#because this was in my drafts for months and i dug it back up

[zae-heeyyy]

Evanesce

Summary: You try to runway. Pairing: Arthur Morgan x female!reader Word count: 3,673 Tags: angst, smut, mid-low honor Arthur, handjob, unprotected p in v, oral, breeding kink, tb? Don’t know her. Warnings: 18+ MDNI, toxic relationship

An: I feel like I ran a never ending marathon with this one. Drafted it a month ago, but I never really vibed with it. Challenged myself to just get it done and make sure I was proud of it. Once again, I'm trying to step out of my comfort zone. Shout out to @googoolies for the note idea! As always, I hope you enjoy and thanks for reading!

Tagging @hihomeghere because you asked ❤️

Evanesce: to dissipate like vapor

Worn floorboards of Shady Bell wailed under Arthur’s weight as songbirds began their morning melodies. The gunslinger scoped the eerily empty, quiet camp for traces of you, but all he found was a folded letter on his pillow.

Echoes of your last conversation flashed in his mind as he tramped across the narrow room to retrieve the note. Two nights ago, The Old Guard overlooked their kingdom from the second-floor balcony as they discussed their plans to wage war against Angelo Bronte. Bile stung the back of your throat as two-thirds of the trio outruled the other. Hosea’s final words to Dutch and Arthur, “You’ll damn us all,” filled you with dread and the overwhelming feeling of impending doom.

Arthur avoided your shadowed eyes as he reloaded his weapons and ignored your outcry against Dutch’s plan. Your desperation had turned swiftly to indignation, and an argument commenced, your voices clashing like swords. You begged him not to go, pleading with the enforcer to listen to reason for once, to listen to you. But he pushed back with the shield of obstinance he had long forged for survival. 

“I don’t take orders from you, woman, and keep your goddamn voice down.”

Thousands of tiny needles pricked at the backs of your eyes at the harsh directive, but you held firm. 

“Arthur, if you go I’ll–” 

“Don’t,” he warned dismissively, slinging his rifle over his shoulder and ambling to the door. He didn’t even bother saying goodbye as he twisted the knob. Your last words fell on ears deafened from years of gunfire. 

“If you leave, I won’t be here when you come back.”

Two days later, Arthur masked his guilt with anger as he skimmed over the last piece of you left in the room. Four words in the polite loops of your handwriting taunted him: Saint Denis. Train. Running. 

After a quick check of the cinch, he found himself begrudgingly engulfed in the city of smog and greed he’d come to hate so much. Riding through the maze of cobblestone, brick, and vermin was like laying under a guillotine, staring up at the blade and waiting for it to drop. Law on every corner, people jammed together, and now, Bronte’s men out for revenge–none of it felt right. 

Taking in a breath that didn’t reach deep enough, he started his search for you in this hornets’ nest of a city. Most of the hotels and saloons served him with nothing but a heavy dose of adrenaline and dead ends. As he approached Doyle’s Tavern, his last stop, he dug his nails into his trembling palm, savoring the sting of apathy that came with the pain.

Arthur made a beeline to Gabe Doyle, reciting his rehearsed description of you. A woman standing beside him, whose garments had seen cleaner days, tapped him on the shoulder. The outlaw didn’t even look at her, didn’t give her time to speak before he rejected her with razor-edge disdain. When Arthur finished, Gabe only shrugged his shoulders, but the woman, still standing close by, let out a derisive giggle.

“He won’t be of no help, mista’. Coulda’ told ya’ for free, but it’ll cost ya’ now.”

Ire made his ears ring, drowning out all the other sounds in the slum’s saloon. He drummed his fingers hard on the worn wooden bar, the taste of pride sour on his tongue. 

“How much?” 

Cleavage spilled over her top as she leaned towards him and twiddled brazenly with the collar of his shirt. 

“Well, for clients that play nice, seven dollars, but for you, rotten dirty bastard––times it by ten.” 

A minute later, he exited Doyle’s Tavern not a cent lighter, heavy with an indefinite ban, but finally, a real lead on you. Four new mocking words overshadowed ones from the letter: Whore house; Courtenay Street. 

A brothel—a goddamn brothel. 

Instinct lured him to the debauched inn, and your name frothed from his muzzle in more of a growl than speech. Like a rabid dog, he snapped and barked orders at the women unlucky enough to be trapped with the beast on the arena floor.

They tried futilely to stop his march down the hall, tried to keep him from getting to you, but the chaos drew you into the colosseum and into the lion’s direct line of sight. You yanked the man-turned-animal by the sleeve and sealed yourselves away before he could do any more damage. 

More tame now, sea storm orbs surveyed you in a quick but covert once over, then he spun on his heel, searching for anything else to focus on.

“Christ, been looking for you all day, woman,” he bit out through clenched teeth. 

The lone wolf prowled the new territory for a threat but was only met with a vacant cave and the empty feeling of shame. Deflecting, he found your luggage, lifting the bags with the practiced ease of carrying buckets of water to and fro. His biceps flexed with the weight of your whole life in one bag, but he nodded at you, matter of fact. 

“C’mon. M’taking you home.”

Home. You could’ve laughed if it didn’t hurt so much. None of these places had ever been home.

“I ain’t going nowhere with you,” you fired back, grabbing for the suitcase in his hand. A brief game of tug-of-war ensued, your grip relentless, Arthur’s unwavering, until he finally let you pull one of the bags free. He dropped the other and exhaled with the sharpness of a saber but stayed silent at the conclusion of your weaponless duel. He’d fallen in love with that gnawing defiance, but now it was tearing him to pieces, bit by bit until it exposed the marrow of pure anger.

“Runnin’ off is one thing.” His nostrils flared, and the timbre of his voice deepened as he carried on, “But running off t’here–– selling yourself?” He shook his head and blew air through his teeth, “Yer crazier than I thought.”

You whirled away from him, swatting your hand like he was as insignificant as a fly.

“And you’re a bigger idiot than I thought. Ain’t selling myself, you damn fool! And I’ll do whatever the hell I please. Right now, I want to get far away from this shit city and you.”

“No, you don’t,” he said, dragging out the words. “I know you just as well as you think you know me. If you wanted away–really wanted away–you wouldn’t’ve left this pretty little letter, and sure as hell wouldn’t’ve told me where to find ya’.” He retrieved the letter from his satchel, held it up just long enough for you to see, and crushed it in his fist before discarding it on the floor.

“That’s what I think of your pretty little letter.” 

You had started a slow involuntary backtrack during his monologue, the flight response pushing back against the fight. He followed, sandwiching you between himself and the door.

“Screw you.” Scorn was hot on your breath.   

Just as you thought to turn the knob, to free yourself from the prison of flesh and wood, the iron teeth of a bear trap, his fingers, clamped around your wrist, bringing your hand to eye level. 

“And you still got something of mine.”

Both pairs of eyes landed on a small round sparkling opal set in a gold band on your left ring finger.

You’d never forget finding it on your pillow along with a letter from Arthur that just said, “One day…”

He had made promises he didn’t keep. First, you just had to wait for the Ferry Job. Next, you needed to survive Colter. Then you had to get far away from the Pinkertons, and most recently, all you needed to do was help case the Lemoyne National Bank. One last job, he’d told you. It was the same thing he said before leaving for that boat in Blackwater.

Contempt flowed through your veins as you tried to wrench free. God, you hated him right now, but you hated yourself more for letting him fool you.

“Let go.” You hissed, seething. 

Your hand throbbed as he gave your wrist another squeeze.

“You first.” Then he nodded towards the stone on your finger. “My ring,” he demanded.

Your knuckles collided with the wood of the door with a hard knock as you freed your hand. You flattened your palm against the wood behind your back, guarding the ring from the career thief’s piercing gaze.

“No,” you shot back, sinking into yourself. “It’s mine.” 

Your finger throbbed around the ring you’d seldom taken off. It had become part of you, melded to your skin like a vine coiled around a tree in a beautiful and deadly embrace. 

“Yours?” he huffed incredulously, shaking his head, trying to form your words into something he could understand. For a short beat, the heavy huff and puff of his breath was the only thing you could register. 

You had mined forever to find something other than cold coals of anger within him. You thought you’d found it—thought you’d finally struck gold when he confessed his feelings for you somewhere out west all that time ago. Now, you were left wondering if it was only fool’s gold you had stumbled upon. The cowardly knight was far too proud and far too afraid of getting stabbed to lay down his armor. But you were having a silent conversation with those sad eyes, reading words he’d never speak or ask aloud. What does that make me, then? 

“Yours.” He answered his inner thoughts without hesitation.

Mine. You thought back but only stared at him, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of cracking under his scrutiny. 

“Yours.” He repeated assuredly, final. 

It was your turn to shake your head now; you could hear his vocal cords vibrating, generating sounds you were supposed to understand, but he may as well have been speaking another language because what the hell did he know about being anybody else’s? You repeated your thoughts bluntly.

For a moment, he looked stunned, but then his hand shot out, cupping your jaw and tilting your face toward his. He was so close, you could smell him now. The scents of liquor on his breath and leather in his hat permeated your whole being.

“You don’t think–” His voice was low and trembling with fury. “I been yours since the goddamn day I laid eyes on you, and you know it.”

Fight, flight, freeze, and now fawn all warred for dominance. Twin mirrors of blue cosmos peered into your soul, but you didn’t look back, knowing that black holes of destruction ruled in the center and could swallow you in the blink of an eye.

“You have to go, Arthur.”

You tried to reach for the knob again, but Arthur imposed on you further, his chest brushing against yours. 

“No,” he said. “I ain’t going nowhere without you, and you ain’t going nowhere without me. M’done talking about it.”

It’s like he couldn’t listen, couldn’t hear you, couldn’t respect what you wanted. He only ever responded to shouting and violence. So you dipped down to his level, anything to get him to understand. Your open hand pushed full force against his chest, knocking the wind from him and making him stumble backward.

“You don’t own me, Arthur Morgan!”  

But the shouting was no use. He closed in on you again, and you reached out, clenching your fists in his shirt to stop his advance. If he noticed, he didn’t let on, talking with a tight jaw.

“No, dammit, cause you own me.” 

You balled your fists around cotton fabric and pulled him down into you, inhaling like you were bracing for the worst. This game, Predator and Prey, had become second nature to you. You would always be his fawn, thrashing and wailing, yet never escaping the salivating jaws of the coyote. And it always ended the same: a clash of heavy breathing and snarls before you surrendered.

Tobacco and whiskey never tasted so good, and they were just as addictive as him. Your teeth clashed together, and his left hand fell to your hip while his right twisted the lock on the knob. 

He was never gentle, but now, he was almost crazed. Rough hands that were trembling only an hour ago were all over you, gripping your jaw, sliding under your blouse, pushing and pulling you to his whim.

“Falling in love with you was the dumbest thing I ever did,” you confessed as he removed his hat and set it aside; he had better access to you without it. Heat surged through you as his hands bit into your hips, pinning you in place against the locked door. 

You mumble under your breath, “Bastard.”  

So far, he was ignoring your attempts to rouse him; you were his pretty little doe, caught in his chops, and a few barbs wouldn’t keep him from utterly devouring you. Dipping his head into your neck, he fixated on that pulsing artery, taking no time to roll the flesh between his teeth.

“Goddamn asshole,” you huffed but cradled his head as he claimed you.

He brushed over the ruptured blood vessels with his knuckles, and the bastard was smiling, eyes glazed over with lust and self-indulgence. Electricity sparked down your legs as he looped his fingers in the waistband of your skirt. 

You swore to yourself two nights ago that it was all over, that you wouldn’t let him slither back, yet here you were, Eve, being tempted by the serpent. Teeth sank into the forbidden fruit with the lift of your hips off the door, giving him permission to snatch both your skirt and bloomers down in a swift pull. Arthur didn’t need much persuasion to eat from the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil; a man like him could have never lived for eternity in The Garden of Eden. 

The pair of you wore pride like heraldry, but neither of you was as honorable as you’d led the other to believe. You, provoking him with the threat of leaving, knowing you’d let this happen as you always did, and him never changing and never stopping the cycle of broken promises. 

Your scent was intoxicating, but he held off from relishing it, studying your face like he’d done many times before. Something was different this time, though. Only for a heartbeat, you saw something in his eye, a minuscule hint of vulnerability. You blinked, and it was gone like it was never there, replaced by an unabashed smirk. You kept the insults flying. 

“Jerk.”

Hearing the laugh rumble in his chest made your skin prick up the same way it did when a thunderstorm was brewing on the horizon. The cowboy braced his hands against your thighs and peeked up at you, his lips still curved in the corners.

He lifted his eyebrow in question, “You done?”

“Shut up,” you responded, tangling your fingers in his hair and guiding him, not so gracefully, to the heat between your legs. 

Obeying, he flicked his tongue out to lap at you, drawing you closer in a hug, his palms resting on the curve of your ass cheeks. Steadying yourself against the door, you tugged on his hair like reins, but fuck, you didn’t want him to stop. You grunted and cursed under your breath as that gluttonous, greedy grifter feasted on you. 

Blasphemous sounds rose up from your chest as you rocked your hips feverishly with every swipe of his warm wet tongue against your clit. Every tug of his locs and bump of your mound into his nose sent blood pulsing full speed to the bulge in his pants. He knew you were dancing dangerously close to the cliff’s overhang by the way you were keeping him in place, right where you wanted him. But the brute stopped and locked eyes with you, lips curved downward. That slight glimpse of vulnerability you thought you’d seen earlier was now on full display.

“Say you won’t go,” he choked out. 

Down on his knees, looking up at you with genuine sincerity was the closest he’d ever get to prayer or penance. You swallowed the lump forming in your throat but didn’t answer him.

Instead, you ushered him back to his feet and crashed your lips into his again, tangling your tongue with his.

In a swift motion, you popped his suspenders loose while you walked him backward. The backs of his knees hit the bed, and he shimmied off his multiple layers just as quick as you unfastened the buttons on your blouse. You stood before him, a goddess, determining his eternal fate. And he waited, fixated on you, languidly stroking his engorged cock while you decided.

You replaced his fisted grip with yours, bending to meet his eye. The almost frown on his face made you wonder what he was seeing staring back at him. You imagined your pupils blown out, your lips swollen, and your hair disheveled. Arthur was the only man in the world who could turn you into a vixen. 

“You’re a fool, Arthur Morgan.” Your noses were almost touching as you tightened your grip and stroked him painfully slowly. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he nodded, his face downright solemn. 

“Mhm,” you went on, rubbing circles atop his hot, leaking pink tip. Your pace quickened as your cheek grazed his. A shiver ran through him as the vibrations of your voice tickled his ear.

“No good, thieving, murderous bastard.” 

“I know.” He drew out, tightly clutching the sheets. With a firm nudge, you urged him onto his back. 

“You don’t deserve me. Never did,” you continued. His hips jutted in time with your wrist, his climax sitting low in his balls.  

“I–dammit–I–kn–know.”

The muscles of his stomach constricted as he fought for breath, damn near suffocating under your touch. 

“I’ll change.” He gasped, eyes closed, and brow furrowed. “I’ll change. But–ahh–I ain’t ever gonna be good enough for you, woman–nghh–no matter how much changin’ I do.”

Air finally flowed back through with the halt of your pumping. The mattress sunk with your added weight as you slung your legs on either side of him. Neither party stalled. You gave him a quick nod before he could even ask, and he sank his length into your warm, wet pussy. There were no hushing kisses, no waiting for you to adjust, no cajoling, just the smacking of skin and the aroma of sex in the room as he molded you to his girth. Bashfulness had never even crossed your mind. You rode him tirelessly, whimpering, gasping, and filling the air with his name. 

The roles reversed; you were the animal now, a lioness pursuing a buck. Chasing the high, you galloped hard and fast and grinding your hips against his to relieve the throbbing ache in your clit. You massaged the sensitive nub between your thighs, indulging in the pleasure you were giving yourself and receiving from him. The tip of his cock bumped that sweet spot inside of you, the one that made you tense and cry out over and over again. 

You didn’t want to tell him, didn’t want him to know what he was doing to you or how he was making you feel–how he always made you feel when he was burrowed deep inside of you. You couldn’t hide from him, though. He knew you–knew the faces and sounds you made, knew the way you tightened around him, knew how you stiffened, knew how your breathing shallowed when you were on the edge. He knew the control he’d have over you forever.

“You ain’t going nowhere.” He grunted as he pounded up into you, the knot in his stomach tightening with his own upcoming release. 

“Fucker,” you said through gritted teeth.

“Yeah, and you love it.” 

You couldn’t deny it.

He took your hand in his and felt for the ring on your finger, stroking it, all while keeping eye contact and hammering relentlessly into your velvety walls. Four more thrusts and your eyes rolled back as the lightbulb of tension burst.

“That’s right, let it go, there it is.” Muttering, his upward ruts got sloppier as you rode out your body-spasming orgasm. Then he started babbling, lost in your sweet heat,

“Shit, I’m–bout t–m’close.”

The cowboy tried to lift you up, tried not to spill inside of you, but you buried your head in the crook of his neck and lowered yourself back down, taking him balls deep.

“Goddamnit,” he growled, hugging you to his chest, “the hell you doing, t’me, woman?” He panted and stared up at the ceiling like a man condemned. 

“Ain’t going nowhere,” you echoed breathlessly, still bouncing, before adding, “Yours.” 

In a few more strokes, he filled you up, grunting through his teeth and cursing up a storm that’d make even the most seasoned sailors look on timidly.

Outside noises of the establishment and the streets of Saint Denis droned back in as both of you came back to your senses. An ocean of things was left unsaid as you redressed and let Arthur lead you out of the room and to a proper hotel for the night. The next morning, you took Arthur up on his offer to get away for a few days. As the train you had boarded for your trip chugged on, something in the distance piqued your interest, a small homestead. You could vaguely make out a woman sitting on the porch and a man, presumably her husband, tending to a horse nearby. Of course, you didn’t know their life or their struggles, but if you could write your own happily ever after, it would be that. Arthur nudged you with his elbow, interrupting your daydream.  

“M’sorry...about everything,” he said, low, barely audible. The perpetual ache in your chest had almost gone numb after so long. Almost. 

“I know.” You replied and turned back to the window. The house was out of sight now, and you had a feeling your fairy tale ending had vanished with it.

[stargirlrchive]

TOLERATE IT

older!ghost x reader — i realized after i finished, i did not mention simon’s name once, but this was written w him in mind lmaooo

cw: angst, no comfort, break up? ish, friends w benefits and complicated feelings, simon self-sabotaging, im in such an angsty mood! edit: this has been sitting in my drafts for over a month and i don’t know if i like it

your nails dug into your palms as your eyes filled with tears. you were drowning, he was drowning you. you had known it for a long time now. this, whatever it was, wasn’t working. not anymore.

not when you had bled yourself dry, spread yourself too thin for him, just to receive nothing in return. worst of all is he had told you so from the very beginning. but some naive, stupid, part of you thought that would change. that he’d change for you.

stupid, stupid, stupid.

“what did you except?”

his voice was ice cold, indifferent and… bored. as if you pouring your heart out to him mere seconds ago meant nothing.

you realized then that you had been terribly wrong. mistaken the way he held you, and kissed you, as something more. “i just figured-”

his eyes blazed with frustration, “figured what, hm? that i’d eventually soften up? grow to love you?”

yes.

“i don’t know. would that be so difficult?”

“yes.”

your face twitched, unable to mask how deeply that hurt. your throat tightened with regret. regret of ever tangling yourself with him, regret with voicing your feelings.

“you knew what i wanted from this arrangement. you had agreed. we were on the same page.”

the regret and melancholy that had ebbed and festered in your heart turned to anger. blinding, burning rage.

“i had told you, made it so very clear that nothing long term would come from this. i can’t give you that.”

that rage was threatening to consume you.

your voice shook with anger, but the look on his face took the crack in your voice as one of sadness, weakness, “you won’t give me that. it’s not that you can’t.”

he said nothing, because you both knew it was true. “look, kid-”

“don’t-” your voice rasped, “don’t call me that.”

his fingers clenched in frustration, breathing through his nose as he tried to collect himself. he had never heard your voice grow that cold. not towards him and it made his bones ache.

“it’s nothing personal. i’m just not want you’re lookin’ for. not for something constant, and if things were different, if i was a different person then maybe. but im not.”

your eyes burned, a few stray tears falling but you were quick to wipe them away. yes, you had come to an agreement prior to this. but things had changed, the way he looked at you, and held you.

the whispered words in between your tangled limbs had proven that. he lingering touches and soft eyes.

he must’ve been one hell of a liar if he didn’t mean any of that.

stupid, stupid, stupid.

“i don’t believe you.”

you sniffed softly, looking at him and you were sure the devastation was clear in your eyes. “because if everything that passed between us, if you were able to fake that. you’re a monster.”

