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teojira · 8 months ago

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[Click Click Boom] [Shadow x Reader short stories]

Summary: You're set to be Shadow's companion to keep an eye on him and keep him in line, a courtesy from the goverment for him saving the world with Sonic and the others.

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: Can be read as platonic or romantic! Shadow/reader romance is implied though! You're human in this, age is vague but you're meant to be in your 20s.

Disclaimer: Shadow is an adult, and as for the furry debate, he's literally an adult who can consent and is sentient, don't like? Don't read!

A/N: I've literally been obsessed with this fucker since I was a literal child and it's the first time I've written for him!! The trailer yas me going insane. This is written well before the movie has come out, literally all I got to work with is Shadow in the trailer and the bits and pieces of info I psychoanalized so I don't wanna hear shit about it not being accurate tbh, this is self indulgent!!

Shadow isn't the worst task you've been assigned, you both are more akin to awkward roommates more than anything.

I'm talking randomly lingering in the corners of the room, his bright red eyes glowing and they always seemed to be locked right onto you.

You screamed the first dozen times, but now you just glare at the black hedgehog and spit out a "fuck you." and go about your business.

He'll never admit that it brings him infinite amusement, it's hard to tell, but the huff he lets out is evidence enough.

Shadow will never admit he cares for you, he loses everyone he cares for, and humans don't live that long. It's terrifying to think about how much he's come to like you.

He's not nearly as slick as he thinks he is.

You're sitting down at the dinner table, typing away on your laptop, editing the mission report from the other day when Shadow makes his way towards you. Sending him a nod in his direction, you don't think of anything when he moves in close.

A huge slam takes you off guard though, jumping damn near out of your skin as you twist your head to look at him.

"What the fuck-"

"Take it."

It's one of Shadow's guns, his emblem being engraved along the stock.

"What? No, I have guns." You raise an eyebrow at the hog, his face is perfectly still, eyes locking onto yours as he waits for you to grab the heckler.

"Your guns are worthless, you need something better."

"Well excuse me, I so happen to like my guns." You try and joke back, but the offense is taken.

Shadow rolls his eyes so hard you're scared that he's gonna blind himself. Jutting his chin towards the table once more to get your focus back onto it.

"If you have one of mine, I know you're safe." He doesn't elaborate. Not that he needs to.

"...Thank you, Shad."

All you get is a grunt in response, and he's on his way back to his room.

Gingerly picking up the weapon, you take in how pristine it is, a thumb caressing your small initials that you missed on the other side of the stock.

With Shadow saving the world, the reeking of havoc makes it to where he's limited to what he is allowed to do in the public eye.

Not that he listens, he isn't supposed to be out after curfew. But to be fair, it is extremely hard to keep a teleporting hedgehog confined to a meager two-story house.

You can hear him teleport above you, he's on the roofs of the nearby building, leering down at you.

It was a small errand you were on, simply stocking up on the essentials for the house.

Namely, snacks for Shadow, he doesn't ask for a lot other than coffee beans and Doritos.

You are choosing to ignore the fact that he eats the coffee beans straight up, the crunch echoes through your head and it sends a shudder down your spine.

He was adamant against you leaving the house this late, standing in front of the front door.

"No."

"Fuck you mean no?"

"I said no."

"....I don't listen to men."

And you weaved around him to leave the house, ignoring his shout of disapproval.

That leads you both to here now, you pretending you don't see him trailing you from the rooftops as you walk your way back home from the small shopping center.

You feign surprise when he opens the house door for you, begrudgingly sticking a hand out to help you with your bags.

"Oh! Thank you my knight in shining armor~"

"Shut it."

He's never told you his birthday, which you can understand, living for 50 years and not having your family around must be hard. No matter how he may fake that it doesn't bother him.

That doesn't stop you, not in the slightest really. You damn near kick him out of the house for the day, shoving him over to Tom and Maddie's house so he can be with the others. Despite how much he protested.

"I don't want to go over there. Not with that blue fake."

"You don't really have a choice bub, I need you out of the house."

"I don't understand why I have to-"

"Keep arguing with me and I will make it a point to not buy you shit next grocery trip."

It's an empty threat, but he grunts nonetheless.

"...."

"That's what I thought."

When he finally gets home from his long and admittedly overstimulating day with the Wachowskis, he's ready to recharge in his room.

He teleports through the house door, sighing and rubbing at his temples as he moves to kick off his shoes, knowing that if he doesn't, you'd chastise him for not doing so.

Something about tracking dirt and rocket fuel into the carpet.

Whatever.

After trying to massage his brain through his fur, he opens his eyes up to see a colorful banner strung across the mantle.

'Happy birthday!' It screams, in its disgustingly neon color palette.

Shadow wracks his brain for any information of it being your birthday, he knows for a fact it isn't today. A friend you're throwing a party for? Well, that makes no sense, he knows very well you don't have many friends, especially any that you'd invite your house up for.

You're antisocial to a fault, not that he has absolutely any room to talk.

He hears you before he sees you, turning the corner into the living room, carrying some balloons in your hands. A stupid little party hat on your head.

"Shadow! What are you doing back so early?"

Kicking off the last shoe, he stands at his full height, staring into your eyes with a shrug.

"I wasn't aware I had a time."

"....fair enough, anyways, fuck, goddamnit. Stay here. Okay?"

And you're off, running into the kitchen, his ears flick at the slamming of the fridge door, followed by the cabinets being no doubt, hip nudging it shut way too forcefully.

He's awkwardly standing there still until you yell for him to come in.

Shadow has half a mind to ignore you and go into his room, but curiosity kills the cat, so he takes in a deep breath and makes his way to you.

He finds you sitting at the little kitchenette, a nervous smile spread across your lips as you gesture to the plate in front of you.

The smell is apparent, it's a coffee cupcake.

The hedgehog feels his ears flick again, staring down at the desert, then trailing his eyes back to meet your own. Wordlessly asking you what was going on.

"You've never told me your birthday, but it's been a year since you've been here, with me. After the whole trying to destroy the world shit. So since you won't tell me, we can kinda treat this as it?" You keep rambling, eyes flitting around the room, very clearly nervous as to his reaction.

Shadow doesn't say anything, or move even. Just staring down at the cupcake.

It looks amateurish, the frosting is lopsided, and the toppings on it look messy. But you made it for him. You even added a big black "1" candle in the center.

He doesn't know what to say, he can feel heat rush through his body, rushing to his ears and his face, and his fur feels constricting.

What the fuck.

What the actual fuck.

You go to open your mouth again, no doubt to apologize, but he beats you to it.

Moving to scoop up the treat, he gently sniffs it before taking a cautionary bite.

A beat passes between the two of you.

"...it's good."

Shadow does his best to ignore the smile that blooms across your face, not wanting to remember just how pretty he finds you like this.

Disgusting.

Shadow doesn't like touch, you know it, he knows it, and everyone knows it. He's threatened to break Sonic's wrist for even so much as patting the older hedgehog on the back. Baring his sharper fangs and hissing out to not touch him ever.

He avoids group hugs from Team Sonic, avoids Tom and Maddie like the plague, dodging every invitation to be a part of the family, it makes him sick to think about it.

With you, it's a little different.

You're not like them, you don't push him to change, you don't have a problem with how closed off he is, giving him space, never once pushing his very strict boundaries.

Something churns in his chest at the sound of you crying in your room, you probably think you're being incognito, holding a pillow to your face to drown out your sobs.

The internal debate is heavy, Shadow used to be able to comfort, to provide warmth, but he hasn't done so in years. Flashes of memories where he would comfort Maria on her bad health days, letting her run her fingers over his quills, to lend an ear to Gerald when he was frustrated about treatments not working.

It's not to say he is replacing you in their place, but it's scary. To open himself up like that again. He can feel his anxiety rising as he goes over the pros and cons of crossing this line. Eyes squeeze shut forcefully as he tells himself he doesn't care about you, that you're an adult, and you don't need to be babied.

His ears twitch when a pathetic little whimper drops from your lips, and his resolve cracks.

You don't look up when he makes his way in, too stuck in your bubble.

Startling a little when two, much stronger and larger hands grab at your own, peeling them away from the pillow. Your puffy bloodshot eyes looking at the hedgehog in front of you, his face set as it usually is, stoic. But his eyes are different, and his body language is different, when has he ever looked at you so softly? It's jarring.

Oh, he's moving closer. Okay. Weird.

"Shadow? Uh, I'm ok-"

You try and lie, it's a pitiful attempt. Your voice is scratchy and the tear tracks down your cheeks aren't helping your plight.

"No, you're not."

He shuts you down immediately, hands sliding up your arms to drag you into him.

The instant your bodies touch, you feel a fresh wave of tears well up in your eyes again.

Shadow has you resting against him, your head resting on him as he wraps himself loosely in your arms, giving you the space to move away if you so choose.

It's the first time he's allowed you to hug him, the first time he's ever initiated contact with someone in years. A fact that you both are well aware of.

A sob works its way up your throat, immediately tightening your grip on the hedgehog, curling into him as you shake.

Shadow doesn't say anything, doesn't make fun of you as snot pours from your nose, doesn't point out that your mascara and eyeliner are getting everywhere, just sits there and lets you cling onto him like he's your only lifeline.

He thinks that this is okay, he's strong enough for you both, and you don't need to worry when he's here.

#IS THIS ANY FUCKING GOOD LMAO #I have no clue but i love him so bad hes been a comfort character my entire life #no one loves u shadow like i do #promise #teddy loves shadow ☆#shadow the hedgehog #shadow x reader #shadow the hedgehog x reader #sonic x reader #sonic the hedgehog x reader #sega #sonic 3 #sonic the hedgehog #shadow

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whitecompri · 3 months ago

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Going to Market With Your Hedgie

(Sonic, Shadow, Silver, Scourge)

Pairing: Sonic x Reader; Shadow x Reader; Silver x Reader; Scourge x Reader

Genre: Fluff, comedy

Rating: T (Teen)

Warnings: Mild Suggestive Themes

Sonic

He had been bothering you for about three days to take him along to the market. When you asked why he was suddenly so interested, Sonic simply said he wanted to keep you company and, if possible, buy a soda for himself. In the end, you couldn’t resist the lost puppy look he was giving you and ended up taking him to the market.

