#It was utterly confusing and a bit dull

[idkyetxoxo]

Cregan Stark - By Choice or Chance

Summary - Weary of courtly schemes she entrusts her brother Jace to choose her suitor—only to be blindsided when he selects his closest friend. Chaos and wit ensue as she wrestles with frustration, family bonds, and an undeniable spark. A reluctant union begins to feel like destiny.

Pairing - Cregan Stark x Velaryon reader

Warnings - None

Word count -2339

Masterlist for Cregan • House of the Dragon General Masterlist.

"I am so utterly tired of this," I groaned, my voice heavy with exhaustion as I walked alongside Jace. 

His hearty laugh echoed through the corridor, clearly finding amusement in my predicament, a cruel sort of merriment that only an older brother could revel in.

"Mother knows better than anyone how loathsome it was for her to parade around the realm in search of a husband. So why, in all the Seven Hells, must I suffer the same fate?" I grumbled, tugging at Jace's arm with a mixture of desperation and annoyance. 

His grin only widened, mischief dancing in his eyes.

"You know that's not why she's making you do this," Jace replied, effortlessly guiding me toward the grand hall, where I knew far too many eager, power-hungry men awaited like vultures scenting blood.

 "She simply wants a show—appearances, nothing more. You could refuse every single one of them, twice over, and she'd still be amused."

"I do not wish to endure this farce anymore," I muttered, forcing a practised, empty smile to settle upon my face as we crossed the threshold. 

The buzz of voices hushed as our presence commanded the room, countless lords straightening, eyes alight with thinly veiled ambition.

Jace cast a sideways glance at me, a flicker of sincerity breaking through his usual playfulness.

"What would you have me do?" he asked, his tone turning uncharacteristically grave. I bit my lip, closing my eyes against the cacophony of noise, my heart pounding with an odd mix of frustration and resignation.

"Choose for me," I whispered, the words a surrender as I nodded, the weight of my decision pressing down on me. Jace stared at me, stunned.

"You would want me to—" he began, disbelief colouring his words. I reached for his hand, pulling him down beside me before he could say more. 

"Do not jest, and do not mock. I trust you, Jace. You are my older brother. Choose someone worthy—someone kind and honourable. No one cruel, no one who would shatter what little peace I hold," I said, my voice low but firm. 

My plea was raw and earnest, and I saw something shift in his eyes—a hint of moisture he quickly blinked away.

His gaze softened, and I rolled my eyes to break the tension, pinching his thigh hard enough to make him yelp. 

"I trust you," I repeated, a ghost of a smile touching my lips. "Pick someone you would trust to be kind."

He studied me for a moment longer, then exhaled, a hint of nervousness betraying him as he turned his attention to the gathering crowd. 

Ser Erryk had begun to announce the lords, each name a dull drumbeat in my ears. But then Jace leaned closer, his voice barely audible. 

"Cregan Stark," he whispered.

I blinked, confusion clouding my features. "What?"

He nodded toward the entrance, where a tall, imposing figure with a warm smile strode purposefully into the hall. Lord Cregan Stark. 

My heart stuttered as I recognized him—Warden of the North, my brother's friend. His smile grew as he greeted Jace with a strong embrace.

"I have chosen Lord Cregan Stark," Jace declared suddenly, standing and turning to the crowd. His voice rang with an authority that left no room for argument.

"My prince?" Cregan asked, stepping back and glancing at me with a mixture of surprise and cautious formality.

"Princess," he greeted, bowing slightly as I rose, fighting to keep my composure amidst the whirlwind.

"Jace, are you certain?" I asked, my voice low but urgent. "Do not simply choose a companion because he is familiar. Think this through," I implored. Jace's lips curved in a soft, genuine smile.

"He is kind. He is honourable. Above all, I trust him," Jace said, placing a reassuring hand on Cregan's shoulder, though the poor man's expression remained one of utter bewilderment.

"My lords," Jace announced, addressing the room. "The princess has made her choice."

"She has?" I whispered, incredulous, eyes darting between my brother and Cregan. The assembled nobles erupted into disgruntled murmurs, their dissatisfaction palpable. 

Cregan's wide eyes met mine, his bewilderment almost comical.

"Jace, he hasn't even agreed!" I hissed through clenched teeth.

Jace turned to Cregan, feigning surprise at the oversight. "Ah, right. Lord Stark, would you accept the hand of my sister?"

I groaned inwardly, smacking Jace's arm with more force than was strictly necessary. "I was a fool to leave this in your hands," I muttered, my voice thick with regret.

Cregan cleared his throat, his deep voice calm despite the chaos. "My prince, I would be honoured, but—"

"Excellent!" Jace interrupted, beaming like a child who'd just gotten away with mischief.

"My deepest apologies, Lord Stark," I rushed to say, stepping forward. "We have thrust you into an impossible situation. My brother is a reckless fool, and I assure you, this can be undone. You owe me nothing."

Cregan opened his mouth as if to respond, then closed it, seemingly at a loss for words. His eyes flickered with a mixture of confusion and faint amusement, but he remained silent. 

I turned my gaze toward the dispersing crowd of disgruntled lords and courtiers, who murmured their discontent as they made their way out. 

My eyes snapped back to Jace, and I felt a surge of hot anger rising in my chest.

"You," I spat, each word dripping with exasperation, "are an idiot, a fool, and most importantly, soon-to-be-dead." I punctuated each insult with a slap to his arm, which he only half-heartedly tried to dodge. 

Jace's expression was a mix of sheepishness and a smirk that betrayed far too much enjoyment of my ire.

"Princess, truly—" Cregan began, his deep voice calm and measured, but I cut him off with a wave of my hand.

"My lord, I insist," I said, my tone urgent but polite. "Please, attend to whatever matters have brought you so far south. I will see that this... misunderstanding is corrected." I shot Jace a furious glare and shoved him aside. 

"Go on," I added, more to myself than anyone else, already plotting how I might fix this mess.

As I strode purposefully toward Ser Erryk, my blood still boiling, I extended my hand with a commanding air. 

"Ser Erryk, your sword. For just a moment," I demanded, my voice firm. 

The knight hesitated, glancing between me and Jace, whose eyes had widened in genuine alarm as he rapidly shook his head.

"Princess, perhaps it would be wise to reconsider—" Ser Erryk began cautiously, his hand not moving from the hilt of his sword. The edge of his voice suggested he'd rather face a dragon than step into the sibling quarrel unfolding before him.

I let out a groan of frustration, turning back to Jace, who had the audacity to grin, albeit nervously. I pointed an accusing finger at him, my voice sharp.

"You will listen to whatever Lord Stark has to say. You will grant whatever request he makes. Then, and only then, will you come find me—so I can kill you myself," I declared, each word laced with the promise of retribution.

Jace's grin faltered slightly, and he swallowed, but a trace of his usual bravado remained. 

"Understood, sister," he replied, a hint of humour still lingering despite the severity of the situation.

Jace had always been both my greatest tormentor and my fiercest protector. 

His ability to infuriate me in one moment and remind me of his steadfast loyalty in the next was a skill honed over years of sibling rivalry. 

Yet now, as his antics threatened to reshape my entire future, I couldn't decide whether I wanted to strangle him or thank him.

Spinning on my heel, I stormed out of the hall, the thud of the great doors closing behind me echoing like a drumbeat. 

My footsteps reverberated down the stone corridors as I sought a moment of solitude—a moment to cool the fire raging within me.

─── ✦⋅♡⋅✦ ───

Dinner that evening was a grand affair. The great hall was bathed in the warm glow of flickering candlelight, casting long shadows on the stone walls. 

The scent of roasted meats, spiced wine, and freshly baked bread filled the air, mingling with the low hum of conversation.

 I entered with a mix of trepidation and resignation. 

The events of the day still burned vividly in my mind, and I could already sense the watchful eyes of courtiers waiting for any sign of discord or scandal.

I moved to my usual seat at the long table, and as I did, Jace approached, a mischievous smile playing at his lips. 

For a brief moment, it seemed he might take the seat beside me, but at the last second, he hesitated. His eyes met mine with a flicker of guilt—or was it amusement?—before he strode deliberately to the far end of the table, placing as much distance between us as possible. 

I rolled my eyes, feeling a pang of annoyance and, perhaps, a twinge of disappointment. I steeled myself for another night of tense silence and forced pleasantries.

Just then, a shadow fell across my seat. I looked up, surprised to see none other than Cregan Stark standing there.

 His presence seemed to command the attention of the entire room. Tall, broad-shouldered, and with a bearing that spoke of quiet strength, he inclined his head respectfully.

 "May I join you, Princess?" he asked, his voice low and rumbling.

I blinked, momentarily at a loss for words. Heat crept up my neck, and I hoped the dim light would mask the blush that rose to my cheeks. 

"Of course, my lord," I replied, perhaps a touch too quickly. 

He took the seat beside me, and I was keenly aware of his nearness—the brush of his arm as he settled himself, the faint scent of northern pine that clung to him.

Across the table, my mother, Rhaenyra, regarded us with a knowing smile. "Well done, my love," she said, lifting her goblet in a subtle toast. "An excellent choice for a husband."

I nearly choked on my wine. "No, Mother," I protested, setting the goblet down with more force than necessary. "This was not my doing. Jace was being impulsive and foolish, as he so often is."

Rhaenyra arched a regal brow, amusement sparkling in her eyes. 

"Is that so?" she asked, her tone almost playful. "Well, it seems Lord Stark disagrees."

I turned sharply to Cregan, who met my gaze steadily. There was no trace of discomfort in his expression; instead, he looked resolute, even gentle. 

"If you will have me, Princess," he said, his voice warm and sincere, "I would be truly honoured."

My heart skipped a beat. Time seemed to slow, and for a moment, all the sounds of the great hall—the laughter, the clinking of plates, the rustling of fine garments—faded into the background.

 I glanced at Jace, who was watching from across the room with a smug, self-satisfied grin.

 I shot him a glare, but it held no real malice. His plan, reckless as it had been, seemed to have worked better than even he could have anticipated.

I turned back to Cregan, searching his eyes for any hint of hesitation, any sign that this was a mere formality. But there was none. 

"Of course," I blurted, my voice a mix of nerves and excitement. "Of course, I will have you."

His smile was genuine and relieved. We began to speak then, softly at first, exchanging pleasantries and stories. 

We spoke of Winterfell, of his travels, of the Northern customs that differed so much from those of the South. He asked me of my own life, and for once, I found myself speaking freely, without the need to measure every word.

 His interest was genuine, and his laughter, deep and rich, filled the spaces between courses.

Throughout the meal, our conversation flowed effortlessly, punctuated by shared glances and moments of unspoken understanding. 

It was as if the rest of the hall melted away, and we were the only two people in the room. 

I caught Jace's eye once or twice, and he raised his goblet in a silent toast, a look of smug triumph on his face. 

I would have thrown something at him if I weren't so... happy.

As the evening wore on, I realized that this was the best possible outcome—an arrangement born of chaos and impulse that somehow, against all odds, felt right.

By the end of the dinner, my earlier frustration had all but disappeared, replaced by something far more promising.

As the last of the courses was cleared away, Cregan turned to me, his expression shifting from lighthearted to something more serious, more vulnerable. He leaned closer, and I felt the air between us grow heavy with anticipation. 

"I truly did not anticipate this, Princess," he whispered, his voice low and intimate, meant for my ears alone. 

His words carried a hint of wonder, as if he too marveled at the unexpected turn of fate that had brought us here.

A flutter of nerves stirred in my chest, and I couldn't bring myself to meet his gaze. 

Instead, I focused on the way his thumb traced a slow, careful path over his goblet as if searching for the right words. 

Hesitantly, as though testing the waters, he reached for my hand. His fingers brushed against mine, warm and reassuring, and then settled over them. 

The touch was gentle, almost tentative, as if he feared I might pull away.

"But I am ever so pleased," he said, his voice a soft rumble that sent a shiver down my spine. 

His eyes searched mine, and there was no mistaking the sincerity in his gaze—the promise of respect, kindness, and something that could become more.

My breath caught, and I found myself squeezing his hand in return, a silent answer to the unspoken question that lingered between us.

 "As am I," I whispered, the words barely audible, but the truth of them resonated within me. 

In that moment, beneath the flickering candlelight and the watchful eyes of our kin, the tension melted away, replaced by something softer, something I dared to hope could last.

 Perhaps Jace's reckless gamble had been worth it after all.

A/n - Everybody say thank you older brother Jace, this was so fun to write asw was lowkey giggling whilst typing away (lowkey got me out of a writing slump) 😝

Cregan tag list - @veesuguru

[fleurfiles]

AHHHH UR WORKS ARE SO GOODDD!!! can I request a part 2 of rival!cait where reader gets hurt on a mission and cait just then realizes that she actually loves reader and starts being sort of nice towards reader and their hookups start being vanilla and eventually reader comforts cait and they get together!!!

PT. 2 WITH RIVAL!CAITLYN

contents. caitlyn kiramman 𝑥 fem!reader. smut and fluff. oral (r receiving). lots of cute love dovey shit. love confession.

masterlist ‧₊˚ taglist

gabi’s quick thoughts. sorry this took so long but here you go!! here's the first snippet for those who didn't see it :)

the silence in the infirmary is louder than anything you’ve ever heard on the field.

you blink what feels like eons of sleep out of your eyes, your vision a bit blurred due to injuries. there’s a dull ache that spreads through each and every rib in your body, encompassing pain building up in your entire chest area. 

instinctively, you grab your chest and heave out, eyes scanning the room around you. there’s an aura of saline and cleaning supplies that’s thick in the air, paired with the sounds of beeping and blinding med-grade lights. 

there’s a figure that’s sitting at your bedside and you blink hard— twice— and your whole face softens when you see her. 

“c-caitlyn?” you rasp out and she immediately perks up, her perfect posture somehow straightening out even more, and you’re too tired and lightheaded to offer a slick one-liner like you usually would. 

“you’re awake.” she remarks, her breath full of relief and her eyes gleaming with something foreign. she’s not in her usual attire— instead, a dark blue robe with a lacy bra underneath. you’ve never seen her this vulnerable— hair all mussled against her scalp, her uniform discarded to God knows where, her iridescent eyes reverent and almost…scared. albeit, it’s alluring. 

you wait to respond to her statement. the way she’s looking at you, hard and longing, you’re sure that she’s got something else she wants to say. she folds her hands over her own lap, sighing out, her eyes drifting to the floor like she’s burdened with guilt. 

“it should’ve been me,” caitlyn strains, “i was too slow… it’s all my fault.”

your head tilts in confusion, though she doesn’t see you do it. “what happened?” you inquire gently, and she runs a trembling hand through her hair, reluctant to answer. whatever took place hours prior was clearly enough to make her feel like she had failed you.

there’s something different about her. you knew she wasn’t that careless to leave you injured and alone in your bed, but the way she’s speaking to you, her whole demeanor— it wasn’t the usual her. no, this was a completely and utterly different caitlyn kiramman that you were speaking to. 

she folds her arms above her chest, “you took a pretty bad blow. it all happened so fast, and i— it was supposed to be me.” she repeats, “but you…you jumped in front of me. it was bloody brave of you, might i say.”

she tries to give a light-hearted chuckle at the end, but it’s short-lived. her chin drops in embarrassment, out of shame, and it speaks to you like a nonverbal apology. you reach your hand out to touch hers, “i’m glad that you weren’t the one that was hurt.” 

her head raises, slowly, and she looks at you like she never has before. her whole face is so much lighter, and not to be mistaken with pale— her eyes are full and bright, her features literally softening when she looks at you. 

something is way off of its axis. the both of you are usually either at each other's necks or in between each other’s legs, no in between. but there was a greyer area now, something that was much more tender, and the quick difference made you have whiplash. 

but you’re too exhausted to comment on it, so you sink into the cushions of the infirmary bed and allow sleep to overtake you, the last thing your ears hearing is that caitlyn will always take care of you, and you aren’t sure if you’re just imagining it, but you surely hope not. 

it’s been two weeks since you and caitlyn’s mission, and nonetheless, things had began to grow even more weirder than before. 

when you were allowed to return home, she helped you round up all of your belongings and move them back to your place. instead of bickering the whole time, caitlyn was nothing but gentle with you, almost to the point that it made you feel like she saw you like a child. but you knew it was out of kindness, which is something that she hadn’t really ever shown you, and you basked in the moment as long as you could. 

only two days after you were allowed to be left alone, you were woken up by the ringing of your doorbell. worn and slightly sore, you peeled off your covers and padded to your front door, pulling it open and being met with a bouquet of flowers and a card. with a mere wince, you bent down and grabbed them, closing the door back and plopping onto your couch. 

the flowers were beautiful. an assortment of greens, blues, and pinks were woven together to create an elegant yet unique number, and the card likewise. it was hand-painted, and had a stick figure of you smiling on the cover, which made you laugh. 

you opened it, and your heart immediately melted when your eyes scanned over the neat, cursive lettering.

dear y/n,

i do truly hope you’re feeling better by now— though i suspect you’re still too stubborn to rest properly. you always were annoyingly persistent, even when bleeding.

the latest missions have been far too quiet without your sarcasm echoing through them. ridiculous, i know, considering how much i’ve claimed to hate your voice. (i don’t.)

i won’t pretend this whole ordeal hasn’t rattled me more than i care to admit. seeing you like that, on the ground, in pain— it made something feel off in me, something i haven’t quite managed to ignore since.

i suppose what i’m trying to say, in my tragically roundabout way, is that i care. more than i meant to. more than i should, maybe. and if that frightens you, know that it terrifies me too.

if you’re up for company (or just need someone to shout at), i’ll be by the precinct— or outside your door, depending on how brave i’m feeling today.

take care of yourself. please.