“you knew what this was when we started.”

you missed the way his fingers dug into the armrest of the couch. shaking your head as you stood up. “get out.”

he felt the chill of your words wash over him, and the part inside him that yearned for you, desperately begged him to speak up. to tell you that this was all some big misunderstanding.

stupid, stupid, stupid.

what he was doing was stupid. but it was for the best.

you deserved better, and he’d never be able to give that to you.

yes you would.

he forced the voice back, swallowing roughly before standing up. grabbing his things as he watched you try not to fall apart before him.

the words of ‘i’m sorry,’ heavy on his tongue, but he couldn’t bring himself to say it.

his footsteps heavy as he left your apartment. his heart aching the further he walked away and it comforted him a bit to know you’d never forgive him again.

there would be no hope, no one to hurt or disappoint and he could live with that. knowing that he let you go before you could begin to hate him.

[withwritersblock]

Oh! Darling pt. 3

~Oh! Darling by The Beatles~

Author's Note: a bit of a fluff piece tehe Summary: Y/N and Quinn get a night away Warnings: none Word Count: 2,082 Quinn Hughes x fm!reader Masterlist

July

Ellie was asleep in her nursery, it was well past eleven and Y/N and Quinn were still wide awake. Despite Quinn’s best efforts, he’s been gone a lot more than he’s wanted this summer. The NHL awards and the draft took a week of his time. His family was in town with him but the two most important girls in his life were still in Vancouver. 

He spent all day with Ellie practically attached at his hip, now he was spending time with his girlfriend. They were simply laying together in bed, watching Miracle. A movie that they can have in the background while they simply talk. It’s been too long since they’ve spent alone time together.

“What if Riley comes by and watches Ellie for the night while we go on a date?” Quinn asked as he rolled onto his side, meeting her gaze. She tilted her head down, her eyes squinting slightly. “What’s with that look?” he asked teasingly. 

She rolled her eyes playfully as she rolled onto her side, meeting his gaze. “Riley? Riley watching our four month old? Really?” she questioned sarcastically. Quin smiled as he dryly laughed. “She can barely watch herself!” she said while laughing.

“Would you rather my friends do it?” he asked, raising his eyebrows. She sighed while rolling onto her back, staring towards the ceiling. “That’s what I thought,” he leaned towards her, pressing his lips to the side of her head. “We need a night to ourselves, you need to be pampered and you need to get all dressed up,” 

“Oh really?” she asked. 

He hummed as he climbed on top of her, staring down towards her, “When was the last time you went out and got all fancy?” he asked while staring down towards her. She pouted as her hands ran up and down his chest before she looped her hands around his neck. 

“I’ll be getting pampered?” she asked suspiciously. He nodded while leaning towards her. He pressed his lips to her cheek for a moment.

“We’ll have the whole afternoon and night together, only if you trust Riley to watch Elliana for that long,” he said while scanning her features.

She was hesitant. Maybe it was easier for Quinn to spend a night away from Ellie because he’s done it so much already. She’s never been away from Ellie for a whole night, let alone leave her alone with someone who’s never been alone with a kid. 

“I’ll ask Riley, I’ll make a full list of everything she needs to do so it’ll be okay,” she mumbled. He leaned towards her pecking her lips for only a second.

“It’ll all work out, I promise, my love,” he whispered before he kissed her lips again. 

~Two Days Later~

Ellie was starting to eat some baby food, they have only introduced apple and banana to her as they were given a list to do one day at a time. Today Ellie was sitting in her high chair, waiting for Quinn to give her some food. 

“Alright, my baby girl, we’ve got peas or carrots, probably both gross but maybe good to you. I don’t know,” he spoke, a small laugh leaving his throat. Ellie simply babbled, not fully understanding what he was saying. He sighed, “Carrots will probably be better,” He set the peas container down on the counter.

He clicked open the carrots container, “I’ll give it a try first and then you, okay?” he said and she giggled. He dug the tiny green spoon into the suspiciously orange baby food. He brought it to his mouth, taking the tiniest bite. It was awful. “Oh-so good, so good,” he cringed out as he tried not to show his disgust. “You try,” he said as he dug the spoon back into the baby food and he airplaned it towards her.

She gladly took a bite, clearly enjoying it. “Better you than me, Darling,” he whispered as he smiled towards her. Quinn lifted his gaze to see Y/N standing at the door way. “Hey love,” he said as he met her gaze from across the room. “Elle Belle likes carrots,” he offered excitedly. 

“Clearly you didn’t,” she teased as she walked across the living room towards where Ellie and Quinn were.

“Shhh, she’s not supposed to know that,” he said with a teasing grin.

“You put on a good performance though,” she offered as she wrapped her arms around his shoulder. Tilting her head to the side she met his gaze for a short moment before she pressed her lips against his briefly. “Riley’s going to be here in thirty minutes,” she offered. He hummed as he switched his attention back towards his daughter.

“How does she like this stuff?” he asked as he gave Ellie another spoonful. She gladly ate it no problem. Y/N giggled.

“She’s a baby, Quinny, she doesn’t know anything else,” she offered as she stared towards her little girl. 

“Yeah well wait till she finds out what ice cream is,” Quinn said smiling. She kissed his cheek for a few seconds.

“I’m going to get dressed and do my makeup. Any guidance on what I should wear?” she questioned as she slowly pulled away from him. Quinn watched her walk away.

“I’m wearing a suit, if that helps my love,” he let out, a grin oon his lips. 

“It does, thank you,” she said as she hopped and walked excitedly towards their bedroom.

After thirty minutes, Riley arrived. Not knocking per usual. “Where’s my beautiful date for the night?” Riley called out as she walked into the apartment. Quinn chuckled as he stood up from the couch as he held Ellie to his side. “There she is! Ellie, my girl,” she said excitedly reaching for the girl. Ellie giggled as her arms reached towards Riley. 

“Amazing, I can start getting ready,” he said excitedly jogging around Riley towards his bathroom. Riley rolled her eyes playfully as she shifted her attention solely to Ellie. He jogged into the bathroom squeezing past Y/N. She was standing in a robe, styling her hair. She smiled towards him as he started ripping his clothes off so he could jump into the shower. She rolled her eyes playfully as she watched him.

It took another thirty minutes before Quinn was ready. Well, almost ready. Y/N stood beside him finishing her makeup while he was running his fingers through his hair, styling it. He was in his suit, the same one he wore when he won the Norris trophy. 

“Ri, you doing alright?” Y/N shouted as she tilted her head back, peeking towards the hallway. 

Riley smiled widely as she walked up to the doorway, no Ellie in her arms. The baby monitor in her hand. “Nap time started at three, she’s out like a light. I got this, you two finish getting ready and have an amazing night away,” she said smiling widely before she slipped away back towards the living room. 

Y/N shifted her gaze towards Quinn, smiling softly. “She’s got this,” Quinn offered while pursing his lips forward. She rolled her eyes playfully as she finished applying the last of her makeup. He smiled as he adjusted his collar as he stared towards his girlfriend smittingly. 

“I’m going to get my dress on and we can head out,” she stepped towards him, kissing his cheek before she wandered towards their bedroom. Quinn smiled to himself as he dropped his head. He walked out of the bathroom, towards the living room. 

Riley was planted on the couch, a blanket covering her frame as she was clicking through Netflix trying to find something to watch. “Thanks again for this Riley,” Quinn offered as he shoved his hands into his pants pocket awwardly. 

“Y/N’s been needing this, she’s missed you a lot Quinn,” Riley said as she smiled a wide grin, “I’ll be full time babysitter if it means you two get to be Quinn and Y/N again.” she said. Quinn smiled as he dropped his gaze to the floor.

“Thanks Ri,” he mumbled, shyly. “She’s got to get up at four if she’ll be asleep by eight. And you want her to be asleep by eight or else-”

“She won’t sleep at all, I know Quinn. I got this, remember?” Riley offered. Quinn chuckled nervously.

“Right, yeah. We just haven’t left Ellie alone with someone who’s not our moms,” he said with a chuckle. “But between Isabella, Luke, and Jack, we trust you the most,” 

“It’s not the fact that I live in Vancouver and Isabella lives in Michigan. Luke and Jack are Jersey, none of that matters?” she asked sarcastically. He shook his head laughing.

“Even if any of them lived in Vancouver, I would never leave them alone with my daughter until they have their own kid,” he explained while laughing, he lifted his gaze to see Y/N walking towards them in a short black dress. It was flowy, had semi-long ruffle sleeves. “Oh, wow,” he let out breathlessly. 

She shyly dropped her gaze towards the floor before she continued walking towards him. “You like it?” she offered as she took in a deep breath. He nodded dramatically, a wide grin to his lips as he walked towards her.

“You look amazing,” he mumbled, taking a hold of her hand, spinning her. 

“Okay, stop making me sad and more single than I already am. Go out, don’t make another baby, and come back refreshed,” Riley expressed, her face squirming up in disgust. Quinn and Y/N chuckled as Quinn took a hold of her hand and guided her towards the door. 

“No promises, on the baby making,” Quinn teased, Y/N shoved him slightly as they giggled. They continued out of the apartment, hand in hand. 

“So where are we heading, my love?” she asked as she began to swing their hands back and forth. 

“We are going to that fancy restaurant you love, and then we are going to go walk downtown and then we are going to a very fancy hotel with very amazing room service,” he explained. 

“You don’t have to spend that much money on this day, Quinn-”

“You deserve to be pampered, my love,” he whispered as they entered the elevator to the parking garage.

“But this is too much,” she whispered as she turned to face him. They waited for the elevator to reach their floor. Quinn reached his hand over, brushing the small piece of hair away from her face. 