At the moment, you had your back turned to your shopping cart, evaluating the price of some essential household items. That’s when you felt the familiar breeze that hit you whenever the speedy hedgehog ran. You only managed to hear his quick steps and the sound of him breaking the speed of sound inside the market. You decided to ignore it at first—he was probably just grabbing the soda he had asked for.

However, you narrowed your eyes when you felt the breeze and heard the noise at least three more times. Turning around suddenly, still holding the items you were choosing, you saw him—completely at ease, leaning against the shopping cart, a sly little smirk on his face.

When your eyes focused on the cart, you could only sigh. He had filled it with packs of sausages, hot dog buns, and a ridiculous amount of ingredients to make chili. On top of everything sat the can of soda he had promised to grab.

"Sonic... are you trying to make me go broke?" You stepped closer to the cart, looking at the prices. "Look at this—no. You’re putting half of this back."

"Aw, come on, [Y/N], don’t you want to make your favorite hedgehog happy? I promise I’ll share the chili dogs with you."

You could only sigh and scratch the back of your neck. In the end, at least he had already decided what dinner would be that night... and for the next few days too.

Shadow

Shadow preferred not to express when he needed to go to the market for his monthly groceries. Usually, he only accompanied you when you went, but if he ever ran out of supplies in the middle of the month, he refused to say anything or admit that he needed to go shopping.

Noticing this, you started paying attention to when his coffee beans, chocolate, or skincare products were running low. That way, whenever you saw something was about to run out, you’d call him to go with you to the market—even if it was just to restock what was missing at home.

Today was no different. You walked through the aisles with your shopping basket in hand, looking for the coffee section. Shadow kept pace beside you.

Then, at one moment, you noticed he suddenly stopped. He stood there for a few seconds, impassive, then shook his head slightly before quickly returning to your side.

"Did you see something you want?"

"No."

"You can tell me, Shads, I’ll get it for you."

"Nonsense. We came here just for the coffee beans."

"Yeah, but I don’t mind getting something extra for you. Come on, tell me—what did you see?"

He hesitated for a moment, crossing his arms, then tilted his head toward the store’s freezer. Following his gaze, you spotted the frozen food section and saw some Hot Pockets on sale. A small smile appeared on your lips.

"Shadow, whenever you want something, you can just say it, okay?" Giving him a reassuring smile, you walked over to the freezer, grabbed several of the frozen snacks, and placed them in your basket.

"Now, let’s go get your coffee." You resumed walking through the aisle toward the section where you could find what you needed.

"Thank you, [Y/N]." Shadow murmured, making you smile like an idiot and blush slightly at the rare display of gratitude from the hedgehog.

"Anytime."

Silver

Silver excitedly scanned the market shelves alongside you, helping you find the best prices. It was common for the white hedgehog to accompany you on your monthly shopping trips—he was always helpful and loved coming along to carry the bags or grab something from a high shelf using his powers.

For Silver, nothing was better than spending quality time with you, which was why he always went and returned with a huge smile on his face. Today, he was being especially attentive to everything you needed—reminding you of items running low at home that weren’t on the shopping list and picking the most budget-friendly brands.

Feeling grateful, you decided to do something special for him.

"Silver, I’m done getting what I needed. I just need to check this one last product—why don’t you pick something for yourself?"

You felt warm inside when you saw the sparkle in his eyes.

"Really? Anything?" He looked at you hopefully.

"Yes, feel free to choose whatever you want."

His smile grew even wider. Thanking you, he immediately used his powers to levitate and disappeared into the market.

You finished selecting your item, placing it in the cart, and started looking for Silver. But before you even reached the end of the aisle, you saw him floating back, carrying several products with his psychokinesis.

He gently placed them into the cart before landing back on the ground with a bright smile. You blinked in surprise, glancing at the items he had picked.

You had expected him to grab sweets, snacks, or the usual junk food people typically go for.

But now, looking at his choices, you couldn’t hold back the soft giggle that escaped you. Your cart was now filled with neatly packed vegetables, fresh fruits, and leafy greens.

"Is something wrong? Did I pick too much?" He watched you, slightly worried about your reaction.

"No, not at all. I just thought it was adorable."

"Huh?"

"Yeah, you chose healthy food. I wasn’t expecting that—I thought you’d grab something completely different."

Silver chuckled quietly at your comment.

"Well, these are all essentials, right?"

"Definitely. Honestly, I never really bought much of this stuff myself." You admitted your lack of a healthy diet.

"Then how about we eat them together? What do you say, [Y/N]?"

His words made you feel warm all over again.

"I’d love that. Thank you, Silver."

He let out a soft laugh, walking by your side as you headed to the checkout to pay for the groceries.

Scourge

Honestly, you didn’t want to take Scourge to the market. It was always a battle to keep him from filling the cart with the junk food he loved. But when Scourge wanted something, he was absolutely insufferable.

He acted deeply offended that you didn’t want to bring him along. Said he wouldn’t let you run your hands through his quills anymore. Even threatened to smoke inside the house if you didn’t take him.

In the end, with a deep sigh and a hand to your temple, you gave in, telling him to get in the car. He slid into the passenger seat with that smug grin of his, sunglasses perched on his face.

At the market, you left him in charge of the shopping cart while you went to grab some cleaning supplies for the house. When you returned to where you had left him, he was nowhere to be seen.

You sighed, placing the cleaning products in the cart, but as you did, you started noticing items that definitely weren’t there before. Energy drink cans. Instant noodles. And… a toy car? You had no idea what he planned to do with that.

As you dug through the cart, you found even more questionable purchases. Your brow furrowed when you spotted an expensive bottle of whiskey hidden at the bottom. And then—your face heated up as you found a few condom boxes stuffed underneath everything else.

Shaking your head, you turned to the side and spotted him standing there, a massive bag of potato chips in hand.

“Ey, Babe. You got everythin’ ya need? C’mon, let’s skedaddle.”

You grabbed the bottle of whiskey and held it up, giving him a pointed look.

“Huh? What’s the big deal? Just a lil’ somethin’ nice for yours truly.” He flashed you a grin.

“I thought we agreed to only get the essentials for the house.” You kept your voice firm.

“Eh, deals ain’t set in stone, sweetheart.” Scourge was impossible sometimes.

You opened your mouth to argue, but the words died in your throat the moment you felt his hand gently take yours—surprisingly soft and warm.

“Aw, don’t gimme that look, [Y/N]. I got some cash on me.” His voice had an almost sincere tone, and for a second, you nearly apologized for being upset.

But then—

“…And later, ya can show me just how grateful ya are.” His tone turned unmistakably suggestive.

“Scourge!”

He only chuckled, clearly entertained. You had no idea what to do with him anymore.

#shadow x reader #shadow the hedgehog x reader #silver the hedgehog x reader #Scourge the hedgehog x reader #Scourge x Reader #Sonic x Reader #Sonic the hedgehog x reader #Sonic #shadow #silver #scourge #silver x reader

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comatosebunny09 · 2 months ago

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beneath the skin | sylus

— summary: “who was that?” he simply asks, trying to mask the tinge of bitterness in his tone. “talk to me,” he coaxes after you hesitate, gently pinching your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “a ghost,” you say on a shaky whisper, as if admitting it aloud is taboo, like you’ll accidentally conjure him back into existence. — cw: reader is not mc, femme reader, assassin reader, jealousy, stream of consciousness, rekindled feelings, self-indulgent af, not proofread, i’m delusional and wanted to write something about someone trying to steal you away from sylus — wc: ~3k — now playing: bad dream - lexie liu

You’re used to the attention; it’s your job to garner it. So, the occasional stare doesn’t perturb you much. Usually.

But this one—it feels different. Like the uncomfortable pressure of a needle painstakingly driven beneath your nail, and it’s becoming increasingly difficult to ignore.

You try to dance it off. Swivel your hips, smile pretty, a bewitching laugh in your throat as you gyrate atop the bar counter at Lux. But even as you turn to face the crowd gathered at your feet, their hands tossed skyward, bodies sweaty beneath the red sweep of lights and heavy mist, it lingers. Strips you down to bone, leaving you raw and exposed. Vulnerable. Confused.

You pivot to address your admirer. To get a good look at who or what makes your skin crawl. But what greets you robs the air from your lungs, and you err in your steps, nearly stumbling off the counter if not for the dancer beside you, steadying you with her fingers wrapped around your wrist.

You feel like you’ve seen a ghost. An echo from a past you worked your damndest to suppress. The warmth and color drain from your face. You’re ramrod stiff, mouth spilling open, eyes blooming wide. Your heart careens against your ribcage, seemingly stopping before restarting to thrum double time.

He reminds you of a forest, eyes the color of wood watching you with unwavering intensity, undisturbed by the bodies swaying and brushing up against him. A sturdy oakwood tree untouched by deforestation and time. It’s perverse in a way, how he studies you, how his gaze softens the slightest bit. How he knows you even with the stretch of years keeping you apart like he’s peeling back the layers of your facade like an onion.

His hair is feathery. Dark like coffee beans, brushing over sloped shoulders. It’s longer than you remember. Longer than the last time you’d seen him before he died.

Dead. He’s dead. Been dead for years.

But as if to drive your delusions home, that telltale beauty mark catches in the strobing light, perched atop full, red lips stretched taut—lips you still remember the texture of, the way they moved against yours, pouring unbidden feelings into the chasm of your chest.