— caitlyn

if the recent interactions that you’ve had with her didn’t make you confused, this definitely did. it felt like she was admitting something in her letter, though you weren’t fully understanding the intended context. you still appreciated the gesture, and made sure to thank her whenever you saw her next. 

day after day, more spontaneous gifts would land on your doorstep, from treats to more bouquets, and even an entire self-care basket full of all your favorite things. though you appreciated the gestures from the bottom of your heart, earnestly, the only thing that you really wanted was caitlyn herself. 

in present time, you had just finished eating when the doorbell rang, and you were expecting to be met with another round of gifts, or something likewise. however, when you unlocked and opened the door, you were met with the kiramman girl herself, a little wet-eyed, but she cracked a half smile. 

“hi.” she spoke softly, “can i come in?”

you blinked at her for a moment, hand still on the doorknob.

caitlyn was never one to look unsure of herself, never one to show emotion so plainly on her face, but now, her eyes were glassy, her usually perfect posture a little slouched. and still, there was that small, almost nervous smile on her lips.

“yeah,” you breathed, stepping aside to make room, “of course you can.”

she walked in slowly, like she wasn’t sure if you’d change your mind, and she was hoping that you wouldn’t. you closed the door behind her, watching as she stood in the middle of your living room, hands clasped in front of her like she wasn’t sure what to do with them.

“didn’t bring flowers this time?” you joked gently, and it made her chuckle— just a soft, genuine sound you rarely got from her, so you appreciated it.

“i thought I’d try showing up instead of hiding behind deliveries,” she said, “though i wasn’t sure if i’d be welcomed.”

you moved toward her slowly, “caitlyn…you always are. i didn’t want the gifts. i wanted… to see you.”

caitlyn looked at you for a long moment, blue eyes searching, and then she looked at the floor, shameful. “i’ve been awful to you.”

“we were awful to each other,” you admitted, “but even then, it was never hate. not really. at least…that’s now what i think.”

caitlyn stepped closer, her eyes still glued to the ground, “i think i told myself it was easier to dislike you than to admit how drawn i was. you infuriated me. and i still thought about you every night.”

“me too,” you whispered, your voice earnest, “even when i wanted to punch you, i still thought about you. yet i treated you like shit.”

she smiled again— tired, almost a little sad— and lifted a hand to your cheek, brushing her thumb gently beneath your eye, “you really scared me,” she said, voice cracking just a little, “when you got hurt… i thought i’d lose you before i ever got to tell you that…”

your hand came up to cover hers, holding it against your cheek, “tell me what?”

a beat passed before she leaned in slowly, and kissed you— soft and easy, like she was making up for every argument, every bicker, every eye roll and frustrated groan that she directed towards you. your hands found her waist, tugging her gently closer, and for the first time, neither of you were trying to win anything.

it was solely just to feel.

you led her to the couch, where she curled into you like she belonged there all along. her fingers traced lazy patterns over your arm as you kissed again— deeper this time, but it was never rushed. caitlyn’s body warmed yours as she leaned over you, kissing along your neck, your jaw, your shoulder, as if she couldn’t get enough of you now that she’d finally let herself have you.

“let me take care of you,” she murmured against your skin, voice thick, “properly this time.”

and you nodded, breathless, “okay.”

caitlyn’s hands roam all along your body, yet her touch is still gentle, careful not to cause any pain from any injuries that may still be healing. your hands find either side of her face as her lips press onto your own, soft and loving, and your cheeks burn at the contrast that you’ve known all along. her usual harshness faded completely, turning into something more honest and vulnerable.

cait’s hands travel down your shoulders to the curve of your breasts, to your stomach, and to your waistband, where her fingers curl and pull down your sleep shorts with a swift movement. you shiver at the sudden cool air, but sigh when her warm hands squeeze your thighs.

“i’m so sorry,” caitlyn whines– literally whines into you, her lips still eagerly latched onto yours, “for treating you so badly."

you don’t respond, because her statement seems rhetorical. she knows you forgive her.

her fingers dip into the waistband of your panties, pulling them down to your ankles as she finally breaks the kiss, letting out a whimper like it pains her to do so. you let out a sigh as you watch caitlyn move down to where her head is resting on your thighs, a half-smile etched onto her face, “what do you need from me?”

“i don’t care,” you heave out, “just…just touch me, please.”

caitlyn’s quick to adhere to your request. you spread your legs before she can even ask you to, and her eyes are drawn to your sopping pussy, and they soften at the sight. she brings her fingers up and works them into you gently, curling them just the way you like, and she chuckles at how easily she can work you up. she coaxes her digits in and out of you just right, slow and intimately, her lips falling to kiss and suckle at your clit.

you let out a light moan, caitlyn’s name passing through your lips as you bask in pleasure, eyes fluttering closed and head thrown back. she’s so careful with you, and you can tell that every move she makes is purely out of adoration for you, something way more loving. her fingers gently graze against your sweet spot, her tongue circling around your clit a little harsher now, but nothing like usual. it’s tender.

you’re so sensitive it’s sickening, and caitlyn can tell by the way your hips are bucking into her, the way your hands are finding a fistful of her hair, the way your moans only grow louder as time goes on. she looks up at you with soft blue eyes, “you’re so pretty, darling. i just want to make you feel good.”

you can hardly get any words out, “c-cait, mmph– fuck, i’m…i’m close, please, don’t stop.”

usually, whenever you and caitlyn would have your little hookups, she’d either stop when you were close, or just completely snap you in half until you were lightheaded and worn out. but now, her movements only speed up ever so slightly, and she’s peppering little kisses all on your thighs, your stomach, anywhere she can get without ruining her technique. you feel your body grow tired as you lean back into the cushions, that familiar wave of pleasure washing over you as you cum around caitlyn’s fingers. she coos sweet nothings into your skin, helping you ride out your high before you back away out of sensitivity. she pulls her digits out of you and licks them clean like it’s nothing, and then she looks up at you with gentle eyes, “was that…okay?”

“yes,” you heave, smiling, “yeah. more than okay. c’mere.”

she obliges, grabbing one of the blankets resting on the back of the couch, unfolding it before coming up to lay on your chest, wrapping it around the both of you. your hand comes up to stroke her hair, gently, and caitlyn sighs, “y/n?”

“yes?” you hum.

“i have to tell you something,” she speaks honestly, “but i don’t want it to scare you.”

you nod, and there's an interlude of silence before caitlyn sighs into your chest, “i’m…in love with you.”

you feel your heart soften. the way she says it, quiet and shy, it’s not like anything you’ve ever seen from her before. she’s so vulnerable, laying on your chest, hair a little messy– it’s the first time you’ve ever seen her like this, and you’re not complaining at all.

“cait?”

“yeah?”

“i love you, too. i’m in love with you.”

she reaches for your hand and you let her take it, and she turns to where she’s still laying on your chest, but you’re face to face, your noses touching as the both of you smile at each other for just a moment.

“i want you to be my girlfriend,” caitlyn whispers, “is that…okay?”

“of course it is.” you grin, and pull caitlyn further into your arms, fingers running through her hair gently as the both of you succumb to the pull of sleep, hands intertwined and foreheads resting against one another’s.

₊⊹ taglist: @drunkinyourbenz

[vanteguccir]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤPERIOD DISTURB * SPENCER REID

SUMMARY　::　Where Y/N's cramps decide to appear during the night, forcing her to go to the pharmacy to buy medicine; or not, that's Spencer's duty.

FEATURING　Spencer Reid x reader　　REQUESTED?　no.

WARNINGS　::　Period cramps, extremely fluff.

AUTHOR'S NOTE　::　that is my work, I DON'T authorize any form of plagiarism; copy, "inspiration" or translation! | english isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

The room was quiet and dark, bathed in the soft, silver light of the moon filtering through the curtains. Y/N lay in bed, cocooned under the covers, her body curled in on itself as a dull, persistent pain radiated through her abdomen. Her breathing was shallow, each exhale a quiet, measured release that belied the turmoil of discomfort brewing inside her.

Spencer's arm was draped protectively over her, his body warm and solid against her back, his slow, rhythmic breathing, the only sound in the room. Despite his reassuring presence, Y/N couldn't shake the pain that twisted her insides like a vise, each cramp rolling over her in relentless waves.

She shifted slightly, trying to find a position that would offer some relief, but the movement only seemed to intensify the discomfort. Y/N bit down on her lower lip, stifling a groan that threatened to slip past. The last thing she wanted was to wake Spencer. He had only returned home a few hours ago, exhausted from a grueling case that had kept him away for days. He needed the rest, and she couldn't bear the thought of disturbing his well-deserved sleep.

She glanced over her shoulder, her eyes softening as they landed on his peaceful, sleeping form. His face was relaxed, free of the lines of worry and stress that so often creased his brow. His hair was tousled, his lips slightly parted, and he looked so serene, so utterly at peace, that Y/N felt a pang of guilt for even considering waking him.

Carefully, she began to extricate herself from his embrace, inch by inch, her movements slow and deliberate. She held her breath, pausing each time Spencer stirred slightly, her eyes fixed on his face, waiting for any sign that he was waking up. When his breathing remained steady, she continued, finally slipping free from the warmth of his body.

The room was cooler outside the cocoon of blankets, and a shiver ran through her as her feet touched the cold floor. Y/N pressed a hand to her abdomen, wincing at the sharp twinge of pain that followed. She needed to get to the pharmacy to pick up some painkillers that would help dull the ache enough for her to get some rest.

She moved quietly across the room, gathering a pair of sweatpants and an old sweater from Spencer from their shared closet. Her fingers trembled slightly as she pulled the sweater over her head, the fabric catching on her hair. She grimaced, tugging it down and slipping her feet into her sneakers, each movement sending a jolt of pain through her abdomen.

Y/N made her way to the door, pausing to glance back at Spencer, still asleep, his chest rising and falling in a slow, even rhythm. She felt a pang of affection mixed with guilt, knowing she should have taken care of this sooner, knowing that she should have restocked her medicine cabinet days ago. But life had been busy, and she had been distracted. Now, she was paying the price.

Just as her hand reached for the doorknob, Spencer’s voice, thick with sleep, cut through the silence like a knife.

"Y/N?" He mumbled, his voice groggy and confused. "Where are you going?"

Y/N froze, her heart skipping a beat. She turned to find Spencer propping himself up on one elbow, his eyes still heavy with sleep, blinking at her in the dim light. His brow was furrowed, concern already etching lines into his features as he tried to make sense of what he was seeing.

"Hi baby... I'm sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you." She said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "I’m just going to run to the pharmacy real quick. I’ll be back before you know it."

Spencer’s puppy eyes widened slightly, the fog of sleep clearing as worry took its place.

"The pharmacy?" He repeated, his voice hoarse. "What’s going on? Why do you need to go to the pharmacy at this hour?"

Y/N hesitated, biting her lip. She hated making him worry and hated seeing the lines of concern deepen on his face. But she also knew there was no use in hiding the truth. Spencer was too perceptive for that.

"I’m having really bad cramps." She admitted, her voice laced with a hint of the pain she was trying to suppress. "I ran out of painkillers, and I just need to get some so I can sleep."

Spencer’s expression shifted immediately, his concern morphing into something more protective, more determined. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, pushing himself upright.

"What? Honey, you’re not going anywhere." He said firmly, his voice still thick with sleep but gaining strength. He stood up, his tall frame looming over her, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Not in this pain, and not in the middle of the night. You should be lying down, resting, not wandering around, looking for medicine."

Y/N blinked at him, momentarily taken aback by the force of his response.

"Spencer, it’s really okay." She began, trying to sound reassuring. "I can handle it. I didn’t want to wake you because you need your rest. I’ll just go quickly and-"

"No." Spencer interrupted, his tone brooking no argument. He crossed the room in a few strides, his hands coming to rest gently on her shoulders, guiding her away from the door. "You shouldn’t have to handle this alone, and you definitely shouldn’t be out there at this time of night, especially when you’re in pain." His hands slid up to cup her face, his thumbs brushing lightly over her cheeks. "I’m going to go get what you need, okay? You stay here and rest."

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes searching his face. She could see the sincerity in his eyes, the concern that softened his features, the gentle resolve that made her heart ache with love.

"Spence, I don’t want to be a burden." She said quietly, her voice wavering. "You’ve been working so hard, and I just didn’t want to trouble you."

Spencer’s expression softened even more, a small, affectionate smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"You could never be a burden, love." He said softly, leaning down to press a tender kiss to her forehead. "Taking care of you isn’t trouble. It’s what I want to do. Please, let me do this for you."

Tears pricked at the corners of Y/N’s eyes, the warmth of his words seeping into her and mixing with her period emotions, soothing more than just the physical pain. She nodded slowly, unable to find the words to express what she was feeling. Spencer’s smile widened, relief washing over his features. He pressed another kiss to her forehead, lingering there for a moment before pulling back.

"Okay." He said, his voice gentle. "Here’s what we’re going to do. You’re going to lie back down, and I’m going to heat up your hot water bottle. Then I’ll run to the pharmacy, and when I get back, I’ll make you some tea. Deal?"

Y/N couldn’t help the small, grateful smile that spread across her face.

"Deal." She agreed softly. She allowed Spencer to guide her back to the bed, his hands gentle but firm as he helped her settle under the covers.

He moved to the closet, pulling out the hot water bottle they kept for days like this, his movements efficient and practiced. As he moved, Y/N watched him, her heart swelling with love and gratitude. Even in the early hours of the morning, groggy with sleep, he was focused, his only concern making sure she was comfortable.

When he returned from the kitchen, he carefully placed the bottle over her abdomen, the soothing heat immediately offering some relief. Y/N sighed softly, closing her eyes as the warmth seeped into her muscles, easing the tension that had been building for hours.

Spencer sat on the edge of the bed, his hand resting lightly on the warmth provived, his eyes studying her face for any signs of discomfort.

"Better?" He asked quietly, his voice gentle.

Y/N nodded, her eyes fluttering open to meet his.

"Much better." She murmured, reaching out to take his hand. "Thank you, Spence."

Spencer smiled, his thumb brushing over her knuckles.

"Don’t thank me yet." He said softly. "I’ll be back in a bit. Just rest, okay?" He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her plump lips, lingering for a moment before pulling away.

Y/N watched as he slipped on his shoes, grabbed his keys, and headed for the bedroom door, casting one last glance at her before he disappeared into the hallway.

As the door clicked shut behind him, Y/N lay back against the pillows, a sense of calm washing over her. The pain was still there, a dull ache beneath the warmth of the bottle, but Spencer’s presence, his care, had made it more bearable. She closed her eyes, allowing herself to relax, knowing that he would be back soon.

It wasn’t long before the door creaked open, and Y/N’s eyes fluttered open to see Spencer stepping back into the room, a small bag in his hand. He moved quietly, not wanting to disturb the peace, his eyes softening as they met hers.

"Hi, sweetheart. I’m back." He whispered, his voice a soothing balm. He set the bag on the nightstand, pulling out a bottle of painkillers and a bottle of water.

Spencer moved with the gentle precision of someone who knew every corner of the room, even in the dim light. He popped open the bottle of painkillers and shook two tablets into his hand. His gaze never left Y/N's face, his eyes filled with concern and care. He handed her the pills, then uncapped the water, holding it steady as she sat up slightly to take a sip.

Y/N swallowed the pills, her throat dry despite the water. Spencer's hand lingered on hers, his touch warm and reassuring. She gave him a grateful smile, feeling the tension in her muscles ease under his touch. He set the water bottle back on the nightstand and then leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. The gesture was so tender, so full of love, that it made Y/N’s heart ache in the best possible way.

"Thank you, Spence." She murmured, her voice thick with emotion. "I don’t know what I’d do without you."

Spencer’s eyes softened, his thumb brushing lightly over her cheek.

"You don’t have to thank me, Y/N. I just want to make sure you’re okay." He leaned back, sitting on the edge of the bed, his hand still resting on her arm. "I’m sorry you’re in pain. I wish I could do more to help."

Y/N shook her head, her eyes shining.

"You being here helps more than you know. Just having you with me makes everything better." She reached up, her fingers grazing the stubble on his jaw, her touch gentle. "I’m so lucky to have you."

Spencer’s expression softened, his eyes searching hers. He took her hand in his, bringing it to his lips and pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles.

"I’m the lucky one." He whispered, his voice low and sincere. "You’re everything to me, Y/N. Taking care of you isn’t a burden. It’s a privilege."

Y/N smiled softly, pulling Spencer down beside her, needing to feel his warmth, to be close to him. He settled against her, his arm wrapping around her waist, pulling her close. Y/N rested her head on his chest, her ear over his heart, listening to the steady, comforting rhythm of his heartbeat. His other hand found its way to her hair, his fingers running through the strands in a soothing, repetitive motion.

They lay like that for a while, the quiet of the night wrapping around them like a blanket. The pain in Y/N’s abdomen was still there, but it felt distant, overshadowed by the warmth and safety of Spencer’s embrace. She closed her eyes, her body relaxing against his, her breathing slowing to match his. With every beat of his heart, with every gentle stroke of his hand, she felt herself drifting closer to sleep, the pain dulling under the weight of his love.