“You deserve a lot more than what I planned for tonight,” he leaned towards her, delicately kissing her as the elevator doors opened.

~~~

They stopped on the path, turning their gaze towards the water. The moonlight was cascading over the water, illuminating it. She stared towards the water, smiling softly as she inched closer to Quinn. He switched his gaze towards her, pressing his lips against her forehead, “What are you thinking, my love?” he asked softly as his hand ran up and down her back. 

“Did you think at fifteen this would be our life?” she asked as she continued looking ahead of her. He furrowed his eyebrows as he hummed. “I honestly thought we wouldn’t make it,” she dropped her head.

“Why’d you think that?” he asked. She pointed towards the small bench closer to the water edge. He followed her towards the bench, sitting closely beside her. 

“I knew you would make it, I knew you would be drafted to some team and you would be successful. I thought that we would do the long distance thing and we would fizzle out. Like a lot of high school relationships do. But you asked me to go Vancouver with you and I was going to say no. I really was but I agreed and I never looked back,” she paused, taking a deep breath. “You’re my dream Quinny, our daughter is my dream,” she mumbled out meeting his gaze. He swallowed hard, blinking tears away from his eyes. 

“Where’s all this coming from?” he asked, choked up slightly. She smiled towards him.

“I don’t know, maybe I’m just happy,” she expressed a soft grin to her lips. 

“Maybe I’m just happy too,” he whispered as he leaned towards her, pressing his lips against hers. He reached his hand up, resting it onto her cheek for a moment. He glided his hand from her cheek towards the base of her neck.

[kiyomitakada]

hi everyone i have just dug up my pitch for death note musical 2: musical boogaloo from the depths of My Drafts. would you like to hear about it. of course you do here it is

kiyomi is the one who gets the death note

in this adaptation i’m making her kill only politicians. why? because fuck you that’s why (and death note musical changed so many of the characters that i think i am justified in this)

mikami, who idolized the former kira, is really mad that there is now a Pretender To The Throne. he has decided to seek this person out no matter what and somehow acquire the power for himself instead, because he will use it Properly

he expresses this opinion to his good friend kiyomi takada over their weekly dinner meeting. kiyomi is normal about it.

near and mello are doing exactly what they were doing in the manga. near did reconstruct L’s whole case even though kira went inactive because he wants to know who killed L. mello is in the mafia still

(there is no watari-equivalent in the original musical so im going to say watari doesn’t exist but roger & the orphan making factory do)

(that could be a great willy wonka variant. Roger Ruvie & The Orphan Making Factory.)

soichiro retired from the police amidst the fallout from the kira investigation. he has not been doing good. sachiko made him enroll in therapy.

sayu, on the other hand, is still desperate to believe that her brother wasn’t kira — that L was kira and went to kill light but not before light shot and killed him in self defense…?

(this is in fact the more reasonable explanation. two people dead, one of gunshot wounds, the other of a heart attack; obviously the one without a heart attack was kira. obviously!)

(for some reason her dad doesn't buy this.)

so anyway she’s a cop now

(we’re allowing a longer timeskip let’s say 10 years)

pause in mourning for sayu becoming a cop

the task force immediately forms again once the new kira appears, since they all really want closure. sayu manages to force her way in as well despite her parents’ fervent pleas for her to Not Do That. the task force mostly treats her as a grieving young girl which drives her insane

the new kira is pressuring the government to support their new reign, like what happened in yotsuba arc, so the task force is unofficial and a secret

a month after the new kira shows up, beloved idol misa amane vanishes

because mello kidnapped her. that’s why. mihael “mello” “serial kidnapper” keehl knew from the records that L tortured her and decided she must be relevant.

musical misa unfortunately is a moeblob so she was genuinely just trying to get on with her life even though she dreams about scattering dust every night

mello figures out from this that light yagami was the primary suspect from the original investigation but realizes pretty quickly she genuinely doesn’t know anything else

this does allow him to zero in on sayu yagami however because the task force’s member list is not obtainable information but the npa personnel list sure is

mello offers to let misa go, obviously under threat to her life if she ever reveals what happened etc., but she decides that actually she wants to know what’s going on as well. her life as an idol is miserable anyway.

…………..that’s all i got for plot im sorry if i start a kickstarter scam will you pay me for more ideas

re: the musical aspect:

sayu and misa both sing solos that very obviously leave space where light is supposed to sing, because i liked that the original musical made them parallels

mikami’s songs are all solos. gospel music backing like with misa’s songs.

near and mello duet constantly but the spotlight is always only on one of them until the finale where near is explaining mello’s plan (sorry yeah mello dies in this i don’t know how but he does) (he’s very killable can you blame me. he inherited it from lawliet), at which point near finally sings simultaneously with an apparition of mello until they reach “together we can surpass—” and near finishes “L.” alone

miscellaneous:

midora’s the one who dropped the death note. in this universe kiyomi got it rather than c-kira

midora has never done something like this before and she heard from ryuk that rem died by getting too close to her human so after a very brief explanation of the rules midora just flies back to the shinigami realm and watches from there. this drives kiyomi up a wall

i really, really want mikami to kill god (ryuk). i think he deserves it. it would be healthy for him.

(no not by making ryuk fall in love. he sets that bastard on fire or something)

the theme of this musical is Succession. kiyomi is facing immense internal pressure to do what the original kira did but she can’t stand having as much blood on her hands. mikami & his god, sayu & light, near/mello & L, so on and so forth

misa is not in the above list because (as in the original musical) she is the exception to the rule

the finale takes place when kiyomi’s hosting the red and white song battle show. for maximum coolness.

misa doing spy things during the rehearsal for kiyomi’s show… breaking into her room… setting cameras…

i don’t know how the politics of this musical are going to turn out to be. in my head kiyomi is extremely politically minded but she’s also a milquetoast liberal. centrist accelerationism and all that. ideally she would get enough power over the current right-wing government that she can enact policies herself and then start slipping back into the exact same right-wing shit. but i have read exactly 0 theory so i don’t know how i would pull this off

reading marx so i can write death note musical 2 musical boogaloo

anyway the first musical kind of didn’t go into any of that (much less than the manga does as far as i remember) so at least there’s no precedent

oh also and this is important. musical!sayu is the kind of vengeful that makes her perfect for being a cop (derogatory). she’s kind of like matsuda. she’s doing this For Light (the way matsuda shot light For Soichiro) not because she actually has any meaningful objection against kira the entity. i’m sure this will be fine.

i feel like i haven’t talked enough about near… i don’t know how much he could glean from the case. there’s no watari around to press the self destruct button but maybe L just didn’t keep notes in the first place.

i think it consumes him though. it’s illogical because the kira case is over and if you can’t win the game you’re nothing but a loser, but also he can’t tell if L won or not and that drives him mad although he’s very outwardly calm about it.

it just occurred to me that if you somehow only know death note through the musical it’d be kind of insane to show up to the sequel musical just to hear “oh yeah by the way there was an unethical orphanage to replace the detective guy from the first musical, obviously, we all know about the unethical orphanage”

[lttawnymadison]

TGCF Revised Version Afterword by MXTX

Since I kept seeing snippets of this, I wanted to read the whole thing for myself. I'd already bought the book on JJWXC and did an MTL for this. It's so wonderful that she's back and sharing new things and that the revised is finally done! - Tawny --------------------------------------------- The author has something to say:

Seeing the small red clay stove again.

———— Afterword of "Heaven Official's Blessing" 2022

■ Finally done!

Long time no see! It's another afterword starting with "finally." Without further ado, seasoned readers would know that I make substantial revisions. For instance, scenes like the Bai Feng Mountain Hunt and the ending recognition of Sizhui in the serial version of "Mo Dao Zu Shi" were not originally there.

The revisions in "Heaven Official's Blessing" are the most extensive of all my works. It was a huge project, as it is also the longest in terms of length, serialized over eight months. Due to poor health and other reasons, the revision process was interrupted for a long time before I picked it up again, and it sporadically took about five to six months over several years.

In the era of web novels, there are endless new entertainments, and honestly, not many people re-read a story. Plus, some problems in the serialized version are structural and can't be changed, but I still tried my best to address my regrets. After all, when I was serializing it, I was almost always in a feverish and sick state, barely pushing through. Additionally, I often enjoy comparing different versions of my favorite authors' works back and forth, finding pleasure in the process. So, for readers, discovering "Wow, this part has changed!" is like starting a new journey with Easter eggs in a second round.

■ The new revised version includes about 100,000 words of new content!

These 100k words are mainly concentrated in the latter half of Volume 1 and Volume 3, but there are plenty scattered throughout the text. For example, I fulfilled a promise to A-Hua, giving him several new outfits. Seeing A-Hua dressed beautifully in a new hairstyle to meet his gege made me happy.

In terms of the intensity of revisions, personally, I feel it goes like this:

Volume 1 and Volume 2 > Volume 3 > Volume 5 > Volume 4.

Additionally, the new version cuts some redundant words and plots that weren't very meaningful. However, I tried to keep all the original interactions between Hua Lian as complete as possible. If some minor interactions are missing, they weren't deleted but moved around.

***IMPORTANT NOTE!! MXTX's comments in the below section are about the differences between her first draft and the original 2018 version -- not about the original version and the newly revised version.***

■ One day, I suddenly dug out something.

An antique from 2017, a folder called "Heaven Official's Blessing Setting Collection."

Curiously, I opened it and read with interest.

● Comparing the original setting outline and the main text, the highest fidelity is in the main storyline between Hua Cheng and Xie Lian.

A-Hua, restored at a ratio of 1:100.

Hua's character setting is the most detailed, and virtually every point made it into the main text, including details like "ghosts don't like the sun, so Hua Cheng sometimes drapes a red cloth over his head"...

Points not used, listed a few:

As a child:

· After being saved from falling off a city wall, he foolishly followed a parade over and over again, grabbing people to ask, "Who is that? Who is that person?" People told him, "That's the royal son, the future Celestial God, the most outstanding Crown Prince of Xianle Nation ever!"

(This point couldn't be used because in the text A-Hua was held in the Crown Prince's arms after being saved)

· At home, he was often punished to stand or kneel, not given food, and wore old clothes, accused of stealing money. Whenever he argued with his family, he would stubbornly sleep in the Prince's temple overnight.

· Went to Mount Tai Cang to volunteer sweeping red leaves at Huangji Observatory, just to sneak peeks at his future wife happily swinging.

After becoming the ghost king:

· One of his hobbies is buying and building houses everywhere.

· Very protective of his leather boots, would (badly) polish them until they shone.

· To other devout followers of Xie Lian, he said: "You have good taste."

· Secretly prepared many betrothal gifts for his beloved god, wanting to marry him!

The character setting of Xie Lian as a teacher in the serialized version compared to the initial draft, the serialized text subtly differs. The initial draft was more... exquisite and elegant, very serious. The serialized text is more... humorous. I think perhaps because some plot points were tragic, Xie Lian thought he should be happier to make the readers more relaxed, so he drove me to adjust his mental state! But due to the spiritual oppression at that time, the character's depth was not enough, while in the new revised version, I hope he can show a more self-content state on the same core basis.

Excerpts from the unused original setting:

· Super easy-going. Easy-going means: if given fifty bucks, he would happily dress in drag and dance. Accepts haggling. Thirty bucks works. Twenty bucks too!

· The observatory is small, the house is broken, wants to grow flowers. Leaks during rain, so he uses a bucket to catch rainwater.

· Because he can't afford a caretaker, he cleans himself, and also feeds chickens. Chickens eat flowers. Keeps a cat.

· Completely engrossed in discussing serious matters, he unknowingly finished all the broken sweet dumplings!

● Water, Earth, Wind original setting:

The highest fidelity is the main line between Hua Cheng and Xie Lian, followed by the Water, Earth, Wind subplot.

The main conflict hasn't changed. Just... how could the original setting of Water, Earth, Wind be so dark and terrifying!

The character morals in the main text improved a lot, otherwise, the original Black Water would be sheer scheming + murderous! The ending for the Wind Master would have been more tragic.

The Venerable of Empty Words suddenly became an improvised character. It seemed like an ancient fable-like monster, making the main text more interesting than the original setting.

Overall, the formal version is a bit better written than the original draft.

● The unfortunate life of Lang Ying:

Lang Ying? Is there such a character? I don't remember!

Ah? It seems there was such a person, but I don't remember any of his plotlines.

This is most people's feeling towards the character of Lang Ying. It's not a delusion because he barely had any significant plot. In fact, any valuable scenes could have been replaced equivalently, so in the new revised version, I deleted this character.

But, in the 2017 setting collection, I suddenly found that I had actually opened a separate document for Lang Ying, and his role was defined as a "growing-type BOSS!"

I was silent.

And immediately opened the document, curious about my initial setting. A "growing-type BOSS," how did he become someone whose deletion went unnoticed...? (I even don't know how to address him!)

Who knows, perhaps out of excitement, I accidentally pressed the wrong shortcut, and somehow it became irreversible, leaving only an empty document for me to stare in disbelief. The once "growing-type BOSS" has now forever become a mystery!

This is the unfortunate life of the deleted Lang Ying.

· There was another document in the setting collection called "Swordsmith." I opened the document and read it with interest.

I was shocked. Because I completely forgot I had conceived this story. Why didn't I write it?!

Darn.

I know why I didn't write it. This story... it had no ending!

——————— Thus, the magical glimpse into the "Heaven Official's Blessing Setting Collection" concludes!

■ I like men with stories!

Maybe because I watched an outstanding work as a child. It was a memoir, the protagonist in the biography was gentle and affable, and the protagonist in the memories was cold and ruthless. The story was scattered with the poignant fragrance of white plum blossoms amidst bloody and stormy circumstances.

This almost perfect work deeply influenced my aesthetics, leading me to be most interested in the memory parts of characters in various works. Although many viewers prefer the present scenes, often asking when the memories will end, I actually find these intense and painful memories to be the most fascinating!

A story is the history of a character, as well as the key to their personality. A person with a story stands before me like a puzzle. The way to solve this puzzle is to understand their story. Because the biography makes one curious to know more about a character they like, loving them more now because of their past. When serializing "Heaven Official," my greatest pain initially was telling myself, "This time I don't want to write a memory slaughter," deliberately trying to avoid a structure similar to previous works, yet I still hadn't found a better way to express it, resulting in my deep dissatisfaction with the later part of Volume 1. I was also hesitant to fully commit to the memory scenes in Volume 2, and with the heavy mental burden, this part was very painful to write. When revising, looking at Volume 2 was almost unbearable, because I'm the type of person who, as a child, would immediately switch channels when a TV show's protagonist was about to be wrongfully accused or embarrassed. I couldn't help but knock on a friend's door and ask:

Me: Was the author suffering some kind of mental trauma at the time? This negative energy is too horrifying, the protagonist is so pitiful, I really admire anyone who could read through Volume 2 completely.

Friend: Do you even have the right to say that?

But the memory slaughter in Volume 4 was much freer, written in one breath, so the revisions for this volume were also the least.

So, will you still write large segments of memory slaughter?

Um, well, we'll see, haha, hehe...

■ Closing Remarks:

Lastly, I'll address the question some asked me, "Will the new revised 'Heaven Official's Blessing' be more torturous?"

Me: You're talking nonsense. 'Heaven Official's Blessing' is a sweet pampering story, thank you!

Acknowledgments:

Shi Nai'an wrote in the preface to "Water Margin": "On snowy nights, about five or six people listen to my storytelling; on rainy days, about seven or eight; on bright and sunny days, about ten. I read, everyone listens, and we are all happy, with no other thoughts." When I read this as a young person, I was delighted. What divine days! Writing first to entertain oneself, then to entertain others. Self-expression and self-acceptance are certainly primary, but the affection of others is also a significant positive feedback. Thus, first, I thank the steadfast readers who have accompanied me all this time. I've thought about just walking away amidst the noisy disputes; abandoning the account amidst the tumultuous world! It seems not bad. But looking back, I can't bear to leave some truly sincere readers.

I've had authors I liked disappear from the internet, and I always feel like a part of my youth has vanished, a feeling quite distressing, reminiscent of overly grand and harsh things like the tears of the era or the torrent of history. So, I want to accompany my readers as long as possible, hoping that the day of parting comes later. Perhaps I'm not good enough now, but I will strive to be better in the future. Or perhaps you've never truly understood what kind of person I am, or even completely misunderstood me, but as long as you genuinely like my stories, we can sit down and chat.

And, I must mention my friends, who can be described as having the courage of a hero. Long time no see, Teacher Changyang's illustrations are still as beautiful as those of a celestial being, I hope Teacher CAS can go to bed earlier and worry less, and Teacher Kuohao, who despite a heavy workload, still fully honored our agreement. The "Heaven Official's Blessing" radio drama is really fantastic! It reminded me of the original intention of writing this story, and I was very moved. If it weren't for the silent companionship and efforts of these old friends, Mo Xiang Tong Xiu might have stopped writing back in 2016, disappearing from the world of martial arts, and thus, "Heaven Official's Blessing" would not have been born. I look forward to retracing the paths we once walked together when gathering ideas. And many friends who reached out to help and encourage me, thank you for accompanying me through the snowy nights.

[fiapartridge]

don't wanna break up again ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ | jack hughes

“it's breaking my heart to keep breaking yours again.”

☼ pairing: jack hughes x fem!reader

☼ summary: the memory-erasing process leads you to rethink what you could've done differently in your relationship...

☼ fia’s note 💌: omg i've had this sitting in my drafts for so long but i've been debating whether to post because i didn't know if i wanted to continue this series, but i lowkey love it. also, you kind of need to understand the movie to get what's happening, but here's like a little tip: y/n's conscious during this, like yes, it's a memory, but at the same time she's reliving it as if it's real and she's there. also, i've been soooo busy with college but i'm trying to find time to write!!

eternal sunshine hq ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

prev part: bye ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

*₊ ° .　. • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

You didn’t break up that night. He had made his way to your doorstep with flowers in his hands: white tulips, to be specific. He had bags under his red eyes, his nose was stuffy and gross, and his lips trembled uncontrollably. You had never seen him quite like that. Sure, you had seen him sad after a tough game, or the time his childhood dog died, but you had never seen him like this over you.

It gave you hope—false hope.

“I brought flowers,” he announced, holding them out to you as if he had dug them from the ground with his bare hands, like a child. You laughed. You were always laughing with him.

By now, the flowers were shriveled and wilted in a small Ziploc bag at the bottom of the white box you had brought to Lacuna. But then, just as you had remembered, you accepted the blooming white bouquet graciously. It was like you were blinded to everything he had previously said about you. It all went in one ear and out the other.

And for a while, you were happy that way. You were happy pretending to be happy. And some part of you blames that on being too lazy to restart; to break up with another person and restart again because the process was draining. It was impossibly hard. With Jack, all you had to do was settle. You were happy with him sometimes, most times—and that was enough for you.

“Have you been crying?” you laughed, pulling his neck towards you.

“Baby,” he replied, hiding his face in the crook of your neck.

“I know, the big macho hockey player doesn’t want to show emotion, but I think it’s a good thing, you know?” you said, pulling his face out of your neck. “It shows that you care.”

“I do care. I care a lot about you.”

I care a lot about you.

I        care     a lot       about you.

I care       a lot      about       you.

care a lot       about    you.

care     about     you.

about    you

    you

you

     you

you 

     you

you

His words echoed in your mind, as if you were really there, experiencing the moment in real time. As if you were reliving it again. Maybe it’s because you were. You were fully present. This wasn’t a past you. You were in your head; in your memories. You were truly reliving it again.

“Stay the night?” you offered, cracking the door open. 

“Is that what you want?”

You nodded. “Yes.”

It was like that for a couple of more months. You fight, you storm out, he comes crawling back. Everyday felt recycled. You felt it for a while, and you wondered if he felt it, too. You had suspected he had, he was just too tired to change anything.

You fell asleep crying again. He heard. He could hear your sniffles and he felt your movement on the other side of the bed. He put on headphones.

And in the morning, you were fine. You were making pancakes in your underwear and an oversized shirt—one of Jack’s. He rubbed his tired eyes as he walked out of your bedroom in nothing but shorts. 

“Dr. Mitchell called. She said we can come in at 3:15 today if you’re free,” you spoke, tossing a pancake over in the pan. He wrapped his arms around you from behind, taking in the aroma of the food mixed in with the smell of your shampoo.

“I’m there,” he smiled, kissing your cheek.

He wasn’t. He was never there. You two had decided to go to couples therapy after your third argument. You were unhappy, he was too, but you wanted to work it out. You knew it was just a rough patch in your relationship. It didn’t mean anything. 

But couples therapy just became you sitting in a chair, venting to Dr. Mitchell about how you were feeling in the relationship. And after a while, she stopped asking if Jack was coming. 

“Where have you been?” you asked one night as Jack came back to his apartment, drunk and confused.

“What are you doing here?” he questioned, squinting his eyes and grabbing a beer from the fridge. Great, more alcohol for the already-drunk guy. You wanted to scream.

“I was waiting for you. You said we would go out tonight,” you said softly. You sat on his sofa, your highest black heels and shortest shimmery black dress adorning your body as mascara ran down your pink cheeks. 

