

Not after what happened the last time he did something like that.

Tom shows a soft smile on his face. He couldn't stay mad at his little buddy. He knows he wanted to make a difference but he can't spend the rest of his childhood doing something like this. He would at least wait til that moment chose him eventually. "I understand, bud. You always look after me. A lot of people do. But… I want to look after you too. You know that I lov-"

"But I don't want you to look after me..."

Tom nearly pulled away from the hedgehog after hearing that. Sonic looked pained.

They were both hurt from what was spoken.

Sonic, as much as he loves the Donut Lord, can't let him change his role from a sheriff to a father. He wanted him to take care of the town, not just him. If only he found the exact words he was looking for to even explain the reason for it.

But even if he did-

BANG!!

"AAAGGH!!"

This will happen.

"TOM?!" Sonic cried out, witnessing the blood spewing out of Tom's right arm. He was shot near his shoulder.

Tom was shot.

Sonic's emerald eyes widened in horror as he watches Tom cry out in pain, holding onto his bleeding arm tightly. He tried to calm down, trying not to swear in front of the hedgehog. He fell to his knee, feeling lightheaded. "Thomas!" Wade yelled out.

"TOM, NO!!" Sonic, trembling, tried to approach the injured sheriff. "S-S-Sonic-" Tom try to speak, but another loud BANG could be heard from the bakery. Wade was nearly hit as the bullet zipped straight to the floor when he tried to reach for his weapon. The robber from the counter wasn't knocked out fully. They were about to shoot Tom again.

"DON'T DO IT!!!"

The hedgehog screamed as he zoomed to the crook, kicking them in the face, hard. They fell back to the ground but before they could get back up, Sonic pinned them to the wall of the counter. They tried to reach for their gun, but the now lightning powered hedgehog stepped on his hand hard, breaking it. He yelled out in pain. "YOU STUPID RODENT!"

"YOU SHOT TOM!!!" He screamed out once more as he began to punch the criminal in lightning speed non stop. His sharp blue eyes were beginning to form tears, his heart was pounding, his breathing was rapid, but he wouldn't stop going all out on the crook.

He doesn't care if he killed the crook, no one messes with the Donut Lord.

As more police ran in to take care of the robbers, Jasmine and a customer helped Tom up, but he kept tumbling over, going to pass out. "He's bleeding out so much!" A customer cried out. "Somebody call a doctor!!" "Don't worry! I know someone! Give me a sec. Keep an eye on him." Jasmine pulled out her phone as a costumer and a few bystanders helped the sheriff out. "Wh-Where's Sonic…?" He asked weakly.

Wade got back up and ran to the counter to see Sonic beating up the bad guy. "Sonic! Chill out, little guy!" Sonic didn't listen. He refuse to listen. He just kept punching, hoping that the crook will be out like a light.

"Come on! Get away!" Wade, despite the lightning spiraling all over him, grabbed Sonic and pulled him away from the criminal. "No, no, NO, NO, NO!! I WON'T LET HIM GET AWAY WITH THIS!!" He yelled, punching the air trying to reach for the bad guy, who is backing away from the crazed hedgehog.

"Sonic, calm down!" Wade said with concern. "HOW CAN I CALM DOWN WHEN THAT MONSTER HURT MY FRIEND?!?!" He continuously yelled at the top of his lungs, spilling out all the rage and heartbreak to the world. "Just calm down, alright? Tom's gonna be okay." Wade tried to be convincing, walking away with a struggling Blue Devil in his arms. The police ran in and grabbed the beaten up robber and pulled him back up on his feet, cuffing him.

Wade walked outside to try and find Tom. "Tom?! Where are you?!" "WHERE IS HE?!?!" Sonic cried out, trying to break free from Wade's grasp. Then he caught two people carrying Tom near a bench to check up on him. "They'll be here any minute. Just make sure he doesn't pass out." Jasmine said to the group, hanging up on her phone.

Sonic gasped as he saw Tom holding his arm slowly bleeding out. So much blood he thought. This is too much! TOO MUCH! I CAN'T LOSE HIM LIKE THIS! I CAN'T LOSE ANYBODY!