Spencer held her close, his chin resting on the top of her head, his eyes closed. He listened to her breathing, felt the rise and fall of her chest against his, and felt a sense of peace settle over him. It was moments like this, quiet and intimate, that he cherished the most. Knowing that he could be there for her, that he could offer her comfort, made him feel whole.

After a while, Y/N’s breathing deepened, the tension in her body easing as sleep claimed her. Spencer continued to hold her, his hand never stopping its gentle movement through her hair. He pressed another soft kiss to her forehead, his heart full.

"I love you." He whispered, his voice barely audible in the stillness of the room. "More than life ifself."

Y/N stirred slightly, a soft, sleepy murmur escaping her lips, but she didn’t wake. Spencer smiled, his heart swelling with affection. He knew that she probably didn’t hear him, but that was okay. He would have plenty of opportunities to tell her again and again.

He glanced at the clock on the nightstand, the digital numbers glowing softly in the dark. It was well past two in the morning, but Spencer didn’t care. He could stay like this forever, with Y/N in his arms, the world outside forgotten.

Spencer lay there, his thoughts drifting, his hand continuing its gentle motion through Y/N’s hair. He knew that the painkillers would kick in soon, that she would wake up feeling better. And when she did, he would be there, ready to make her breakfast, to share a quiet morning together before the rest of the world intruded.

As the minutes ticked by, Spencer’s own eyes grew heavy, the events of the day catching up to him. But he fought against the pull of sleep, wanting to stay awake, to be there for Y/N if she needed him. He tightened his hold on her slightly, his hand slipping from her hair to rest against her back, feeling the steady rise and fall of her breathing.

Eventually, his own exhaustion won out, and he drifted into a light sleep, his body still curled protectively around Y/N. Even in sleep, his mind stayed attuned to her, his senses alert for any sign of distress. But there was none. The painkillers had done their job, and Y/N slept soundly, her body relaxed and at ease.

The night passed quietly, the room filled with the soft sounds of their breathing, the steady ticking of the clock, the occasional rustle of the sheets as one of them shifted. The world outside remained silent, the streets empty, the city asleep. Inside their little haven, time seemed to stand still, wrapped in the cocoon of their love.

© vanteguccir

[tenpintsof-sundrop]

Some Kind of Disaster - Preview

Gally (TMR) x Fem!Reader

Concept: You saw Gally take a spear through the chest, and you are more than shocked to find him alive and well, in front of your eyes.

Preview Word Count: 970

If you like this preview, follow my writing blog @sundrop-writes and turn on notifications there as the full fic will be posted there sometime within the next few months when I have the time and energy to edit it. I may or may not make a TMR taglist, I'm not sure??

A/N: This is based entirely on the movie version of Gally, as I haven't read the books and don't plan on doing so. The title comes from an All Time Low song of the same name - which I would highly recommend listening to in order to get the vibes for this fic. Also apparently this is the same concept as a dozen other Gally fics, but I don't really care right now - because I got inspired to do it and it's entirely self indulgent, and this is my take on the concept lmao. I am currently on hiatus, but I've been working on fics as a form of stress relief during this time - but I haven't been editing fics. This fic will be posted after its edited sometime within the next month or two. (And there is already a sequel in the works, shhh.) Anyway, I hope you enjoy this, and feedback is much appreciated!

Warnings: the full fic will be smut, but this is more of a tease of that; the reader character uses she/her pronouns and has a vagina; spoilers for the films if you haven't seen them; arguing that turns into kissing; Gally has a self-deprecating/insecure inner monologue; mentions of Newt x Reader (it's one-sided in this fic, but may be something more later on ;)); Gally being possessive, Gally being rough (but the reader likes it); mention of Gally masturbating to thoughts of the reader; implications of Gally being taller than the reader (which I think is likely for most people cause Will Poulter is pretty fuckin tall); technically virginity loss (but it's not a big focus of the fic) - it's more about two people naturally enjoying their first time together (and I wrote this the same way I would write a first time in a relationship with two slightly more experienced characters) - and also nothing majorly sexual comes up in this part; this section: heated kissing with intentions towards sex, and that's pretty much it.

...

“Look, I’m sorry I’m not like them, okay?”

He spat out these words bitterly when you didn’t speak, and this left you confused. “I’m sorry I’m not some dumb brave hero guy-” 

You reached out and roughly shoved the middle of his chest again. Unknowingly, this aggravated the healed scar where the spear had gone through him, sending a dull ache through him at having the tender pink skin so roughly prodded without his chest armor on this time. 

“You’re so stupid!” You barked back, utterly insulted by his words. 

He thought this was par for the course, that you would begin hurling more insults before storming out. He thought that you would tell him his supposed ‘death’ had been the best thing that had ever happened to you, and the longing looks Newt had given you were truly something more. 

“God, you’re so-!” 

You choked on your own words and tears welled up in your eyes, and you took a sharp breath before you continued. 

“You are that dumb brave hero guy!” You yelled back, speaking like it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

Gally gaped at you, and you continued. 

“What do you think all that was?” You gestured vaguely behind yourself, obviously speaking about the events earlier in the day - when he had rushed into heavy bomb fire to drag you and the others to safety. “That was the dumbest hero guy thing I have ever seen.” You said, putting a stain of emphasis on the word ‘dumb’, pinching his own phrasing for it right in the ass. 

“That was nothing, I just did that because you were in danger, and-” 

“And that’s exactly what Thomas would have done.” You replied, quickly cutting him off. “You’re every bit as good as him. You are.” 

There was a tense moment where you stared him down, deep contemplation knit across his features while you waited for him to agree with you. 

“I wasn’t when you left the Maze.” He added on, quiet guilt floating through his voice. “I wasn’t brave then. I was a coward. I couldn’t be what you needed-” 

“You have always been what I need, Gally. When will you get that through your thick shank skull?” 

You were done rehashing the past. 

You were done contemplating the details of what could have been. It hit you truly then - all that mattered to you now was the fact that Gally, your Gally was in front of you, somehow alive and well. And though it was something you never could have predicted, you wouldn’t let such a beautiful thing slip through your fingers. 

You reached out and grabbed the front of his sweatshirt, pulling him forward roughly. At the end of that jerking motion, he was met with your lips, and he sunk into the kiss without a second thought, closing his eyes and letting out a soft sigh that shouldn’t have suited him so well. Adding to that softness as he reached up to gently cup your cheeks while you gnawed at him with a feral passion. 

This is exactly what he had been waiting for. This was the reunion he had wanted all along. 

In a moment, the touch, your desperate grip on the front of his shirt, the way you ran your teeth along his bottom lip, edging toward something more - it triggered something within him. A possessive streak over you that had long been dormant; something once fueled by rage and jealousy and fear over the bad things that might happen to you if he wasn’t constantly looking over your shoulder. Now, it came from something much deeper. 

That immature love he had felt for you that had only grown and matured during your time apart, adding to a hungry passion for you now that he had you back in his arms - now that he could feel the heat of your skin, smell you, hear the whimpering patter of your breath and know that you were so damn real. (Not just another falsehood of his imagination with the details poorly filled in that he tried to soothe himself with, while he had a hand on his cock.) 

He was the one who charged at you this time, shoving you backwards and walking tightly with you, crowding you back until you hit a wall. You hadn’t truly taken in your surroundings, and if you had half a mind to, you would have noticed that this was some kind of dingy store room - used for scavenged spare parts for the vehicles and old guns that needed to be repaired in order to be put into use. 

But your brain didn’t take any of that in when your back made contact with the wall, Gally still kissing you fiercely, making you downright dizzy. You didn’t have time to think when one of his hands took a possessive hold on your thigh, hiking your leg up around his hip while his presence loomed over you, like the perfect protective wall you always felt that he was. He continued the heated liplock for a moment before he pulled away for air, and then, a particular query couldn’t be contained within you. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” You asked, half-teasing, still holding your death grip on his shirt. 

There was a particular hum between your thighs - something hot and beating and alive, a calling that demanded to be answered. You knew that you would be devastated if Gally stopped too soon or didn’t rise to that call. So you had to know what his intentions were now to prepare yourself for the potential disappointment. 

“Showing you how much I missed you.” He answered firmly, entirely certain, leaning in to capture your mouth again - pressing his whole body tightly against yours now. 

It sent a thrill through you - knowing that he would answer that call and thensome.

[lohotine]

``Philophobia``

Shadow Milk x Truthless Recluse

(Author's notes at the end, not heavily proof read)

"The moon is quite beautiful tonight. Is it not?"

When had he appeared on the balcony?

Perhaps he had been there even before the blonde had, though only choosing to show himself now.

After all, he can do whatever he pleases in his domain.

"There isn't a moon cycle here. It looks the same every night."

But it was quite nice..

"Ah, of course! Silly me, how could I forget?"

The most simple explanation was that he hadn't. Shadow Milk Cookie was never the type to simply "forget."

He obviously came here for some reason, but Pure Vanilla currently lacked the patience to deal with him.

Pure Vanilla sighed and looked down, strands of golden hair falling onto his face. "If there isn't a reason for this talk, I'll be heading to bed."

He began to leave without a response; and for some reason, Shadow Milk seemed to be allowing it.

How odd.

Pure Vanilla stood in front of the balcony door, fixated on the silver handle.

Stunning engravements were carved on it. They were, though he only reluctantly admitted it, quite intricate. The moonlight found its way to accompany the little design in a way that elevated it greatly.

He found it hard to believe that Shadow Milk had paid such close attention to something so... pointless.

As Pure Vanilla turned the handle (or attempted to) and saw that the door had not budged, it became evident that Shadow Milk was not keen on having him leave so easily.

That explains the unusually passive behavior...

Pure Vanilla said nothing.

"Well? What are you waiting for? Come back here. I just want to talk to you."

His tone sounded like he was speaking to a dog. It was absolutely degrading, and Pure Vanilla hated every moment of it. Yet...

Pure Vanilla walked back to the railing of the balcony.

What else would he do?

Another silence engulfed them.

"What do you want?"

Shadow Milk clicks his tongue. "Oh my, such hostility! I've barely done anything yet..."

The blonde wishes to rip that blue jester to shreds... or at the very least send him a repulsive glare.

Though, he resists these urges and instead keeps his gaze fixated on the moon.

He thinks looking at his tormentor will only make him more angry.

"I was just bored. Didn't feel like torturing your friends. Black Sapphire's busy, and I... can't be bothered to deal with Candy Apple."

Ah, he recognized that name. She certainly was loud.

Pure Vanilla overheard from one of her fan-girling rambling sessions that Shadow Milk's original home was the dark side of the moon.

Well, he technically had already been aware of that fact... but it only reocurred to him now.

Pure Vanilla continued staring at the full moon.

Behind this beautiful face was a dark and cold plane of existence.

It was undoubtedly lonely...

Was that place really what Shadow Milk called home?

"Do you miss it?"

Shadow Milk looks at him, confused.

"...What?"

Pure Vanilla's gaze never falls from that ethereal celestial body. "Your home."

And though the response is thoroughly lacking, Shadow Milk seems to understand.

And he laughs at the thought.

"Why would I ever miss a place like that? It's boring, and..."

Pure Vanilla's gaze meets his own.

How could I miss that place when my other half resides here?

"And it's empty."

Not technically a lie. Everything does feel abnormally dull and utterly lacking when he is not with Pure Vanilla.

Surely it's just because he owns part of his soul jam..?

"I can imagine," Pure Vanilla would say.

You can't. Isolation is devastating.

But he took the comfort anyway. "Being here is much better. Especially since I get to be here with my other half~" Shadow Milk grinned with an impudent look.

"I am not your other half-"

Shadow Milk places a finger in front of his lips. "Shh. You've been talking too much today." Shadow Milk continued to bask in the silence, gazing absent mindedly at the multicolor eyes.

Shadow Milk feels himself staring a bit too much, but... it's just to annoy Pure Vanilla, right?

And when he moves his hand up to cup his face, that too is surely just to annoy the other..

"You've been staring for quite some time now," Pure Vanilla says. He's met only with a small hum. Shadow Milk remains as shameless as ever with his staring.

Then, he looks at the key design that adorns his robes. "So, Pure Vanilla- oh, I guess you go by Truthless Recluse now, huh?"

Shadow Milk struggles momentarily to come up with a fun nickname for that.

"I think I'll just continue saying Nilly. You're fine with that, right?"

"No. I never said-"

Shadow Milk gently tucks a strand of the other's hair behind their ear, interrupting them.

It's only after the sudden silence that he realizes how intimate the action was.

Ah, how shameful! A beast should never have been caught dead doing something like that...

"Um-" Shadow Milk shakily removes his hand from the others cheek. "The point is.."

He diverts his gaze so quickly it's almost embarrassing. Just mere moments ago, he had been so keen on messing with the other!

Why was he the one getting blushy instead?

Pure Vanilla just remained silent; watching the spectacle with, albeit only slight, amusment.

"Oh? What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong- I just..."

Got flustered? Became overwhelmed? He couldn't admit to such humiliating emotions!

Pure Vanilla slowly placed his palm against the other's, and though it's cold to the touch, he remains there all the same.

"I must say, I never thought you were the type to get embarrassed over things like this."

When had he become so bold!?! And since when was he the one in control of the situation?

"Just what do you think you're doing..."

Pure Vanilla's gaze softens. It must have been extremely lonely being trapped all of those years if such a simple action was enough to get him like this.

And an action that he himself initiated, nonetheless.

"Nothing that you haven't already done to me."

Pure Vanilla gently interlaces his fingers with the others.

How strange... Why was he entertaining something like this?

Then he brings his other hand up to the others cheek; just as Shadow Milk had done to him moments ago.

Pure Vanilla's touch was light; as if it were a ghost...

And yet- Shadow Milk's entire body felt like it was burning.

He absolutely despised it...

But oh... how he wished to remain like this for just a little while longer.

And perhaps move a little bit closer?

Oh, what was he thinking? He couldn't possibly think that this... feeling... was anything good.

And so, suddenly, Shadow Milk feels himself move away.

He can't allow himself to become vulnerable infront of someone like him.

Or anyone, really.

But especially him...

"Ahaha! I've decided to spare you of my... annoyances today. You can go do whatever it is that you wish to do now-"

He knows the other must notice how flushed his face is; and he prays with all of his soul --(or perhaps lack thereof?) that he'd just ignore it.

It was strange, though. Wasn't Shadow Milk lonely? Shouldn't he want this?

I mean, he does...

He really

really

does.

And yet, he still moves away.

Pure Vanilla says nothing as he watches the other disappear, becoming one with the shadows and escaping to who knows where.

It would be a lie to say he wasn't the tiniest bit disappointed about him leaving.

Shadow Milk; ever the lonely soul.

Won't you let him help you?

And as Pure Vanilla gazes from the balcony; hand still in the air. (Why is it still in the air? Is he waiting for something?)

He thinks;

You may be the greatest liar that this world has ever seen,

but you will always remain the biggest coward.

AN:

Originally, this was just supposed to be an X reader fic, but these two have been rotting my brain... (I said I wouldn't do a character x character, but I just love them so much!)

I really tried to capture them well, but looking back on it now, I think SMC would have been more desperate for PV'S understanding.

(But oh well, this depiction of him isn't the worst, right? Still desperate enough, I hope?)

I know chapter 8 didn't confirm that the two of them were romantic, and I understand that they are by no means a healthy ship!

(Any ship with SMC isn't healthy, let's be real)

But I just really wanted to experiment with their interactions and I hope I did the complicated emotions surrounding them some justice.

This is probably a one time thing, but if you REALLY want more, you can send me a request and I can probably make something... I have some ideas floating around-

But yeah, I understand if this isn't your thing- anyway BYE.

[Lohotine OUT]

[nyctoaerah]

MY GORGEOUS QUEEN, CAN WE PLEASE GET A SNEAKPEEK ON YOUR PROCESS ON REMINISCENT if you have a draft already?🥺🥺🥺🥺 I AM SO DESPERATE RN

PLEASE

PLEASE

PLEASE

PLEASE

PLEASE

PLEASE

PLEASE

⋆♱⋆REMINISCENT

SYPNOSIS: ⋆♱⋆Satoru loves Suguru deeply and he misses the latter so much, so how could he let go off you? How could he let a pretty little thing like you slip through his fingers when you’re literally just like suguru?

WARNINGS: Yandere Behavior (Duh) Abuse, blood, coercion, non-con kiss, Satoru himself is already a warning, Satoru has Capgras delusion disorder.

PAIRINGS: Yandere! Satoru Gojo x Fem! Reader + Implied Satosugu

PART ONE

“C’mon open up... Suguru..”

He says, getting agitated with your attitude.

Pain shot through your jaw like lightning as satoru pried it open with force, his thick fingers stretching the hinges past their limit.

Reflexively, you clamped down with all your might, grinding your teeth against his calloused flesh. But still he persisted, widening the divide between until you feared your face may rip in two.

Through blurred tears you saw his nails sink deep into your tender gums, and the metallic taste of blood began to fill your stretching cavity. 

You felt violated and utterly helpless.

“S-satoru! S-stop p-please—”

A strangled cry barely escaped your constricted throat as you thrashed around wildly on the binds that he had used on you.

His fingers withdrew slowly from between your lips, coated heavily with your glistening saliva and you coughed wildly, mouth feeling like it was set on fire.

He hummed low in appreciation, murmuring almost to himself “Hmm...your mouth is wide enough, to fit it in, I think...” before leaning in to press a lingering, open-mouthed kiss to your lips. 