He shook his head, walking into the living room. “I never said that.” His words were slurred. You wanted to slap him in the face. He did say that. He said it that morning. You had gotten dressed. You were excited. You waited.

“But you did, Jack,” you whispered. You paused, gathering your thoughts before continuing. “I thought you wanted to get married.”

“And I thought you didn’t. Huh?”

You furrowed your brows as you stood up from the sofa, meeting him in the middle of the living room. “Why are you doing this?”

He laughed. For some reason, he laughed. “You’re fucking doing it again.”

“Doing what again?” you exclaimed.

“You’re making me the fucking villain again!”

You shook your head, your eyes stinging. “I never said that.”

“Yeah? You might as fucking well.”

“Where is this coming from, Jack? What,” you stammered. “What are we doing? What the fuck are we doing?”

He looked tired. His face was printed into a frown. It’s been like that for a while now. You missed seeing him smile. “I don’t know,” he answered, sitting down on the sofa as you followed. “I don’t fucking know,” he muttered.

“This is hard,” you whispered, laying your head onto his shoulder. He held your hand as if it was the last time, and you squeezed it as if you were never going to see him again. Because this time, it really was the last.

“I know.”

“I’m not happy anymore.”

He nodded slightly. “I know.”

You bit your lip. You wanted to prolong your time here. You wanted to stay with him for as long as you could, but you knew that wasn’t right to either of you. It was time to let go.

“I don’t see a life with you anymore.”

A tear hit your fingers, and at that moment, you realized it was over. Jack was crying. He wasn’t arguing because there was nothing left to save. There was no you left in his life. It was over.

“Can we say goodbye this time? You didn’t do it last time,” he murmured. 

He was right. You broke up with him and left. You didn’t say goodbye. You wished you had.

You held onto his neck, kissed his cheek, and whispered, “Goodbye, Jack.”

The walls were fading. The paintings were gone, the table was chipping, the ceiling had a large hole, showing the stars twinkling in the pitch black sky.

You were forgetting what his apartment looked like. The pictures of his family were morphed into people you had no clue as to who they were, the jersey on the chair in the corner of the room was blurry. You couldn’t see the number or the last name on the back. It was all fading away.

Quickly, as if he could see you forgetting, he said, “Goodbye, Y/N.”

And that was it. The memory was gone.

[vilevenom]

Okay, sooo...the first chapter of this fic has been sitting in my drafts for MONTHS. I'm tired of it languishing, so I decided to finally just post it.

You Are Now My Home Sweet Home

Fandom: Sonic the Hedgehog (general media)

Pairing: Sonic/Shadow

Chapter: 1/?

Summary: He couldn't really remember exactly when it had all started. But it didn't really matter now.

He'd always thought that their biology was incompatible.

Life had a funny way of proving him wrong time and again.

WARNINGS: Explicit sexual acts. Characters are depicted as ADULTS. Mentions of Miscarriage and Pregnancy

P.S - If you want a full list of tags, this has already been posted on AO3

Shadow grunted as his head was pushed further down, a low moan escaping his lips as Sonic thrust into him without abandon.

He couldn't really remember exactly when it had all started. All he could really recall was that one day, after a particularly rough race, while both of them had been catching their breath at the top of a mountain, Sonic had suddenly dug his fingers into Shadow's quills, pulled his head back and kissed him with a ferocity that Shadow had otherwise not known the hero to possess. Their physicality rapidly progressed from there, with each of their subsequent meetings ending in increasingly more intimate acts, until nearly every race or fight they had ended with the hybrid pressed down into the ground in some secluded woodland area, Sonic's cock buried deep inside him.

What Shadow could easily remember was Sonic's initial reaction to his relatively peculiar anatomical configuration. They'd made out on several occasions by the time the blue hero finally seemed to gain the courage to press his fingers against the slit of Shadow's pouch. He'd groaned into the hybrid's mouth happily as his cock slid free, only to jerk back in surprise as his fingers dipped down into unexpected slick. Shadow had arched a brow at Sonic's surprise, a slow smirk of bravado curling his lips, even as panicked quietly coiled in his gut over the hero's hesitance. "What? Is it too much for you?" he had teased, heart practically in his throat as Sonic observed the viscous liquid dripping from his fingers. In turn, the hero had shaken his head, making some asinine comment about being up for any challenge while letting his hand slide back down, experimentally dragging his fingers along the folds of Shadow's pussy.

He'd gotten Shadow off, because of course he had, but they hadn't had penetrative sex. They'd simply rutted against each other, with Sonic's hand a blur over their cocks until they'd made a mess on the forest floor. Shadow had worried, after the blue hedgehog had left, that the hero would cease their clandestine little meetings because of his genitalia.

Apparently he needn't have worried.

Barely a week later he found himself spread out on the side of a grassy hill with Sonic between his knees, biting at his lip as he gingerly slid his cock between the folds of the hybrid's pussy. "Can I…?" he'd asked, looking more nervous than Shadow was certain he'd ever seen him. After the barest hint of a nod, Sonic was pushing into him with a breathy moan, his tail wagging practically at the speed of light as he'd bottomed out. Shadow had never had something inside him before, aside from his fingers, so the stretch of the hero's cock and the depth he could reach were novel and new. They'd moved in tandem from there, reaching their climax in what felt like record time, with Sonic pulling out just in time to make a mess of Shadow's fur with his spend. He'd apologized with a laugh as Shadow griped at him to be more careful, before taking off with a promise they'd try something new the next time.

It turned out that the next time was barely three days later, and the something new was the blue blur happily presenting his ass to the hybrid with a wicked smirk. While Shadow had easily found his finish inside Sonic, he'd also found himself wanting for the feeling of a thick length stuffing his cunt full as he orgasmed. After that experience, he realized that he didn't care much for being 'on top', preferring the fulfilling sensation of his body providing pleasure to someone else while having something thick split him open.

His cock currently hung heavy between his legs, dripping onto the ground between his knees, angry red and neglected, though he cared little about the ache. He was more than content to simply lay there and let Sonic use him if it meant he got to continue to enjoy the warmth of the other filling him. It was the closest he imagined he would ever get to proper intimacy with the hero, given Sonic's reputation and general lack of interest in romance or companionship. He knew he wasn't the first 'rival' Sonic had taken to bedding, and he figured he wouldn't be the last. But, oh, how he wished that the faint brush of Sonic's teeth over his shoulder would dig down and sink into flesh to stake some sort of claim.

It was a fleeting, foolish wish that his traitorous heart kept pushing into his head in these moments, while Sonic was deep inside him, curled over his back and praising his body while calling him a 'good boy'. It let him imagine that the hero's heart belonged to him, and only him, and that the sweet nothings murmured into his ear truly meant something. That their periodic dalliances were more than a daring game to the blue hedgehog, lasting only as long as someone didn't catch them. But those thoughts were usually swiftly dashed and pushed aside as Sonic neared his climax and inevitably began to babble, letting Shadow know that he really was just a toy to the blue blur.

"Fuck, Shadow," Sonic growled into the hybrid's shoulder, pulling his cock free of Shadow's dripping cunt to flip Shadow onto his back with a feral grin on his face. "Look at you," he crudely smacked his dick against the folds of Shadow's pussy, "So wet for me." He roughly pushed himself back inside the hybrid with a wet squelch, pushing Shadows legs up and back, folding the other in half so he could continue to fuck him fast and deep. "The ultimate lifeform, reduced to whimpers," he breathed with a low chuckle, digging his fingers into Shadow's thighs hard enough to leave bruises under his fur, "Always so cocksure and confident, now so fucked out you're drooling all over yourself and making a mess, desperately whining to cum while stuffed full of my cock." He snickered as Shadow tossed his head to the side, squeezing his eyes shut as he wrapped his fingers around his weeping dick, stroking in time with the hero's brutal thrusts. Sonic was pressing in deep. Deeper than Shadow was certain he'd ever felt him before. It made his toes curl and pathetic mewls dribble from his lips. "I wish everyone could hear the desperate little sounds you make while I fuck you. See how blissed out you get with my dick buried inside you. Now, c'mon, Shads. Make even more of a mess of yourself for me. Come on and cum all over yourself for me."

With that, Shadow let out a cry, his back arching as his cock released streams of white across his abdomen, while his pussy clenched and fluttered around Sonic's dick, slick gushing onto the ground beneath them. He groaned as he fell limp beneath Sonic, the hero grunting above him, holding his legs high while pressing him down into the ground and grinding in as deep as he could go. "So fucking tight," he moaned, biting his lip as he doubled over the hybrid and found his own release, buried to the hilt.

The first time Sonic had cum inside him had been a bit of a dramatic fiasco. Shadow had barely had time to enjoy his orgasm before Sonic was pulling out roughly with a cry of distress, causing the hybrid to go on full alert, his quills raised in warning as he cast his gaze around for what could have caused the hero to shout like he'd been hit. Instead, all he found were Sonic's remorseful green eyes staring at him and a litany of apologies spilling from his mouth. Shadow had simply scoffed at the time, assuring Sonic their biology was incompatible according to his medical charts, so it was fine.

Or, so he'd thought, anyway. That was right up until a few weeks later when he was bleeding into a toilet with cramps unlike any he'd experienced before, twisting his organs and making him groan into his knees. A miscarriage, according to the medical texts he quickly looked up through a secure IP once the cramps had passed and he'd cleaned himself up. Apparently his reproductive organs weren't nearly as thoroughly researched as he'd been lead to believe. He never told Sonic, of course, resolute in his unwillingness to give up the small modicum of false intimacy they had. He was certain the scare of potential pregnancy or the thought of needing to be careful would cause the hero to grow bored of their trysts. He also just didn't want to deal with the inevitable guilt that the situation would cause.

And, it would have seemed, based on the handful of subsequent similar experiences he had over the next year or so, that the research wasn't completely wrong. None of the embryos ever took, proving to him that his womb really wasn't suited for Mobian reproduction. It was far from a pleasant experience, but certainly something worth the encounters he got in exchange, in Shadow's opinion. By the third miscarriage he was well versed in what to do and how to take care of himself. Sonic was like the wind, and he was more than happy to make sacrifices of himself to hold the whisp of their relationship in hands for as long as he could. After all, if life had taught him anything, it was that nothing worth loving in life came without pain

Shadow's mind snapped back to the present as Sonic snickered above him, his cock still buried inside the hybrid as he grinned. "Did you float away there, Shads? Didja cum that hard? Certainly made quite the mess," he teased, palms tracing up and down Shadow's thighs. And there it was, another break in Shadow's fantasy. Aside from Sonic's degradation, the hero always laughed and teased afterwards, treating their coupling like the conclusion to an especially fun game. It truly solidified to Shadow just how little he ultimately meant to Sonic, outside of providing some sort of temporary satisfaction to the blue hedgehog.

"I was enjoying myself," Shadow growled, swatting at Sonic's still roaming hands, "But then you opened your stupid mouth. Now, if you're finished, get off me."

"Aww," Sonic sighed, gently easing himself out of Shadow, "You're no fun, Shads."

"That's not what you said barely a minute ago," the hybrid ground out, tossing an arm over his eyes as Sonic eased his legs down, setting them gently on the ground before standing between Shadow's feet. Aside from his own cooling slick, he could feel a faint trickle of Sonic's cum dribbling out of his pussy. He grunted as he clenched his muscles, not particularly wanting to be laying in an even bigger puddle than he already was.

"Touché," Sonic laughed, tucking himself into his pouch without an apparent care in the world. "Hey, y'know…Amy is having a little get together tonight for her birthday. You should come."

Shadow grunted as he peeked out from under his arm, a look of utter disdain on his face. "I'm not going to your girlfriends birthday party. Especially not right after you've fucked me."

"Amy is not my girlfriend," Sonic was quick to snap, only to wilt slightly at the look he got from Shadow. He took a quick deep breath, his foot unconsciously tapping against the ground as he folded his arms over his chest. "Look, I just thought it'd be nice, y'know? You never really come to any social gatherings without Rouge practically dragging you there. Figured I'd extend an olive branch."

"I don't need nor want your olive branch," Shadow said with a low grunt as he sat up, making a face as he took stock of the mess on his fur, "What I need is a bath."

"You could come after the bath."

Shadow tossed his head back with a groan, closing his eyes as he leaned back onto his hands. "Look, Sonic," he growled out, opening his eyes after a moment to glare at the hero, "You can test your speed against me, spar with me, use me to satisfy your carnal needs," he grunted as he shoved himself to his feet, ignoring the sticky, wet feeling between his thighs, "But the moment you start to pity me? Pretend like you care? We're done." He took some satisfaction in the dumbfounded, nearly wounded expression Sonic had plastered on his face, like he was unaware that Shadow could see right through his little games. Like Shadow didn't know he had to guard his heart for fear of having it shattered.

"What? Shadow-"

"Ah! No," Shadow held a hand up, effectively silencing the hero, "I think we're done here. You got what you wanted." He dug into his quills and pulled out the ever present green chaos emerald, stepping quickly back from the hero as he reached out. "Good bye, Sonic." With that he chaos controlled away, knowing full well that the look on Sonic's face was disappointment at being caught out, and not the heartbreak he desperately wished it was.

Luckily for Shadow, GUN called on him not an hour later, forcing him away from Central City for a solid month, so he wouldn't have to deal with Sonic's antics for at least a few weeks.

~

Rouge had known something was up the moment Shadow had first come home sweaty and disheveled - far more than usual when he came back from a race with Sonic. She assumed he'd gotten laid, by the sway of his hips and his suspiciously good mood. She could pinpoint the exact date and time he'd practically swaggered into their shared apartment, a barely perceptible smirk on his lips as he'd made himself dinner and then vanished into his bedroom. It was shortly after that she started to notice how Sonic and Shadow kept disappearing together and making excuses to be alone. It really wasn't hard to put two and two together if one was paying even a modicum of attention, which most of Sonic's friends blatantly didn't. But she did. It was one of her specialties, after all.

She'd needled him once or twice for details, only to be brushed off or dismissed entirely, which was fine. Despite their relatively close relationship, they were both private individuals. She knew that he knew she'd be there, if he really needed someone to talk to, or vice versa. At least, she hoped he did.

That idea was swiftly kicked to the curb when she'd come home one evening to the faint smell of blood underpinning an overwhelming scent of bleach in the air. Their bathroom was suspiciously clean, and she'd found Shadow curled up on the couch in his favorite blanket with a bucket of ice cream, an ice pack conspicuously held to his abdomen. For a moment, she'd thought he'd gotten into a fight and had to use their bathroom as a makeshift surgery, which had happened before. But he didn't look injured. At least, nowhere that was visible.

It was then that she decided privacy be damned. Even if they both played it off with barbs and aloof demeanors, they cared about each other, and Rouge was not about to let Shadow suffer silently through whatever was going on with him. So, she'd confronted him. Demanding an explanation, accompanied by a false threat of homelessness, should Shadow continue to bite his tongue. It had fallen on deaf ears, and Rouge watched in abject horror as Shadow lifted himself from the couch and limped to the door, fully intent on just leaving, instead of talking to her like a grown ass adult.

Tears seemed to do the trick, where threats did nothing. Shadow only paused when he heard Rouge sob, his previously hard expression falling into one of regret. He puffed out a breath as he hobbled back over to the couch, flopping down with a grunt and dragging his ice pack back over. Minutes passed as Rouge gathered herself and Shadow stared into space, words only finally passing his lips once the bat's sniffles stopped.

He told her about the strange day that Sonic had kissed him, and the rapid progression of the relationship neither of them really acknowledged outside their 'meetings'. He then reluctantly told her about how he'd been harboring feelings for Sonic for quite some time, but knew full well that no one would be able to catch the blue blur in their grasp, so he was taking what he could while he held the hero's attention. He knew full well that it was a fleeting thing, so when Rouge admonished him about not just talking to Sonic, he brought up how flippant the hero could be with even the smallest of inconveniences. With great reluctance, he then admitted to the miscarriage he'd had, and how he knew Sonic would run if he knew. He didn't want to lose what they had, no matter how detrimental it was to his physical well being. After all, he'd pointed out, he was the ultimate lifeform, with advanced healing capabilities. He would be fine.

After sitting in silence while Rouge digested the information she'd been given, Shadow then made the bat swear to secrecy. She'd protested heartily, but a threat of disappearing from Shadow had her reluctantly agreeing to keeping her mouth shut. It would be hard, since there was no way she would ever be able to look at the blue hedgehog the same way, knowing what he was unwittingly doing to her best friend, but she'd do her best.

So, when Shadow appeared in the living room, stinking of sex, his fur matted with an assortment of fluids she didn't want to think about, she said nothing. When he pushed a communicator into her hands after a swift shower and told her to come with him on a GUN mission, she continued to hold her tongue. But when he vomited on the carpet the moment they'd stepped back into the apartment a month later, while clutching at his stomach, she apparently couldn't stay silent anymore.

"What the fuck?!" Rouge snapped, frozen halfway into their shared apartment, staring in wide eyed, disgusted shock at the scene before her.

Not her finest moment, really, as Shadow fell to his knees, only barely missing the puddle of sick as he gasped in pain. It was the gasp, a sound Rouge so very rarely ever heard from her sullen companion, that made her realize the true gravity of the situation, carefully avoiding the puddle on the floor to crouch next to Shadow, a gentle hand ghosting over his shoulder.

"Honey, what happened? Did you eat something that was off?"

Shadow grunted as he sat himself up, wiping at his mouth with the back of his glove. "I am the Ultimate Life form. I don't need to eat."

"One, I know that's a lie because I saw you stuff your face on the cinnamon buns Vanilla dropped off last month , and two, you probably think that's reassuring somehow, or making you sound indestructible, but in this situation it's making me more worried," Rouge admonished, rubbing calming little circles between Shadow's back quills as he caught his breath.

"I'm fine. You don't need to coddle me."

"The puddle of vomit on my floor says otherwise, hun."

Shadow growled, scowling down at the offending non-contents of his stomach. He couldn't exactly argue that. He huffed out a breath after a beat, his shoulders sagging in defeat. "I…I don't know. I just suddenly felt light headed and nauseous. It happened before I even realized what was going on."

"Well if you didn't eat anything weird, then maybe it was something you drank?" Rouge offered, frowning at the little scowl Shadow shot her. "Or something you didn't drink? Shadow, please tell me you've at least been drinking water."

"I am-"

"Do not give me the Ultimate Lifeform spiel right now. Everyone needs to drink water. You're probably dehydrated. C'mon, grumpy, let's get you some water."

With that Rouge helped Shadow to his feet, a supportive arm around his mid section as they skirted around the mess on the floor and headed into the kitchen. After three glasses of water, Shadow reported that he was feeling better, much to Rouge's smug satisfaction.

"There, you see? Maybe try acting like a normal person every once in a while and, y'know, eat, and you might be able to avoid these kinds of situations in the future," she gloated, though not unkindly. She ruffled Shadow's quills, much to the dark hedgehogs chagrin, then trotted off to find someone to call and come clean her carpet. As much as she loved Shadow, she was not about to clean up his vomit.

Admittedly, Rouge had thought Shadow's illness would be a one time fluke of a thing, caused by general stress and a lack of taking care of himself. But, it would seem that wasn't the case, as the next morning she woke to the distinct sound of Shadow retching rather violently into the toilet. She paused in the bathroom doorway after dragging herself out of bed, wrapped in her comfiest robe, delicate brow arched as Shadow peered up at her rather pathetically from his spot curled on the floor.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd swear this was morning sickness," she quipped blandly, folding her arms over her chest.

"Impossible," Shadow grumbled with a scowl, reaching up to flush the toilet.

"Well, you didn't eat anything last night. All you've got in your system is water, as far as I'm aware. And, forgive me if I'm misremembering, but I do recall at least one or two of your ultimate lifeform declarations including the fact that you can't get sick," she snarked, tilting her chin up. "When did you last shack up with Blue?"

Shadow groaned, tilting his head to rest his cheek against the toilet seat, brow furrowed. "Just before we left on mission. But I'm telling you, Rouge, it's impossible. My biology simply isn't compatible with that of Mobians. I know you are aware of enough of my miscarriages to prove that fact."

Rouge's brows both crawled up her forehead, a slight tilt to her head. "I was aware of two or three. Are you implying there have been more?"

"Don't act surprised," Shadow sighed, tone defeated, "And please don't give me the self destructive talk again. We went on a mission so I wouldn't have to see his stupid face for a month, okay? I'm trying to kick the habit."

"And doing a piss poor job of it, by the look of things," Rouge quipped back, snorting as Shadow tipped his head to half bury his face against his arm. "Look, I'm going to order some pregnancy tests, okay? You're going to take them, just to be on the safe side."

"Order? You know that will start rumors if a delivery driver is bringing you pregnancy tests," the hybrid grumbled into his arm.

"Who said anything about delivering them to me? I'm going to have them delivered to Omega. No delivery driver in their right mind is going to say shit about what they deliver to him," Rouge hummed, already tapping away on her phone.

Twenty minutes later found Omega outside Club Rouge, plastic bag in hand.

"My knight in robust, bullet proof armor," Rouge cooed as she flew down to retrieve the bag from Omega, grin on her face.

"QUERY. WHY DID YOU NEED ME TO FETCH YOUR GROCERIES FOR YOU?" Omega asked, though he did obediently hold up the bag for the bat to take.

"These aren't groceries, hun. It's a handful of…delicate items I needed discreetly delivered, and I couldn't think of anyone more perfect for the job," Rouge cooed, playing easily into the robot's ego.

"AFFIRMATIVE. I AM THE BEST AT BEING DISCREET," Omega's booming voice carried down the street.

"No one better," Rouge chuckled, patting the robot on the head, "Now, I'm sorry to grab and go, but I have some sensitive matters to attend to."

"UNDERSTOOD. I WILL SEE YOU FOR THE NEXT MISSION," Omega said, before turning abruptly and heading back down the street.

Rouge watched the robot go for a moment with a charmed little smile on her face, before turning and heading back inside, bag clutched to her chest.

"Alright, hun, we've got a variety to try out," she hummed as she approached the bathroom while riffling through the bag, "The shortest one says results in three minutes, while the longest one is ten. I hope you have a full bladder, 'cause you're going to need to pee a fair bit."