"NOOOOO!!" Sonic finally pushed Wade away and tried to reach out to his hero only for Jasmine and a policeman to hold him where he is. He can only reach out to him from so far. "TOM!! NO!!" Tears were streaming down his muzzle as he sobbed out his name over and over. "I'm sorry!" Jasmine cried. "He needs medication!"

"No, no! Stay awake, buddy!" Wade ran up to Tom in a hurry. There were worry in his eyes as he look at his arm. "W-Wade… Where's…"

"TOOOOOMM!! TOOOOM!!" Someone was calling out his name. He knew the voice. He knew those cries. He tried to stay awake. He really tried. "S-Sonic…" His vision was fading. He can barely make out the panicking hedgehog, who was guarded by two people. "Sonic, calm down!" A woman's voice called, it was Jasmine. "We're going to call Maddie Wachowski. She'll take you home." A policeman said. "NOO!! I'M NOT LEAVING HIM!!" Sonic screamed once more.

"S-Sonic…" Tom took a big deep breath, trying to call out to his hedgehog friend. The little blue spot in his sight was slowly fading away from him. "D-Don't… C-C-Cry…"

All of the colors were turning black. There was no more blue. His voice was disappearing. Everything is disappearing. "I CAN'T LOSE HIM!!" His cries have never felt so quiet, yet so haunting. He feared that this will be the last time he'll ever hear his voice.

"I CAN'T LOSE MY DAD!!!"

Then, everything stopped.

...

...

Beep... Beep... Beep... Beep...

The first sound Tom could hear.

The painful pounding in his head.

The first thing Tom could feel.

A soft, surface with cloth and paper.

The first thing Tom could touch.

"Uuuuuggh… Wh… What happened…?"

The first thing Tom could say.

His tired ocean eyes slowly open up, trying to get used to the blinding sunlight beaming through the curtains. He tried to move his right arm, but the stinging pain from it shot him fully awake. "SON OF A-!" He cut himself off before he can complete his sentence.

He sat up, slowly, looking over his bandaged arm. Then he scanned the room, still getting used to the light. He's in a patient's room.

How long has he been out? What even happened? His head continuously aches, refusing to give him a proper reason as to how he ended up here.

He gasped.

His voice.

TOOOOM!!

"Oh, God… No…" Now he remembered. He remembered clearly.

There was a robbery at Sweet Dream.

Sonic stopped the criminals.

They had a talk.

He was shot.

Sonic was crying.

Sonic was screaming. He never heard him like that before. He lay back down, trying to process the event from last night. He looked over at his arm again, he cringed at the sight of it.

He shuts his eyes tight, trying to forget the horrifying cries from the little hedgehog.

I CAN'T LOSE HIM!! I CAN'T LOSE MY DAD!!!

His dad.

No wonder he wanted to stop the robbery. It doesn't change the fact that a fourteen year old hedgehog beat up some robbers when they would've hurt him the same way they hurt Tom.

He would be mad, but he's not. Now he's worried. Worried sick.

He hope to God that Sonic is doing okay after last night.

Even if knowing what he had been through and how much he means to him, he somehow doubted that.

The door opened, which startled Tom. The nurse entered the room, relieved to see the sheriff alive and well. "Thomas. Hello." She waved. Tom waved back, sighing. "You scared me…" He chuckled weakly. "Terribly sorry." "No. Don't be. You're good." Tom reassured.

"How are you feeling, Thomas?" Nurse Hayley asked, sitting next to him. "Fine, I guess?" Tom lied. "My arm feels like crap, but I think I'm okay. Nothing's wrong, right?" "Well, you didn't receive any injuries that were too severe." The nurse replied. "But your arm does need some extra time to heel."

Ah… Of course… Tom looked away, sighing.

"You'll stay here for a few more hours in case something else happens." "Fine by me, I guess…" Tom said quietly, lost in his own thoughts. "Something troubling you?" The nurse asked. "I'm fine, Nurse Hayley." Once again, he lied. "it's just…"

He couldn't stop thinking about last night. He never heard Sonic so scared and heartbroken in his life. Considering the time of day, a lot of time must've passed when the event happened. "How long have I been in here?" "For about eight hours. It is now morning." She replied.