You forget what it means to breathe. Forget how to exist, the cacophony of the nightclub fading into obscurity around you. Muddled, and you’re stock-still, stricken by something untraceable. Grief? Fear? Rage? Maybe a combination. Whatever the feeling, it causes a prickling sensation to fill your head, and your heart plummets to your feet.

“—alright?”

It’s a faint call. A disordered sound, like your ears are trying to readjust after resurfacing from a pool. It breaks you from the spell he cast over you, alongside the firm press of fingers into your wrist, the tug, and you swivel your head to take in the wary look of your co-worker.

“H-Huh?” you say when your voice returns. Swallow past the barbs in your throat, lick your lips. Blink rapidly, disoriented, as if snatched from a trance.

“I asked if you were alright?”

Your lips crook with a shadow of a smile. You pat her hand on your wrist, tamping down the anxiety that swells like a tumultuous wave in your chest.

“Fine,” you murmur to assuage her worries. She doesn’t look convinced but doesn’t press, letting you go after ensuring you won’t fall.

You look back, expecting to see those eyes drilling into your soul. Expecting that heavy feeling in your stomach, expecting your breath to abandon you once more and the world to spin beneath your feet. But you’re remiss to see he’s gone, swallowed up by the crowd as if he was never there in the first place.

With all the stress looming over your shoulders —the missions, the changes to your dynamic with your boss, the newest addition to your family—you’re sure you’re imagining things. Your mind’s playing tricks on you, trying to cope with the weight of your job. With the repressed trauma. The unreturned feelings. Seeking an out. A little reprieve.

How the hell could a dead man come back to life? And why would he be here, of all places, haunting you like a specter with unresolved business?

You really should stop drinking before you perform.

—

It’s a typical Saturday night at Lux.

Nothing seems amiss; no fights to break up, no opposition to snuff out.

Sylus is safely tucked in his second-floor office, watching bodies sway behind the one-way, ceiling-to-floor window.

It’s soundless inside—soundproof walls—save for his steady breathing and the typically erratic thud of his heartbeat. His hands are stuffed in his pockets, and he stands in a casual slouch, gaze uninterested. He almost wishes something would pop off. A breakup in the monotony, a reason to get his hands dirty. An excuse to flex his fingers, to ruffle the expensive pleat of his shirt.

He catches sight of you in his periphery. The knock of your hips, how you drag your hands down the devastating curvature of your body. A smirk pulls at his lips. If nothing else, he can count on you to keep him entertained. His gorgeous distraction. His glittering, murderous doll poised to strike at the snap of his fingers.

He leans closer to the crisp glass, static prickling his face, and he’s entranced by that sultry smile. How you shine like a constellation, brighter than Lux’s other dancers, capturing the intrigue and envy of all those subjected to your performance. He falls prey to it, too. Then again, he’s always been a victim. Always been under your spell, even without the influence of your Evol.

He doesn’t know when it started. The steady creep of feelings, the burning need to protect you. But it’s there, a pleasant, heavy pressure in his chest. A feeling he thought himself long dead to.

He’s about to leave his office to draw you down from the counter, but—

His amusement peters when you turn and stiffen. When your hands fall listlessly at your sides, and even from this vantage point, he makes out your mouth falling open. He’s closer now, his nose nearly pressing into the glass. He squints, trying to glean what’s caught your attention. The muscles in his jaw flex and strain when he catches sight of a figure clad in white adjacent to you, stiff as stone.

Alarm bells sound in his head. He doesn’t like the way this man watches you. How his gaze lingers too long, and he can feel the tense set of your shoulders as if he’s filling your skin. Irritation thins his lips. He conquers the space between the window and the office’s door in three brisk strides, the swell of music from downstairs flooding inside.

He takes the staircase leading to the first floor two-by-two, urgency powering him forward. But by the time he reaches the floor—by the time he wends through the crowd, pushing towards you, searching above the bodies pressing against him for that haunting streak of white—the figure is gone. Vanished like a breath out as if he’d never been there.

Sylus’ gaze snaps to you. He’s still a ways off; you hadn’t noticed him. He watches the dancer beside you try to calm you down. Watches as you anxiously sweep an errant lock of hair behind your ear—as you peer over your shoulder in search of something. How your expression dampens when you find nothing, and your shoulders slump.

Something’s got you spooked.

Sylus stands in the midst of the dance floor for a bit longer, studying you as if you’ll disappear, too, if he looks away for too long.

He doesn’t like this feeling—this unease curdling in his gut.

Who and what was that? And why does he feel like it’s not the last of it?

—

It was supposed to be a typical exchange—a simple negotiation for a plot of land on the outskirts of the city.

You weren’t entirely sure what Sylus intended to do with it, but you usually kept your questions to yourself. He’d fill you in on the intricacies of his plan as he saw fit.

For now, you stand in good form behind him, hands clasped together in front of you. His secret weapon in case things get dicey. His right hand in case you’re needed.

He sits in a red leather, pin-cushioned armchair, languidly sipping on his bourbon, his hair standing out beneath the lazy drag of the low light. You’d normally admire him from your vantage point—the line of his shoulders, that wispy sweep of hair, the virility he exudes without trying. But tonight, you’re tight-lipped and contemplative. Straight-backed as you wait for his guests, mind slinking back into the happenings of three nights ago.

You finally began to settle. Excused the specter you saw as a trick of the light, as a product of exhaustion and shitty eating. There was no way he could still be alive—the shadow from your past. And even if he were, he wouldn’t have waited so long to resurface.

Would he?

“I can practically hear the gears turning in your head, sweetie,” drawls Sylus above the languid croon of the music inhabiting the office.

He breaks through the noise of your mind, and you blink as if being drawn from a daze.

There’s a teasing fringe to his voice. You don’t have to fully see him to know he’s smirking, that devastating, charming pull to his lips. He turns his head slightly over his shoulder, peering at you. “What’s on your mind?”

You clear your throat, shifting your weight between your feet. He’s caught you drifting off again. He’s good at that, reading your silence, feeling the tension stretching between your shoulders.

“Nothing.”

“You sure?” he says after some time in deliberating silence.

You know he means to press. He wants to, but he doesn’t—a part of him you admire. He never pushes you past what you’re willing to give. Never pries into your past, never drills into your skull, trying to discern what makes you tick. He very well could, the power of his right eye glowing a sinister shade of red when he cracks into the minds of his enemies. But he’s never used his power on you, at least from what you’ve gleaned, and you respect him even more for being ever patient with you.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you lie through your teeth. Lips quirk, though the smile doesn’t reach your eyes.

His mouth hovers around words as if he means to protest. He knows you better than you think. But he doesn’t get the chance to pry when the door to his office swings open, drawing your shared attention to it.

You watch as a stout man strides in behind Kieran, glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. He looks unassuming. You roll your shoulders back, the tension once coiled in your limbs slowly unfurling. You don’t know what you were expecting. What you were hoping for, and you’re about to relax before another figure strolls in behind the gentleman. Unmistakable, tall, shouldered.

Your breath catches.

The man’s eyes flick to you, briefly drinking you in. You don’t miss the glimmer of softness, the belying of emotions behind a rigid exterior. You watch him sit in the armchair adjacent to Sylus beside the older gent with glasses, and you can’t fucking breathe.

Yunho.

His name echoes like an old hymnal—a forgotten praise—in your mind. Something tucked away in the furthest hulls of your subconscious, dredging up memories you’d long since compartmentalized.

Under different circumstances, you might’ve fainted. Instead, you tamp down the swell of fear in your chest. The lump of emotion blocking your throat. The heaviness of your tongue. He’s here—he’s real. He’s not dead, presented as flesh and bone before your very eyes, and you weren’t losing your shit that night at Lux when you saw him.

Your body hums with pressure, with static. You feel dizzy as if your legs could give way at any moment. You feel sick. Yet you maintain your poise, your decorum. You avert your eyes to the floor when Yunho’s gaze flits to you every so often as if he’s trying to convey something. Trying to make up for years of leaving you in the dark, for leaving you to fend for yourself, to pick up the jagged shards of your heart alone when you thought he was mere bone and dirt.

The meeting drags on with an unbearable tenseness. You feel like you’re out of your body throughout. You don’t follow what all three men are on about, too busy battling the static brewing between your eyes and your knees threatening to buckle beneath the weight of Yunho’s gaze when he thinks no one’s the wiser.

—

He’s grateful when the negotiations conclude, Sylus is. He hates these things—the pleasantries that go into them, the small talk before he can take what he needs.

He shakes the stout man’s hand with a rehearsed pull to his lips, sealing the deal. The land will be signed over to him without incident. Good. He’s been itching to open a new club just for you. Knows you’ve been dying to have something of your own, a place with your name in scrolling Marquee outside.

He reaches over the glass-top coffee table to shake the hand of the younger man who had accompanied the landowner, and it’s like he’s been electrified when their palms meet. It’s a familiar, uncomfortable surge of static pushing up his arm, curling in his chest.

Sylus stiffens, eyes shooting up. He locks on to irises that remind him of blackened tar pits. Soulless. Yet behind the aloofness lies a heated intensity that would burn through flesh if Sylus were anyone but himself. He’s thrown back to the memory of three nights ago at Lux when he’d caught the same feeling after chasing away whatever spooked you.

Sylus squeezes his hand a little more firmly than necessary, a slight divot forming between his brows. The gentleman’s stare is equally unrelenting, and it’s like he knows something. He doesn’t miss how his gaze flicks over Sylus’ shoulder to briefly take you in before he releases his hand, and both men depart, leaving you and Sylus buried in heavy stillness.

He’d been doing that quite a bit, that man. Sneaking little glances at you, sometimes lingering while Sylus was deep in conversation. He didn’t like it one bit, the way his gaze felt like it was stripping through your clothes. But he said nothing—you were a far cry from unsightly. It was only natural that other men couldn’t keep their eyes off you, couldn’t contain their intrigue. But this felt…different.