"I still think those are unnecessary," Shadow grumbled, finally pushing himself away from the toilet once Rouge was in the bathroom, sitting back to lean against the wall.

"Just take them. For both our sanity," Rouge sighed, dumping the contents of the bag onto the counter.

With a grunt of disdain, Shadow shoved himself to his feet, shuffling over to the counter to look over the assortment of tests Rouge had purchased. Picking through the boxes, he chose three and set them aside, earning a frown from Rouge. "I will take these three. Seven seems like overkill," he snorted, sucking on his teeth, "These should be more than enough to prove to you that I'm not pregnant."

Rouge continued to frown at Shadow for a moment more, before huffing out a breath and tossing her hands in the air. "Fine! Fine. Three is better than none, I suppose. Let me get a glass we can throw away for you to pee in. It'll be easier just to dip the tests in, rather than hoping you've got enough liquid in your bladder to piss three times."

"Don't be so crass," the hybrid grumbled, earning an eye roll from Rouge as she stepped out of the bathroom.

"Drink some water while I rummage in the kitchen."

Grumbling his dissent, Shadow did as he was asked, downing a couple of glasses of tap water before Rouge returned with an odd little plastic cup that the hybrid was fairly certain he'd never seen before. "Where did this even come from?"

"You got me. I found it in the back of the cupboard, and since neither of us remember it, I think it's good to go in the trash when you're done with it."

"Noted," Shadow stated, setting the cup on the counter next to his chosen tests. For an awkward moment the two stood silently in the bathroom, staring down at the assortment on the counter, before finally Shadow snapped. "Alright, get out," he huffed, unceremoniously shoving Rouge towards the door, while ignoring the indignant squawk the bat let out as she stumbled out of the room.

With much trepidation, Shadow ripped open each of the three tests he'd picked out, carefully setting them up on the counter before reading the instructions to each thoroughly, while ignoring Rouge's periodic needling through the door. Finally, with a hefty sigh, he picked up the doomed little plastic cup and set about finally taking the three tests that could, for better or worse, change the trajectory of his life.

It should have felt like a lifetime, waiting the designated times for the little plastic sticks to determine his fate, but it felt like no time at all before he was peering down at the tests with nerves he hadn't even realized had begun to make his hands shake and stomach flutter.

Shadow stared down at the little sticks, neatly lined up on the counter, two blue lines taunting him like some sick joke from all three. He contemplated, for a brief moment, yelling at Rouge through the door to go to the pharmacy for him to get something, anything, that would stop this in its tracks. Panic momentarily filled his chest with dread, his grip on the edge of the counter nearly strong enough to crack the marble it was made from. And then his eye was caught by a simple blue ribbon, sticking out of one of the bathroom drawers. It was a plain little thing that Rouge sometimes used in her hair, but it just so happened to be the same cornflower blue of the dress Maria used to wear. It made him wonder what she would have to say about this whole situation. Obviously, she would have admonished Shadow for how he was allowing Sonic to treat him, and she'd scold him for not being more careful. But then she would have been so excited. She'd likely coo over Shadow's stomach and start designing clothes and accessories for his child before he had even fathomed that it existed.

He took several long, deep breaths and looked at himself in the mirror, at his flat stomach, and angled himself ever so slightly, imagining it slightly distended. He swallowed thickly as he pressed a hand to his belly. It made his heart give a treacherous little thump in his chest at the idea of having a child growing inside him. Sonic's child. Something he'd never even contemplated in his wildest dreams to be possible.

Well…hadn't he vowed to protect all life on the planet? He supposed that extended to one beginning to grow inside him, even if its tiny chances were likely pretty slim.

"Alright," he murmured to his reflection, "if you've survived in there this long, I suppose I should give you a fair chance."

"Well?" Rouge prompted as Shadow pulled the bathroom door open and stepped out. Silently, Shadow held out one of the tests for her to see, a quiet gasp escaping her as she stared down at the little blue tics that had nearly sent Shadow into a panic attack mere moments ago. "What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to see how long it lasts."

"…are you going to tell Blue?"

"No."

Rouge arched a brow at him, hand on her hip, skepticism plain on her face. Shadow sighed, turning to toss the pregnancy test into the bin in the bathroom, where its brethren already sat.

"I know you've heard him talk about being done with kids, Rouge. He's never made it a secret that he's more than happy that Tails is old enough to take care of himself, and he barely tolerates playing with Cream half the time. Do you really think he'd appreciate having this dumped on him? Especially after I reassured him it wasn't even a possibility?"

"I think you underestimate how much responsibility Blue is willing to take on," Rouge said with a click of her tongue, stepping aside as Shadow brushed past her on the way to the kitchen.

"That's just it, though, isn't it?" Shadow hummed as he pulled a glass from the cupboard, "It's a difference between willing and wanting."

"It's not like you were exactly chomping at the bit for kids yourself there, hun."

Shadow sighed as he poured himself a glass of water. "Perhaps not. But, after a moment of thought, after being startled by the results of those tests…maybe I always did, but never allowed myself to hope it was feasible."

Rouge folded her arms over her chest and leaned in the kitchen doorway as Shadow sipped at his water, a contemplative look on her face. Finally, after half of Shadow's glass was gone, she sighed and nodded. "All right. I guess it's ultimately your body, your choice and all that. Just know that no matter what, I'm here for you, okay? Anything you need, I'll be there."

A rare smile graced the hybrid's face at Rouge's words, offering her a quick nod. "Thank you. I appreciate it."

[mssishipi]

sooo the reason why chapter two of taste of indulgence took longer than it should cause i already create a draft of it with 10K and just decided to delete it all and begin again. since the plot is finished, this is what it chapter 2 should be:

- jayke argument and literally keep their distance with reader.

- reader heard their fights so the situation with the three of them is awkward

- sunoo and jay tension bcs of reader's bruises. (draft: Jay's breathing hitches. Sunoo hums thoughtfully, swirling the pill bottle between his fingers. "And the worst part? We had to pull some serious strings just to not expose the asshole who did that to her." He sighs, shaking his head. "God, my friend is such an angel, don't you think?")

- sunoo was never meant to be friends with them since my characterization of him is a very protective bestfriend. (draft: "You're my best friend," he continues, "I know what happened affected you—even if you won't admit it. You keep telling me to understand them, but I don't give a fuck about them."

He sighs, his expression softening just a little. "So if you can understand them, then I can understand you. And I get it—you had the best sex of your life or whatever, but they still treated you like shit after."

Sunoo shakes his head, his frustration returning. "You did them a favor, and yet Jay still has the fucking audacity to act like a complete asshole to you. So yeah, I am going to defend you. He can be as sour as he fucking wants—I don't care. I will always defend you."

- their next sex was supposed to be 6 months after LMAOOO but so glad that i changed it because the timeline is messed up

- sunghoon was supposed to be reader another failed love interest, like wonyoung set her up to him and i have a draft where they are like making out😭 (draft: His tongue moved against yours, his hands gripping your waist, guiding you to grind down against him. You could hear his soft groans, feel the way his fingers dug into your skin. His lips trailed lower, pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses down your jaw, lingering at the curve of your neck.

One of his hands slid up, palming your breast through your top, his other pressing lightly at your throat.

Your body froze. Something tightened in your chest—not in the way it should. Your mind flashed back to them.)

- jayke and reader talks again in pride march :)

THAT'S ALL, take note that this is my chapter 2 draft and not really related to the whole plot of the series (bcs it's finished already!!!)

[storytimewithanonwriter]

Hey !!!!! Totally fell of the face of the earth !! I found this in my drafts unfinished and decided to finish it!!

Threads Between Us

TASM!Spider-Man x Y/n

When Y/N discovers her boyfriend is Spider-Man, everything falls apart. Ten days later, he’s fighting for his life—and so is her heart. Can love survive secrets this big? Or will the truth finally break them?

TW: Blood , injuries

It was a normal night. You had gotten home from your shift at the hospital. You were out walking your dog, Belle, on the phone with your sister, Kira. She was ranting about how your brother-in-law was being a jackass about the trip up to see you next month.

“Honestly,” she huffed, “he’s acting like packing a toddler for a weekend away is akin to scaling Everest.”

Jimmy was great. He just worried a lot. It didn’t get bad until Ellie was born. Ellie was his pride and joy. You couldn’t blame him—your niece was the best. You’d just gotten a picture earlier that day: Ellie with her hair in three uneven pigtails and marker all over her cheeks.

“Kira, she looked like a Picasso painting in that picture,” you said, laughing.

“She calls it ‘her art face,’” Kira groaned. “You’re going to babysit when we come up, right? Because Jimmy’s going to have a coronary.”

“Of course,” you said. You were about to turn down your normal path and head toward your apartment building when you heard it: a loud rumble, then a crashing sound.

Your first responder instincts kicked in. You hung up on Kira mid-rant

“Sorry, emergency,” you said quickly before ending the call, ignoring her sputtered, “Wait, what—?”

You ran, Belle in tow.

Chaos. That’s what you walked up on: two cars, a bus, and what looked like an armored vehicle of some sort. You tied Belle to a streetlamp, much to her dismay, and began to triage. A few bumps and bruises, a broken arm, some stitches—nothing too wild.

You spoke to the paramedics on scene and waited until they cleared everyone before starting back on your way home. As soon as you grabbed Belle, she started dragging you.

⸻

“Bells, stop—there’s glass. You’re going to get hurt.

She didn’t listen. This was out of character for her. Belle was your pride and joy, a golden-doodle with more sense than most people you knew. She never pulled like this. Never ignored you

“Belle—hey—Belle,” you scolded, tugging gently, but she only dug in harder, hauling you down the side street beside the crash.

Your pulse skittered. Maybe she’d smelled blood. Maybe…something else.

You swallowed, letting out her leash a little. She broke into a run, beelining for a dented green dumpster and sitting down hard, tail thrashing the pavement. She barked once—sharp, insistent.

“Bells…come on.” Your voice wobbled. “This isn’t funny.”

Then you heard it: a low, pained moan.

Your stomach lurched.

“Hello?” you called, voice unsteady. You edged closer, dread curling up your spine. You knew that sound. You’d heard it too many times—after late nights, after bad falls he’d brushed off like they were nothing or just a skateboarding accident .

Please don’t let it be him, you begged silently.

You took a breath and forced yourself to look.

You gasped.

Spider-Man lay crumpled inside the dumpster, blood streaking the battered suit. His chest rose and fell in shallow, ragged drags.

“Good girl, Bells.” You dropped to your knees, fingers trembling as you touched her head. Your heart hammered so hard it hurt.

Because in the way his gloved hand twitched, in the hoarse rasp of his breathing, in the impossible familiarity of it all—

You already knew.

Looking around to be sure no one could see you, you whispered, “Sir…hey…can you hear me?”

A weak groan

Then, so soft you almost thought you imagined it—

“…Y/N…”

Your heart stopped.

“Peter,” you choked.

His head lolled toward you. His masked face tipped back against the metal, his breath hitching.

“No…hospitals…” he slurred again, but now you could hear it—him—clear as day.

No. It couldn’t be. You shook the thought from your head.

He tried to push himself upright. His arm buckled. He fell back, limp.

“Shit,” you breathed, pressing your palm to your mouth. You felt like you were going to be sick.

But you knew what you had to do.

“Melli, I swear if you don’t answer I—”l

“What the fuck, Y/N? It’s like—” Melli paused to squint at her clock. “2 a.m. You know I work double shifts on weekends.”

“I know,” you said, voice shaking, “but I have a problem. I need you. And your mom’s cab.”

There was a beat of silence.

“You are shitting me.”

“I wouldn’t call if it wasn’t serious.”

“The last time you said you needed the cab, you ended up bailing me out of jail and then had to explain to my mom why we borrowed it without asking.”

“I remember. I … just need you . Please.”

“Shit. Okay. Drop a pin. I’ll be there ASAP.

And Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“This better not be like the Taco Bell incident.”

You almost laughed—almost.

⸻

Melli arrived in five minutes. In the time it took her to get there, Spider-Man hadn’t moved. You tried to examine him, but the angle in the dumpster was terrible.

She climbed out of the cab, hair a mess, med kit under her arm.

“Okay. I have the kit. And—” She stopped dead, staring. “Why are you standing by a dumpster?

“Just—stay calm when I show you this.”

“That’s never a good sign.”

You exhaled shakily. “I heard the accident, went to help, and as we were leaving…Belle found him.”

Melli stepped forward, peered in, and her jaw dropped.

“Holy shit!” she whispered-shouted. “You called me? Why didn’t you call 911?”

“No…no hospital,” Spider-Man mumbled weakly.

She stared at you, then at him.

“You know what? Fine. Fine. Let’s just…add this to the list of insane shit you drag me into.”

⸻

Twenty minutes later, you and Melli finally wrestled Spider-Man out of the dumpster. By the time you reached your place, you were exhausted.

“Remind me why I agreed to this,” Melli grumbled as you wheeled him into the building.

“You love me.”

“Questionable.”

The elevator, thankfully, was empty. Melli wrapped him in several blankets to disguise him.

“Grandma cosplay,” she muttered. “New low.”

⸻

Once home, you got him onto the couch.

“Now what?” Melli asked, rubbing her temples

“Mask and suit off,” you said, your voice trembling.

She raised both brows, her eyes flicking over the red and blue fabric. “I’m just gonna say it! If this is who I think it is… you know what? No. I don’t want to know. Plausible deniability.”

You hesitated, your hands hovering near the edge of the mask. They wouldn’t stop shaking.

Melli eyed you carefully. “Y/N…you sure about that?”

Your throat worked as you swallowed. “I need to know.”

“Yeah,” she murmured. “Thought you might say that.”

You hesitated, your hands hovering near the edge of the mask. You didn’t dare touch it yet.

Melli crossed her arms. “So…are we going to pretend you haven’t been suspecting for, what, months? Maybe longer?”

You looked away

“He disappears,” she went on, her voice softer now. “He shows up bruised and half-dead, and you patch him up like it’s normal. Like it’s just what you do for people you love.”

“Don’t,” you whispered.

“I’m just saying,” Melli sighed, moving to the kitchen. She filled a pot with water, her back to you. “If he’s who you think he is—who we both think he is—I’d rather you be prepared.”

Your vision blurred as you forced yourself to look back at the man on your couch. The way he breathed—shallow, but steady. The cut of his jaw beneath the mask. The shape of his hands, one still curled protectively over his ribs.

It felt like you were standing at the edge of a cliff, and one tug on that mask would shove you over for good.

Melli came back with the med kits. “Two kits, hot water, and the knowledge that if he’s Peter, I’m never letting you forget that your golden retriever of a boyfriend moonlights as a vigilante.”

You almost laughed—almost. But it caught in your throat and turned into a sob.

“I don’t want to be right,” you choked out.

She pressed a hand to your shoulder. “I know.”

You swallowed, forcing your hands to steady.l

“Let’s just…get this over with,” you whispered.

“Okay.” Melli nodded once. “But Y/N?”

You met her eyes.

“No matter who he is,” she said quietly, “you are the bravest person I know.”

You looked back at the mask. And for one last, suspended second, you let yourself pretend it wouldn’t be him.

Then you reached for it, hands shaking.

Melli watched you for a moment, then sighed, stepping into the kitchen. “I’m going back to the kitchen. Maybe make some tea. Maybe vodka. I haven’t decided.”

You swallowed, trying to steady your breathing.

“What are you thinking?” she called over her shoulder, rummaging through your cabinets.

“That I’m in way over my head.”

“Same,” she muttered. She turned back around. “I have two kits, one pot of hot water, and a prayer to every god I can think of.” She gave a tired laugh followed by a mock toast “Cheers.”

You let out a shaky exhale.

Finally, you pulled off the top half of the suit. Deciding that the mask was too much.

Melli peeked over your shoulder, her eyes going wide. “Jesus. He’s…he’s definitely in shape.”

“Melli!”

“Sorry!” She held up her hands defensively. “Just—objectively—he’s hot. It’s not my fault he looks like a damn movie poster.”

You shook your head, trying not to laugh or cry.

“Let’s just…focus,” you whispered.

“Focusing,” she said immediately, though her eyes darted back to the mask. “But I swear, Y/N—if I’m playing field medic to your Bo…”

“Don’t,” you cut in, voice cracking. “Just…don’t.”

She fell silent. For a moment, there was only the hiss of water heating on the stove.

It took over an hour to patch him up as best you could. He only flinched when you disinfected a deep gash in his leg.

At one point, Melli pressed gauze into your hand and murmured, “You know you can tell me, right? Whatever this is.”

“I know,” you whispered. But you didn’t look at her.

She didn’t ask again.

When she finally packed up her things, she paused by the door, her expression softening.

“For what it’s worth,” she said quietly, “if he’s who I think he is…you did the right thing. You can always call me. I will always be there for you both.”

You nodded, unable to speak.

“I’m never going to bring this up,” she added, a sad smile tugging at her mouth. “Unless you do.”

You knew she meant it. She always did.

After she was gone, you pulled off the mask.

Peter.

Your heart cracked clean down the middle.

⸻

It was 5 a.m. Usually, you’d be out walking Belle ,getting ready for work, and about to call Peter (if he was not at your place). But today? You’d called in sick. You hadn’t slept.

You sat on the fire escape, knees pulled tight to your chest, the cold metal biting through your thin clothes. Belle pressed against your side, her warmth the only thing steady in the world spinning out of control.

Your hands shook. You still smelled like him—like blood and sweat and fear.

Peter.

You’d just pulled off his mask. Seen the bruises and cuts and the exhaustion behind those dark eyes.

You knew. You knew he was Spider-Man.

But that knowledge didn’t bring relief.

It brought betrayal.

How long had he lied to you? How many times had he let you believe his disappearances were work or family?

How many nights had you lain awake, heart pounding, wondering if he was safe?

Wondering if he was with someone else.

You squeezed your eyes shut, but the image didn’t stop—his face under the mask.

You wanted to scream. To shake him until he told you why. Why he thought hiding this from you was protecting you.

But mostly, you wanted to curl up and disappear.

Belle whined, nudging your hand with her cold nose. You swallowed the lump in your throat and ran your fingers through her fur.

“I don’t know if I can keep doing this,” you whispered brokenly. “Loving someone who can’t trust me with the truth. Loving someone who’s risking everything… and doesn’t want me in it.”

The sun was rising now, slanting gold through the buildings.

You wanted to hope. Wanted to believe there was a way forward.

But all you felt was raw, aching loneliness.

Because the man you loved was a stranger, wearing a mask you’d never seen before.

Belle pressed closer, her heartbeat a steady thrum against your ribs.

You closed your eyes, hating that you still needed this—needed him—when all you wanted was to be free of the pain.

Inside, Peter was breathing.

But you didn’t know if your heart would survive waking up beside him anymore.

⸻

“Oh,” Peter groaned. “Shit, where am I ?” He said this before opening his eyes.

You turned from where you were rinsing out a blood-soaked towel in the sink.

“You’re at my apartment,” you said, voice tired and flat as you stepped back into the living room. Belle trotted behind you, her tail low. “Belle found you after the crash. You were in a dumpster. I tried to call 911. You wouldn’t let me. So…I brought you here.”

His eyes widened, dazed.

“Y/N…”

“Yeah,” you said, not looking at him. “I wondered why she was so determined. She must’ve smelled you. You were bleeding everywhere.”

He tried to sit up and hissed in pain, clutching his ribs.

“I wouldn’t do that,” you said sharply, unable to keep the edge out of your voice. “Your foot’s broken. Your ribs are cracked. And you’ve got internal injuries that you’ve probably been ignoring for weeks—maybe months. They could’ve killed you, Peter.”

He closed his eyes, exhaling shakily.

“The accelerated healing—”

“Yeah?” You laughed once, hollow. “That’s working out great for you.”

Silence. The only sound was Belle’s soft whine at your feet.

“How’d you even get me here?” he rasped.

You rubbed your eyes with a shaking hand.

“Melli and I pulled a Weekend at Bernie’s. We wrapped you up in blankets so no one would see your suit.“

His head snapped toward you, wincing at the motion.

“Melli was here? Oh God—she’s going to figure it out—”

“She doesn’t care,” you snapped, your voice breaking. “She was too busy helping me stop you from bleeding out all over my hallway.”

“Y/N—”

“I only took your mask off after she left,” you said, your throat so tight you could barely get the words out. “Because I needed to know if I was right. Because you kept disappearing. You kept coming home hurt. And you would never just—tell me. Because… you said my name. When you were in the dumpster, you were in pain and you said my name.”

He swallowed, eyes wide, guilty.

“I was going to. I swear. I just—God, I was scared. Of what it would mean. Of losing you.”

You shook your head.

“You don’t get to say that.”

“Y/N—”

“You don’t get to say you were scared of losing me,” you whispered, voice trembling. “Because I was the one who found you in a dumpster, Peter. I was the one washing your blood off my hands for an hour. Do you have any idea what that felt like?”

He tried to reach for you, but you stepped back.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“Sorry?” You laughed again, and it sounded like it might turn into a sob. “You almost died, Peter. You almost died, and you never even trusted me enough to tell me why you came home looking like you’d been in a war.”

“I was trying to protect you.”

“By lying to me?” You stared at him, your heart thudding so hard it hurt. “By making me think you just didn’t care enough to explain? By making me feel crazy?”

His mouth opened, but no words came out.

You swallowed, your vision blurring.

“You don’t get to decide what I can handle. You don’t get to decide for me. That’s not love, Peter.”

He looked down, shoulders shaking with a ragged breath.

“I know.”

For a second, neither of you spoke. Belle pressed her nose to your knee, whining softly.

You wiped your face, your hands trembling.

“I need…some air.”

“Y/N—please.”

You turned before you could change your mind.

“Rest. I don’t want to watch you bleed again tonight.”

And you walked out to your room and slammed the door, leaving him staring after you, too stunned to follow.

⸻

A few hours later, you emerged from your bedroom, exhausted and wrung out.

Your apartment felt different—hollow in a way it never had before, like it was holding its breath along with you.

On the coffee table sat a note in Peter’s uneven handwriting, weighed down by a small bunch of grocery-store daisies, petals already starting to brown at the edges.

Take all the time you need.

Yours,

P.

You just stood there, staring at it.

Time.

What did that even mean?

Time to forgive him for lying? For making you doubt yourself over and over? For every night you’d lain awake wondering why he came home bleeding or why he disappeared without a word?

Time to figure out if you could ever trust him again—or if you even wanted to?

A hot ache started in your throat and burned all the way down.

You bent to pick up the note. The paper crumpled in your hand, sharp against your palm.

“Come on, Bells,” you whispered hoarsely.

Belle lifted her head from where she’d been curled on her blanket, her tail thumping once against the floor. She padded over and pressed her nose against your knee like she knew exactly how close you were to unraveling.

You pressed your face into the soft curls between her ears and let out a ragged breath.

“I need some air.”