You whimpered softly, tears flowing freely down your cheeks as a pained cry built in your throat, stifled only by the invasion of his tongue thrusting past your teeth. Powerless to resist, your body felt weak and limp.

Questions corroded your mind as he continued his one-sided make out session with you. What the fuck did you do to earn such “affection”?

Why did everything have to go south? What did you do to deserve this?

You were there for him when he was at his lowest, why is he treating you like this?

It hurts so much, the way he’s calling you suguru, the way that he keeps on saying that you’re suguru in disguise.. it was all disgusting.

He seemed so obsessed with the man and forgot that you’re his girlfriend and not his bestfriend.

He finally withdrew from the kiss and you could’ve been more glad, you looked up at him with teary eyes and his face was a bit flushed, lust obvious in his eyes.

“so good... mm you always taste so good, love...”

He then placed two of his fingers on your chesks and you barely recognized the feeling until a dull throb radiated from your cheek.

“Such soft skin... So pretty... Feels like i wanna carve my name in them...”

You tried to recoil from his touch, but his fingers held firm, grinding  into the soft skin.

A hum escaped his lips as his pupil dilates slightly as he watched your blood flow over his fingertips and trickle down your jawline.

Satoru grins the moment he sees you bleed.

“See? You bleed just like him, my god, you really are suguru’s incarnate... Such a pretty little thing..”

He cooed, leaning in so you felt his hot breath ghost over the wound. 

He was so fucking delusional that it's scary.

You sobbed.

What did you even do to receive this kind of treatment?

What did you ever do to him?

Were you a bad girlfriend?

Didn't you make him feel loved?

Did you—

Your eyes dilated perceptibly as a strange sensation registered upon your lip, eliciting an involuntary mewl of fear and confusion from somewhere deep within your constricted throat. Satoru was prodding—a black colored sphere with orange smudges on your mouth . 

“You can consume this too, right baby? Your mouth is wide enough to swallow it after all ”

You froze and all you could do is watch as he practically pries your mouth open and forces you to swallow the orb.

His obsession stole the man you knew.

And he did all of this, just because you were reminiscent of suguru.

© 𝐍𝐲𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐚𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐡 || 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬, 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝.♡

𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐩𝐥𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐪 𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐡𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚 𝐛𝐜𝐬 𝐢 𝐛𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐲 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐭...

[kaytheday]

No Morning After Pill Needed for this Party

This is my fic for @outsiders-gift-exchanges Pride Month Event!! This gift is for @betterwithbooksthanwithpeople! Hope you like it!! The A03 link will be posted to the collection!

“Oh man. This party sucks!” Two-Bit jeers, throwing an arm around Ace. She could see why Two-Bit wasn’t having a good time. When they had looked into finding a party for this fine Friday night, Darry had suggested a soc party with his football friends. It was needless to say that Ace, Two-Bit, and Steve felt very out of place. 

Ace shoves him off, trying not to aggravate her throbbing head. Her aunt had been real bad the night before. Knocking her around and yelling incoherently at her. Ace tried to pretend it didn’t bother her. Even the couple swigs she’d taken from Two-Bits flask hadn’t managed to dull the pain in her head or torso. All it had done was make her feel confused and fuzzy. 

“Why don’t we go then?” Ace asks, more than willing to get a head start on going to bed for the night. Two-Bit thinks for a minute. 

“And leave Superman? Nah, you know what Acey? The last time we were here, I went into one of the bedrooms upstairs for some… y’know.” He makes an obscene gesture. 

“Not true!” Steve interjects. “He was lookin’ to steal a bunch of socy shit.” 

“Anyways, back to before I was rudely interrupted by this hoodlum-“ the two start a punching match, which Ace pays no attention to. 

“Anyway!” She says loudly, clearing her throat. 

“Yeah, anyway, I found a bunch of cool stuff, but I found this bottle of real expensive valium pills. A whole fuckin’ jar! Man those tasted good. I’ll bet you can find another one upstairs. Then we can leave.” Two-Bit looked at her pointedly. 

“You want me to do it? I don’t even know where this bedroom is! Why can’t you do it?”

“Because they know he got sticky fingers now. They’ll follow him up there.” Steve says. 

“Thank you Steve-o, so you gotta do it, here’s what you do-“ he spent the next five minutes quietly explaining where he found the Valium pills last time. Ace tries to hang on to every word. She could steal something, despite the pounding in her head and the alcohol in her system. 

“Okay, idiot. I got it. I’ll be back. Then we get the hell outta here.” With that, she starts up the stairs. Mumbling something about a bathroom to a soc in green guarding the stairs. 

Following Two-Bits instructions, she stumbles into the first bedroom. Pink satin sheets and a white vanity, this bedroom must be bigger than her whole house. With that in mind, Ace starts looking through everything sloppily. It’s fine, Ace figures they have a butler that can pick it all up or something like that. Despite her listening to Two-Bit, she doesn’t really remember what he said. Something about a drawer? Or was it a glass cabinet? She didn’t really know, the alcohol and concussion were messing with her memory. 

Moving on to the next room, she looks through all of the drawers and under the bed. How many rooms do they have in this house anyway? With no luck, she moves on to the next room, hoping beyond hope that this jar of valium pills is in there. 

“Oh fuck.” Someone whispers and Ace jumps, taking in the scene in front of her. Even in her concussed drunken confusion, she didn’t think she’d ever forget this. Darry was pinned against the bedroom wall with none other than Paul Holden on his knees in front of him. Darry was hurriedly doing up his pants and staring at Ace with a panicked look on his face. Beside his head, on the dresser she spies the jar of valium pills that Two-Bit had been going on about. 

“I just… I needed these… sorry…” She mumbles, grabbing for the jar and turning around to go out of the room. 

“Ace…” She can hear Darry call after her.

“Darrel, who was that?” Paul asks, sounding utterly panicked. 

“Relax, she’s a friend of mine.” Not knowing what else to do in her concussed state, Ace simply turns around and goes back downstairs with the jar of pills. Too shocked and still half drunk, she went over to Two-Bit and Steve. 

“Nice work Acey!” Two-Bit says, taking the jar and stuffing it into his coat pocket. 

“Alright,” Steve says, shifting his eyes around nervously. “Let's get the hell outta here.” 

“Agreed.” Ace says quietly, her tongue feeling large in her mouth. 

“Ace? Ace!” She can see Darry on the stairs looking for her. 

“Come on, let’s go.” She tugs on Steve’s shirt, not really knowing how to feel about any of this. So the three walk out, unbeknownst to Darry, who is still looking through the crowd. They load into Two-Bit’s trashy car when Darry comes out running to the car. Ace sprawls into the backseat, not really wanting to be seen. 

“Two-Bit!” 

“Hey man, why’d you even invite us to this lame ass-”

“Where the hell is Ace?” 

“Backseat.” Two-Bit looks confused and Ace can hardly keep her eyes open. “What’s this about?” 

“I just gotta talk to her. I can take her home, no sweat.” 

“You sure man?” That was Steve, always sticking up for her. “You don’t look… right.” 

“Shut up Randle. I just gotta talk to her.” Steve looks back at her, asking for the okay. 

“I can go home with him. I ain’t goin’ back to aunties anyway.” She says quietly, Steve’s look softens just a tad and he lets her out of the car. 

“See ya man. Bye Acey.” He says that they speed off. She stands on the street as Darry looks at her, wringing his hands together nervously. His eyes are shifting everywhere and Ace keeps remembering what she walked into in that soc bedroom. It’s obvious to her now, Darry doesn’t want anyone to know. Guys who do that with other guys get killed on their side of town and everywhere else in the world. What were the things she always heard from her Gram? It went against the laws of nature. Something about heaven and hell-

“Ace.” Darry says softly, trying to catch her glazed eyes. “What you-”

Hey greaser! Lying, cheating, dirty piece of shit!” Darry jerks around. “I saw you steal something!”

“Hey man! She didn’t take anything so why doncha take a hike!” Darry says to the four guys clad in madras approaching them. Another image of Darry popping up in her head. She didn’t want to think about that right now. Not that she could really think clearly anyway. He wanted to talk to her and she kind of wanted to get this stupid thing out of the way so she could lie down before she passed out. 

“Yeah she did. A whole jar of pills from Lisamarie’s room.” He wiped at his nose, hands balling into fists. Darry just looked frustrated. “Her mom needs those pills for a medical condition.” He sounded so snooty when he said the words that Ace just wanted Darry to punch him right then and there. 

“Yeah? I just don’t know what to tell ya buddy, she didn’t take ‘em. Now, if you’d just leave us alone, we were having-”

“Yeah buddy? I don’t know what to tell you because we saw her. All four of us.” He motions around to the ugly gaggle of soc boys that he’s brought out with him. “Now you can just leave her to us and go back inside to your boyfriend Paul-” The guy doesn’t even finish getting the words out of his mouth before Darry socks him straight in the jaw. His head whips to the side, blood and something white pouring out. It’s almost like a movie but the blood and teeth flying out of his mouth are real. Ace knows that Darry packs one hell of a punch but seeing it in action was something completely different. 

“The hell Curtis!” One of them screams and Darry manages to reel it back for a moment. 

“I told you, she didn’t steal anything, now you leave us alone or I’ll make sure you have no teeth left in your mouth, deal?” 

“No deal, Lisamarie saw her steal those pills.” That’s when Ace tunes out and the fight starts. Darry and her are throwing punches, at a soc party nonetheless. One of the guys grabs her, roughly frisking her. Somewhere in the back of her head she knows that they’re probably just looking for the pills but Ace’s muddy head registers it as something else entirely, freezing up as the breath leaves her body. Get out. Get out. She thinks, willing herself into the back of her mind so she doesn’t have to think about the time this happened before. 

Ace is lying on the floor, eyes closed tightly, hardly breathing. She doesn’t know how much time has passed, she only knows that she can’t breathe. Not like last time. Not again. 

“Chet! David! What the hell is going on here?” 

“Ace? Ace?” Darry is shaking her, trying to get her up off the ground. She tried to pay attention to Darry’s face despite the fact that it was shifting in and out of focus. She could hear shouts from the other side of the lawn. 

“You’re really going to keep defending him Holden? You know he isn’t one of us! Not really.” 

“I don’t care, even if you saw her steal those pills, why pick a fight with Darry about it?” 

“He was the one sticking up for her!” 

“Ace you okay? Can you focus on me?” That’s Darry, he looks really worried and keeps grabbing at her face. The shouting subsides as Paul manages to wrangle most of the circus crowd back inside. Darry manages to get Ace on her feet, letting her lean heavily on him. She can barely keep her focus, too many hits to the head and too many damn flashbacks. 

“Hey,” Paul walks up, taking Darry by the arm. “You okay?” 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Darry shrugs off Paul's arm. Paul drops it slowly, looking a little hurt. 

“Well Daniel isn’t, I think you broke his jaw.”

“Good, he deserved it.” The way they looked at each other… the lingering touches… something was off. This was about more than whatever was going on in that bedroom. Even in her overly concussed state, she could sense it.  

“You didn’t need to-”

“Alright Paul.” Darry says, effectively cutting him off with sharp words and a hand on his waist. Yeah, there was more to this than Ace knew. “I’m gonna get her home, thanks for this.” 

“You’ll call me?” Paul asks, looking like a hopeful lovesick puppy. 

“Yeah, of course I will.” Then Darry turns around, something that Ace isn’t expecting. “Okay Ace kid.” He says softly, basically dragging her along. “Let’s get you home.” 

He helps her into the car and starts driving. Ace can tell he wants to say something. Perhaps about the earlier altercation or what was going on in that room. Either way, Ace’s head is swimming and she doesn't feel much like talking, even though she knows that Darry does. 

“Are you gonna tell anyone?” He asks it so sensitively and suddenly, not what she was expecting at all. 

“What?” She asks, genuinely confused and off kilter. She feels a terrible wave of nausea coming over her. 

“I know you walked into that room earlier and you saw me and Paul…” 

“Yeah, I did.” 

“I followed you because I wanted to make sure you wouldn’t tell anyone about what happened between me and Paul.” 

“You mean what is happening? Obviously you’re gonna call him, right?”

“Yeah…” He’s staring straight ahead, looking nervous. She wants to put a hand on his or do something right for once but she can’t bring herself to do any of it. Her head is still muddy and she can’t breathe right.

“I’m not gonna tell anyone Dar. I promise. I ain’t no snitch.” 

“I know that.” He says sheepishly, grabbing the back of his neck. “It’s just… my parents want me to go to college and get a good job and a girl and actually make something of myself and I couldn’t do any of that if anyone found out about this…”

“Okay.” She says softly. “I ain’t gonna tell. I just…” She trails off, wondering if it was her genuine confusion or the concussion and alcohol in her system rendering her unable to speak. 

“You what?” He looks shifty and nervous, like a ball of unstable energy bouncing off the walls. “You don’t hate me, do you? I know it’s disgusting and not natural and I know-” He’s starting to get angry now, hitting the steering wheel and running through the red lights. “I’m goin’ to hell and it sucks and I shouldn't be doin’ it but why does it feel so much better to love a man than to love a woman? Why can’t I look at a woman like normal guys? Instead I love Paul Holden and I think I’ll love him for the rest of my life Ace. I just don’t know what to do ‘cause we have two different paths in life and we can’t exactly ever be together. I know it’s terrible and you must hate me for it. That’s fine as long as you don’t tell anybody.” 

“I don’t hate you Darrel.” She says, hoping the use of his full name will get him to stop with his nonsense. “I won’t ever hate you. I just didn’t know…” 

“Didn’t know about me? Yeah, that’s kind of the point. Nobody does.” 

“No, I didn’t know that could happen.” She’s trying to think of the girls she’s thought were pretty over the years. The way she’d never felt drawn to any sort of boy in the same way that other girls were. The way she thought she was envying girls because she wanted to be them, now she seemed to realize that it was because she wanted to be with them. Could that be what it was? Was she not alone in this? This anomaly? She thought she was the only one in all of Oklahoma who was so strange. She especially didn’t expect Darrel Curtis to be the one-

“I know, it’s hard but-”

“I didn’t know I could be with someone like that. That there were people out there like that.” 

“Yeah, like that.” Darry says, still spitting mad and close to running the car off the road. “The vile of the Earth that are going to hell? Like that? You know I’ve heard the things people say. The things my own Momma says. I’m gonna go to hell Ace. I’m goin’ to hell because I can’t love a girl the same way I love Paul fuckin’ Holden. I’m gonna burn for eternity because I can’t be normal!”  

“Alright.” She says softly, trying a different tactic. “I get it.” 

“Something is wrong with me. God and the devil know it’s true! This could ruin my life. Maybe it should ruin my life. I’d deserve it anyway.” She was trying to be supportive but she couldn’t stand to hear Darry talk about himself like this. “I’m gonna burn for eternity. I ain’t gonna be saved or go to college or marry a girl! I ain’t gonna do any of it!” He was practically breathless with anger, but Ace had had enough. 

“Darrel Curtis, you stop talkin’ ‘bout yourself like that right now or so help me I’ll-”

“You’ll what Ace? What can you take away from me what’s already been taken away? My salvation? My chance at a normal life? My grace with God? Hell, those things are long gone.” It’s obvious he’s hurting and Ace doesn’t know how to help. She doesn’t know how to tell him that she feels… similar. That somewhere inside of her, she feels the same as he does. Despite her throbbing head, Ace has to know. 

“You’re in love with him? Like really in love?” 

“Yeah, I really am.” He says it, sounding broken and dejected. “I thought being in love was a good thing but this isn’t. My Momma’s always saying she’s excited for the day when I fall in love but if she knew, I don’t think she’d be happy with me at all.” They’re silent in the car as he pulls into an East side park. Obviously not itching to go home after this whole debacle. 

“Your Momma loves you.” She says sternly, knowing it’s true. There shouldn’t be a world where Mrs. Curtis doesn’t love her eldest son. Ace knows what it's like not to be loved and she also knows that Darry doesn’t live in that world. It could be very easy for his parents to throw him out over this. Like Darry had said earlier, his whole future could be tanked over something like this. Especially in their rural, bible loving, traditionalist town. “But I ain’t gonna tell her. I’m not gonna tell anyone if you don’t want me to.”

“Good. I don’t.” He said shortly. They sit quietly, Ace trying not to pass out and Darry barely holding it together. “Paul doesn’t want people knowing either.”

“I won’t tell. Really.” Ace reassures, trying for a hand on his shoulder. There is a long pause again. 

“You doin’ okay Ace? I mean you got more than a couple hits to the head.”

“Sure, I feel fine.” A blatant lie if she’d ever told one. Darry looks at her critically, obviously deciding not to make a comment on her battered appearance. 

“You don’t want to talk about what happened to you back there? I mean it looked like-”

“No I don’t.” Besides Steve, Darry was one of the only ones that knew about what had happened to her as a kid and why she got flashbacks when certain people touched her. He was very kind about it, but like Steve, he worried about her to an annoying extent. She couldn’t help but to open up to him. Darry would always understand. “Something with the way his… his hands were on me… I don’t know… I never know…”

“Hey, it’s okay.” He says gently. 

“I’m fine now, it’s just… it’s just when it’s happening… It feels like I’m right back where I was when…”

“It’s okay.” He murmurs again, grasping her hand and rubbing small circles with his thumb. 

“I’m okay now though.”