He rolls the stiffness from his jaw as he stands up straight, hands stuffed in his pockets, still staring at the afterimage of his two guests long after they departed.

The strain in your body was palpable, too. He felt it rolling off you in waves, crashing into his back. Didn’t miss how you shifted your weight between your feet, the rustle of fabric behind him, an occasional tight breath slipping through your lips as unease fell onto your person.

It’s unlike you to be so out of sorts. So on edge. So he breaks the quiet lull between you by clearing his throat and swiftly turning to face you, a question perched on his tongue. He nears you with measured strides. Paces towards you almost like a predator cornering prey, and the way you glance down to avoid the smolder of his gaze makes something pull in his chest.

“Who was that?” he simply asks, trying to mask the tinge of bitterness in his tone. His expression slackens when you look away, your jaw moving, and you’re squeezing your fingers at your back, so much the tips turn white.

You push out a weighted sigh, your voice shaky and sticky, as if you might cry. Your mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water, but you fall silent, unease etching into your features.

He’s close now. So close, your perfume curls around him, the welcomed heat from your smaller frame permeating his skin. He wars with himself for a moment. Turns over his subsequent actions in his mind like an old vinyl before softly pinching your chin between his forefinger and thumb. He tilts your head back until you’re forced to look at him from beneath those ruinous lashes, and the wet gleam of your eyes is enough to make his stomach flip. Make the tendons in his neck pull.

“Talk to me,” he coaxes. Gentle like he’s persuading a lover to reveal the inner mechanisms of their mind to him. He knows you’re not okay. Wants to get to the bottom of your flightiness. Wants to help in any way he can. He’s not used to seeing you so stone-faced and avoidant.

You relinquish a breath, lips quivering. You search his eyes, and he wants nothing more than to draw you into the circle of his arms. To cover you like a blanket on a winter's day, to absorb you.

“A ghost,” you say on a shaky whisper. As if saying it is taboo, like it’ll conjure him back into existence.

Sylus’ brows furrow. He prides himself on not delving into your past life. But, dammit it all, he’s never burned to know about what molded you into the person you are today more.

His gaze falls to your lips as they wobble. He wants to kiss them. Wants to take whatever anguish plagues you into his own body. Wants to kiss away whatever worries you have into oblivion. But he’s not sure how you would feel about that. If you’d push him away and completely shut him off from your heart. He’s made his intentions clear, his feelings for you—at least, he thinks he has. He’s been patient, waiting for you to come around. Waiting for you to want him as much as he yearns for you.

You draw him from the slurry of his thoughts when your fingers suddenly curve around his wrist. Soft, cautious, scorching through layers of flesh. A tired smile rounds your lips. You pull his hand away from your face, glancing down.

“I’m alright. It’s nothing to worry about. I—just need to get a little rest. Clear my head. Don’t worry about me.”

You brush past him without another word, and his fingers are poised at your back when you leave as if to stop you. When the door clicks shut with your departure, his fingers curl inward towards his palm into a loose fist before falling listlessly at his side.

“A ghost, huh?” he murmurs to no one in particular, the words heavy and acrid on his tongue. He doesn’t notice the smoky threads of his Evol leaking off him, spurred by the ire slowly building in his chest.

#sylus x non mc reader #sylus x reader #sylus x you #lads sylus #love and deepspace sylus #sylus #lnds sylus #l&ds sylus #sylus qin #lads x reader #lads x you #lads fic #love and deepspace #lads fanfic #sylus x non!mc reader #qin che #sylus love and deepspace

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juipterjim · 5 months ago

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THIS IS SO CUTEE

he’s so hapyyyy

Coffeechewhog.

In general, I recently came to college from a sick leave, and saw a small Christmas tree made of coffee beans on the teacher's Russian desk. And of course, I'm sure Shadow would have eaten it. х)

#shadow the hedgehog #maria robotnik #sonic the hedgehog christmas #not my art #sonic fanart #this looks awesome #shadow is so adorable #Ik he’s a hedgehog but I always think of him as a cat #coffee beans rlly are his beloved

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bambiisin · 1 month ago

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HARDER THAN WAR

frank castle x reader

frank is shy around you

Frank Castle has faced warzones, crime syndicates, and hell itself. But nothing prepares him for the quiet storm behind the counter of the corner coffee shop.

She works mornings. He knows because he’s been showing up every morning for the past three weeks—same black coffee, same table by the window, same silence.

At first, it was a coincidence. He ducked in for cover during a rainstorm. Then it became routine. Not because of the coffee. Because of her. The way she hums under her breath while she wipes down tables. The way she smiles at regulars like they’re old friends. The way she says “Have a good day, Frank,” like she means it.

She knows his name. That alone makes his chest ache.

But Frank Castle doesn’t do talking. He does brooding. Watching. Protecting from the shadows. Hell, he’s better at defusing bombs than saying hi to a woman who smells like vanilla and coffee beans.

He tries once. Sort of. She’s pouring his coffee, and he opens his mouth to say something—anything—but all that comes out is a grunt and a stiff nod.

Smooth.

She doesn’t seem to mind. Just gives him that soft smile, the kind he hasn’t seen in years. The kind that feels like something he doesn’t deserve.

By week four, he knows her schedule, her favorite playlist, and the fact that she sneaks sips of caramel syrup straight from the bottle when she thinks no one’s looking.

He still doesn’t know her name.

Today, the place is quieter than usual. Rain taps against the windows, and the smell of cinnamon hangs in the air. She’s alone behind the counter, wiping down the espresso machine, earbuds in, swaying gently to some song he can’t hear.

He tells himself it’s now or never.

Frank walks up to the counter. His boots are too loud. His heart is louder. She doesn’t notice him right away, not until he clears his throat.

She pulls out one earbud and smiles. “Hey, Frank. The usual?”

He opens his mouth. No sound. His hands twitch. He’s held rifles steadier than this.

“I—uh…” he starts, staring hard at the sugar packets like they’ve personally offended him.

She tilts her head, patient. Kind.

“I was wonderin’…” He swallows, jaw tight. “If maybe you’d wanna… get a coffee. I mean—not here. Somewhere else. With me.”

For a second, he’s sure the silence is going to kill him.

Then she grins—wide and bright.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

And just like that, the Punisher breathes a little easier.

——————————-

(cuties :3)

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solsticehymns · 2 months ago

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walk me home?— campus part 2

james potter x shy!f!reader / college au / fluff / first date

summary: James has escalated his pursuit of you, including waiting outside your classes every day this week and cornering you for coffee. You're not too bothered.

a/n: i just have to preface this by telling everyone: sadly this is not the american college experience at all. i did a coffee date w some dude on campus before and it was insanely awkward idk why people say it's a good idea i felt trapped like fight or flight. not with james hehehe <3 enjoyy!! love, sunny ☀️🌻

wc: 1453

Somehow—against all odds, logic, and personal preference—you've acquired a persistent shadow. A tall, perpetually disheveled, insufferably charming shadow who, in just one week, has embedded himself so thoroughly into your routine that you're starting to suspect he’s memorized your class schedule.

You're barely a few steps out of class when James Potter materializes beside you, falling into step as if he’s been waiting all day for this exact moment.

"James," you say, shaking your head, a reluctant smile tugging at your lips.

"What? Not even a hello?" he asks, feigning offense, hand pressed dramatically to his chest.

You lower your gaze slightly, feeling the warmth creep up your neck already. "Hello, James."

His grin stretches wider, as though you've just given him a rare prize. "See? That wasn’t so difficult. Now, let’s talk business."

You glance at him warily. "Business?"

James gestures broadly. "Your schedule is looking suspiciously empty. It’s Friday. No more classes. Which means, by my calculations, you have exactly zero valid reasons not to come get coffee with me."

You open your mouth to argue, but James is already steamrolling ahead. "Now, before you refuse—consider the benefits. Free caffeine. Excellent company. Life-changing conversation."

You shift on your feet, suppressing the small smile threatening to form. "Life-changing?"

James nods solemnly. "I have testimonials."

You exhale a quiet laugh, looking away. His eyes gleam at the sight of your amusement.

"There it is," he murmurs, triumphant. "You like me."

Your head snaps up. "I do not."

"Oh, but you do," he counters smoothly, tilting his head. "You're trying so hard not to smile. It’s adorable."

You fold your arms, stubbornly attempting composure. "I haven’t agreed to anything."

James raises his hands in mock surrender. "Wouldn’t dream of forcing you, love. Just… strongly encouraging."

You glance at him, then at the path ahead, then back at him. He’s waiting, hopeful, expectant.

And maybe—just maybe—you don’t mind as much as you did last week. It’s a strange feeling, letting someone like James Potter weave himself so effortlessly into your routine. He’s overwhelming, yes, but he’s also… fun. And it’s been a while since you let yourself have fun.

"Fine," you sigh, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "One coffee."

James beams. "Ah, sweet victory. Off we go, then."

The coffee shop hums with soft chatter, the hiss of the espresso machine blending with the murmur of conversation. The air smells of roasted coffee beans and warm vanilla, and the lighting is just dim enough to feel cozy. James, unsurprisingly, does not do things halfway.

Before you can even reach for your wallet, he’s already ordering—for you.

And not just anything. Your order. Exactly right.

Your lips part slightly in surprise. "How did you—?"

James waves a hand. "Lucky guess."

You narrow your eyes at him, but there's no real suspicion—just a quiet, fluttery sensation unfurling in your chest, something light and impossible to ignore, like the first pull of a current beneath still water.

James grins, clearly pleased with himself, handing the barista some cash before you can protest. "See? This is why you keep me around. I'm thoughtful."

"You're relentless."

"That's a secondary bonus."