Belle huffed and sat patiently as you clipped on her leash with shaking hands.

You didn’t bother with your coat. You just needed to move, to breathe, to get out of this room that smelled like antiseptic and regret.

When you opened the door, cold night air rushed in, biting at your skin. You welcomed it.

Belle stuck close to your side as you walked down the block, each step pounding out the words you couldn’t stop hearing in your head:

I was scared of losing you.

Then why did you do the one thing that could break us?

⸻

Peter knew he’d fucked up.

He sat on the edge of the roof across the street, suit torn and a fresh bandage pressed against the cut over his ribs. He’d been there since he left your apartment hours ago, unable to make himself go any farther.

His hands were still shaking.

In his mind, he kept replaying your face when he saw you this morning.

How you looked just…heartbroken.

And he hated himself for it.

He’d told himself, over and over, that if you knew the truth, it would destroy you. That it was better if you were angry with him sometimes, frustrated by the things he couldn’t explain, than if you were afraid.

But he’d been wrong about that. He’d been wrong about so many things.

He watched as you walked Belle slowly down the sidewalk, your shoulders slumped, your hair loose around your face.

He had never felt so far away from you.

He tried to give you space. Time. But every hour that passed made the ache in his chest worse.

The first night, he tried calling. The call went straight to voicemail.

“Y/N…it’s me. I—I know you don’t want to hear my voice. I’m so sorry. Please…just…call me back. Or text me. Anything.”

Nothing.

The second day, he tried again. And again. Until he was sure you’d blocked him.

On the third day, he called Melli. She answered on the first ring, voice flat.

“Peter.”

“Melli, please—I just need to know if she’s okay.”

“She’s breathing, if that’s what you’re asking,” Melli said coolly. “But she’s not okay. You broke her heart. You know that, right?”

His throat closed. “I know.”

“I don’t think you do. She just sits on that damn fire escape with the dog and stares at the street. All day. Everyday. I have had to cover for her at work. I had to enlist Kerrie , Ken, and Sarah to help where she won’t get fired. Kira even brought Ellie and nothing. You fucked up ,Peter.

He pressed a hand over his eyes, fighting the sick twist in his gut.

“I know I did…Can I see her? Just…for five minutes. I’ll stay across the room. I just—I need to explain.”

“No,” Melli said, her voice softening just a fraction. “Not yet. She’s not ready.”

“Melli, please—”

“You have to give her time. But…if you want my advice?” She sighed. “You need to apologize. Not with flowers. Not with gifts. With your whole damn chest. Because she deserves that.”

“I know,” he whispered.

“Peter…. “ Melli took a deep breath “ She won’t tell me what happened after I left… but I have my guesses ..” Melli paused. “You think she doesn’t get it. But she’s always known you were carrying something too big for you. She would’ve carried it with you if you’d let her.“

He pressed his forehead to his knee, feeling the burn in his eyes.

“I thought I was protecting her,” he said hoarsely.

“Well, you weren’t,” Melli said gently. “And now you have to figure out if you can earn back her trust.”

He swallowed hard.

“I’ll wait,” he promised.

“Good,” she said quietly. “Because she’s worth waiting for.”

He hung up, fingers numb.

For the next week, he didn’t call again. He didn’t knock on your door. But every night, he found himself perched on that same rooftop, watching your window glow with soft lamplight long after midnight.

He’d never felt more powerless.

Ten days later, fate intervened

⸻

Peter was mid-battle when he realized, too late, where they were headed.

Your neighborhood.

He hadn’t set foot—or swung a web—anywhere near it since he talked to Melli.

He’d promised himself he wouldn’t bring this part of his life back to you.

But here it was anyway: a ten-foot-tall armored monster barreling down familiar streets, throwing parked cars aside like toys.

He was exhausted. His ribs hadn’t fully healed. His head spun every time he turned too fast.

Still, he fired another web, yanking a lamp post down into the creature’s path. A moment’s distraction. A roar of frustration.

And then the whistle of a bullet.

The bullet hit him low in the side.

For one terrible instant, there was no pain—just numbness, and the sensation that he couldn’t quite fill his lungs.

Then the agony came flooding in, white-hot and suffocating.

He heard himself scream.

He tried to fire another web to steady himself. His arm wouldn’t respond. The rooftops lurched away as his body gave out.

And as he fell, he thought—insanely, absurdly—that he saw you running toward him.

Then everything went black.

⸻

You’d only stepped out because you couldn’t stand the walls of your apartment any longer.

Belle had been whining by the door, sensing your restlessness, and finally you’d clipped on her leash and walked out into the cold night air, telling yourself it was just to clear your head. Just to get away from the smell of antiseptic, the memory of his blood in your sink, the empty couch where he’d lain.

You were halfway around the block, mind numb and heart raw, when you heard it.

A deafening impact—like a car crash, but sharper. You turned just in time to see something—someone—falling out of the sky, slamming into the pavement with bone-rattling force.

And even before you saw the red and blue, you knew.

“No,” you whispered. Your legs were already moving. “No—no—no—”

You ran, Belle straining at the leash beside you.

When you reached him, you dropped to your knees so fast your skin scraped on broken glass.

“Peter!”

He lay twisted on his side,a segment of shattered asphalt under him. His mask was torn, half off his face. Blood pooled in the cracks of the street, seeping from a deep bullet wound low in his ribs—but there was more. His left leg was bent at a sickening angle, his shoulder looked dislocated, and every breath came with a wet, rattling wheeze.

“Oh God—oh God—” Your hands hovered over him, useless. “Peter—hey—look at me—”

His eyes fluttered open. He didn’t seem to see you, pupils blown wide.

Everyone else was running—screaming as the armored creature he’d been fighting lumbered further down the block, smashing cars as it went. But you couldn’t look away from Peter.

Belle whined, circling you, her tail tucked so tight it was nearly under her belly.

You fumbled for your phone, fingers clumsy with panic.

Melli picked up immediately.

“Y/N?”

“It’s Peter, he is ….. he is ” you gasped.

“ It’s ok I know” Melli said with a smile that quickly dropped as you continued talking.

“He—he fell—God, he fell from so high—and he’s been shot—his leg—Melli, he’s dying—I need you—please—What do I do? What do I do?” All those years of training—medical school, emergency rotations, trauma drills—gone, replaced by blind terror.

“Hey—hey—listen to me.” Her voice was steady, low and fierce. “I’m on my way. Don’t move him. You hear me? Don’t. Move. Him.”

“He’s not breathing right—he’s—”

“Y/N. Pressure on the wound. Try to keep his head turned so he doesn’t aspirate. I’m coming. Five minutes.”

The phone slipped from your hand. You pressed your palms to the hole in his side, feeling warm blood gush over your fingers.

“Peter—Peter—”

His eyelids flickered. His lips shaped your name, barely a whisper.

“I’m here,” you choked, voice breaking. “I’m here—just stay awake—”

He tried to lift a hand toward your face, but it fell back to the asphalt with a dull, final thump.

“Hey—no,” you sobbed, pressing harder on his side. “No—don’t you dare—don’t you dare leave me- no , you don’t get to do this,” you sobbed “You don’t get to leave me—after everything—you don’t—”

Belle’s sharp, anxious barks echoed off the buildings around you.

“Stay with me,” you whispered, leaning over him, your tears dripping onto his cheek. “Please. Just…just keep breathing.”

His chest hitched, a ragged gasp. And then his head lolled, eyes rolling back, and your vision went white with terror.

“PETER!” you screamed, voice shredding in your throat.

Far down the street, the wail of the siren finally broke the silence

⸻

Melli jumped out before the car even stopped.

“Okay—okay—” She scanned Peter’s body, her eyes sharp, voice calm. “Sarah , get the stretcher. Y/N—hold here. Hard as you can.”

You pressed down. Your whole body was shaking.

Everything after that was a blur.

You held pressure on the wound in Peter’s side as Melli checked his breathing. Your hands were slick with blood. His blood. You could barely process that this was Peter—your Peter—bleeding out in your arms.

Melli’s voice cut through the roaring in your ears:

“Stay with me. Y/N, look at me. We need to move him—NOW.”

You nodded numbly.

You climbed in beside Melli, clutching Peter’s limp hand as she started an IV. The aid car doors slammed shut. Every time the monitor beeped, your heart lurched.

Melli whispered without looking up from Peter’s chest.

“Breathe, Y/N. I’ve got him. You saved him. Breathe.”

⸻

When you reached the hospital, you slid out of the back, knees locking. You felt Belle’s leash tug in your pocket—somehow, in your panic, you never let her leash go.

Belle whined as you staggered forward, following the gurney. The sliding doors parted. The smell of antiseptic hit you all at once, and something in you broke.

It wasn’t just tonight.

It was 10 days of silence. 10 days of wondering if he was alive.10 days of replaying every moment you hadn’t seen the truth.

It was the past 3 days when you couldn’t sleep or eat because you were so worked up and heartbroken all at the same time.

The adrenaline drained from your body. Your vision blurred.

Belle barked, a shrill, desperate sound.

“Y/N?” Melli’s voice. “Hey—hey, look at me—”

The bright lights above you fractured. You tried to apologize, but your mouth wouldn’t work. And then , your legs gave out.

Melli’s hands were on your face, her voice tight with panic.

“Hey—Y/N, come on, don’t you dare pass out on me—”

Belle nosed frantically at your shoulder, her soft whimper the last thing you heard before everything went black.

⸻

You drifted awake to the glare of the trauma lights. Warmth flooded your hand—Belle, tucked beside you on the gurney, licking your wrist.

“…glucose is coming up,” a nurse was saying. “Keep the fluids going. She’s exhausted. BP is still soft.”

A blood pressure cuff squeezed your arm again. You tried to pull away, but your limbs felt like lead.

“Hey. Hey.” Melli’s voice, urgent but soft, right next to your ear. She leaned into your line of sight, her dark hair pulled back under a surgical cap. “Y/N, look at me.”

You blinked, tears sliding down your temples.

“I’m here, okay?” She reached over to scratch Belle behind the ears. “You’re safe. You scared the absolute shit out of us.”

“Peter…” you croaked.

He’s stable in surgery now,” Melli promised. “I made Kerrie promise to text me if anything changes.”

You swallowed hard.

“May—someone needs to—”

“I called her. She’s here.”

Melli squeezed your hand.

“You saved him. Thank you” you whispered.

“ No, y/n. You did. He would have bleed out even with his accelerated healing if you were not there right when it happened.

You opened your mouth to say something , but then the doctor appeared beside you.

“You’re severely dehydrated and hypoglycemic,” he explained gently. “And you haven’t slept in how long?”

“ I’m not sure. I guess the day you went back to your apartment after we….” Broke up. That what you were about to say . But you stopped because what really happened.

Melli about jumped out of her skin .

“ y/n … that’s been 3 days.”

“That’ll do it.” He sighed, checking your IV drip. “You’re not leaving this bed until you’ve had fluids and eaten something.”

Melli pulled over a chair and flopped into it, looking you up and down. She leaned in and whispered.

“You know, when you called me to haul Spider-Man in my cab, I thought that was the craziest thing you’d ever do. Congratulations—you topped yourself.”

You tried to laugh, but it came out a sob.

Melli just smiled and patted your hand.

“ It’s going to be ok.”

Belle whined, climbing up to rest her head over your ribs. You buried your shaking hand in her curls.

⸻

Two hours later, you woke to your phone buzzing weakly on the gurney beside you, the IV still taped to your hand.

Your heart lurched when you saw the screen.

Kira:

Are you okay? What happened? Call me, Y/N.

Your hands were trembling as you hit Call.

“Y/N?” Kira answered on the first ring, her voice tight with fear. “Oh my God—are you okay? Are you hurt?”

You tried to speak, but your throat felt raw and scraped out. You swallowed hard.

“I’m… I’m okay,” you rasped. “I’m at the hospital.”

“What happened?” she demanded, her voice dropping lower.

Your eyes blurred.

“It’s Peter,” you whispered.

A beat of silence. You could hear Jimmy’s worried voice in the background and Ellie fussing. You had told Kira about you suspicions and now she was filling in the blanks.

“Y/N,” Kira said, voice breaking. “Is he—“

“He was fighting,” you managed, pressing a hand to your eyes. “There was this…thing, this armored thing—and he was already hurt, Kira. He got shot and he fell—so far—I didn’t know what to do—”

“Oh God,” she breathed.

“I found him—he was in the street,” you went on, your voice cracking. “There was so much blood. He wasn’t even conscious when I got to him—”

You were shaking so badly you almost dropped the phone.

Melli eased it gently from your grip.

“She’s okay,” Melli said into the line, her voice calm but heavy. “But , she was also admitted for dehydration and exhaustion. She hasn’t eaten or slept since they fought. She’s been running on adrenaline.”

“I tried to tell him,” you whispered hoarsely. “I tried to tell him he was pushing too hard, that he couldn’t keep doing this alone—”

Kira drew a shuddering breath on the other end.

“You listen to me,” she said fiercely, her voice thick. “You did everything you could. You saved him, Y/N.”

“I don’t know if he’s going to wake up,” you choked out.

“He will,” Kira said without hesitation. “You know him—he’s too damn stubborn to let this beat him.”

“I’m coming up there,” she said, already decisive.

“Kira—no—you have Ellie, and work, and—”

“Jimmy’s staying with Ellie,” she interrupted. “He knows. He said he’s making you a lasagna and driving it up tomorrow. He…he wants to help.”

A tiny, broken laugh escaped your raw throat.

“Okay,” you whispered.

Kira’s voice gentled.

“You saved Spider-Man, Y/N. But more than that—you saved Peter. And you need to take care of yourself now. You hear me?”

Belle shifted closer, laying her head against your ribs.

“I don’t know if I can do this anymore,” you admitted in a broken whisper.

“Yes, you can,” Kira said, voice steady. “Because you love him. And because he loves you more than anything.”

⸻

When Kira arrived, she hugged you so tight you thought your ribs would crack. Belle licked her leg in greeting, tail wagging so fast it was a blur.

“I brought you clean clothes,” Kira said, voice thick. “And some of Ellie’s drawings.”

She pressed a folded piece of paper into your hand.

It was a crayon masterpiece: you, Peter, Belle, and Ellie holding hands under a bright yellow sun. At the bottom, Ellie had scrawled in big shaky letters:

I LOVE YOU AUNTIE Y/N AND UNCLE PETE!

Your breath caught. You burst into tears so sudden and loud that Kira just pulled you back against her, rubbing your back as you sobbed.

“She’s been asking about you every day,” Kira murmured against your hair. “She keeps saying, ‘When Uncle Pete coming to visit? He promise to show me to ride bike. Dad said it was too scary .’” Your sister gave a spot on impression of her 4 year old.

You laughed wetly, the sound cracking in your throat.

“He’s going to teach her as soon as he can stand up again,” you whispered.

Belle, still determined to stay part of the conversation, nosed at the drawing until you lowered it so she could see, then gave it a solemn sniff of approval.

“She’s been the bravest of all of us,” you said, voice trembling.

Belle pressed her warm side against your shin, as if to prove it.

Melli arrived not long after, carrying a tote bag stuffed with snacks, toiletries, and the worst tabloid magazines she could find.

“Okay, this place is depressing, so I brought trash magazines ,” she announced.

You laughed. “ We work here!”

“Don’t care, still depressing.Also, Ken says he’s making you a week’s worth of freezer meals. He feels like he should be doing something useful.”

You tried to smile.

“He doesn’t have to—”

“He’s doing it anyway,” Melli cut in, plopping the bag onto the nearest chair. She looked down at Belle, who still refused to budge from your side. “You know, she’s basically your emotional support dog now.”

“She always has been,” you murmured, scratching Belle’s ears. “Since the day I brought her home.”

“Remember how you cried in the shelter because you were convinced she wouldn’t like you?” Melli teased gently.

“She picked me,” you said, voice catching again.

Belle’s tail thumped the linoleum, as if in proud agreement.

Melli sighed, crouching to rub Belle’s neck.

“Let me take her home for a little bit. She loves Ken, and he’s going stir-crazy. I’ll bring her back whenever you say. She will be safe and you won’t have to worry about her..”

You looked down at your dog, her big brown eyes fixed on you, worried and watchful.

“I know you’re scared,” you whispered to her, voice breaking. “I am too. But I’m okay now. And Peter will be. I promise.”

Belle tilted her head, ears pricking.

“I need you to go with Mel so I can be with Peter. I love you, Bells.”

Belle gave a small, disgruntled huff, then bumped her nose against your knee before hopping down to stand by Melli’s side.

“Atta girl,” Melli whispered, ruffling her fur.

⸻

When they finally wheeled you back into Peter��s room—IV still taped to your hand—May jumped up from her chair, relief flooding her face.

“Oh, sweetheart…” She helped you ease onto the recliner, then pulled you into a gentle hug.

You looked over at Peter, still pale but alive, monitors ticking steady, chest rising and falling in the slow rhythm of sleep.

Kira stepped in behind you and rested her hand on your shoulder.

“He’s stubborn,” she said softly. “He’s going to be okay.”

Melli, who’d walked Belle down to the lobby to meet Ken, stuck her head in the doorway just long enough to call, “If he doesn’t wake up soon, I’m telling the nurses he’s faking it to get more sponge baths,” before disappearing again.

You let out a watery laugh, tears tracking down your cheeks.

May brushed your hair back, her palm warm against your cheek.

“He’s going to be okay,” she murmured. “And so are you.”

You weren’t sure if you believed her. But as you watched Peter breathe, the worst of the panic finally loosened its grip on your ribs.

For the first time in days, you let your eyes close and almost believed her.

The last thing you saw before sleep took you was Peter’s hand, resting palm-up on the blanket. You reached out and laced your fingers with his, afraid he might slip away if you let go.

You were still holding on when sleep finally claimed you.

⸻

You woke hours later to the low murmur of voices and the scrape of a chair leg on the tile.

“…she’s been asleep for a while,” Kira was whispering. “Is that normal?”

“She’s okay,” Melli said quietly. “Just exhausted. Her vitals are stable. She’s better here than trying to do everything alone.”

“She always tries to do everything alone,” Kira said, her voice thick. “Even when we were kids. She never asked for help.”

You stirred, blinking blearily, but kept your eyes closed. You didn’t want them to stop.

“She’s stronger than she thinks,” Melli went on. “But even strong people break if you keep piling weight on them.”

Kira sighed. “God. Jimmy’s going to hover so hard when he gets here.”

Melli let out a small, tired laugh. “Yeah. But she needs people to hover.”

“Thank you,” Kira murmured. “For being here.”

“She’s my best friend,” Melli said simply. “And so is he. Even if he makes dumb choices.”

Kira’s breath hitched. “She loves him so much.”

“I know,” Melli said. “And he loves her. He’s just an idiot.”

You almost smiled.

The next time you woke, dawn was soft and gray outside the window. Kira was slumped over the foot of your recliner, snoring into her folded arms. Melli was sprawled in a second chair, her legs propped on a stack of unopened medical journals. May was outside leaning on the window talking to a nurse.

You blinked, feeling hollowed out and full all at once.

Peter’s monitors kept up their steady beep.

You turned your hand over in his, lacing your fingers tighter, and leaned your head back against the cushion.

You didn’t know what would happen when he woke up.

Didn’t know if you could trust him the way you had before

Didn’t know how you were going to forgive the secrets and the fear and the hurt.

But you did know this: you loved him.

And no matter how badly you wanted to run from it, you were still here.

⸻

Everything hurt.

His ribs ached with every shallow breath.

The steady beep of a heart monitor was the first thing he registered.

A fluorescent light glared overhead, cold and unflinching.

“Ouch.” Is all he could get out.

“Peter.”

May’s voice.

He turned his head—slow, heavy—and found her sitting beside him, eyes red, clutching something wrapped in a little handkerchief.

“You scared us,” she whispered, brushing hair off his forehead. “You scared her.”

“Her?”

His throat felt like sandpaper.

She gestured gently with her chin, and only then did he see the recliner in the corner.

You were curled up, tangled in a thin hospital blanket. An IV taped to the back of your hand. Your face so pale you blended into the pillow.

Peter swallowed hard.

“She’s here? What happened? Is she okay?”

“She is now.” May exhaled shakily. “She collapsed. They had to admit her overnight 2 days ago. They are just observing her now. She was dehydrated. She hadn’t eaten or slept in three days.”

Guilt crashed through him like a collapsing building.

“Oh…I…shit…this is not—”

“Language,” May said automatically, even though her voice wobbled.

He let out a miserable, wet laugh that turned into a sob.

“As soon as they would let her, she was in this room,” May murmured. “She wouldn’t leave. Even when she fainted, she kept asking for you.”

He pressed the heel of his hand to his eyes, shaking.

“I never wanted this for her.”

“She’d rather hurt than never know you,” May said softly. “She loves you, Peter.”

He swallowed, voice rough.

“When she wakes up…I don’t know what to say.”

May took a long pause before she spoke

May reached out and laid her palm on his cheek.

“Peter…you can’t spend your whole life running from what happened. You have a chance to build something real. Let yourself have it.”

“She is not Gwen,” May said quietly.

His breath shuddered out.

“That’s why I never told her,” he whispered. “I was so afraid…that history would repeat itself.”

She pulled back, pressing the handkerchief bundle into his palm.

“You asked me for this,” she said softly. “For when you were ready. You don’t have to do anything yet. But I want you to keep it.”

Before he could say anything , the door cracked open. Peter quickly put the box under the blankets.

Melli walked in, balancing two giant iced coffees and a bag of vending machine snacks.

“Oh, look who finally decided to wake up,” she announced, raising her brows. “Try not to get shot again, because the hospital cafeteria is a war crime.”

Peter huffed a shaky laugh.

“Hey, Melli.”

“Hey yourself, Dumbass.” She softened her voice. “You scared us.”

Peter smiled.

Behind her, Kira followed, cradling a bundle of clean clothes and a folded blanket.

I swear ,Melli ,” Kira said, not bothering with a greeting, “if you do this again, I’m going to ...”

“She’s not your emotional support person,” Melli shot back not letting Kira finish her sentence. “I’m her emotional support person.”

I swear ,Melli ,” Kira said, not bothering with a greeting, “if you do this again, I’m going to ...”

“She’s not your emotional support person,” Melli shot back not letting Kira finish her sentence. “I’m her emotional support person.”

“Are you kidding? She’s my actual sister.”

“Yeah, well, I’m the one who brought the emergency cab and didn’t ask questions when she said…”

May pinched the bridge of her nose and cut Melli off.

“Ladies , please.”

You stirred on the cot, blinking as all the bickering reached you. You pushed yourself up, your eyes bleary.

When you realized Peter was awake, your hand flew to your mouth. Tears welled so fast you looked ready to faint again.

“Hey,” he rasped. “You…you look worse than me.”

It was a terrible attempt at a joke. You let out a strangled laugh anyway.

You stood and crossed to his bedside, sinking into the chair.

“You idiot, you weren’t healed enough to be out there yet” you whispered, brushing your thumb beneath his eye. “I thought I was going to lose you.”

Kira cleared her throat behind you, voice gentler now.

“Just so you know, Melli and I have been taking bets on how long before he gives you that ring.”

Peter froze.

“What ring?”

Melli smirked, crossing her arms.

“Oh, you think you’re subtle? You think you can just ask May for a ‘special piece of family jewelry’ and no one’s gonna notice?”

May lifted her palms in surrender.

“I did not tell them details.”

“She didn’t have to,” Kira said, grinning. “Your face said everything.”

You covered your eyes with your hand, laughing through your tears.

“Oh my God, you guys.”

“And I,” Melli added, “am betting you two have kids before you ever actually get married, because come on…. You two would have the cutest baby”

Kira turned to her and laughed

“ No they won’t. Ellie is all the birth control they need. Besides , It’s going to be a long engagement first.”

“You don’t know them like I do—”

May coughed delicately.

“Perhaps we should let them have a moment of privacy.”

Melli and Kira immediately began fussing over who was going to get you a proper meal and who was going to drive May home.

“Someone needs to get her a hairbrush,” Kira insisted.

“I have one in my bag,” Melli argued

“I have dry shampoo.”

May gave Peter’s hand a squeeze.