“Good.” They sit like that for a minute in the car, neither itching to go home.

“How did you know?” Darry’s head snaps over to her at that. “About… the way you feel I mean?” His eyes narrow and he looks almost upset at her before softening a little. 

“I don’t know Ace. I’ve never really talked about this with anyone except Paul and we both just knew for the most part.” She’s silent, hoping that it will encourage him to continue. He finally lets out a loud sigh and looks over at her. “I guess I always knew that there was something different about me. I never looked at…” Now Ace is the one rubbing circles on his hand. “Shit, why’s this so hard?”

“Because you ain’t never said it outloud before.” 

“Yeah… shit.” He laughs a little. “I guess… I never thought about girls like other guys did. Then when I got to high school… I started thinkin’ about guys the way I should have been thinkin’ about girls and I was just all mixed up.” He takes a deep breath. “Then Paul happened and it felt so… so right.” 

Ace can’t help thinking about her predicament. She’d never thought about boys the way she knew that other girls did. If anything, she thought about other girls like that. Ace guessed she had always just denied her feelings. She can remember going to church with her Gram and hearing what the pastor and all the other church-going ladies said about men and women. How you were only meant to love opposite. Ace could also remember thinking that was stupid. Why should her love have limits? If she wanted to love somebody… anybody… Why should there be a limit on how much she could love someone? Wasn’t love a good thing? A commandment?

“I don’t remember exactly how it all happened.” Darry continues, seemingly oblivious to the truth that Ace had just been wrestling with. “I just know that one night he kissed me and christ… that felt better than any Sarah Macintire or Rachel Child. Paul felt right.”

“Wow.” She murmurs, he finally has a genuine smile on his face and that’s the only thing she can come up with. “Darry…” She can’t seem to form the words. Giving light to the questions about herself that had been plaguing her for years. Since grade school when all she wanted was to be sitting there with another little girl and holding her hand instead of some dumb boys. 

“Ace?” He asks, looking over at her concerned. “You okay?” Somewhere she registers that all the blood has left her face and she can hardly speak but she still goes on. 

“Does it… does it happen… like for girls too?” 

“What?” He asks, concerned turning to confusion. “What do you mean?” 

“I mean… like… can girls feel that way about other girls too?” Darry seems taken aback, before realization calms his features. 

“Yeah, of course. I know a couple girls who are going together like me and Paul are.” He says softly. “I don’t really think that love like this has limits.” Ace lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding in. 

“I feel like…” She wrestles with her hands in her lap. She thought of her bible bashing Gram and what she would think of this. How she wanted her to grow up and start a family with a nice boy. But then Ace couldn’t help but to think of the love in Darry and Paul’s eyes when they looked at each other. Darry’s voice when he talked about Paul. Maybe it was possible that Ace could have that too. “I don’t really know what I feel like.” 

“Okay.” He grabs her hands in her lap, quieting them effectively. “That’s okay. You don’t have to know what you feel. It took me a lot of time too.” They sit in the quiet for a bit longer. “Should we go?” 

“Sure, let’s go.” Darry pulls out of the park and starts the drive home. Before they get out of the car to the house, he turns to her. 

“I’m really glad that you’re the one who found out, Ace.” He looks at her before his eyes drop to his lap. “I don’t think that any of the guys would take this very well. Guys like me get beat up for shit like this. My parents would… I don’t know what they would do but it wouldn’t be good…” He grabs her hand again. “I’m just… just real glad it was you Ace.” 

She smiles genuinely for the first time all night. “Me too.”

A03 Link

[evenmorefatallyobsessed]

Toga’s AU Concept

He visited Sanctum on a whim, he was in Mistral visiting his niece Saphron after all, why not visit the school that was training it’s future protectors… Was it truly chance that it happened when he got there at that moment. That he stumbled upon the horrified students backing away from a scene from a horror movie.

A girl over a boy, her skin pale, hair a dull gold but utterly contrast by the crimson of the boy beneath her, of his blood leaking, his eyes wide in equal parts horror and confusion as the girl above him drank deeply. Her aura lighting, brightening with every drop more she drunk.

But from her eyes another purely liquid dripped, tears that contradicted the madness in her eyes, others stood confused. But not him, never him, he didn’t hesitate, to hesitate was the let others suffer. The girl moved with surprising grace, avoiding him while her features altered, matching her victim’s.

His hand reached out as he enforced his soul into him, willing thew boy’s body to mend though his soul’s light. The second he saw the student’s face gain some of it’s blush ensured his life her turned on her and launched after the girl.

She’d been smart to run instead of fight, it was a fight she wouldn’t win, couldn’t win, but escaping was just a futile. She was fast, agile and athletic yes, but he was a skilled tracker. If she was faster, he just had to rely on endurance to carry him through.

And it did…

She’d been locked up, and they were debating her sentence, the sentence for an aura user with combat training, she was a threat. And perhaps he should’ve left it well enough alone, but he didn’t, and spoke to her.

And he realized the tragic madness that spurred her on. Toga Himiko was not a monster, she was a girl, gifted with a powerful Semblance, great potential and an honest easily corruptible heart. One’s semblance could influence a persons personality quite easily. After all, it was the manifest of your being, of your soul. How could you not begin to ponder its meaning, how could you not attempt to reflect it’s nature on your person, within your actions.

She was dangerous yes, unstable without a doubt… But, she was also alone, her family couldn’t understand her and feared her for it. Somewhere inside he knew she understood her sense of love was twisted. Was not the norm, after all, why else would she have cried when expressing it.

This was no monster, no villain of demon, she was a girl, a pitiful, lonely, misunderstood child who wanted nothing more then to express her love the only way she could. They way her very soul demanded she act out. All she wanted was a connection, was someone to understand her, was to have friends, family and a love that could accept her deviant nature, a nature she had no control of.

How could he call himself a Huntsman if he couldn’t save a single girl from her crippling, cruel loneliness. So he visited her, again and again, using his pull and connection with Ozpin to freeze the freeze the girl’s sentencing while he worked things out.

She started to look forward to meeting him, and he’d admit to the same, after all she was so cheerful and oddly endearing. If not for her eyes being amber instead of blue he’d had thought her one of his nieces.

Apparently after he started visiting regularly she ceased any resisting and even halted trying to escape, he started to bring her things, even cooking for the girl. Not helping but to feel she needed food a bit better then what they served here.

… He hadn’t expected her to cry, she, she couldn’t remember then last time her mom had made her food… The last time they treated her like a daughter instead of a Grimm. It angered him, it infuriated the Arc. But he held his tongue, and focused on what mattered.

On calling in favors, on talking to his family and getting his affairs in order, Jaune was many things, he was a Huntsman, next in line to be patriarch to the Arc House and a teacher at Beacon. But he was also a criminal who’d cheated his way into Beacon once upon a time. His hands had cut down men, his decisions as a leader had led to the death of innocents before as well.

Toga almost killed a boy, she needed help, needed understanding, to be given a chance. And he was all to willing to risk giving her one.

-0-0-0-

She tried to be normal, to live normally, to act normally, to love normally, she tried so hard, it was also such a struggle, other people’s normal. Other people being able to express themselves, to be themselves and be accepted for it. It wasn’t fair, it wasn’t right, why couldn’t her way be normal… Why couldn’t she be accepted?

Why couldn’t her parents understand her, accept her, but no, they told her it was wrong, that to be so fascinated by blood was wrong, sick and twisted. That she needed to be normal… Were they saying her soul was wrong? She could feel it, ever since her semblance first manifested, since she stumbled upon it so long ago when she’d licked her wound…

Blood was to the body what aura was to the soul, it was beautiful, profound and unique to every person, and she, she could understand it, could indulge, could become others through their blood, she could understand them, be them… It was her normal.

But her parents refused to accept her normal, society refused it, the world and everyone in it refused it… She obeyed, she tried, she struggled to be everyone else’s normal… Until she met him.

Saito was a amazing boy, he was kind, smart and popular, everyone liked him, everyone respected him, just like a lot of other girls she grew to like him. So often she fought the urge to ask him for some of his blood, she wanted to be like him, to know him, to Become him…

But she smothered those urges, because she knew he could not accept them, nobody could accept a freak like her so she resisted the urge. She fought to stay ‘Normal’ To be a average, cheerful, reasonable, well-mannered girl that others could accept, even if it was all a act…

But then Saito got into a fight, and seeing him like that… so wonderfully bruised and bloodied, it made what was so twisted inside go crazy. And it all came crashing down… And she was upon him, moving on not instinct but pure natural movement, as unconsciously as one breathed she gave to her semblance’s nature.

His flesh parting so easily from a mere box cutter, his aura was shattered in the fight with other beforehand. She drunk from him, his blood tasting like the sweetest of irons, so warm, so filling, so unique to him and him alone…

It was ecstasy, finally, finally she got to be herself, she was able to express her love, she felt herself turning into him. His aura, his soul, his being, she understood it so much more in that moment. She knew it was all over, her life, all her efforts, they would come crashing down. But for just a moment, she wanted it, to be her own normal, to be herself…

And then he appeared, he saved Saito, and stopped her, his gaze held so much in it, there was the anger and disgust she expected, but also something new… Pity.

His name was Jaune Arc, he was a Huntsman, a professor, and he stopped her, but he didn’t stop there. He should up to met her in her jail cell, they talked, well, he talked, asking why she did it. And eventually she explained… And, and he listened.

He didn’t understand, but… But he tried to, he asked more, and she could see it, the disgust this anger and confusion, but never was that all she saw. She could see him trying, struggling to comprehend. Time and time again he’d visit, and talk to her, ask her question she’d never considered, asked if she thought what she did was okay.

She knew it wasn’t you can’t force your love on others, but he understood, not because it was normal to him, or because he was like her. No, because he tried to do what nobody else did… He tried to understand her.

He wanted to help her, and then he asked.

“Toga, I need to hear you say it, where you trying to kill Saito?” She knew he needed to hear her say it, so she did.

“No, I just, I wanted to express my love…” And then he told her.

“Toga, you’re not normal, but that’s okay, everyone is different, it’s what makes us unique, what makes life beautiful.” He hugged her.

“You’re not a monster, or a Grimm, your human, and you’ve been through so much.” He was warm… The words slipped from her mouth.

“Please, can I, can I drink your blood.” He paused and she knew she’d be rejected, pushed away and left alone…

“Toga, listen.” But she wasn’t rejected, pushed away, instead the man met her gaze, a sternness in his gaze but also a sympathy, one she’d never seen before.

“You don’t behave like others, and it can be dangerous.” She knew that, of course she did.

“But it doesn’t have to be.” He begun to glow, a soft, kind but powerful white.

“I know, you can help people, more than even I can with your semblance.” His big, calloused hand landed on her head.

“The same way you can take other’s blood, if you gave your love back, you could help so many people.” She shook, she’d thought that too, but, but never hoped others would, would.

“You’re not a monster, twisted or evil Toga, your just different, your semblance, your soul, your beautiful.” It was the smile of a father, of someone who genuinely wanted nothing more than to help her, then to comfort the girl who’d spent her entire if not short life being rejected by others.

“Himiko, I can’t just let you free, unfortunately the law is very clear on that.” She saw the sadness, the anger in his eyes, it was for her sake. But soon enough they were both overtaken by what she would come to know was his most prominent trait, Determination.

“If you agree to it, to come to Vale you can be put on Probation, under my supervision. I’’ be your guardian and probationary officer.” She knew her parents must’ve given up their rights to her by the slight anger that burned in his eyes.

“We’ll attend therapy lessons and you’ll be taught about aura control by me.” He reached into his pocket and pulled it out then, a vial, the most beautiful shade of red.

“Toga, I know the way you view things are different then mine own, but that doesn’t mean you can’t understand me, you lived in this world, acted appropriately for it as well. You understand how the general public views love.” He offered her the vial, the beautiful crimson flowing with his aura, with his soul.

“I can’t promise others will accept your views, or even try, but I promise, at the very least I will do everything I can to make a environment you can be yourself in… And that I’ll try my best to understand you.” She reached, her fingers grazing the glass, the vial warm… Her heart pounded as she looked to the beautiful crimson.

Slowly, cautiously she undid the top, he never looked away from her, never tore his gaze from the sight, there was no rejection as she took him into her. As she felt his soul through his aura, as his being and iron went down her throat becoming one with her.

She felt herself change, becoming him, her pale ash-blonde hair becoming a shade of livid golden-wheat, her fair skin pinking with a healthy flush. The slits of her pupils dilating, the Faunus trait vanishing as her pupils rounded and turned the most expressive blue.

Her aura converting, her soul changing and being replicating that as her very body matched the new soul she was temporarily hosting. And he looked at her through it all, reaching out and patting her head, the smile was genuine.

“If this is how you want to be that’s fine, I’ll learn to get used to it, but please, don’t stop being yourself, even if your appearance changes.” From his hand aura surged into her, his aura, given freely, pure and unfiltered.

Her answer finally came alongside the tears.

“Yes.”

-0-0-0-

She rushed down the hall from her room, excited for the day she’d looked forward to for so long, she couldn’t wait. Reaching the kitchen she found three people there, her sister and brother, Ren and Nora, two others he’d taken under his wing.

At the stove flipping the immense amount of pancakes the Valkyrie craved was Jaune, they waved to her, well Jaune and Nora did. Ren sat patiently at his seat enjoying his tea, she sat there beside them, besides two people who knew her, truly knew her, who accepted her almost as much as Jaune.

Two simple years was all she spent with him, but in those two years she’d felt more joy, more acceptance then ever before. She’d realized truths about herself and flaws in her actions.

She was free to express her love, but not to enforce it on others, to take from people who did not want to return her affections. It was wrong, cruel and that act whether it be her form of expressing love or ordinary expression of it by others were no less disgusting.

She’d help so many people with her feelings though, a little blood and she’d given so much back in turn, to children who needed it, to people with unique cases and blood types meant nothing to her semblance with regular people. She couldn’t help but want to help, even if Jaune worried, she loved him for that… She loved him, loved him more then others. More then anyone else.

But it wasn’t the same type of love she always felt, always knew, no, this was different, she wanted to both love him and be loved by him. To be loved as Toga Himiko, by Jaune, she didn’t want him to conform to her standard of love.

It wouldn’t be fair, it’d be like who she was forced to follow the standard society before she met him, she wanted to love Jaune as herself but also as him whenever the fancy struck her. But she also wanted to love him as Ren did, as Nora did, as so many of his students did…

And soon, she would be able to, today would be the start of it, a plated landed in front of her then, and looking up she met his smile.

“Are you ready Toga, your three will be trying out for Beacon today after all. So you all need to eat up.” He served her her breakfast, more than Ren’s but nothing near the mountain of pancakes he placed before her eccentric sister. But then again the pile her put before himself was barely any smaller. He needed it after all, because he regularly gave her blood, regularly accepted her form of expressing it and indulged that aspect of her.

She loved him for it, wanted to love him even more, even deeper, more intimately then any other, and once she passed Initiation she would. She only hoped that when she did succeed, her partner would be as understanding as her.

Maybe even being able to understand her love, Or Better Yet! Maybe They’ll Love Jaune As Much As She Does! Oh ‘Giggle’ she meant Professor Arc.

[starr-matterr]

♡̵♥︎♡̵̵"All you wanna do...is see me turn into...a giant woman!" ♡̵♥︎♡̵̵

This is gonna be my first ever fanfic and its for hsr😭😭

Its probably gonna be ass but I need to get this out of my head actually.

No use of y/n. reader is called "You"

Only like 2 characters r mentioned by name you'll understand that later

I know little to nothing abt hsr so alot of this might just be brain worms.

Idea credit to @eternityofend they r so silly for this idea go follow them plz

You were a unique Aeon, however, thoroughly confusing all who had studied you. You weren't callous and cruel like other Aeons, in fact You took a great pride in putting your all into caring for your followers and all around you. You were utterly perfect in their eyes.

Which Is why they were so confused when it came up to researching you. Your kindness and passion towards all you deemed good was well documented but one thing was not. Your appearance. You seemed to only appear to your followers in dream-like states. To your dear acolytes, You were a complete mystery, those few who did happen to see you only recalling how utterly loved they felt. They could only vaguely describe what they believed was You with statments varying each time.

It stayed that way for a long time as the seasons passed and sightings of You dwindled. Everything seemed so bleak without You, the greenery seemed to dull, the once colorful skies seemed to darken, and it could be felt by everyone.

Especially those blessed by you, most importantly, the Trailblazer. The Trailblazer always had a unique connection to You, often hearing your velvety voice for fleeting moments or seeing visions of You in dreams.

They had grown accustomed to your presence, even if you weren't physically there. When they had come to the realization that you were pulling away from your loyal, devoted acolytes they didn't take it well.

What had they done to forsake you? Why were You abandoning your Trailblazer?!?

They had moped around for weeks, delivering offerings to your shrines spread about the planets You had forged by hand out of love for your creations.

Without your guidance they began to spiral. Getting a little too rough with enemies, not tending to their own injuries after battles, often staring off into space, they were losing it. They needed you.

It wasn't until they had finally reached their breaking point until they heard it. A giggle, that laugh that would make all their worries wash away. Their breath hitched in desperation before they the thought of you out of their mind. You couldn't be back could you?

Then they heard it again. They didn't know why but they started running. It was if their body knew where to go but their mind didn't. They didn't know why they were running, You had never appeared in physical form yet.