You both settle into a small corner table, the wooden surface slightly worn beneath your fingers. James stretches his arms behind his head, impossibly at ease, like he belongs here, like he belongs anywhere. Then, with a wicked grin that does very little to put you at ease, he leans forward, eyes gleaming.

"All right, now’s the perfect time to tell me your entire life story. All your deepest fears, secrets, insecurities. Lay ‘em on me."

You let out a quiet laugh, stirring your drink. "That’s a lot of pressure for coffee conversation."

James nods, unbothered. "I believe in efficiency."

You shake your head, the smile still playing at your lips. "I think I’ll stick to the basics."

"Fine, fine. I'll lower my expectations." He rests his chin on his hand, watching you with an exaggerated intensity. "Start with your major."

You tell him what you study.

James blinks. Then, as if processing, his mouth falls slightly open. "Wow." His tone isn’t teasing—it’s genuine, almost reverent, like he’s truly impressed.

You frown slightly. "What?"

"You're, like, way smarter than me."

You let out a short, surprised laugh. "I doubt that."

James shakes his head, pointing at you as if making a grand declaration. "No, no, no. See, I do… numbers and spreadsheets and networking. But you? You actually know things. Like, real, impressive things. I'm a fool in comparison."

You feel the warmth creep up your neck, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "I think you're being dramatic."

"I think you're underestimating how impressed I am right now."

You roll your eyes, but it's hopeless—James is grinning at you like he's already won. And, honestly? You can’t remember a conversation ever flowing this easily, a date—if you can call it that—ever feeling this natural. You don’t really mind at all.

James leans in slightly, studying you, then smirks like he’s thought of something brilliant. "You know, I think this is fate. You feel these sparks too, right? Might as well start brainstorming names for our firstborn."

You nearly choke on your drink. "Excuse me?"

James tilts his head, completely unfazed. "I’m just saying—planning ahead is key to a successful partnership. What do you think? Something classic? Or are we going bold?"

You stare at him for a beat, then, with a completely straight face, say, "Oh, I’ve actually thought about this. Three kids. Probably two boys first, then a girl."

It’s James’ turn to blink. "You’re joking."

You stir the ice around your drink, unbothered. "I don’t joke about the important things."

James runs a hand through his hair, looking utterly delighted. "I knew I was right about you."

You huff, shaking your head, but there’s no hiding the way your smile lingers. James watches you, a little too closely, his expression flickering just for a second—like he’s caught on something more important than just teasing you.

He huffs a laugh, drumming his fingers against the table as you take the last sip of your coffee and stand. You hesitate for just a second, your heart kicking up a beat, knowing full well what you’re about to do. But you’re enjoying this—enjoying him—far too much to stop yourself now.

Without overthinking it, you extend your hand toward him, tilting your head with an easy smile—one that feels just a little too bold but not unwelcome. "Walk me home?" you ask sweetly; the sugar rush nearly stops his heart.

James blinks, caught off guard for the briefest moment, before his entire face lights up. His grin is immediate, wide, and entirely unfiltered—like you’ve just handed him the world on a silver platter. "Oh, absolutely. Best offer I’ve had all day."

His fingers wrap around yours, warm and steady, as he rises to his feet, still beaming like an idiot.

You roll your eyes but don’t pull away as he falls into step beside you, his usual effortless confidence radiating off of him. The walk back is unhurried, the conversation dipping into easy, meaningless things—complaints about professors, half-hearted debates over the best late-night food spots, James’ ongoing theory that the campus squirrels are running some kind of underground empire.

When you finally reach your building, he rocks back on his heels, hands shoved into his pockets, watching you with something unreadable in his expression.

"So," he muses, eyes glinting mischievously, "any chance I can charm you into another date?"

You arch a brow. "Since when was this a date?"

James gasps, pressing a hand over his chest like you’ve just wounded him. "Hey—unfair. You let me buy you coffee, we had riveting conversation, and I made you laugh at least four times."

"Three times," you correct, though you both know it was more.

He tuts, shaking his head. "Should’ve been four. I’ll have to try harder next time."

You scoff, but it’s half-hearted, the corners of your lips twitching upward. "You never actually declared it to be a date."

He leans in slightly, voice dropping into something smoother, something undeniably teasing. "I can declare the next one, if you’d like. Make it official."

Your stomach flutters, traitorous. "I’ll think about it."

James beams like that’s a victory. "I’ll take it."

He steps back, tossing you a wink as he starts down the path. "Don't miss me too much, love."

You linger at the door for just a second too long, watching him go before finally slipping inside—warm in a way that has nothing to do with the coffee.

And maybe, just maybe, already looking forward to the next time he tries to charm you into another one.

☀️🌻 masterlist

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lieslab · 2 months ago

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Shadows and silhouettes

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: og8 X gn reader

Summary: You admit when you stress out, your brain causes you to imagine things out of the ordinary.

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 1.9k

A/N: This was a request from what feels like ages ago. The request was so vague, so I made this more on the light-hearted side of things. Although it's shorter, I hope you enjoy <3

_ _ _

Chan:

“Hey, Chan?”

“Huh?” Chan glanced up from his desk. His laptop sat open as he saved a file. “What’s up?”

“How big are the spiders in Australia?”

“Um…” He grimaced and sucked in a deep breath. “They’re pretty big, why? Did you see a big spider? I can happily reassure you that the spiders here are nowhere near the same size.”

You didn’t take your eyes off a certain spot on the wall. When Chan noticed, he pushed himself from his seat and stood up. “Is it over there? I can get my shoe and take care of it.” He stepped over behind you. The scent of his spicy cologne filled your nostrils.

You blinked and shook your head. “Nah, never mind. I must have imagined it. I’m really stressed and it went away when I blinked. Thanks anyway, it’s good to know that I can count on you.” You smiled and patted his shoulder. “Anyway, I’ll be back later, I’ve gotta go grocery shopping. I’ll see you soon!”

His mouth opened to say something, but words didn’t come out. You leaned over, pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, and left the room. Your words echoed in his head. He glanced around the area, still worried about a nearby spider.

Australian or not, it still didn’t mean he liked spiders.

_ _ _

Minho:

“What did you say?” Your head jerked over your shoulder at the sound of a whispered voice.

Minho stared at you with a raised eyebrow. “What? Nothing. I haven’t said anything.” The two of you were standing in line at a cafe. Soft murmurs filled the air, but you swore he said something behind you.

“Are you sure?” Your eyes narrowed. “If you have a problem with my drink of choice-”

“Woah,” his hands went up, “I didn’t say anything, yet. Since you want to start, I can say something now. Your drink of choice is pure shit. How much sugar and caffeine does a single person need? You’re going to cause your heart to explode.”

“Untwist your dick and get off your high horse! Want to complain about me and my order? At least, I don’t drink Americanos. No flavor. Nothing, but diluted bean juice. Disgusting.”

He reached up and pressed a finger to the center of your forehead. “Ding, dong, your opinion is wrong.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“You’re hearing the voice of God. He’s saying make better coffee choices. If you don’t, the devil is going to get you.”

“It’s actually probably psychosis or something.”

“Excuse me?”

“Nothing.” You spun back around, leaving him in disbelief. He blinked rapidly, looking around and wondering if anyone else heard your words. When you didn’t say anything else, he shook his head.

“I knew you were a nut case, but I didn’t think it was that bad.”

“Hey, I heard that. I’m going to poison your coffee.”

“Spare me empty threats and just put me out of my misery.”

_ _ _

Changbin:

“Do you ever see or hear things when you’re stressed?” The words came out of your mouth without a single stutter or call of alarm. You uttered the words with your head against the arm of the couch, as if they really didn’t matter much.

“What?”

“I asked if you see or hear things when you’re stressed. Like you know, shadows and faint whispers and whatnot.”

Changbin stared at you with wide eyes. “I-I um… no?” He frowned and shook his head. “I don’t believe that I ever have. Do you do that?”

“Yeah, sometimes.”

“I think we should get you seen by a doctor. That doesn’t seem normal or okay. Does your head hurt? Are you having vision issues? Quick, how many fingers am I holding up?”

He held up three fingers and it caused you to laugh. Your head shook and your hair flew in multiple different directions. “No, it’s not like that. My head is fine and I can see perfectly fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m positive,” you insisted.

“You worry me sometimes.”

You squirmed over to his side of the couch and laid your head on his thigh. “I’m okay, I swear. I think I just worry too much and my anxiety causes issues.”

“And you’re sure it’s manageable and under control?” His hand reached down to play with your hair.

“Absolutely.”

“Good.”

You smiled as he kissed the top of your head.

_ _ _

Hyunjin:

“Stay put! Stay there! Don’t move!” Hyunjin held a hand up to you. Worried dark eyes were wide. “Just don’t move and I’ll help you. I can go get Felix, he has that big ass bible. Channie, hyung can help us too.”

You stared at him with a raised eyebrow. “For what?”

“You just said you hear things that aren’t there! That’s like the first sign of demonic possession. Felix knows his bible! I’m sure we can get Changbin involved to hold you down. The devil can’t fight off all of us.”

“Hyunjin, I don’t need an exorcism!”

“Demonic possession!”

“I’m not possessed!”

“You are!” He screamed when you stood up from the kitchen table. His fingers went up in a small cross. “Stay back, demon! Stay back! In the name of the father, the son, and the holy spirit, I command you to-”

He cut off when your lips met his. You cupped his cheeks and gently patted them. “Would a demonically possessed person do that?”

“No, but a succubus and an incubus would. This doesn’t make me feel better. I need Felix to conjure up some holy water. My spirit is in danger.” His hand went to his chest and he shook his head frantically. “I can feel it.”

_ _ _

Han:

“And you’ve just dealt with this for how long?” Han’s head tipped to the side. “These um… things?”