“I’m proud of you,” she whispered. “Tell her the truth. All of it.”

Kira turned to her and laughed

“ No they won’t. Ellie is all the birth control they need. Besides , It’s going to be a long engagement first.”

“You don’t know them like I do—”

May coughed delicately.

“Perhaps we should let them have a moment of privacy.”

Melli and Kira immediately began fussing over who was going to get you a proper meal and who was going to drive May home.

“Someone needs to get her a hairbrush,” Kira insisted.

“I have one in my bag,” Melli argued.

“I have dry shampoo.”

May gave Peter’s hand a squeeze.

“I’m proud of you,” she whispered. “Tell her the truth. All of it.”

And with that, she herded the two of them—still squabbling—out the door.

The room went quiet again.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding

He swallowed hard.

“I’m sorry. For everything.”

You shook your head, tears sliding down.

“You’ve been carrying this alone.”

“I thought if I kept you away…you’d be safe.”

“You don’t get to decide that,” you said, voice trembling. “You don’t get to choose for me.”

He swallowed, breathing ragged.

“I was so scared,” he whispered. “I lost Gwen. I couldn’t…I couldn’t do that again.”

“I’m not her,” you whispered. “And you’re not the same either.”

He closed his eyes, a tear sliding down his temple.

“You’re here,” you whispered. “That’s what matters. You’re here.”

You leaned forward, pressing your forehead to his.

“No more secrets,” you murmured.

“No more,” he promised, voice cracking.

You stayed there, breathing together, your hand covering his heart, until the beeping monitor finally steadied into a calm, even rhythm.

[uninvitedawn]

turmoil.

Tick tock, tick tock, the clock a low hum in the background, a sound he often forgets when his mind is occupied by many things that align with his work and personal life. After the heavy set of meetings in the morning Minhyun was finally seated to review some files he needed to send over to finalise projects and others that are soon to begin. 

He had always taken great pride in the quiet rigour of his work and at times he’d sit staring at the wide screen, amused at the fact that some lines on a screen translate into concrete, steel, wood and the sky in the shape of a structure. Since joining SAMOO after graduating with high honours, he has poured every ounce of his being onto the projects that land on his table like it was his legacy. Three projects were nearly wrapped they had been occupying the past few months of his life with many late nights, missed dinners and a few thousand iterations. So when the chance to travel to Bangkok for a very short trip came up, he hesitated. However, everyone including his seniors and interns had told him he deserved the small break. 

“The projects are ninety percent done,” they told him with assurance. “Leave the files with someone reliable and set your worries aside.” He did just that and packed the files in a neatly manner, everything labelled and easy to find. He had also backed everything up on his end just in case they lose files, he handed the copies over to a Senior Architect named Kwon. Someone who he truly admires and had shown a liking to him, going as far as saying he reminded him of himself when he was a fresh intern. 

However, when he returned his entire world had turned upside down. 

Walls crumbling and his flesh burnt hot in anger as he discovers his name being erased from the finalised files of his own work. Work he had lost nights over, missed dinners over. Even the presentation decks were altered to suit the “new” creators vision, the presented by now read “Sr. Architect. Kwon”. In the next room he could hear the project leads congratulating Kwon on the very designs Minhyun had developed. Though the betrayal didn’t hit him all at once, it was slow; the same as when a blob of ink bleeds on the paper. He almost laughed because his first reaction was doubt, doubt in himself and his inability to not communicate properly. Maybe he wasn’t clear. Maybe somewhere in his words there occurred a misunderstanding. However, the more he dug into it the more intentional and purposeful this whole shitshow looked. 

The original drafts, emails, timestamps and every other shred of evidence was in his grasp, still the rising ache in his chest was worse than the injustice he felt. It had been a while since someone pissed him off this bad but the tragedy was he had to remain professional otherwise everything he ever worked for would be tarnished in moments. 

He felt idiotic for trusting someone else and letting his guard down for a moment. His throat closed up every time he thought of him heading off to Thailand, thinking if he hadn’t gone none of this wouldn’t have happened. 

Now, in the quiet tensions of the HR office, he placed a single USB drive on the table, his hand trembled slightly though it was unnoticed. “This contains all my original work you’ll find everything inside. As of now, I am filing a formal complaint.” He said, voice steadier than he anticipated. The air heavy as his eyes remained stern exuding an aura where no one should test him even more. “I’d like to begin legal proceedings, my lawyers will be in contact with involved parties.”

With a respectful bow, he walked out of the office feeling anything but victorious. Instead he promises himself to see this to the end.

[hecantfixme]

MIDNIGHT SKYLINE

IT’S FINALLY HERE AFTER MONTHS IN MY DRAFTS 🙏 thank you all for being soooo patient with me

Samuel Seo/Seo Seonggun x reader

Angst. GN. Reader is insecure, Samuel is insecure, EVERYONE HATES THEMSELVES 😭🙏

🍊🌻🧡⭐️

You stood there, alone in your shared bedroom. Samuel hadn’t come home the night before, so you had no choice but to prepare for the Gala alone. Dressed to the nines in the expensive outfit that your boyfriend bought for you, you started at your reflection dismally.

You traced the contours of your face, the designer bracelet on your wrist glistens in the rising sun. You stare for a second, brows furrowed as a frown begins to form on your lips.

‘Why me?’ you thought to yourself. ‘I don’t deserve things like this.’

You struggle for a moment before managing to unclasp the bracelet and placing it back in your jewelry box. You dug around for something less extravagant, opting for a simple silver-plated chain, which matched your necklace. You knew that Samuel didn’t like when you wore it, he thought it was too simple, unrefined.

After putting it on, you paused. Oddly enough, you felt guilty. Maybe it’s because you weren’t wearing his gift. Maybe it’s because you knew that you weren’t good enough for a man like him. You saw how his eyes wandered, always on someone prettier, skinnier, or smarter. He never said anything, and yet you had always felt inferior.

You shake your head to snap yourself out of these thoughts, but that looming feeling of imperfection would stay with you for the rest of your night.

The phone rang and your eyes lit up, hoping it was Samuel. Your smile dropped instantly when you realized it was just his chauffeur.

“Hello, Y/N speaking,” You said politely, already knowing that he was just calling to pick you up.

“Hello L/N, I’m outside now,” He said curtly. “We’ll be stopping to pick up Mr. Seo on the way, so please try to hurry.”

“Alright,” You said before hanging up.

You’ve been ready for a while, so it wasn’t like you had to hold up the operation. You slip out of the penthouse, making sure you had everything before locking the doors. Once the elevator was on the first floor, you greeted the staff in the lobby with a smile before making your way to the car.

“Hello.”

“Hi.”

The rest of the ride was silent. You fidgeted with your necklaces, even after the vehicle had come to a stop outside of a nondescript skyscraper. Within minutes, Samuel had taken his spot beside you. You wanted to speak, but you didn’t have it in you. Minutes passed before he broke the silence

“You’re not wearing the bracelet I got for you,” He said softly, holding your wrist at eye level.

“It was too much,” You responded meekly.

“How so?” He asked, quirking a brow skeptically.

“Samuel, that bracelet costs twice my mother’s rent, of course I can’t wear it,” you said, breaking eye contact for good.

He didn’t say anything, he just stared.

You wanted to apologize, but you couldn’t find the words,so instead you just sat there, occasionally stealing glances, just to see him on his phone.

The car halted again, signaling that you had reached your destination. You watched as Samuel tweaked his appearance slightly

“Sammy, baby,” The words leave your mouth before you can even register that you’re speaking. “Do you still love me?”

He faltered for a split second, eyes meeting yours with a sigh.

“Something like that, Y/N,” He said.

You felt a sting of disappointment, but even so, you weren’t exactly surprised. You climb out of the car, entering the party before him.

Like he would’ve expected, he found you at the bar, colorful cocktail in hand as you were chatting with other attendees. Just like he was afraid of. After all, you could easily have anyone, and you expect him to believe you picked him? The way he saw it, his cold words were just self defense from the inevitable hurt that would come with the end.

You, on the other hand, were not usually this talkative with strangers. You were never much of a partygoer to begin with, but alcohol works in mysterious ways. You were already tipsy off half of a cocktail, which is admittedly a lot more than you would regularly drink.

The reality of the situation is just that you wanted a distraction. That pit in your stomach that was slowly forming over time suddenly felt a lot more real. You couldn’t really dismiss it as overthinking after what he said.

You shake your head, a physical attempt to rid yourself of those thoughts, before you slam the other half of your cocktail. You glance over at Samuel, who’s staring at you from across the rooftop. You leave a tip for the bar tender before disappearing deeper into the crowd.

———

HIIII I hope this wasn’t the worst thing ever 🤙 i wanted to get it out today so it’s a little rushed and open ended. if it performs well i’ll definitely write a part 2 :D

[box-architecture]

I was rereading some of your stuff on Ao3, and went “huh. I know Sapnap kidnaps Dream out of a misguided idea of what’s happening at one point, but how does that all go? How did Dream react? What was Sapnap like?”

So now I’m asking you. At 12:20 am. I have class in 7.5 hours!

Okay so we're going to ignore how long this has been sitting in my drafts, half answered. Okay? Okay. Awesome

-

So at some point during the Discovery Of Many Kinks (because when you're having a weird poly relationship with your former Warden, you're going to try a bunch of different things. For Science) awesamdrunz attempt to do a sex tape. It gets left around and found within like three days. By Sapnap.

So of course because of burning curiosity he has to watch the mysterious tape to see whats on it.

Then the only reason he kept watching was shock and also trying to figure out who the hell the third person was, why they looked familiar but also what the hell happened to them. Fun ways to find out your former best friend wasn't lying when he said he was horrifically tortured by your kind-of finance: finding his sex tape.

And listen, originally it was a fun crack idea to have him see this relationship nonsense where awesamdrunz was basically fucking in sex dungeons (made by Sam) after kidnappings, and decided that this was actually a really good template to fix his own relationship. He ends up trapping Quackity and Karl in what might be a previously unused sex dungeon!

(Resounding success: both of his boyfriends did not murder each other (due to bars in between them) and even spoke to each other in order to escape. This is the most progress he's had in months.)

But then! Alternate Idea! Sapnap sees the sex tape and (honestly not unfairly given his prior knowledge) believes Punz & Sam are at minimum, pressuring Dream into this relationship, and somehow this is a worse crime than murder. No wonder Dream couldn't stay in the prison! (Which. Not inaccurate.) So Sapnap sets about needing to find and protect Dream.

Sapnap finds Dream, and tries to convince him that he'll protect him. Dream is confused about what Sapnap saw, and has a tough time refuting anything. He also does really miss his friend. So he,,, doesn't really fight when Sapnap takes him to a secondary location.

-

"The windows are nice. Not as defensible, but you'll know if the enemy approaches." Dream commented, staring at the cloud-covered sea.

Sapnap laughed nervously, pulling open kitchen cupboards. "Yeah, I don't know. There shouldn't be any way for someone to find us out here though; its not like I told anyone where we were going."

Dream pursed his lips, but said nothing, eyes following the way the waves crashed against the shitty boardwalk Sapnap cobbled together half asleep. He figured Dream wouldn't want to be cooped up in the cottage all the time, not after… everything, so they could go sit out on the beach and fish, maybe, or go look for seashells. They hadn't built a sandcastle since they were kids, either, so it would definitely be something fun to try. Just like old times.

The wheat was crumbling in his hands, so Sapnap quickly tossed it on the counter.

"Are you hungry?" He called out, trying for a bit more cheer. Dream's gaze pulled to his, and Sapnap began pulling more ingredients out on the granite. "I know I'm not usually the person who cooks, but I've been getting into it lately! I made rabbit stew for Karl the other day, and he didn't even make a face when he was chewing."

He didn't really think about the potatoes as he dumped them into the sink, but he did notice the way Dream flinched, drawing in on himself and towards the doorway.

"Dream?"

"Just…" Dream looked back out into the sea. His fingers, what remained of them, dug into the fabric of his pants. "Nothing with potatoes. Please."

Sapnap felt his anxiety roll like the tide.

"Yeah, dude, that's cool. Doesn't sound appealing right now anyway." He said uncertainly. Dream's shoulders relaxed marginally, but Sapnap still felt off. "Anything you're in the mood for, though? Beet soup? Cheese sandwich?"

"Whatever you cook is fine." Dream reassured him. A brittle, but teasing edge appeared in his smile. "Unless you somehow got worse at baking bread."

He had, but god forbid would he ever admit to that. He grinned, and sat up on the counter. "Oh, like you're so good at it. I tried your stupid 'Everything' bread, and it tasted like ash."

"You turned off the timer and it burned."

"Well maybe next time don't leave random timers on the oven and expect anyone to know what they're for."

"Maybe next time you should assume its there for a reason and not touch it." Dream said in exasperation. Sapnap stuck his tongue out, and Dream threw his hands up, exiting the kitchen. He was so dramatic, Sapnap thought fondly.

-

Its a lot of Sapnap attempting to reestablish their previous connection and realizing how much Dream has changed, and staring at the scars when he thinks Dream isn't looking. He gets Super Protective and promises he wont let anything else happen to him. Dream is instinctively upset (why now, why does it matter now, why do you care, I am Perfectly Fine) but its one of his People and he is So Tired.

Sapnap is sorta kinda keeping Dream with him. It's not exactly against Dream's will, but it's also like, if Dream could walk out the door and come back later without Sapnap freaking out he'd rather do that. But Sapnap is freaking out, and seems to believe that there is a credible threat against Dream if he leaves. Given Sapnap's previous relationship with Quackity, Dream is willing to believe he might know something and that alone makes him anxious enough that he wants to stay.

Sapnap gets more horrified the longer he's with Dream (Dream flinches under his touches, his fingers are gone, Dream makes a snide comment about Quackity when Sapnap asks about the scars,) and this only convinces him more that clearly he needs to be protecting Dream. Sapnap expresses a lot of fury towards Sam, and Dream doesn't have any good arguments against it. There's a lot of stuff that he just sorta, decided to ignore, and now that coming back up is messing with him.

They get into a brief yelling match when Dream gets tired of what he presumes is pity and fake behavior, and it ends with Sapnap holding Dream to keep him from leaving or collapsing.

(The irony(?) of Dream comforting Sapnap for most of his life only for them to switch places in this moment is not lost on him.)

He gets to snuggle with him under the covers and gets a kiss on the chin (Dream is half asleep, and thinking about how much he missed him.)

Meanwhile, Punz is going to Murder Sapnap.

Punz has no context for why Sapnap took Dream so he is assuming Sapnap is going to attempt to imprison Dream again (after failing to kill him) and while he is 100 percent confident in Dreams abilities he also is aware that Sapnap is one of Dreams People and therefore capable of hurting Dream emotionally. Hurting Dream is Not Allowed.

Sam is having a panic attack because Dream isn't within sight line and isn't with Punz and therefore everything is Wrong and Bad in his world.

When you finally get a confrontation between Sam and Sapnap (because at this point, they don't know that Sapnap knows about Punz, so Sam is going in first), Sapnap responds viciously, tearing into Sam both for the scars on Dream's body, but also stating he knew they were fucking, and there's no way that's even remotely acceptable given the position of power Sam had (he's not wrong. this is a true statement of fact for everything that occurred prior to the prison break. it's just that things got weird after that). Sam has no good rebuttal, and faced with violence from Sap, has to flee. He's left shaken from everything.

Dream: listen he may have enabled my torture and abuse, and starved and isolated me, and accepted sexual favors from me while being in a position of power over me But he's also a very sad wet cat of a man, and I'm a control freak

Punz tries to talk with Sapnap on slightly less,,, angry grounds? On his part. Knowing about the interaction with Sam, he feels better about the fact Dream is probably safe and Sapnap probably has good reason for what he's doing.

To be clear though, Sapnap is furious with Punz. Right out of the gate he reveals he knows Punz was involved. At first, he's assuming that Punz was paid off to help Sam, but Punz decides "fuck it" and reveals at least part of things. He explains he was working with Dream after the prison break, that he felt bad for betraying him, and that they had a relationship. Dream wanted to involve Sam post-prison, Punz was against it, but wanted Dream to be safe.

Sapnap: you're forcing him to do this! Punz: I DON'T EVEN WANT HIM TO BE DOING THIS Sam: >:(

Sapnap needs to take some time to processes that, but he then presses to clarify; Dream and Sam had a relationship while Dream was in prison? Yes.

Sam had a hand in the torture and Dream's condition? Also yes.

After he broke out, despite all of this, Dream still felt like he wanted to return to Sam? Yes.

Sapnap: And you LET him?!

Punz doesn't have a good answer for that, other than Dream is his own person, and Punz can't stop him from doing what he wants with his life. To which Sapnap responds, yes you can motherfucker

It's a very fundamentally rift in their two perspectives. Punz, particularly post-prison, couldn't morally justify restricting Dream or telling him how to life his life or cope. Sapnap, thinks that Dream was not in a position to make a choice like that.

Punz doesn't have a good answer for that, it's the exact thing he's been feeling guilty over. So he ends up leaving, Not for forever. Just to think.

Meanwhile, Dream overheard everything. He now understands what Sapnap is seeing as the "real issue" (or at least, the current threat at hand), and he knows that he's going to make his own choice here.

Dream: I understand that my decisions are problematic but have you ever considered that I've made my choices and will continue to make them, even if you don't agree Sapnap: NO

Dream tells Sapnap gently that he's leaving now. He wants to go back. Sapnap doesn't want him to, he makes fair arguments about how much Dream could be hurt here. Dream understands, but he's also an adult, and he's decided what he wants. He's forgiven his stupid creeper hybrid boyfriend. It might not make sense to, but he has. It's his choice in the end.

Sapnap doesn't like it, there's a long people where he's just holding Dream and in tears. He's apologized a lot. For leaving Dream there. He says it again for good measure. Dream gives him a soft kiss on the forehead and he doesn't say it's okay, but he does say that he loves him. That it will be okay.

Dream has to go now, but he promises to come back, they set a time and they get to just spend time together. Talking about things one at a time.

(Sapnap and Dream see each other a lot now, as he slowly enters Dream's life again. Occupying his space and checking up on him and fretting. They get more kisses, more cuddles in bed. Once a week they come back to their little cottage and grow something that isn't what they used to have, but its still good, and its full of love.)

Later, Dream will be reassuring Punz that he made the best choices he could make, sighing and pulling Sam out of his prison depression hole. Kidnapping once again proves to be a great way to solve problems.

[imagines-by-cleo]

A different punishment

Erwin Smith x Fem!reader

I missed our favorite Commander! I can't believe it's been months since I last wrote an Erwin fic so I dug this out of my drafts and finished it up to share with everyone. My inbox is closed right now so I can't take any requests if you want more but I would still love to hear some feedback in the replies and reblogs!

CW: SMUT, dom/sub, breeding, begging, hair pulling, dirty talk, protected/unprotected sex, car sex, overstimulation

The pain of standing in your best heels like this didn’t bother you, nor did the footboard of your bed digging into your stomach as you were bent over it. The ticking clock synced up in time with the rattling bedframe reminded you how late it was getting, but the increasing tempo informed you that you were in no danger of completely missing your party.

Usually you waited until after you were dressed and at a party to start teasing your husband in hopes of earning a nice punishment for your actions, but you were impatient enough to start before you left and were now facing the repercussions of your actions; or rather taking them from behind.

Erwin being the brilliant tactician that he is was one step ahead of you and formed a plan to deal with you the minute you gave him that look while slowly rolling your thigh high stocking up your leg. The next thing you knew you were burying your face into the sheets and ruining your expertly done makeup.

He felt different with the condom on, at least since it had been so long since he wore one. He was explaining the reason for it in his scolding authoritative voice but you were much too blissed out to even pay attention.

"Are you listening?" He asked, changing his tone drastically.

"Yeah." You lied, whining into the sheets.

He laughed. "If only you were this agreeable all the time."

Approaching your second orgasm, or possibly your third, they were all starting to blend together. You felt that familiar ache in your core, wanting Erwin to join you and to feel him finish inside you. The usual risks and implications that drove you wild just thinking about them didn't have the same impact all because of a thin layer of latex. Reaching behind, you prompted him to take your hand and lean in a little bit closer.

"I'll be good all night, I promise. Please just take it off." You begged fruitlessly.

"Now now, you wouldn't learn your lesson if I did that." He scolded you, his voice heavy on the edge of an orgasm.

"But wouldn't it feel so much better to cum inside? You don't even have to pull out, you can just keep me stuffed full." You suggested, words emphasized in little whines and the occasional gasp.

Only reacting with a deep chuckle, patting your butt gently knowing you would have rather had him spank you. "You're cute when you beg, but there's no getting out of this."

"You want to get me pregnant don't you?" You asked in a final attempt at persuasion.

Erwin gently weaved his fingers into your hair, tilting your head to the side so he could lean in and whisper low in your ear. "You're all mine, and I can breed you whenever I feel like it."

The bass in his growling tone was too much for you to handle, sending you into another orgasm that caused everything below your waist go softly numb while the tingling spread through your whole body. Only staying upright and off the floor by the vice grip his large held on your hips that was getting tighter and tighter.

Insides still churning with every brutal thrust, you couldn't even moan anymore when you came together with him one last time. Just a groan while you felt the condom fill up in you, as disappointed as you were it still felt so good to be full like that. You wanted him to stay, buried deep inside until the afterglow faded but that could take all night. Instead he decided to pull out, throw the condom away and check his watch, leaving you cold on the bed unable to come back to reality.

"We're gonna be late, hurry up and get ready." He told you before leaving, emphasized with a soft smack on your butt.

"Do we still have to go?" You groaned, dragging yourself off the bed and stumbling toward the mirror at the other end of the bedroom.

"I do, and I'm leaving with or without you." He shouted from down the hallway. "Have you seen that tie I bought yesterday?"

"On the kitchen table." You answered, unsure of how you even remembered your own name let alone where he left his damn tie.

Checking the damage in your reflection and seeing the absolute wreck that was now your makeup you made quick work of wiping away the smudged lipstick and streaks of mascara on your cheeks. Before you could reapply the lipstick a hand caught your wrist, Erwin standing behind you wanted to sneak in a quick kiss so he wouldn't make a mess. He moved down to your neck while you finished your makeup, running his hands everywhere he could reach while you melted into his touch.