They ran in the direction of your voice before hastily stumbling upon You. My were You a sight for sore eyes. The Trailblazer paused as they took in every inch of You, committing every last bit of you to memory, just incase this really was psychosis. You were sat in what seemed to be some large plains as your acolytes swarmed You like small bees.

You let out a chuckle at how adorable they all looked and how much they had grown since you last saw them. They were still so small and so needy but you loved every bit of them. Your acolytes peppered You with questions, praise, and presents as You gretted them all.

Sometimes you'd even let them crawl into the palm of your hand so you could get a better look at them. The person in question currently receiving this treatment being none other than March 7th. As she stared at You with star-struck eyes You couldn't help but giggle.

You continued to play with your acolytes before seeing the Trailblazer. You beckon them over with a smile, one the Trailblazer hadnt seen in months now.

As they approached You gently set March down, as to not hurt her before turning to the Trailblazer. Sensing how tense they were You brush a gentle finger through their hair as if anything harsher could crush them. As you pet their hair they seem to melt into your touch, making you laugh at their content smile.

You weren't expecting this. You expected your acolytes to be intimidated, scared even. You were white large and you could decimate them in seconds. That didn't seem to phase them as they chattered amongst themselves about larger temples and bigger offerings.

They just had to find a fitting celebration for your return, lest you take their hesitation as ungratefulness and devoid them of your presence again.

The trailblazer seemed to be keeping you company as the others made preparations for a mighty celebration in your name. As you patted their head their breaths were shaky as they professed their unbreakable loyalty to You.

It spooked you a bit. You didn't know your dear trailblazer could be so passionate, as You had only really been around them when they needed truly needed support or answers.

You didn't stop them however, You believed they needed to get this off their chest to sooth themselves.

You turn your gaze away from the Trailblazer for a moment, still allowing them to nuzzle into your fingers as long as they avoided your sharp nails. Now that you had a physical form you should probably file them down. You didn't want to harm your acolytes did you?

Your gaze falls upon the small crowd starting to form as they stare up at You. You flash them a charming smile, melting their hearts and making their minds feel fuzzy as you do.

That doesn't stop them from glaring daggers at the Trailblazer however. Just what was so special about them that your other acolytes couldn't do?

Their little angry faces were adorable to You. You just couldn't stop yourself from 'Aww'-ing at them!

Their heart skips a beat as hear it. Did you belive they were..cute? they feel all of those sleepless nights filled with extensive research on your disappearance was worth it. You swear You heard someone in the crowd offer You their newborn.

'This will be eventful.' You think to yourself as cou continue tending to your acolytes. Your heart swelling with unbridled joy.

UH YEAH.

My first fanfic done yippiee yippiee

Can you tell i haven't got past the tutorial of hsr because my phone is ass or naw be honest☹☹☹

Might put out a part 2 if the brain worms become too much idk

Also please tell me if I did anything wrong or something is misspelled or misused just dont throw pebbles at me for it thx!!!

YALL I ACCIDENTALLY POSTED THIS EARLIER IM GONNA RIP MY FACE OFF AUGHHG.

[allnightstay]

Hello. I really reaaally enjoy your death note fanfics !~ Pleeease make more! I also love the ryuk x light trope frfr. (not romantic ofc lol)

Well well today must be your lucky day 😙😙

Also I love Ryuk x Light I think it's just so cute and hilarious 😂

Enjoy~~

It was a dull, cloudy afternoon in the Kira investigation headquarters. The constant hum of the computer and the quiet sound of writing filled the room, but Ryuk had grown bored of his usual routine. He perched on top of the bedroom dresser, his large, eerie wings spread out behind him, casting an unsettling shadow across the room.

He glanced down at Light, who was absorbed in his work, scribbling notes furiously on a notepad as he stared intently at his laptop screen. Light was so absorbed in his pursuit of justice that he never noticed the large, mischievous Shinigami sitting just above him. Ryuk could sense Light's intensity, but for the first time in a while, he felt... unstimulated.

After all, Ryuk wasn't just interested in watching Light as he worked; he wanted some fun. His glowing red eyes scanned the room, looking for a way to entertain himself. And then, a thought crossed his mind, one that made him grin slyly.

"That's right," Ryuk muttered to himself, remembering the last time he had noticed something... interesting about Light.

Light is ticklish.

The realization sent a shiver of excitement down Ryuk’s spine. He could already imagine the outcome: Light’s composure would crumble under the relentless tickling, his normally cold, stoic demeanor breaking down into uncontrollable laughter. Ryuk's grin widened. This was exactly what he needed.

Carefully, Ryuk descended from his perch, his feet softly landing on the floor with barely a sound. He slinked over toward Light, whose attention remained fixed on his work, oblivious to the Shinigami's presence. Ryuk couldn't help but chuckle to himself. This would be too easy.

With swift and almost silent movements, Ryuk reached out, just barely grazing the side of Light’s torso. The young man flinched but didn't react beyond that, thinking it was some random itch or a shift in his clothing.

Ryuk, undeterred, raised his clawed fingers, slowly and methodically moving them toward Light's vulnerable side once again. He waited a moment, letting the tension build.

Then, without warning, he dug his fingers into Light's ribs.

Light gasped and immediately jerked back, his chair skidding across the floor as a surprised laugh escaped his lips.

"H-Hah! Whahat the—?!" Light tried to steady himself, but it was no use. Ryuk had already found the sweet spot. The Shinigami’s fingers dug in, dancing lightly across Light’s ribs, eliciting another burst of laughter from him.

Light, attempting to maintain his composure, bit his lip, his face flushing with a mix of confusion and embarrassment. "Gahahaha Ryuhuhuk! Stohohop—!"

But Ryuk wasn't stopping. He leaned in closer, his grin widening as he pressed his fingers deeper, gently wiggling them under Light’s armpit.

Light’s breath caught in his throat, and for a moment, he seemed to freeze. But then, the ticklish sensation hit again, and this time it was uncontrollable.

"HAHAHAHAHA!" Light burst into a fit of laughter, his body squirming in his seat. "NOHOHOHO RYUK P-PLEHEHEASE!!" His hands instinctively shot up to his sides, attempting to swat Ryuk’s hands away, but it was no use. Ryuk was relentless, teasing him mercilessly as he moved from one vulnerable spot to the next.

"HAHA come ohohON" Light gasped between his giggles, desperately trying to regain control. "I-I’m serious! Stohohohop!"

But the Shinigami only laughed, his deep, unsettling voice echoing in the otherwise silent room. "Oh, Light, I never get tired of hearing that laugh of yours. You really are ticklish, aren't you?"

Light’s face was bright red now, both from the embarrassment of being so utterly vulnerable and from the unstoppable laughter that had taken over him. He arched his back slightly as Ryuk’s fingers found a new spot along his sides, sending another wave of giggles through his body.

"Heh—AHAHA!!" Light could barely breathe, his usual sharp and commanding tone completely replaced by helpless laughter. His legs kicked out, but Ryuk was far too quick, easily keeping him pinned to his chair with his long, skeletal hands.

Ryuk's expression was one of pure delight. "What's the matter, Light? Can't handle a little tickling?" He increased the pressure, his fingers making quick, light movements that tickled with such precision that Light couldn’t stop laughing even if he tried.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Light gasped for air. "I... I can’t—breathe—Ryuk, ple-HAHA—"

Ryuk, seeing the desperate look in Light's eyes, reluctantly stopped. He pulled his hands away, allowing Light a moment to catch his breath.

Light sat there, red-faced and panting, his hands clutching the armrests of his chair as he tried to regain his composure. His mind was still reeling from the shock of the ticklish attack. "I... I swear... if you ever do that again, I’ll—"

But Ryuk was already gone, having floated back up to his perch on the bookshelf. The Shinigami was laughing too hard to even respond, his wings flapping in amusement as he watched Light try to recover.

"You’re so easy to mess with," Ryuk chuckled. "But don’t worry, Light. I’ll let you off easy this time."

Light, still flushed and breathing heavily, glared up at Ryuk, but the corners of his mouth twitched ever so slightly. Despite his best efforts to maintain his icy composure, the image of the Shinigami’s wide grin and the sound of his own laughter echoing in his mind were enough to break through his serious facade.

"Just wait," Light muttered, his voice now calm but with a hint of warning. "I’ll get you back for that."

Ryuk only smiled wider, his eyes glowing with anticipation. "I look forward to it."

And though Light might have been embarrassed in the moment, deep down, he couldn’t deny that a small part of him enjoyed the break from his endless scheming—and the laughter that had, for just a moment, made everything feel a little lighter.

The game between them was far from over.

[fishpout]

Okay, so like for the past 19 days I have been unable to draw or do anything productive really but that's because I have been working on a LONGAN DRAGON COOKIE PLUSHIE!!

!!! AND THEYRE DONE NOW

please just look at them for a second. Look into those badly sewn eyes. Do you feel sympathy, love, or hatred? You should! Feel at least one of those idk.

Something about the eyes makes me laugh because they're so pathetic looking...

(more photos below + long discussion/breakdown on sewing this as an almost complete beginner)

This was like definitely top 10 on the "things you dont try to attempt as someone who has only sewn 4 plushies before" list 😭 But the good news is that I was able to make their clothes 100% removable (they're a dress up doll now >:D) including accessories!! (I'll probably try to see if I can get any doll clothes to fit them soon. )

I attempted to make it as game accurate as possible but uhh their clothing was NOT designed to be brought into the third dimension at all.

Their gem, a bit wonky because i didn't really sew it right, is attached via a small button the back, which goes underneath the hood and clips onto itself:

I wasn't able to add some of their cooler armor sadly :( I LOVE ALL THE GOLD BUT ITS SO STUPIDLY HARD TO TRY AND ATTACH???? While I could have tried to sew it onto their robes, I didn't really want to be forced to wash the gold with the white in case it ever needed to be cleaned.

I did end up adding a cheap real ring as an accessory (from TJ max) because it was too big to fit onto my fingers. I think it looks cute + makes up a little bit for the lack of armor :3

I'm not really sure how many people have tried to make cookie run characters in real life, but has anyone noticed they have the vastly different proportions than most other chibi patterns available? Their limbs are thinner and longer urgh. Anyways because of this I used a base head pattern from a pre-existing pattern but I had to MAKE MY OWN BODY PATTERN!!! Which is both exciting and a bit terrifying as a complete beginner 😭, but I wanted to at least try to make it similar to the game!

Again I am NOT experienced in sewing AT all. I have made 4 plushies total WITH PREMADE PATTERNS and I have no sewing machine! I have never, ever, even attempted a body pattern before.

So here's the various problems I encountered while making this plush:

#1: The pattern for the body had to be continually readjusted because of how big the head is! Seriously the body has to be so small compared to it, but not too skinny otherwise it looked like a glorified skeleton. I ended up looking at a bunch of anatomy guides for CROB and CRK.

(This is a test piece that I pinned together and it looks utterly horrifying. I went back in after this to adjust the seam allowance to be thicker 💀)

#2: I decided that I was going to add all my HCs to this design, which included gradient limbs! That sounds great, right? While it looks cool (if they're not wearing clothes) it required SO MUCH EXTRA SEWING. I am happy with the result but wow, lots of sewing and confusion.

( These are the arms sewn together with their respective colors, but not fully assembled yet. There was the front piece + back piece which both needed the gradient.)

#3: I uh, made their head a bit asymmetrical... I was still getting used to cutting minky (as I'd only ever used fleece before) with my dull little scissors and got stuck with a face thats a little bit wonky. They're still cute... I think?

( I am really sad I wasn't able to make the black portion of their markings as pointy as they are in game :( but I was literally struggling so bad at this point that I couldn't cut anything evenly.)

#4: Okay this one wasn't on me but why do they not have like a canon haircut, Devsisters? In their default outfit I literally cannot figure out what kinda haircut is going on there 😭 I gave them similar hair to their costume (Emperor of Eternal Paradise,) but with some minor alterations (it looks like they have mini goat ears and I find it adorable)

(This isn't really a complaint about sewing as it is about the fact I just found it really confusing.)

OKAY PATTERN COMPLAINTS OVER!!! NOW FOR RANDOM DETAILS TIME:

the random detail is them laying down dead.

Actually I wanted to make their horn a lot longer (as shown in game) but discovered I HATE sewing this long ass branch. And I was still trying to factor in how comfortable they'll be to hold. Uh. So yeah, no giant branch. BUT THERE IS A MINI ONE!! And maaaybe at some point I'll extend it to look similar to the massive outreaching stems.

The ring isn't actually holding it in place, but if you have a ring and place it there it just looks super cute. The actual pieces are sewn together around where the ring is.

Their actual horn is attached to the forehead while the larger one(branch?) is secured onto the back of the head with a small stich. The rest of it is free floating and can be flicked around like a tail and flops around when moved :D

Another detail is their helmet... which isnt attached very securely 😭

(looks like a banana peel)

Its attached with a stretchy piece of fabric i had laying around and (badly) stitched in place around the edge so I could slide it around their hair a little bit. I had to tuck the front part INTO their bangs in order for it to stay upright. The helmet itself is the yellow minky fabric + some off white felt in order to make it stiff enough to hold its shape :D

ANOTHER FUNFACT, THEY ARE ACTUALLY LIFE SIZE. ISH. Actually they're a bit larger than life. IIRC Longan is like 21cm or 8~ inches irl, and this plush is a bit over 11 inches 😭 (excluding the horns, w the horns they're over a foot in height.)

IDK IF ANYONE WILL READ THIS BUT I AM ACTUALLY HAPPY WITH HOW THIS TURNED OUT!! Despite the uh troubles and lots of confusion, they're super super cute and I hope to continue to improve if I make another plush. :D

Honestly I made this out of complete love and admiration for Longan. They're so evil but not in the way you'd think. They're extremely morally reprehensible but still care for the other dragons, yet their love comes off so twisted and manipulative/controlling to the point of violence. Such an interesting creature, I'd love to hit them continually with a table at some point. Im just really REALLY not ready for what will happen to them.... oh my sweet(?!) creature.

(I'm actually a bit anxious posting this since I know they look a bit awkward, but hopefully it just adds to their cuteness factor...?!?!)

[the-ghostly-butterfly]

Snippet 1.5

Next

An accumulation of Henchman's nerves, curiosity, and isolation left them reaching for the TV remote and flicking on the news; if they were supposed to stay here, they may as well figure out what's going on outside. They weren't quite sure what to expect when they flipped to the right channel. At worst, they expected a detailed account of how Hero had beaten them to a pulp the previous day, and at best a dull prediction of the weather.

What they hadn't expected was a picture of the hero's face: bruised, blood, and scared. It was such a surprise Henchman merely blinked in silence for the first few moments, utterly failing to digest any of the words coming out of the reporter's mouth. Villain had to have been the one to do it. They hadn't heard of any other villains causing Hero so much trouble, and they knew they were incapable of doing that themself. Hell, in the previous battle, they'd barely managed to land a single hit on the damn Hero.

The TV flicked off suddenly. Henchman turned around, confused, until their focus settled on Villain's face in the doorway. They held the unplugged TV cord in one hand, and a small bag in the other. "We need to speak. In my office, if you don't mind." Henchman nodded numbly, and within a blink they were sat in Villain's office again.

"Hey," Henchman said, then immediately kicked themself, but Villain's lips quirked into a small smile, and when they drew closer, Henchman couldn't help noticing how they smelled of night air and coconut-vanilla body spray, which was their second favorite perfume, but very similar to one Henchman always wore.

"Hey," Villain responded, a teasing light in their eyes as they stopped within arm's reach of Henchman. "Are you feeling alright?" They asked softly, folding their hands together behind their back after dropping the TV cord and placing the small paper bag on the bedside table.

The proximity brought a faint burning to Henchman's cheeks, which prompted them to break the silence. Sitting up straighter, they spoke with a croaky voice. "I'm sorry--"

"Wait."

The Villain's soft voice was all it took to silence the breath in Henchman's lungs and steal the rest of their words off of their tongue.

"If there is an apology in order, it is one of me to you. I believe my anger was misdirected when we spoke earlier." Villain's cheeks were pinker than usual, though Henchman wasn't completely sure they weren't imagining it. Villain cleared their throat. "I... I wasn't angry with you; just frustrated at the situation. I didn't mean to cause you panic."

Henchman wasn't imagining it; Villain was absolutely blushing. Which was good, because so were they. Met with silence, Henchman floundered for something else to say in reply. They should probably attempt their own apology again, or accept Villains, but their mouth was full of marshmallows and their tongue was made of lead until,

"Did I misread anger for anxiety?" Villain offers, and they look embarrassed with themself.

---

I thought I knew them better than that. Villain knew they were making a horrible mess of the entire situation, but Right Hand made it clear on no uncertain terms that if they had to watch Villain beat around the bush with Henchman anymore they'd shave off their eyebrows in their sleep, then make them confess, which was an infinitely worse situation that Villain was doing their best not to image.

Henchman shook their head slightly, then their eyes widened a little as they shook off the silence they'd fallen into. "No, not at all. I just--I wasn't expecting you to say that. I was pretty sure you were pissed at me."

It's a herculean effort to stop the sigh of relief from swooshing out of Villain's lungs, and the burning blush they were hoping Henchman hadn't clocked faded just the slightest bit. Maybe this wasn't completely hopeless. With another slight clear of their throat (a nervous tick they'd been trying to loose since childhood), they unfolded their twitching hands and offered the bag to Henchman. A peace offering, and an apology.