You chuckled, trying not to fall victim to his cuteness. “A long time. It’s just become a part of my life. I don’t fear it and it only happens when I’m really stressed.”

“So if you see a shadow figure, I won’t see the shadow figure?”

“You shouldn’t. It’s just me and my brain that’s causing the issue, not yours.”

His water bottle crinkled in his hand and his entire body shook with a brief shiver. “I don’t know how you put up with that. Why don’t you freak out? If that was me, I’d need to be put out of my misery or put on medicine or something.”

“It’s not that bad.”

“Bro, I think seeing Casper the friendly ghost floating above your head is pretty bad.” Han frowned and lowered his voice. “What if he tries to seduce you? You’re mine.”

“Babe, Casper is a ghost child and it’s not like that.”

“Oh! Thank God!” He slumped over in his chair relieved. “I’m safe for another day. I can’t lose you to a hot ghost.”

“You’re such a loser.”

“Put some respect on my brand, a hot loser.”

_ _ _

Felix:

The first time you told Felix about your experiences with stress, he frowned. His hand reached out and he pressed the back of his palm against the back of your head. Your eyebrows furrowed, “what are you doing?”

“I’m checking to see if you have a fever because that sounded like a delusion. You can’t possibly be serious, but I don’t think you’re burning up either. Sweetheart, are you having a mental health crisis? I have an advocate on speed dial and-”

You laughed and shook your head. “No, Felix, I’ve made my peace with this a long time ago. It’s just random stuff and it means nothing.”

“Can I still take you to the doctor? It’d make me feel a lot better about this. I just want to make sure you’re not overlooking something, I don’t mean to overstep, really.”

“You’re sure it’d make you feel better?”

He nodded.

“Then I suppose I’ll make an appointment for next week. Just try not to worry too much until then, okay?”

His arms wrapped around your waist tighter. “I’ll try, but you make these things so difficult sometimes. I love you an awful lot and want the best for you.”

“I love you, too.”

“I love you more.”

“And I love you most.”

_ _ _

Seungmin:

“Okay, what the fuck?”

“What?” You blinked innocently, wondering why he seemed so stunned. “It’s a harmless and simple thing.”

“Uh, yeah,” he scoffed. “Sure. Because normal people see bugs, blink, and they disappear. Abracadabra or whatever. Uh-huh. Sure.”

You groaned and threw yourself back into your chair. “Why do you have to be like that? It’s not that big of a deal. It’s only once in a while, anyway. You’re making something so serious out of nothing.”

“If you admit this to a doctor, they’re going to throw your ass in the mental ward.”

“Now you’re being silly.”

“Straight jacket and all.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to focus on the food on your plate. “You’re ruining my dinner.”

“ME?” His jaw dropped and he pointed the fork to his chest. “You just told me you see flies in this house when they don’t exist! You’re the one watching the spiders of smashings past, web up my fine china! I told you that this is why you take the bugs outside and stop killing them. Now you’ve got their ghosts haunting your dumbass.”

You grumbled and rolled your eyes.

“Keep up that attitude and next thing you know, they’re going to haunt your hole.”

“Up yours, Kim Seungmin.”

_ _ _

Jeongin:

Jeongin’s eyes widened after your announcement. He collapsed his hands together, pulled them apart, and threw them up in the air. You shrugged and pulled the barren blankets over your body. “I told you it was weird.”

“I’m truly speechless. I don’t know what you want me to say. I’m like…”

“Like what?” You rolled over to face him.

“Ten seconds away from losing it. How are you so calm about this?”

“The first time it happened I wasn’t. Do you know how haunting it was? I looked out the back door and there was a vampire.”

His nose scrunched up and his lips parted. His head tipped in a look of disgust. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“He waved at me and flashed his fangs.”

“And you didn’t think to call the cops or something?”

“For what? I blinked and he disappeared.”

“You would not survive a home invasion. I love you so much and you know that, but oh my god. If you see a person lingering and peering into your back door, you should call the cops for someone trespassing.”

“And tell them what? A vampire was at my back door? He gave me a drive by flashing?” You rolled your eyes, rolled further into the pillow, and shut your eyes. “They’d think I was high on crack.”

“Sometimes, I really think you are.”

“Harsh.”

“I really don’t know what to say.”

“Just go to sleep.”

He sighed and pulled the covers up to his chin. “Great. Now I’m going to be afraid that we have a vampire of interest lurking around outside.”

“We do. You live with Chan. I’m pretty sure he’s raiding the kitchen for garlic, so he can make spaghetti and garlic bread.”

“It’s three in the morning!”

“And vampire producers have to eat a fulfilling meal too.”

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marvelstoriesepic · 16 days ago

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Beneath the constellations

Pairing: Tattoo Artist!Bucky x Scared of needles!Reader

Summary: You are a needle-phobic but somehow agree to get a small, meaningful friendship tattoo with your best friends Darcy and Jane.

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: Needle phobia; mild panic; anxiety; physical discomfort; descriptions of a tattoo needle; nervous rambling; comfort

Author’s Note: This again is a request from one of my sweetest mutuals! I adore you, my dear and I hope you like what I did with your interesting and so creative idea ♡

2k Drabble Challenge Masterlist | Masterlist

Your knee is bouncing. Your heart is racing. The design is folded up in your hands - a little tattoo that is so simple, tiny, meaningful - but your palms are sweaty and you can’t stop assaulting the inside of your cheek with your teeth.

The walls of the tattoo parlor are soft with shadows. Dark navy paint. There is low music humming along but it’s not soothing anything inside you. Sterilization hangs in the air and there’s also ink and something smoky - cedarwood or sage. It stays at the back of your throat like a ghost you swallowed by accident.

The waiting room is actually pretty aesthetically pleasant but you feel like choking on your own spit.

The cold vinyl bench beneath you vibrates with your leg rapidly moving up and down and up and down.

“I can’t do this,” you mutter lowly. “Oh my god. I’m gonna pass out.”

Darcy, sitting on your left, gives you a smile that doesn’t ease you at all. “You’re not getting open-heart surgery, babe. You’ve got to chill your beans.”

Jane, sitting on your right, grabs your leg to still its movement. She probably got annoyed at being shaken with the whole bench. “It’s so small, I’m sure you will barely feel it,” she tries to reassure you.

Darcy nudges you. “And it will stay on your body forever.”

“This is not helping at all, Darc,” you half whine, half grumble. “Can’t we just make this temporary, or something? Like, I don’t know, draw it on with a sharpie?”

“Hell nah,” Darcy complains. “This is for life,” she goes on, pointing wildly at all of you three. “We are going to seal the deal. Make it forever, officially.”

You want to laugh. Or scream. Or run. Or disappear.

A part of you thought this would be fine. That you could sit here like a normal adult with a normal nervous system and be needled with grace and honor. That the tattoo you promised you’d get with your best friends - the tiny one, the subtle one, the one you talked about under a summer sky, lying on your backs in a parking lot eating cold fries - would somehow feel like a small ceremony. Like something important.

Instead, your palms are damp and your stomach is a washing machine of dread and iced coffee. It turns round and round and round in circles, making you instinctively look for a nearby trash bin.

The door creaks open.

And then he walks in.

Bucky Barnes, according to the framed certifications on the wall. Also according to Darcy, who not-so-subtly whispered oh my god he’s hot when you walked in earlier and now leans in to your ear, to whisper “oh my god, he’s even hotter in person.”

He’s broad-shouldered and tall. Black tee, black jeans. Arms inked to the wrists in clean, complex lines. Geometric patterns like armor. You spot a white wolf curled around a blooming branch. A forget-me-not. The tattoo work is detailed. Almost luminous. An artwork of constellations on his skin, coiling like a secret he’s allowing the world to glimpse.

He looks at you.

You stop breathing.

“You ready?” he asks, voice a low rasp.

You make a sound that might be English. Might be a prayer. Might be a dying animal.

He blinks, then smiles. Just a little tug at the corner of his lip.

“Maybe one of you should go first,” you say to your friends quietly, voice barely hanging on.

“It’s not the gallows, babe,” Darcy muses, nudging you again.

“I know, but I-”

Jane cuts you a dry look, interrupting. “You made us matching Google Calenders for this.”

“I was drunk on sentiment and pinterest,” you argue but it’s useless.

“No stalling. You can’t back out now.“

“I’m not backing out,” you grumble. “I’m delegating the trauma.”

But they’re not moving. Not budging.

You indignantly get up. Slowly. Darcy leans over and smiles sharply, mischievously. “Hey, just ask if you can hold his hand during the act.”

You choke. On air. On dignity. On the sudden imagine of his fingers wrapped around yours. And you’re up, throwing her a last glare that lacks all the heat.

You turn to Bucky and he is full-on smirking now. Though his voice is not mocking.

“We can take our time,” he says gently, and gestures toward the door that will, as you can imagine, lead you to the torture chamber. Yes, that’s dramatic. Yes, you don’t care. Yes, you are spiraling.

After sending your friends a panicked look and them not that supportively giving you thumbs up in return while grinning brightly, you follow him as if you’re approaching your own funeral.

You walk like you’re made of wires and wet paper. Trailing behind him into the back room, your chest beating out the morse code for panic.

The chair is deceptively comfortable. Everything is clean and neat and doesn’t smell scary but your heart is beating so loud, you think it’s bruising your ribs.

He sits down on a stool, brings it closer to you with one hand, and adjusts his gloves. He moves slowly, most definitely for your sake.

“I’m sorry,” you blurt. “I’m being ridiculous.”

“You’re not,” he says, soft and even. “You’d be surprised how many people get nervous.”

You inhale. Exhale. Fail.

“I’m Bucky,” he says easily, glancing at you with eyes the color of melted steel and winter storms. You give him your name and he smiles. “What are we doing today?”

You fumble with the paper in your hands, clumsy movements lifting it to show him.