He was here for the whole night?! Ever since he was knocked out?!

Sonic...!

"Thomas?" Hayley placed her hand on Tom's, startling him again. "Deeply sorry, Tom." "You're fine…!" He took a deep breath. "I've just been thinking about Sonic. I'm worried about him. He hasn't seen me since last night. When I was out…"

"Oh…" Hayley can recall the phone call she had with his wife regarding the events and hoping that Tom will come out alright. That, and that Sonic wouldn't stop talking about what he had witnessed. She could've sworn she heard him say his name over and over again over Maddie trying her best to calm him down while crying.

"Don't worry, Thomas." She finally spoke. "I can assure you that Sonic AND Maddie are doing just fine." Her gentle smile made Tom feel a little better, but he was still a little worried. "I hope so…" He whispered to himself.

A knock could be heard, along with the door sliding open. "Nurse Hayley?" Doctor James walked in the room facing Hayley. "Yes, James?" She got back up on her feet. James looked over to see Tom is awake, then back at Hayley. "We have some visitors. They're here to see you, Tom."

Visitors?! Tom knew exactly who is visiting him.

"I'll leave you be. I can tell they wanted to speak with you." Hayley left the room along with James. The moment that happened, Tom inhaled deeply.

Here we go...

And exhaled. Then, Maddie entered the room. Her eyes lightened up seeing her husband awake. Alive. Tom smiled. "Hey, hon." He said "cheerfully."

"Tom…" Maddie walked over to him and hugged him tightly, beginning to cry. "Ohh, baby… I'm okay… It's okay…" Tom hugged her back, stroking her back. He kissed her on the cheek multiple times. "It's alright…" He whispered to her.

Eventually, they let each other go. Maddie sat down on the chair next to him, holding his hand. She wiped the tears off her eyes. "You feeling okay…?" She sniffled. "I'm fine, Maddie." He chuckled. "Just an bruised arm. No big deal. Though I have to stay here for a couple of hours just in case." Maddie understood. "Then… I'll be back home in no time." Tom smiled, gazing into Maddie's eyes.

"Good."

Tom and Maddie looked over to see a certain blue hedgehog standing in the doorway between the halls and the patient's room. His eyes were restless and bloodshot, and his fur was all ruffled up. His voice even sounded emotionless almost. Tom was surprised to see his little friend like this. Maddie sighed. "Sweetie. He's okay. You can come in."

Sonic took his time to walk towards Tom. When he gotten closer to see, he can see his arm bandaged up. He squeezed his eyes shut, wanting to forget that moment. "Hey. I'm okay. Don't worry about it." Tom knows fully well that what he said didn't make Sonic feel better. He knew that Sonic had a rough night, crying and worrying about him the whole time. He can tell in those tearful emerald green eyes.

The young hedgehog let out a long, exhausted sigh. He looked up at Tom's obviously fake smile. Look at him. Take a long look at him. His own thoughts barked at him. You got him hurt all because you wanna make a difference. You should've let him handle the situation all by himself, but no! You only came in and made everything worse! You could've killed your own father, you jackass!!

That last word made him shut his eyes tight again and he looked away from the sheriff. "Baby?" Maddie looked over to see him. "Buddy? You alright?" Tom asked, placing his hand around Sonic's arm. He gasped quietly, taking notice of the sheriff's gentle grasp.

Sonic looked up at Tom again. If you don't want to lose your hero, than make sure you won't let that happen again! You lost Longclaw, you're not gonna lose Tom! You got that, slowpoke??

"I'm so glad you're okay…" He finally spoke quietly, showing off a fake smile. "I thought I'll never see you again…" Sonic climbed on top of the bed and hugged him tightly, trying not to cry. "It's alright, buddy… I'm here now… I'm not going anywhere…" Sonic slowly closed his eyes, feeling relieved to finally be embraced by his father.

No. His friend. His best friend.

I'll make sure of it. He hugged him more tightly. He'll make sure that from now on his favorite person in the whole wide world is not going anywhere.

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To be continued...

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Thank you so much for reading! There will be more parts of this story to come. Sorry if this story broke your heart so far-

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