Quick, sharp footsteps passed in front of the doorway, and a flash of Right Hand's silvery hair was all it took to prompt Villain into their next words, uttered so quickly their tongue tripped over itself. "I was angry at Hero because I was worried about you." They were blushing furiously, and focused their gaze to the ceiling because any eye contact with Henchman would absolutely send them sprinting out of the room to take the easy way out. Or, in Right Hand's words: The coward's way out. It was even worse knowing their right hand was most likely listening as they dug themself deeper and deeper.

"It was the whole reason I wanted Hero down in the first place; they showed an interest in you--they attempted to target you, and I'm not sure if it was to hurt me, because they knew I cared about you, or if it was of their own accord, but I put you in danger and probably encouraged you to run out and fight them."

From what they could tell, they'd stunned Henchman into silence once again, though they couldn't tell if that, coupled with the blush on their ears and cheeks, was a good thing or meant Villain was just making a fool of themself.

"I thought I'd pass out on the spot when Right Hand told me where you were, especially when I saw Hero trying to call for backup. I wasn't sure what they'd do to you if they got you in custody. I went back as soon as I could to deal with hero, but they'd already gotten reinforcements and I couldn't get more than a couple good hits in--"

Their phone buzzed on their desk and lit up with a notification from Right Hand. [Slow down]. The bastard was listening.

Villain took another steadying breath, fixing their uniform and closing their eyes for a moment, clearing their throat and running one hand through their hair, bruised knuckles still aching. Henchman's voice broke in before Villain could continue their poorly planned speech. This was supposed to go so much smoother.

"I... I'm sorry, for worrying you. I didn't realize you held that kind of concern for my safety."

Villain collapsed onto their chair, holding their head in their hands as if that could make this entire situation go away. "I'm sorry, for dumping this on you so suddenly. I just... I would hate to see you get hurt again. I really don't know what I'd do without you."

"And Medic being so weird...?"

"I wanted to make sure you took proper care of yourself while I was gone. I guess they went overboard--but you do have a tendency to neglect your own needs in favor of work, and last night was no different."

Henchman blushed a little bit, and Villain felt themselves sliding into a more relaxed cadence as the conversation eased from "confession" to "take care of yourself, you idiot".

"You're one to talk."

That knocked Villain into another bout of silence. "I'm Villain. It's my job to go out and fight heroes--and maybe sometimes with Right Hand, but you're... you're different. Even considering my other employees, you are different. If you were hurt... If you'd died last night... I don't think I would be okay without you. I... really... I really care about you." Wow, great job genious.

Henchman didn't give Villain time to fret about what their expression meant as they replied, "I don't wanna loose you either, Villain."

-- Thank you all so much for all the attention and support on this series! It means the world to me. I have so many ideas for future posts, so stay tuned! Also, I have very little idea of how romance is actually supposed to go, so any specific requests are very much appreciated.

Tagging: @nameless-beanie @crow-with-a-typewriter @mylovelyme @21fandom-shipper21 @gooberlad @cassidysinferno (If you wanted to be tagged and weren't please just poke me with a stick)

[sonicpilled]

Pull You From Your Guilt (Zombic AU)

Chapter Two - “Dirt”

Content warnings: mention of suicide, unhealed sh

word count≈ 3500

sonic + shadow (hurt/comfort)

“Sonic was dead. Shadow knew that. He held his bleeding body in his arms, he saw him in his casket as it was closed and lowered into the ground. He was gone. He wasn’t going to come back. Whoever, or whatever, he’s stumbled upon at the cemetery couldn’t have been Sonic.”

!!!ty everyone for the support on the first chapt.. pls enjoy. or hate. luv ya!

A week before that particular cemetery visit, Dr. Ivo Robotnik finally greenlighted his final plan. For the 3 months after Sonic’s death, he had been keeping it in the dark, testing and calculating the outcomes. It was one of many options he had prepared if the hedgehog ever died by something other than the doctor. A mix of chemicals, dangerous acids, and other hazardous products was dumped into the soil of Sonic’s grave. The contamination would affect the body in 5-7 days.

\\

The air was freezing, as autumn nights at 2:00 am usually were.

It was dark, the blue moon was the only light source for regular eyes. It was thanks to his alien half that Shadow could even see the disorder right before him, as he stood there. He narrowed his eyes at the tombstone, and the pile of dirt, and looked around the graveyard. At first, Shadow thought maybe some kind of pest was messing with the grave, but the rustling of the nearby bushes and long blades of grass was telling another story. If Sonic’s grave was defiled, the culprit wouldn’t get away with it. Shadow would make sure of it.

“Whoever's out there,” He started, his voice low as he became cautious of his surroundings. His quills stiffened, as he became on edge at the thought of grave robbers disrupting the hedgehog’s rest. “You’d be a fool to keep hiding.”

Shadow’s ear twitched at the crackling sound of a breaking twig, along with footsteps on the grass. He began to mutter the words that drew chaos energy from the palm of his hand, preparing to demolish whoever was about to show up.

“Chaos..” he stared carefully, as he took one step away from the tombstone and raised his hand.

He stared intently at where the noise came from, his quills and fur now bristled. The soft-sounding footsteps on the grassy hill made him glare in that particular direction. The moment he spotted a figure rise from behind the granite headstone, he raised his hand, about to finish the dangerous phrase.

“Wait!”

Shadow froze. He knew that voice. He drew his hand back, slowly. He shook his head, knowing that this was, again, a terrible dream. The faintly blue figure that was once hiding behind the granite carefully unfolded from its defensive pose. And then Shadow saw those green eyes. They were dulled at the moment, but he knew that shade of green.

It couldn’t be him. It couldn’t have.

Sonic was dead. Shadow knew that. He held his bleeding body in his arms, he saw him in his casket as it was closed and lowered into the ground. He was gone. He wasn’t going to come back. Whoever, or whatever, he’s stumbled upon at the cemetery couldn’t have been Sonic. For a moment, it was completely and utterly silent. No words could come out of either one of them. Shadow just stared, bewildered, into those green eyes. And those same eyes just stared right back.

It stayed that way for a bit, the faint sounds of the cold wind and far-away creaking of the iron gate. About a thousand thoughts were racing through Shadow’s mind, as he took a deep breath. He closed his eyes, quills only a bit raised as he tried to think about the situation. Part of him wanted to believe that this was just another bad dream, yet the other half of him was just hoping that this was some kind of miracle that resulted in Sonic being back.

“..Shadow,” that voice spoke ever so gently, as if they were as confused as Shadow was. That voice that was so undeniably him. It had to be him. It had to be Sonic. He recognized that voice anywhere, and to hear it that soft… it made him really hope this was a dream, just so he could imagine that he was with him again.

“Sonic...” Shadow whispered, as he took a slow step forward. That voice drew him in, his need for this unknown being to be Sonic just growing even more. He needed to see him again, and not in a coffin.

The figure carefully stepped forward, out of the pitch darkness. The moonlight shined on him slowly, revealing his appearance bit by bit. His fur was not a vibrant but muted cobalt blue, though a little matted. The color of his muzzle and arms were both a greenish yellow. His quills were unkept and a bit tangled, let down, and unstyled. He lifted his head wearily, and Shadow’s breath hitched.

It had to be Sonic.

The way this hedgehog looked at him, those green eyes, that face. It had to be him. It quickly became difficult for Shadow to convince himself it wasn’t him. His expression softened, a little bittersweet frown on his face. The cool air breeze rustled the leaves and flowers, as well as the fur of the two hedgehogs. Shadow sighed deeply, taking another step towards the blue hedgehog. If this really is a dream I'm having, he thought to himself as he looked down at him with tired eyes, I want to make the most of it.

So, he leaned down, gently wrapping his arms around the hedgehog, tightly hugging him. His body was cold, and shivering a bit in Shadow’s arms as he leaned into his touch. Shadow held him tightly. He felt too real for this to be a dream.

This.. this was Sonic.

Wasn’t it?

“I got this for you,” Sonic noted softly, toying with the soft, green scarf. He took in a shaky breath, as he pulled away slightly. He looked up at Shadow, then around the gloomy graveyard. “I… I really don't understand what’s going on. Maybe I was given something, dunno.. Everything’s.. out of place.”

“It seems so,” The black hedgehog nodded as he followed Sonic’s gaze, until their eyes met again. He looked exhausted, his irises dulled out. Everything about him looked… sick. Either way, this was much better than the last time he ever held him. “What are you even doing here, Sonic?”

“I guess I dunno. Why… Why am I still here? Did I really screw that up, too?” Sonic joked hesitantly, clearly upset about his mind being all foggy, and only sort of remembering his final moments. Shadow wasn’t all there either, as he stared at the ground again. Of course, he knew exactly what Sonic meant by his words. It definitely wasn’t something he should be joking about. Especially not to his face.

“Sonic… Do you actually think your attempt failed?” Shadow started carefully, a little frown on his face as he stared at the granite tombstone and mess of dirt right behind Sonic. “You died.”

All Sonic could do was stare at him in disbelief, waiting for further elaboration. How could he be dead? Was this just a cruel joke? Was he in a coma? If anything, he just assumed he was dreaming in the hospital. The air was cold, and his body felt gross. Sonic felt like he knew this cemetery, it looked familiar to him in some kind of way.

“I held your dead body in my arms. I went to your funeral. You died, Sonic.” Shadow spoke a bit more urgently now, narrowing his eyes at him. He wasn’t entirely sure anything that was happening at the moment was actually real, but he was still upset and how nonchalant Sonic was being. Did he just… not care?

“Then why am I here? Why am I breathing and speaking to you? See, your story has a ton of plotholes, dude,” Sonic laughed awkwardly, falling silent as he stared at the soil. The truth was that he was thinking the same thing. Sonic thought maybe he survived, but part of him was wishing he didn’t. It was unexplainable, really. Shadow groaned, taking a deep breath. This really was Sonic, wasn’t it?

“..I found you. In the bathroom, that night you left,” He spoke quietly, gently grabbing hold of Sonic’s hand. That night you left me, went unspoken. His gloves were a bit ripped, the ends of the fabric fraying. He glanced down, seeing the shredded skin of Sonic’s wrist. Unhealed, though a bit cleaned up for the open casket. It all came together, making only a tiny bit of sense now. The dullness of his eyes and fur, the dirt all over him. Sonic didn’t take good care of himself to begin with, but he was even more unkempt than usual. 3 months of decomposition must have messed him up.

He was dead. Half-dead, atleast. Shadow sighed, quickly looking away. “Look at yourself.”

Sonic frowned, slightly offended until he looked at his body, seeing what made Shadow look away. He thought he just felt like he was rotting. Maybe this was some kind of nightmare. “Ah.”

He looked up at Shadow, his face a mix of feelings and emotions. What the hell are you supposed to say to someone after they’ve seen you dead?

They stared at each other for a while, until a few stray droplets of water fell on their heads. Sonic blinked, snapping out of his staring as he looked up at the dark sky. His nose scrunched up as more drops of rain fell on the both of them. Shadow’s annoyance died down, as he watched the rain fall along with Sonic’s reaction.

“Hey,” Shadow said gently, a hand reaching up to carefully pet his head to calm him down a little. He knew Sonic was too out of it to even think of complaining about getting wet. “Let's… get you out of the rain, and clean you up. Maybe things will make sense then.”

Sonic glanced at Shadow instead of the sky and quickly nodded. He knew him too well. Shadow held his hand, carefully avoiding his wrist so as to not worsen those wounds, and led him out of the cold and dark cemetery. It was quiet, then, as they walked. The sounds of their soft footsteps along the grass and the slightly louder ones along the concrete walkway could be heard, along with the sprinkled raindrops against the grass.

Shadow took him out of that gloomy place, past the granite tombstones and dead flowers and the creaking and rusting iron gates of the graveyard. He climbed onto his motorcycle and gestured for Sonic to do the same. The blue hedgehog smiled sweetly, his tail slowly wagging as he hopped on. As Shadow shifted the gears of the bike, Sonic wrapped his arms around his waist. He paused, seeing him cuddled up close to him in the corner of his eye. Shadow huffed, a sweet wave of familiarity washing over him. He missed this. He missed him. And It seems he wasn’t the only one.

The two rode through the (at the moment) quiet city of Westopolis, together in the rain. The sun had just started to rise, the traffic nonexistent, the exception being just a few cars passing by. Shadow had been with Sonic at his state of most excited hyperness, his state of overwhelmed anxiousness, and his state of drained and nonverbalness. It wasn’t outlandish to see Sonic this quiet, as he softly purred and held him tightly. In a way, Shadow was proud of himself, he was one of the only people who got to see Sonic this way.

“So… Where are we headed?” Sonic spoke up, watching the mellow blues and teals of the sky as the sun woke up. Shadow was tired, and dazed, but somewhat relieved. It was like normal again. Normal enough, atleast, with these motorcycle rides through the city. Though at the moment it wasn’t loud and exciting, Shadow appreciated this, too. It was nice… being with him again.

“My apartment.” Shadow replied quietly, glancing at Sonic before staring ahead. He nodded in acknowledgement, pulling his gaze away from the beautiful sky and drawing it towards the black hedgehog he was holding onto. He sighed softly, holding on a little tighter.

They got to Shadow’s place, as he locked up his motorcycle to the bike rack just right outside the building. As soon as they got under some protection from the rain, Sonic shook all the water off of his quills and fur. Shadow watched him in amusement, a little chuckle coming out of him as they stepped into the building. He looked around, as they walked up the stairs. He knew this apartment complex well, having been there a bunch of times. They took the elevator, Sonic tapping his foot against the stone flooring, another common stim of his. While Shadow was content with the silence, it only made Sonic nervous.

“You think I’d ever get to go back to my own place, Shadz?” He started, as the elevator doors opened. Shadow hummed in thought, walking down the dimly lit hall as Sonic followed.

“…No. I’m pretty sure someone’s already moved in,” Shadow shrugged, stopping as they got to his door. Sonic frowned a bit, staring at the wooden flooring as Shadow unlocked the door to his apartment.

“Ah… that tracks,” Sonic muttered, as he fidgeted with his hands. It shouldn’t surprise him. He was dead now. It was bound to happen. “Um. Who has all my stuff?”

“I have some of your belongings. Tails and Amy, too. Tails mostly.” Shadow spoke calmly, though he could sense Sonic being upset due to his fidgeting. He unlocked the door, taking his boots off and setting them aside before he walked in. Without those, he was around Sonic’s height now, maybe just a smidge taller. He glanced at Sonic’s dirty and messed up shoes, the soles ripped. He sighed. “Take your shoes off, you’ll bring in the mud.”

Sonic nodded, slipping out of the frayed and ragged shoes before he stepped in. Oh, Tails.. he paused, as he thought about his brother. How is he holding up? How did he handle it? How is anyone handling it? How long has it even been? He hadn’t even thought to ask. He… didn’t think about any of this when he first woke up. Does that make him a bad person? Shit, shit, shit..

As Shadow set his keys down and took off his scarf, Sonic stayed there in front of the doorway. He stared at the ground, his fidgeting only getting worse as he took a deep breath. “How… How long has it been since…”

Shadow was slipping out of the leather jacket as he spoke, hanging it on the chair in the kitchen. “Since..?”

“How long has it been since I killed myself, Shadow?” He snapped at him, his voice shaky. Shadow’s calm expression wavered, as he turned to Sonic. The blue hedgehog rambled to him a bit loudly, waving his hands around as he spoke. His breathing was rapid, his quills raised and his fur bristled. “I-I just- I’m thinking about it now. I’m thinking about all of it now. I know what I did to myself, I know that it was horrible. I hurt a lot of people by doing it. I was so, so, so fucking selfish! I shouldn’t even be here!”

“Hey.. Hey,” Shadow whispered patiently, his fur a bit bristled from Sonic’s yelling, yet knew he was upset. He had every right to be. He knew it was going to all crash down on him soon enough. He carefully came over to him, holding one of his hands. “Sonic, please, try to breathe a bit. You’re only tiring yourself out.”

“Ughh..” he sniffled, the hand-holding effectively grounded him, like Shadow intended it to. His breathing slowed only a bit, as Shadow raised a hand to softly stroke his head. He wiped a tear off his cheek, and guided him to the antique couch in his apartment. He sat Sonic down, as he continued the petting.

“…Three months,” he spoke softly, looking intently at Sonic while he avoided eye contact. He rubbed soothing circles into the fur of his hand. “It’s been three months, Sonic.”

Sonic fell silent, nodding as he tapped his finger on the fabric of the couch. Three months… He sighed, now tracing the floral patterns with his fingertips. “I just.. I left everyone behind, Shadow. I left you behind,” He spoke quietly, a wince on his face at what he was going to say next. “Don’t you hate me?”

Shadow held his hand a little tighter, shaking his head slightly. “Sonic, I could… never hate you,” He spoke reassuringly, a bit hurt that he would even consider that. “I love you. And you did leave people behind, but you were hurting. I know you were. Don’t dismiss your own pain.”

Sonic looked up at him wearily, a few more tears falling from his eyes.

“…I love you too.” He spoke softly, letting himself be pet by Shadow. He calmed him down. He always knew what to say, Sonic was grateful for that. Although he sounded honest, Sonic just couldn’t help but feel like it wasn’t true.

“If you’ve calmed down enough, do you want a bath? You’re.. covered in dirt.” Shadow talked quietly, glancing at Sonic’s fur and quills that were messy and had much more than just dirt caked onto him. Now in proper light, he saw how rotted he really looked. He shook it off, even if it irked him a bit. Sonic, mentally exhausted from the moment he woke up in the cemetery, nodded. Shadow smiled, kissed his head, and led him to the bathroom.