It’s stupid, honestly. Three tiny constellations in a delicate arc. Only a little bigger than a thumbnail. Barely enough to be called a tattoo.

He leans closer to look. His knee brushes yours and you hold your breath.

“I know it’s small. It’s dumb. I mean, not dumb, like-”

Bucky waits.

Silent. Patient. The corner of his mouth tilts up.

“It’s three constellations.” The words tumble out of you, messy and fast. As if trying to explain your favorite dream to a stranger who wasn’t there. “Mine, Jane’s, and Darcy’s. We got stranded once during a road trip, out in the middle of nowhere, and the car battery died. So we laid on the hood, freezing our asses off, and waited for a tow truck under this crazy clear sky. Jane started pointing out stars and we found our constellations. And we just talked. About everything. So we-”

You stop.

Because you’re talking too much. Because your face is hot. Because he’s watching you as if he’s listening.

And Bucky only smiles. Just this small, warm curve of his mouth that feels like praise.

You blink too hard. Look down at your hands.

“It’s silly.” You just can’t help explaining yourself. “I know it’s barely anything. And it’s not even a real design, really. I’m not even supposed to be here, I mean-”

You stop again. Press your lips together.

He’s still looking at you. Calm. Not judging. Not laughing.

“You were saying?” he asks, voice quiet.

You breathe in a shaky breath.

“I’m scared of needles,” you admit embarrassed. “Like. Deeply, irrationally scared. I had to get a flu shot once and almost took out the poor nurse with my bag.”

Bucky huffs out a short and amused laugh, but his eyes are genuine and sympathetic. He nods like that’s the most normal thing anyone’s ever said.

“It’s not dumb, sweetheart. Nor is it silly.” You’d be on the floor if you were standing up. “I like it,” he says earnestly. “Three stars. Three best friends. Kind of poetic.”

“Yeah, it’s-” you stammer. “It means a lot to us.”

“That’s nice to hear.” His eyes rake over you so intensely, so sincere. “Some of the best tattoos I've done were barely the size of a freckle.”

You don’t know if he’s saying this to make you feel better, but either way, you are not sure it helps.

You feel like your skin is trying to slip off your body.

He opens the packaging with quiet and sure movements that still seem to be a little slower than he would probably be normally.

“I tattoo six-foot-tall dudes who pass out cold,” he starts soothingly. “You’re sittin’ here, scared, and still doing it. That’s brave.” He says it so simply.

You stare at him. Try to believe it.

“May I?” he asks, looking up at you, and gesturing toward your arm.

You nod. Too fast.

He reaches out carefully like you’re glass and holy.

His fingers are warm. Gentle. He adjusts your wrist, turning it slightly toward the light. It feels like gravity has shifted. Like the earth tipped a little, just to watch this happen.

His thumb brushes against the inside of your forearm, where your pulse is having a complete existential crisis. His touch might be absentminded but it sparks something that goes way too deep. A tremor. A stormcloud. A sigh under your skin.

“Right here okay?” he asks, voice low.

You swallow. “Yeah. That’s good. That’s perfect.”

The needle glints in the light like a tiny sword ready to tear apart your skin.

“You sure?”

“No,” you say honestly, voice a little unstable. “But I’m doing it anyway.”

He chuckles under his breath and his smile changes, gets softer, younger.

You let out a breath. Try to remember the sky that night, the way the stars felt close enough to kiss. But there’s something else you’d rather kiss right no-

“I’ll go slow. And I’ll be gentle. Promise,” he says, almost under his breath. “Just breathe.”

You nod. Let him see the fear. Let him see you choose it away.

He turns on the machine. Your hand is shaking. The buzz rings in your ears.

He touches your arm again. Carefully. Steadying you. Taking in an exaggerated breath for you to follow.

“Tell me if you need a break,” he states softly, but there is something else in his tone. “Or, you know. If you want to hold my hand.”

You freeze. Not sure if you heard that right. Your brain is a flock of birds flapping around your skull.

“I- What?”

He smiles. Not teasing. Not smug. It’s soft. It’s kind.

“Some people do better with a distraction,” he says like it’s no big deal. So casual, but his undertone makes you promise yourself to punch Darcy Lewis later on.

You stare at him for a second too long, not sure if he is even serious. You feel like you’ve been thrown into a different body. One that’s nervous and melting and acutely aware of every square inch of air between you.

His palm lays open as an invitation. Looking so soft and callous at the same time.

“Can you even do this with one hand?” you ask cautiously.

He smirks. “You bet I can, darling.”

After a patient moment, you reach out, fingers finding his, and he shifts just enough to meet you halfway. His grip is loose and open, letting you decide how much to hold on.

And you do. Not tight. But not soft either.

It’s safe.

He starts.

The needle meets your skin sharp and sudden, but it doesn’t feel unbearable. You’re too focused on the fact that you’re literally holding hands with the hottest guy you’ve seen in a long while. Maybe ever. His thumb has started tracing circles on the back of yours.

You’re not sure how much time passes. Minutes stretch and snap and vanish but then it’s over.

The buzz stops. The silence blooms around you.

You blink down at your wrist, skin warm and reddened and wrapped in something tiny and starborn. Three constellations, nestled close.

He wipes it gently, thumb brushing away excess ink with a kind of care that makes you want to cry.

“It’s beautiful,” he says. Quiet. Like it’s just for you.

You don’t even realize he’s still holding your hand until he gives it a squeeze and pulls away to grab a mirror.

You almost say wait.

He places the mirror in your hand.

Your breath is lost somewhere deep when you look down at your inked skin. It’s so small. So perfect. Exactly what you hoped for, only softer now. As if it’s always been there. Meant to stay forever.

You glance up at him.

His eyes are warm. Curious. “Took it like a champ,” he says.

You shrug, a little shyly. “I didn’t faint. So that’s a win.”

He lets out a low chuckle. The sound does things to you.

“I’ve seen people pass out from paper cuts. You’re fine,” he assures.

You don’t know what to do with that or the heat pooling at your neck, so you look down again. Tracing the constellations with your eyes like you’re learning to read a new kind of language.

“Thank you,” you offer, and it’s not just for the ink. It’s for the kindness. The patience. The hand-holding. The compassion. “I love it.”

“No need to thank me, darling.”

He takes a few more moments studying you before peeling off his gloves and standing up.

You stand too. Your legs wobble a little, traitorous and unsure, and his hand hovers near your back.

You don’t say anything.

But you feel it.

All of it.

The warmth.

The hush.

The stars, still burning softly beneath your skin.

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damnfeelings09 · 3 months ago

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Who'd have known? - Shadow's version

A.N: Hello! been in a little writters block and finally pulled myself out of it thanks to @dayoftearsandmourning lovely request so this one goes specially for her (I hope it's what u wanted)I hadn't heard this song before but it's so cute an fluffy so I hope I made justice. Also yes I know Rouge is not (yet) on the SMU (sonic movie universe) but I dont care.

Shadow felt comfortable, welcoming the warmth in his chest, his muscles relaxing allowing himself to drift away, something that only happened when he was with you, even while doing the most mundane things like sitting next to you watching your favorite show. Shadow had stopped paying attention to the TV, fixing his attention on you noticing every change in your expression, the little smile peeking out of your lips, the flutter of your eyelashes, the way you puckered your nose when the main character got into trouble. He noticed how you hugged your torso, the cold of the night becoming present, without thinking, without planning it, he placed his arm around your shoulders, as if it were the most natural thing between you.

“…Put your arm around my shoulder And it was as if the room got colder”

The gesture did not go unnoticed by you. The warmth flooding your cheeks painting them pink, you enjoyed his company and certainly enjoyed his touch making circles on your shoulder. From time to time you would turn around and explain something about the chapter you were watching, Shadow would listen to you attentively but prayed that you wouldn't ask him what he thought because he would have to admit that he was lost in the sound of your voice just like that first time he saw you.

“I didn't know where this was going…”

Months ago, when Shadow had just arrived to live in Green Hills, at the request of Sonic and his friends, in a quiet morning walk in town he found a small cafeteria, it looked cozy and the sweet vanilla scent mixed with coffee gave him the courage to open the door.

You were arranging the desserts on the sideboard, when you heard the bell announcing a new customer, returning to your place at the counter, finding dark spikes and red tips, you lowered your gaze a little, crimson eyes looking back at you. “Hello! What can I get you started today?” your smile warm and gentle, something Shadow was not so used to since he had come to live with the wackausky.

“Coffe,” he says, placing his hands on the counter.

“Sure thing, what kind of-?”

“Beans.” he cut you off.

“Oh… that's new. Let me see what I can do.” you walked to the back opening a new bag of coffe beans for the machine and putting em on a small plastic bag adding a sticky note to it. “What's your name?”

“Shadow?” he said in a questioning tone, not really understanding why you wanted to know.

“Okay, here you go Shadow, enjoy” you handed him the bag. Shadow took it, leaving a five dollar bill on the counter as he turned to leave “Come back anytime!” you say enthusiastically.

On the way back to the Wackausky's Shadow found his name written in beautiful calligraphy along with a smiley face. At the time he didn't understand why, but his heart had been turned upside down.

“I haven't left you for days now And I'm becoming amazed how You're quite affectionate in public”

It wasn't the first time you had spent time together, much less the first time Shadow had stayed at your house, yet the buzzing of Shadows mind was not leaving him alone, has it always been like this? Being... so close? In his mind he went over all those dates was that what they were? That you had had, the moments you had shared, comparing them with what was happening, however to him it seemed... the same. Nothing had changed between you, so why did he feel that something was going on? Why did the scent of your shampoo feel sweeter than usual? Why did you look prettier than usual under the warm light?

Shadow was in a lot of trouble, he couldn't figure out what had happened to you, why something felt different when he was near you, why his hands were shaking when he was next to you, why he was staring at you so hard when you put balm on your lips? he didn't know what to do, so he did the only thing he could do given the situation. Go to Rouge.

“What could possibly be? Perhaps I'm sick” he said as he paced back and forth with his hand cupping his chin “Nonsense, I am the ultimate lifeform, I can't get sick.”

“In fact your friend said it made her feel sick And even though it's moving forward There's just the right amount of awkward”

“Oh gods” said Rouge smacking his forehead with her hand “You're a fool Shadow, but you're cute so I'll forgive you. You’re not sick but you might as well be blind. You’re in love.

“In… love?” he said in a questioning tone “No, I don't understand what you're talking about.”

“You like her Shadow and it's so obvious to everyone that I'm surprised she hasn't noticed yet. Especially with that little dance you do whenever she's around.” Dancing? No Shadow didn't dance, she barely knew how to move her arms “You know, when you circle around her while she's cooking?”

“But I... I don't-” he said trying to defend himself.

“Oh my... you are really oblivious.”

Circling? What did Rouge mean by that? You and Shadow were... friends, yes, good friends. He liked spending time with you, listening to you talk about the new dessert recipes you would try in the cafeteria and what your childhood had been like in your grandmother's bakery and yes it was true that he constantly found himself walking in circles across the kitchen with you in the middle, but that was just his way of passing the time while you were concentrating on your work, wasn't it? You were just very nice, kind and always had a smile for him. Shadow loved your details like his bag of coffee beans every day waiting for him or the notes wishing him good morning, they made him feel special and he’d be lying if he said he hadn't noticed the recent appearance of hearts around his name on every note. But that's all it was, right?

“You told your friends, they all know We exist but we're taking it slow Let's just see how it goes”

Slow but steady you had fallen for him too. Too scared to accept your feelings, you didn't know if Shadow shared what you did and you didn't want to ruin his friendship over a simple crush. Except it wasn't just a crush, you constantly found yourself thinking about him, buying things just because they reminded you of him, longing for the clock to move faster to the number 9, for that was the time Shadow always arrived at the coffee shop.

The doorbell rang and as if your prayers had been answered there stood the hedgehog you so longed to see. Shadow had a frown on his face, as if he was worried about something, next to him Rouge was whispering in his ear.

“Hey guys!” you said coming out from the counter to greet them giving them a kiss on the cheek as was your custom. Shadow blushed as he felt your lips on his muzzle, averting his gaze to the new decorations you had added to the cafeteria. The painting of a reddish comet streaking across the sky among the stars hung high above their heads. Shadow admired the painting beside you.

“I like it”

“So do I, it made me think of you” you said without thinking. The curiosity present in Shadow “Cause... you were a star lighting up the sky, bringing your brightness to where it's needed.” Red cheeks on your face as you spoke “you okay?” you said as you noticed Shadow hiding his head in his hands, a soft click click click coming from him.

“Are you mine? Are you mine? 'Cause I stay here all the time”

“These two are going to need more help than I thought,” Rouge thought.

That's how we arrived at this moment, both of you sitting on the park bench watching the sunset. A bouquet of yellow and lavender flowers on your lap. He had done just what Rouge had advised “take her somewhere nice, buy some flowers and confess your feelings”, except he was having trouble with the last part. For the first time in his life he felt... unsure, what if it was all in his mind? What if Rouge was wrong? Shadow couldn't bear to lose someone special, not again.

“This feels so good” you said leaning into him, your head on his you felt his body stiffen against your touch, your little finger on his hand seeking to intertwine your fingers with his. Maybe it was the heat of the moment or the dizziness your scent gave him, maybe it was the lavender haze in his mind, but somehow he found the courage to speak.

“I... I like you.”

“I like you too Shadow.”

“No, I mean, I-I think I love you.”

“Who'd have known? Who'd have known? When you flash up on my phone I no longer feel alone Let's just stay, let's just stay”

You looked at him, your face tilted to one side and a slight blush starting to grow as the butterflies in your stomach flutter uncontrollably. Never in your wildest dreams did you imagine this would happen but as you tried to keep it cool you couldn't help but let a small smile creep across your face as Shadow confessed his feelings. “I think I love you too” you said intertwining your fingers with his as if a promise had been sealed between the two of you.

“Now let's just see how it goes Let's see how it goes”

#shadow the ultimate lifeform #shadow the hedgehog x reader #shadow x reader #shadow fanfic #shadow the hedeghog #shadow the hedgehog #sonic fanfiction #sth au #mobian x human #sth #shadow #shadow x you #WhodHaveKnownShadowversion

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yappaccinocookie · 4 months ago

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my heart is swelling...

Cookies of your choice, and how they deal with being inlove!!

hehehe... I sneaked in clover and espresso, because I love them. I also did other characters, so that its fair! I wrote more than 6, because espresso and vclovr are the extras. I proofread this once.

LOWERCASE INTENDED!!

Espresso —

espresso cookie doesn’t have time for distractions, or so he tells himself. love? utterly impractical. yet, there he is, grinding beans with just a little more care, his thoughts swirling like freshly brewed coffee. he’s convinced that if he ignores the fluttering in his dough, it’ll go away.

spoiler: it doesn’t... oop tough luck, work monster!

he tries to intellectualize it, of course. he analyzes every interaction, every fleeting glance, like it’s a formula waiting to be solved. but when you smile at him, that confident exterior of his crumbles faster than a poorly baked biscotti. “you’re being ridiculous,” he mutters to himself one night, staring at his notes. but instead of equations, all he’s written is your name in the margins.

Madeline —

madeleine cookie is a romantic through and through, and being in love simply adds to his already dramatic attitude. he is the sort to express his emotions in large, sweeping sentences, his voice ringing like a bell. "you are the light that illuminates my road!" he will say, his eyes full of love. (how corny... hes hopeless) however, despite the theatrics, madeleine's love is genuine. he is very attentive, seeing details about you that others might overlook. if you are down, he will go out of his way to make you feel better, even if it means embarrassing himself.

one afternoon, while the two of you sit under a tree, he gives you a flower crown he fashioned himself. "it is not ideal," he says, his typical confidence replaced by a rare vulnerability. he states that he's your "knight and shining armor." how precious!!

Almond —

almond cookie doesn’t know how to deal with feelings outside of his detective work. love isn’t something he’s ever had to investigate, so when he realizes he’s in love with you, it throws him off balance. he tries to rationalize it, telling himself it’s just a passing thought or a distraction he doesn’t need. but the truth is, you’ve taken up permanent residence in his mind.

he doesn’t go for grand gestures; instead, his love comes through in the small, practical ways he cares for you. he’ll make sure you’re safe, double-checking locks or walking you home without asking. his words are gruff, but his actions speak louder. one evening, as you sit together in his office, the warm light of the desk lamp casting shadows across his face, he looks at you with an uncharacteristic softness. “you’re important to me,” he mutters, almost too quiet to hear. for almond cookie, that’s as close to a confession as it gets. (classy and cute !)

Redvelvet —

red velvet cookie is used to keeping people at arm’s length, so falling in love with you catches him completely off guard. he tries to act like it doesn’t bother him, but his usually stoic demeanor starts to crack. he finds himself doing things he never thought he would, like going out of his way to make sure you’re comfortable or safe.

he’s not great with words, but his actions speak volumes. if you’re ever in danger, he’ll be the first to step in, his claws flashing as he defends you. one day, as the two of you sit together in the quiet of the night, he finally lets his walls down. “you make things... easier,” he admits, his voice low but steady. it’s not much, but coming from red velvet, it’s everything.

Eclair —

eclair cookie approaches love with the same curiosity and reverence he reserves for ancient artifacts. he finds himself studying you, trying to understand the way his heart skips a beat when you’re near. he’s not one for impulsive actions, so he takes his time, letting his feelings grow like a carefully cultivated garden.

he’ll use his knowledge as an excuse to spend time with you, sharing stories of his research or showing you his latest discoveries. one day, as he hands you a beautifully preserved relic, he says, “this reminded me of you.” his voice is steady, but there’s a hint of nervousness in his eyes. for eclair, love is the greatest mystery of all, and he’s determined to treasure it.

Financer —

financier cookie approaches love with the same discipline and determination she applies to everything else in her life. wen she realizes she’s in love with you, she treats it like a mission, vowing to protect and care for you with everything she has. she’s not one for flowery words or grand gestures, but her loyalty is unwavering.

she’ll go out of her way to make sure you’re safe and comfortable, even if it means sacrificing her own needs. one day, as the two of you stand together on a hill overlooking the kingdom, she turns to you with a rare softness in her eyes. “you are my greatest responsibility,” she says, her voice steady but filled with emotion. for financier cookie, love is a promise, and she intends to keep it.

Dark Choco —

dark choco cookie doesn’t know what to do with love. it’s not something he’s ever allowed himself to feel, not with the weight of his past pressing down on him. when he realizes he’s in love with you, his first instinct is to push you away. he tells himself it’s for your own good, that someone like him doesn’t deserve someone like you. bt no matter how hard he tries, he can’t stop himself from gravitating toward you.

he doesn’t say much, but his actions speak louder than words. he’ll stand guard over you without you even realizing it, his sword at the ready for any threat. one evening, as the two of you sit in silence by a dying campfire, he finally speaks. “you make me want to be better,” he says, his voice low and rough. it’s not a declaration of love, but it’s the closest he’s ever come to letting someone into his heart.

Clover —

clover cookie falls in love like a song slowly coming together, each note more beautiful than the last. he’s a hopeless romantic, penning ballads inspired by you without even realizing it.

he finds himself humming melodies when you’re around, his quill moving almost on its own as he writes lyrics that capture the way your laughter feels like sunshine.

one day, you catch him practicing a song, your name woven delicately into the verses. “it’s just a draft,” he says, his cheeks dusted with powdered sugar, but the look in his eyes tells you it’s more than that.

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