He stopped at the bathtub, glancing at Sonic with a bit of a worried expression. Maybe it was too soon. “Are you going to be okay?”

Sonic stared for a moment, until he realized he was supposed to say something. Tired, he gave a thumbs up. “mhm.”

“…Alright.” He shrugged it off, as he turned the water on.

Usually, after battles or quarrels in bad weather, the two were left in bad condition. It was a little ritual they had going, cleaning each other up when the other got messed up. Washing the mud out of ones fur, bandaging the others wounds, it was one of their many weird ways of showing affection. Maybe this was the same. Or maybe it was something completely different.

Gently, Shadow scrubbed the dirt and grime out of Sonic’s fur. That pretty blue wouldn’t be so vibrant again, but Shadow did what he could to clean up his hedgehog. He carefully went around the wounds on Sonic’s body, not wanting to worsen any of them. He knew his scars wouldn’t heal. Those cells and tissues were long gone. As he saw them scattered all over his arms and thighs, he sighed deeply.

“Oh, Sonic..” he whispered softly, as he moved on to shampoo. Sonic frowned a bit, he wasn’t sure if he was embarrassed or ashamed.

Once that was through, he wrapped him in a towel and let him be alone for a bit in the bathroom. His fur dripping wet, Sonic walked over to the mirror. He shook the water off of his body, even if Shadow already had given him a towel. He stared at himself for a bit, taking note of his tired eyes and overall sickly new face. he sighed. Is this what I am now..? he thought to himself, glancing at the bathtub drained of its water and then back to himself in the mirror. He looked down at his wrists, seeing the messy fur and cuts all over. They’d never fade. They’d never go away.

Sonic brushed his teeth, using the toothbrush he kept there at Shadow’s apartment for whenever he’d stay over. Then, he went into the cabinet and grabbed the first aid kid. He wrapped his wrists in bandages, and walked out of there.

Shadow was in his bed, staring at the ceiling. The tv was on, the news was on the screen. But it was all background noise for him. He was completely lost in his thoughts. Was anything that happened that day actually real? He went to visit him after a terrible dream, and then all of this happened. He had no clue. Maybe in the morning, it’ll all go back to normal. He took in a deep breath, sitting up as Sonic walked in. Completely dry, his fur was all fluffy.

“Hey,” Shadow spoke gently, waving him over to come and sit. Sonic tilted his head, a little sleepy smile on his face. Even if it was 6:00 now, they were both exhausted.

“…Hey,” Sonic nodded, climbing into the bed with him. He yawned, glancing at the tv. as he curled up next to Shadow.

“Starting with today and throughout the whole week, it’ll be pouring rain! We couldn’t think of a joke for that, even if weather puns are usually a breeze.” The reporter talked joyfully, the weather forecast showing up on the tv. Quietly, Sonic snickered. And then he laughed, loudly. Shadow smiled softly.

“That was not funny, and you know it.” He joked, a little smirk on his face as he watched Sonic catch his breath.

“Oh, shut up, dude! You’re literally smiling!” Sonic spoke cheerfully, grinning up at him. Shadow was smiling. And It definitely wasn’t because of the stupid pun, but he wasn’t going to tell Sonic that.

Eventually, Sonic fell asleep. Shadow stayed awake a bit longer, petting his head. He was thinking about a lot of things, still, as he hazily watched the news and held Sonic carefully in his arms.

“…On a more serious note, the grave of the beloved hero Sonic the Hedgehog, has reported to be… Police and other investigators are searching to…”

The news reporter was saying something, and Shadow really did want to pay attention, but he was exhausted. Now, with his hedgehog in his arms, he felt content. Now, that he had him back…

He really didn’t want to let him go.

ya

i hope it wasnt obvious it got realy self indulgent Lool… i am not trying the best when it comes to accuracy in character writing. just mayb my own personal interpretation of them

[deluxeloy]

Rory's Awakening

[I wrote something! A friend invited me to try a new ttrpg system (Mage: The Awakening 2e) and I got lost in the lore almost immediately. I came out the other end with a fun character, I think, and had to get some backstory out of my brain so I could function in real life again. Plus, I promised some people I'd post it online, so here's we go.]

[It's a little bit surreal, and you probably don't know the setting and definitely don't know my character, so prepare for a confusing read, and enjoy.]

---

Piece of shit.

We barely made it a mile, and I can already hear you choke. You stutter and hitch for no goddamn reason. I changed your oil, checked every gear, I flushed your fuel lines, again, less than an hour ago. What could possibly be your fucking problem?

A pathetic sob is my only response, and your engine stalls. Again.

I’ve replaced more parts than I care to keep track of, at this point. Sunk cost fallacy, I think they call it. Every time, I’m sure I have it, and every time, you disappoint. Were you this much of a needy bastard to Grandpa? I’ve seen him ride around on you, faster than anything. Just a dust cloud in the cornfields. So I know you can handle dust – asphalt should be a walk in the park for you. What did he do right that I’m doing wrong?

I force you to start again, and it’s like dragging a limp, crying toddler around. The spark plugs work fine, I tested them individually. I tested everything. You should work. By my word, I’ll make you work. Dad told me to give up on you, but I know I’m close. I’m close to a breakthrough. I could have gotten nothing when Grandpa died, but I got you, and I’m not just throwing you away. He knew that. Dad knows it. And I think you know it, too.

I’m not giving up, no matter how much you insist. My helmet only blocks out so much of the setting sun, but I’ve taken you down this road so many times this year I could do it blind. There’s basically no cars here, either. Just straight road and the occasional old factory. Perfect for your little tantrums.

As if on cue, you falter again, but this time you pull a new trick. Your handlebars wrench themselves out of my hands as the fork violently jerks to the left. Your front wheel screeches to a halt, tipping your center of mass forward, and me with it. I don’t think I even hear my head hit the asphalt.

---

The bank of a river. The waters are deep, utterly pitch-black, and its shores are barren and raw. The sky is a sickly, greenish gray, completely uniform in all directions. Across from me, on the far side of the river, are people. Hundreds, thousands, more than I could possibly count. They do not move, or speak. They just watch me, eyes without faces.

I get up, and start walking.

I don’t even think about where I need to go. I’ll get there. In a moment of lucidity, I know that this is a dream, or like it. I understand what is happening, or at least enough to know what comes next. The dead watch me as I stumble along, and the ferry comes into view.

The ferryman greets me as I approach. Tears well up before I even recognize him, but I’m too numb to cry. He’s not like the other dead. The wrinkles in his face deepen as he smiles, and he holds out a liver-spotted hand, missing the middle finger.

“Took you a while, Red,” Grandpa chuckles.

He pulls me aboard, and his grip is as strong as I remember. Waves ripple out across the void. When I let go, there’s something in his hand. Small, dull gray, and dented. A coin for the ferryman. Grandpa nods, and pushes the boat away from the shore, gripping the oar with both hands now.

“He doesn’t mean it like that, you know,” he finally says.

I stay silent. I said my last words to him, I thought, at his funeral. Whispered, more like. I didn’t think I’d have to follow them up. But it doesn’t matter anyway. I feel like we both understand each other anyway.

He continues, paddling idly with the stream. “He wants to help you. Really does. He wants to trust you. He just can’t, yet.”

“Then what do I do?” I finally manage. “Nothing works. I’ve tried everything. It just keeps breaking.”

He laughs, softly, but with that same mischievous streak he always had. Like he knew something you didn’t. Grandpas always tell you they know everything, but with him, it was easy to believe.

“You’ve asked him what he wants,” he explains, eyes glinting in the dark. “But you never wait for an answer. You need to listen, Rory. He’ll tell you.”

I don’t even notice the boat has docked, until he steps onto the pier. I follow, unsteady, still unfocused but aware of everything. On the island stands a lighthouse, its rough bricks glassy and black. The light is off. The door is open.

Grandpa leads me inside, and I follow him like a sleepwalker. He chuckles again, like he just heard something funny. There is no furniture within the lighthouse. Only dust, machinery, and a winding staircase to the top. My feet are on autopilot, but Grandpa calls me back.

“You’re forgetting something.”

He hands the coin back to me, and it’s heavy. Impossibly heavy. My arm barely moves, but I feel my energy draining as I look at it. A crowned skull gives me the side-eye, disappointed with my slow grasp of things. I turn over the coin, but the other side is blank. My thumb passes over the surface, smooth and cold. When I look again, my fingerprint is stamped into the metal, reflecting a strange, iridescent sheen. I flip it again, and the skull is gone. I blink, and the coin is no longer a coin.

Grandpa nods. I hesitate a moment, but then turn to climb the stairs again. My footsteps fall heavy, muffled by the dust. I spiral, clockwise, upwards. Each step is grief, loss, but I keep going. Not even because I want to. I just can’t give up. Sunk cost fallacy. Any step could be the last.

By the time I reach the top, I have aged a lifetime. The beacon sighs hollow expectation at me. My hands tremble, and I fall to my knees. Then, I get to work.

The machinery is simple, primitive even, but incomprehensibly complex all the same. I know I’m not just working a simple gearbox, or any other mundane machine. This predates all of humanity’s inventions. And it will outlast them. But, in this moment, it is my hands that must bring it to task. I work, without understanding, but knowing that it will work, until I can do no more. Then, I ask the dead metal what it wants.

It replies, and I obey.

The coin Grandpa gave back to me is no longer a coin. It is a gear, with my fingerprint still on the back. With unprecedented certainty, I insert it in the final gap, and its teeth happily grip into its neighbours’. The machine groans into action. The beacon shudders, then slowly starts to spin. And finally, light blossoms at the heart.

---

Pain worms into my head first, followed closely by conscience. My eyes shoot open, and nothing much changes at first. Night has fallen a while ago, street lights are sparse. I muster up the strength to lift my head, then my body.

Blinding light.

It only lasts a moment, as a distant lighthouse I know doesn’t really exist sweeps across the street. In that instant, I see everything I need to see. The shattered remains of my helmet across the asphalt. You, sprawled out in-between. The gear in my hand. My blood, pooling below my face, dripping still.

I crawl forward towards you. I listen, this time. The cap on your fuel tank eagerly comes loose. Red goes into the dark. And for the first time in years, I hear you purr contentedly, steadily. You’ve tasted my scent. I know you’ll never lose it. You’ll bring me home, with no complaints. You promise.

---

When I reach the lights of the city again, things look different on the way back. Where I remember abandoned factories, I now see the vast, rotting carcasses of human ambition. Every pothole – that you effortlessly weave between – is an open wound in the ill-maintained skin of our society. The dead line the road, though, to my relief, not nearly in the same numbers I saw across the river. They don’t judge me here, either. They’re lost themselves.

You don’t let it get to you. You finally know your purpose, know me, and sad scenes blitz past with unmatched ease. You rumble steadier than ever. No more tantrums, no more breakdowns. Just movement, the way you like it, carrying me through the night. I idly wonder what else you can do.

When I get back to the garage, I expect my dad to be worried sick. Furious, maybe. I’m still bleeding when the door rattles upwards for me, and I don’t have a lie to tell him. I don’t expect him to be slumped over the workbench, snoring softly. I most definitely don’t expect the garage to appear under water, with sunlight refracted through the waves dancing on the walls. The masked stranger sitting cross-legged on the roof of a customer’s car is, likewise, a surprise.

She stares me down, despite never moving her head or opening the eyes behind her mask.

“You’re Awake.”

[leggerefiore]

question about vampire submas: if their human s/o with their dull little canines and weak jaw bit them, what kind of message does that deliver? Is it arousing or do they simply get annoyed or offended? is it laughably cute or just ignored? maybe a little startling? while asking about vampires... what about vampire cyrus and larry as well?

assuming u mean include their reactions to request and not just general thoughts. (if you meant latter, feel free to send it in again)

Ingo gets confused and begins to worry this is some side effect of long term consumption of your blood. Are you attempting to feed as he does now? This all his fault. He asks if you feel the urge to consume blood after you pull away and is disheartened by your laughter. Thankfully, no, you do not need blood now and he can calm down. Though, he warns you it may accidentally set off his aggressive instinct and to be careful.

Emmet instantly takes it as a horny thing. Humans do that, right? Maybe it's a way to initiate sex. Your boldness shocks him for a moment before he processes his thoughts. You then end up pinned to the next surface with an excited vampire grinning at you with his sharp teeth exposed. It is not blood he's thirsting after, however. Well, maybe there is a little bit of blood desired, but it is secondary to other feelings.

Cyrus is annoyed and disgusted. He doesn't even drink blood straight from people any more, so you biting him it utterly disturbing and making his stomach twist. Your jaw is barely applying enough pressure to cause discomfort, let alone draw blood. He can only shrug you off and look at you sternly. Your behaviour is scolded, and you are informed to not do that again. Though, he does hate how much his heart beats in his chest for a whole after you do that.

Larry just freezes and assumes it's the end. For some reason, despite your weak bite and lack of sharpened teeth, he assumed this your attempt on his life. Then he realises you are not doing this to kill him and just stands in confusion. What are doing? You have just bewildered the middle-aged vampire. He has no idea how to even respond. All you see is his unmoving thinking face.

[jesscoloway17]

chucky pranks annie

The day had been as mundane as it could get for Chucky, the pint-sized, red-haired, knife-wielding doll. Sure, he had his moments of chaos and horror, but lately, it had all been a bit...dull.

That's why when Annie Wilkes, the charmingly deranged fan who had taken him in, asked for a "good old-fashioned prank," Chucky's plastic eyes lit up with an evil sparkle. The opportunity to stir the pot a bit was just what the doctor ordered—or, in his case, the mad scientist who brought him to life.

"Annie, darlin', I've got just the thing," Chucky said, his voice a sinister blend of childlike innocence and pure malevolence. "I've been holdin' onto this little gem for a special occasion, and I reckon today's the day we give it a whirl."

Annie's own eyes widened with excitement. She had always loved a good scare, but she had never been much for the practical jokes. Still, she trusted Chucky.

He had a knack for the dramatic, after all. Plus, it was hard to say no to that cherubic little face. "What's the plan, Chucky?" she asked, her Southern drawl thick with anticipation.

Chucky rubbed his tiny plastic hands together in glee. "Oh, it's a classic. I'm gonna make you watch something so shocking, so disturbing, so utterly bizarre that you'll think twice before you ever ask for a prank again!"

"Oh my stars," Annie exclaimed, her curiosity piqued. "What is it?"

"It's called '2 Girls 1 Cup'," Chucky said with a smirk, knowing full well that he was about to introduce Annie to one of the internet's most infamous videos.

"That sounds like a delightful rom-com," Annie said, her smile growing. "I just adore rom-coms, don't you?"

Chucky chuckled darkly. "This ain't no rom-com, sweetheart. But it's got a plot twist that'll knock your socks off." --- They settled into Annie's cluttered living room, surrounded by her vast collection of knickknacks and memorabilia from her favorite author, paul sheldon.

The atmosphere was tense, but Annie's excitement was palpable. She had no idea what she was in for, and that was precisely the point. Chucky had set up the laptop, the screen glaring with the harsh light of the YouTube thumbnails.

"Alright, darlin', just hit play," Chucky instructed, his voice a whisper of pure glee. Annie leaned over, her finger hovering over the mousepad.

"You're not going to scream, are you?" she asked, a hint of concern in her voice.

"Cross my heart," Chucky said, placing a tiny hand over his chest. The video started, and for a moment, Annie was lulled into a false sense of security by the catchy tune and the images of two young women laughing and frolicking in a field. But as the scene shifted to a more...intimate setting, Annie's expression grew more and more bewildered.

"Chucky, what on earth are we watching?" she asked, her hand poised to click the pause button.

"Just keep watching, Annie," Chucky said, his eyes glued to the screen. "It gets better." The video went from confusing to downright disturbing in a heartbeat. Annie's eyes bulged, and she slapped a hand over her mouth to stifle a gag.

"Oh no," she murmured, her eyes watering. "What is happening?" Chucky couldn't hold it in anymore. He burst out laughing, his high-pitched cackles echoing through the room.

"It's a prank, Annie!" he gasped between giggles. "A classic internet prank!" Annie's face flushed red, and she slammed the laptop shut with enough force to make Chucky fly across the room.

"That's disgusting!" she shouted, her voice trembling with rage and embarrassment. "How could you do that to me?"

--- "Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Chucky exclaimed, skidding to a halt on the floor. "It's all in good fun, Annie! You gotta admit, that was priceless!" Annie's fists clenched, and she took a deep breath to compose herself.

"Priceless? You call that priceless? You little...plastic....cockadoodie... .freak!"

Chucky held his hands up in a defensive gesture. "Hey now, watch the language. And come on, you gotta see the humor in it. It's just two girls...uh, sharing a cup?" He tried to play it off, but his laughter kept bubbling up.

"This isn't funny, Chucky," Annie said, her voice low and dangerous. "That was sick. Just...sick." Chucky's smile faded a little. He hadn't quite anticipated her reaction.

"Look, I'm sorry, okay?" He climbed back onto the couch and patted her knee. "I didn't mean to upset you. I just thought it'd be a good laugh." Annie pushed his hand away and stood up, her trembling legs barely supporting her.

"I'm going to bed," she announced, her voice shaking. "And I don't want to see you or that...that video ever again."