"You're gonna have to explain why I'm limping to the party." You teased.

"You knew what you were doing when you picked out that dress." He answered.

"I can change it for you if you want." You offered, knowing how much of a pathetic simp you sounded like and loving every second of it.

"No..." He mused for a moment before answering bluntly. "I want you to show everyone what they can't have."

"Yes, sir." You purred.

Driving to the party was a blur, as was walking in and being greeted by other guests. The rest of the night your eyes were glazed over in a post orgasmic haze that just wouldn't fade even after hours of socializing, people would talk to you and your voice and body went on auto pilot finding a way to politely end a conversation so your mind could wander back to hours earlier and think of what would happen when you got home.

You were never far from Erwin, he would constantly put his arm around you while talking to someone or hold your hand while leading you around to meet people. It was hard to tell who was being more clingy as you would just cuddle up to him everytime he pulled you close.

The party wasn't even over by the time you left, even saying goodbye to your friends seemed like it would take longer than you had patience for so the two of you snuck outside quietly back to his car while the lights and noise in the house faded into the distance. He wasn't too impatient to come around and open the door for you, only it wasn't until you were shoved inside and fell on the seat that you realized he opened the back door.

Pressing you between his body and the cool leather seats as he climbed in after you, you molded to him instinctively and perfectly as you wrapped your legs around his hips and your arms over his shoulders. He had left you so satisfied earlier it was no more need inside, even when his fingers had started to tease your oversensitive entrance just right. All you wanted was to touch him, hold him, kiss him while he moaned feeling of you.

Still so wet and ready from before Erwin had no trouble sliding in and moving right away, the lazy self indulgent jerks were a far cry from his usual controlled calculated thrusts. Even the noises he made were out of the ordinary for him, breathy moans just verging on a whimper, showing how pathetically drunk he was on you.

The whole car was starting to rock while the windows collected fog, even if someone were to notice you doubted he would care. It was his car, his woman, he would do whatever whenever he wanted; you held him a little tighter to remind him of that.

A little moan escaped from your mouth when his pace picked up, he was so close and you realized you were too. The image of him losing all self control so deep in you made your core hungry for all of him.

"Inside... Inside..." You babbled, letting him know where you wanted him to finish as if he would anywhere else.

It was hard to tell who came first, your tired legs only jerked a little feeling more of a relief than a climax. Erwin still breathless as warm bursts filled you up, not as much as he would have without the condom earlier but enough to finally fill that void in your core. He didn't make any move to pull out but you kept your legs wrapped tight around him anyway, keeping your warm bodies tangles together for as long as you possibly could.

All you wanted to do was fall asleep in his arms, and he apparently felt the same the way he rested his head in the crook of your neck and eased his weight onto you. The more time passed however the more you were sure that you didn't want to wake up in the car a few hours later and regret your decisions, so reluctantly you started to rouse Erwin.

"Hey, it's time to go." You told him, earning a stubborn groan though you continued to try and push him away.

He lifted off of you, keeping you caged in his arms for a moment while staring down at you and touching a hand to your cheek. "I wish I could keep you like this forever."

You pulled him down for one more sweet lingering kiss before pushing him away again. "C'mon take me home."

[bloodyknucklesforme]

I Know I've Kissed You Before | Carnal XVII

Carnal (adjective) : relating to or given to crude bodily pleasures and appetites

The aftermath of the hunt

Masterpost

CW: cannibalism, rape mention, smut

This is very much a horror fic mostly based around the films Raw (2017) and Bones and All (2022), if you sit through those you should be good here. This is my first horror fic.

Chapter Title Credit: Pink in The Night by Mitski

In his dreams she was a rabbit and he was a dog. His mouth clenched tightly around her neck. She was screaming and fighting, kicking at his chest until she could do nothing but twitch. Blood dribbled from her mouth and onto the stone as he dropped her at Simon’s feet. 

“Good boy.” Simon patted his head before scooping her up with a tea towel. He followed inside to the kitchen where he laid her on the butcher block. He drooled onto the floor as Simon snapped her neck and began to dress her, loud tears as her fur and skin was ripped from her meat. When he cut her open it wasn’t the normal mess of organs, just a constant flow of warm, red blood. It flooded over the edge of the block and onto the floor where he hungrily licked it up. It tasted like vanilla. 

He was alone when he woke up. The rest of the bed empty and made. Simon’s doing. The room still smelled like him and Nina. Sweet and woody. He got up and found a pair of sweats before making his way downstairs. He could smell tea - black and sweet. 

Downstairs had a cold draft, he followed it outside where Simon sat on one of the iron patio chairs with Nina tucked into his lap wrapped in a quilt. Her blonde hair stuck out in messy tangles. She was taking small sips out of a steaming mug while Simon’s sat on the ground beside them. They weren’t talking. Simon stared out towards the garden and field into the woods. . It was barely dusk and the first snow of the season had started over night leaving a dusting of white over the browned landscape. 

“Good morning.” Johnny said to announce himself. Nina perked up and reached out for him. He took her hand and kissed her knuckles. Her face was more scratched up than he noticed last night. There was still a smear of black makeup around her eyes. 

Guilt gnawed at him. He shouldn’t have let her go alone. He should have gone looking for her sooner. The rage he felt when he turned the corner, saw the man from earlier and smelled the blood. He was at the end of the hall faster than he could think, a knife pulled from his pocket. He’d been trained to kill. He was a soldier. His speciality was clearing buildings, fast and cleanly. He shredded that man. His hands were shaking. If he had more time he would have torn him apart slowly, ripping skin off with his teeth . He only stopped stabbing because the blade broke off. 

Simon was the one who rescued her. He had the sense to open the door and find her. Seeing her face down on the ground, made his stomach twist. He thought he was too late. He could still smell the blood on her. On all of them. 

“How are you feeling?” he asked. Simon’s free hand had found itself on the small of Johnny’s back, pulling him in closer till the iron arm of the chair dug into his leg. 

“I’m okay.” She said softly. “Tired still.”

Simon pulled her closer to him as well, letting her head rest against his shoulder. Johnny leaned against the chair, his hand holding the base of Simon’s neck. It felt natural for the three of them to be like this, holding onto each other. 

He couldn’t say he was a good partner. He must have done something wrong for Simon to leave him or to make Nina think he’d leave her. He tried, was attentive, empathetic, dedicated. Maybe loyal to a fault. He’d followed Simon around like a dog for those Spring and Summer months. Got kicked like one too. 

He wouldn’t let her hunt again. He didn’t want to make rules for her after his injury and what happened last night, Simon seemed to be the only one fit to do it. His grip on Simon tightened to steady his shaking hand. He didn’t want to lose either of them. 

“Let’s get you inside.” Simon said not to either of them in particular. “Johnny grab the tea.”

He carried their mugs inside while Simon carried Nina. She was wearing some clothes at least. Looked like his boxers and a sweater. Simon was only wearing boxers. Crazy get. 

They set her up on the couch in the living room. Tea in arms reach. 

“Johnny and I will make breakfast. Call if you need anything.” Simon rubbed her cheek with his knuckles. A couple days ago he would have gaped at this show of affection, now he felt like Simon was the only one worthy to give it. 

Johnny sat at the little table, staring into his tea. Scottish breakfast with cream and honey. Simon was always good at the little details.

Eggs and what looked like bacon were cooking on a pan on the stove. 

Two hands laid on his shoulders, rubbing the muscles. 

“How’s my boy?”

“Not well…” Johnny admitted. His hands were shaking again. Residual rage coursed through him thinking about how that man was in the basement, locked away in the freezer. He couldn’t hurt her yet he still wanted to cut him to pieces. Make sure he could never come back. Burn it all, let the wind take it away. 

“She’s safe now.” Simon cupped Johnny’s face and turned to face him.. “We protected her. We got her home. We killed the cunts that hurt her and we’ll do it again if we need to.”

Johnny pressed his forehead against Simon’s. He didn’t remember the last time they touched like this. That cottage by the sea, blood still on their lips with Simon slotted between his legs. He wanted to crawl back into bed with Nina at his front and Simon at his back. He wanted to taste them both at once. He wanted to keep Nina and take back Simon. Eating his cake over and over again.  

“The food’s burning…” He choked out. He wanted to kiss him, let him fuck his worries away. Johnny’s hand was on Simon’s chest, palm over his heart. 

“Go keep her company.” He nodded. “I’ll bring breakfast in a bit.”

She was still curled up where he left her - knees tucked to her chest. Johnny sat down next to her and helped her into his lap. His hand rubbing her back under the quilt. He kissed along her hair line. “I got’cha. Not letting go.” 

Her quietness stung. She was never chatty like him but she’d whisper and giggle to him. He would mould himself to her, wrap himself around her to keep her safe and warm. Hand feed her, breath from his mouth.

She turned and hugged him, legs around his waist and her face in the crook of his neck. He pulled the quilt over both of them.

“We won’t leave ya, Neen. You’re our girl.” Our girl… not just his. His and Simon’s. Their girl. 

Simon brought breakfast in on a tray. 3 plates with eggs, bacon and toast. Johnny fed Nina, letting her relax against his chest. Simon fed him, sat next to the two of them, resting his free arm along Johnny’s shoulders. 

“I want a bath,” She said untangling herself from him. Her legs were covered in bruises. Johnny wanted to kiss each one, a healing touch. 

“I’ll clean up.” Simon said, gathering the plates. He nodded his head for Johnny to follow her. 

She liked the water hot and he winced as he got into the tub with her. His legs stinging. 

“You’re gonna cook us both.” He chuckled, kissing her shoulder. 

“Simon…he kissed me last night or this morning. I don’t really know what time it was.”

“Oh…err… did you want him to?” He tried to overcome the wave of nausea that hit him. Not out of jealousy, worry maybe. 

“I guess… I wasn’t really thinking about it. I couldn’t sleep so he took me downstairs and I ate and then he kissed me. I was worried you’d be upset… I don’t really know what we all are.”

It was a good question.

“I think if we want, the three of us can be something together.”

“Is that something people do?”

“We’re the only people like us so I don’t think it matters what other people do.”

“I think I’d like that. Being with both of you… up until last night I thought Simon didn’t like me very much.”

“That’s just how he is. Took us almost dying for him to admit he liked me.” 

She giggled at that, leaning back against his chest. He washed her hair for her. Washed her face and body. He piled bubbles up on top of her head just to make her smile. He helped dry her hair and wrapped her in a towel. Got new clothes for her. His shirt and her panties. He tucked her back into bed. Rubbed her back until she fell asleep. 

Simon was watching from the doorway. 

“Thought she’d be worse.” He said, shutting the door behind Johnny. 

“She’s tough.” He said. “Wish I’d done more to protect her.”

“We won’t let it happen again.” Simon took a step forward, backing Johnny against the wall. “You ripped that cunt to pieces, Johnny.”

He closed his eyes and breathed Simon in. Cedar swirling around in his head like a boa constrictor.

“You kissed her?”

“Jealous?”

“Of her.” He admitted. “I miss yo-”

Simon’s mouth was on his. Commanding and all consuming. Memories of this time last year flooded his head. The two of them in dive bars and club corners. In cars and alleyways. Simon inside him. Johnny in his mouth. 

“What did I do wrong?” He broke, holding Simon back. “Last Summer. What did I do?”

He wouldn’t fuck it up again.

“You didn’t do anything, Johnny.” Simon kissed him again. It didn’t settle his soul. Johnny was a weak man though, he knew that much, because he ignored it and kept his mouth on Simon’s. He missed the taste, the feel, the warmth. 

“I want you.” He breathed. “I want you so much.” 

He might cry if he was rejected now. 

“Not here. Don’t want to wake her. We’ll go to the stables.”

Johnny nodded. 

Simon having lube on hand didn’t surprise Johnny. He was moaning shamelessly, bent over the counter of the tack room. Simon had already worked two fingers inside of him. His legs were shaking, Simon was pressed against him, hunched over his body, grunting dirty things in his ear. 

“Tight as ever, Johnny.” 

“Pleasepleaseplease,” he prayed. Simon’s fingers scissored inside him, gently stretching him open. Almost four months without. He would have treasured their last time if he knew it was the last. In the sand, at sunset, on the beach down the trail from their rented cottage. Romantic actually. More than this was. 

“Missed this.” Simon breathed, nipping at Johnny’s ear. “Missed splitting you open.”

Precum dripped against the front of the cabinet. He was glad Nina never came in here. Less worry for cleaning up. His mind still floats around her. He’d like to have his head between her thighs right now. It might be the only thing to make this better, trapped between the two of them. 

“Where you drifting off to, Johnny?” Simon tugged on his hair. It was longer than he preferred but Simon always liked something to hold. “You thinking about her?”

“Yeah…” He shuddered. Simon’s hand wrapped around his cock, pumping him teasingly. 

“You wish she was here too?”

“Yes.” 

Simon lined himself up with Johnny’s hole. Drool ran from his mouth onto the counter. He was white knuckling the edge. He needed this more than air, more than meat. 

“Close your eyes, Johnny. Think of Nina.” He licked behind Johnny’s ear, melting him. It burned in a familiar good way like holding your hand too close to a fire. 

“Fuc…k simon. Fuck please.”He keened. 

“I got you, Johnny. Just relax.” He pumped him faster, timing it with his thrusts. “I’ll take care of you.”

Johnny’s eyes rolled back into his head, letting Simon take control of his body and mind.

It was almost lunch time when they got back to the house. Nina was still asleep. 

“Clean up. Then bring her down for lunch.” Simon said, kissing his temple before disappearing downstairs.

“Hey, love. How are you feeling?” Johnny brushed the hair out of her face. She blinked up at him with a frown.

“You smell like Simon.” He turned red. She cupped his cheek. “You’re pretty when you’re embarrassed.”

There was a torso sitting on the butcher block in the kitchen. Simon had his usual array of knives sitting out next to it. Nina leaned closer to him. 

“C’mere. Both of you.” Simon nodded. 

Nina stood between them, a hand in each of their pockets to steady herself. 

“It’s okay.” Johnny cooed, rubbing her shoulder.

“Cut it, Nina.” Simon offered her the knife. 

“No,no, I… I can’t.” She was blocked from moving by Simon’s arm gripping her waist. He leaned over her, their foreheads almost touching.

“You can and you will. This is your kill. You took the first bite. You need to do it. There’s no difference between this and what you did last night.” Johnny wrapped his arm above Simon’s and kissed her shoulder. “He was going to rape you, Nina. He was going to rape you and then gut you.”

She held back a gag and turned away, tears pricking her eyes. Simon grabbed her chin and forced her to look back at him.

“I ate the men who raped me.” Johnny bit his tongue to hold back any look of shock or horror at Simon’s words. “Animals get treated like animals. Cut him and eat.”

Nina took the knife in a shaking hand. Simon held his hand over hers to steady it and motioned for Johnny to do the same. He’d seen couples do this to cut cakes at weddings. Tears were rolling down her cheeks.

“You can do it,” Johnny soothed. 

They followed her hand as she cut down into the muscle.

“There you go,” Simon cooed, kissing her tears away.  “I need to know you’ll be able to take care of yourself when we’re gone. My brave girl.”

Nina’s tears were replaced with an angry frown as she cut. A righteous anger that steadied her hand.

They butchered him together. Till the torso was broken down to pieces, wrapped in paper and twine with Simon’s handwritten labels. 

 When it was done they sat together in the living room. Nina’s head in Johnny’s lap and her legs in Simon’s. He pet her hair while Simon rubbed her legs. 

“I’m sorry, Simon.” She said softly. “I didn’t know.”

“No one does…did. Just you two.” He shrugged. Johnny leaned his head against Simon’s shoulder, nuzzling him. Simon wrapped his arm around Johnny. “You’re a fighter, Nina. You have to be.”

It started to snow again. 

Tag list: @gogh-with-the-flow @queen-ilmaree @cathnoneofyourbusiness @pssytrux

[slashmagpie]

Blood & Snow

Pt. I

Directory: {Pt. II} {Pt. III} {Pt. IV} {Pt. V} {Pt. VI} {Pt. VII} {AO3}

Welcome to my @hermithorrorweek fic! I spent a while trying to figure out seven different fic concepts based on the prompt, and kept coming up blank, up until I decided to combine them all and write a single fic, with each prompt being the theme for a different chapter. Blood & Snow is the result, and at the time of posting it is not quite complete, but I'm excited to share it with you nonetheless. I'm hoping to post a chapter once per day, but later chapters may be delayed depending on how long it takes me to get them written. Some of this builds off concepts I played with in some of my earlier Decked Out 2 ficlets, which you can find in my writing tag. TWs for this chapter include: non-consensual body modification*, unreality*, panic attacks

I. GAME MECHANICS

Game design is simple, really.

Well, no, it’s difficult—but the principles behind it are simple. Make it fun. Make it challenging. Make it rewarding. 

Decked Out 2 is a game.

To be more precise, it’s a long-running, deck-building, dungeon-crawling game. It’s competitive. It has rewards—bragging rights, for one. Trophies, for another. If you win, you can get crowns, and buy things to make you more powerful, to make the game more fun. You get frost embers, which are used to build the deck, and—

Clank is Decked Out’s central mechanic. Trigger a shrieker, generate clank. Easy as that. Taking your artefact will also generate clank, because it angers the spirits of the dungeon. That’s another important thing about game design: atmosphere. Design. Having something that feels cohesive. So—no, max clank isn’t quite as dangerous as it should be, but very few mobs would work to replace the vex, because, well, they’re not the spirits of the dungeon, and—

Hazard is generated every thirty-seven seconds, roughly. It used to be thirty, but that lined up with card draws, and the sound cues were hard to keep track of. So. Hazard is generated every thirty-seven seconds, roughly. Hazard makes the dungeon more dangerous to traverse, by closing doors, raising pathways, and otherwise making certain routes more dangerous or downright impossible to cross. People underestimate hazard at first, but quickly find out that hazard kills. When clank maxes out, that turns into hazard too, because max clank wasn’t dangerous enough by itself, because the vexes aren’t doing their damn jobs—

There were two older systems that got replaced. Not a lot of people know that. Focus could be built up, would synergise with other cards, but it was just—it wasn’t working. It got reworked. No one would miss it. Delve was a difficulty setting, but it was dumb, just press a button to choose your difficulty, that works way better, and—

Game design is simple, really. 

Decked Out is not a game.

Had it ever been a game? In its first iteration, back in season seven, had it hungered the way it does now? Had it slept, slumbering beneath the earth, soaking in blood that would slowly, slowly bring it to life? When the idea had wormed its way into Tango’s head, a sequel—had that been his own thought? Does it matter if it was?

He’d certainly thought it was. Began drafting up plans, re-evaluating what he’d done in the past and putting better spins on them. Decked Out 2 would be huge, would be the biggest project he’d ever worked on, but it wouldn’t take that long. Surely.

…Thirteen months later, Decked Out 2 opened its doors.

Thirteen months. It had started as a hole, as many things do. A hole, a build, a plan, a citadel—Tango had thrown himself into it like he would with any huge project. And at first it had been—it had been a project. A build, a game. A giant hole filled with promise. A castle built in a week. Just Hermitcraft things. The usual.

When had it started? When he’d dug, and dug, for hours and hours upon end? When he’d carved jagged-looking scars into the landscape and dragged the citadel up from them? When he’d started building level one? When he’d begun assembling the redstone? When the ravagers and wardens began to roam its halls? When did Decked Out come alive?

…Had it always been alive?

Okay, better question: when did—

A frozen shard is placed into the barrel. The door lights up, sounds play. The door opens. The hermit—Joe?—begins to take off their armour and items and set up the game. A difficulty button is pressed. A shulker is placed into its slot. The cards begin to filter through the system. A minecart ride, and a pressure plate—

Decked Out turns on.

The Dungeon watches carefully, hungrily. A shrieker triggers. A hazard door closes. The game is running, the game is alive, the game is always alive—

The Dungeon Master floats, untethered, bodiless, watching, speaking, unheard, unseen. His body stands in the dark, empty, eyes sightless and lungs unbreathing. Why would he need to breathe? Dungeons don’t need to breathe, after all. Games don’t need to breathe. And Decked Out isn’t a game, not really, but it still works on principles of game design, and none of those principles require the game to breathe.

So the Dungeon watches, and the Dungeon Master watches, and Joe runs straight into the blood-stained horns of a ravager, and—

And—

Tango tries to blink. To breathe. A hazard door slams open and closed. The wires are crossed, that’s not—he needs to go—an attempt to step forward dispenses a stack of frost embers into the dungeon. They’re not supposed to do that. That’s a bug, he needs to fix—

He needs his hands—

Stone walls aren’t fingers, but they flex all the same, groaning under the strain—

There’s an itching in his legs. Skulk creeps up the walls. This wasn’t supposed to happen. This isn’t—

It’s dark. A warden sniffs. A shrieker howls. Stone becomes sinew becomes skulk becomes shadow becomes smoke becomes a soul. The Dungeon Master wrenches open his sightless eyes, and the Dungeon sees—

(Buildings aren’t meant to have panic attacks. Neither are dungeons. Nor games. But Decked Out is not a game, never really has been, and Tango—)

Joe and Hypno stare in bafflement at the flickering availability metre outside of the dungeon. “Tango, fix your game!” Hypno cries, and—

Ha.

Here’s a better question: when did Tango become Decked Out?

[notsocheezy]

Brain Curd #421

Brain Curds are barely-edited fiction, poetry, or just about anything else - drafted in a day or less. Go ahead - try it on.

Part 58 of an experiment in progress. Refer to case logs.

Dad wasn’t home when I got back from school, since he was still at his day job as front desk at a hotel down on front street. Which is good, because I didn’t want company.

I closed the bedroom door behind me and unpacked my find: the floral top. I had no idea if it would fit me - I didn’t have time to check the size - but for once, I had an article of girls’ clothes that belonged to me. I shut the blinds and took off my shirt.

The fabric of the top was soft, like the cloth that comes with a new pair of glasses (though, ironically, I always just use my shirt). I brought it up over my head and dived inside. It yielded to me, but clung to my body as it slid down my chest. My arms popped through, then my head, and I adjusted the fit. I almost looked like I had a waist when I wore it - though maybe I was just fooling myself. It’s not as though there was a mirror in my room, thank god.

The puffy sleeves made my shoulders seem even bigger, and it didn’t quite go all the way down my belly, but I didn’t care. It was the most comfortable shirt I’d ever worn.

My hair, which hadn’t been cut in a few months, was thrown out of whack by the costume change - which reminded me about the butterfly hair clip. I dug it out from the bottom of my junk drawer and stuck it in my hair, wherever it was willing to go. I knew I didn’t look it, but I felt kind of… cute. Too bad the cargo shorts kinda spoiled it.

Before I could even sit down, I heard the front door open. I panicked, pulling the top over my head quick enough to pop a couple stitches, and chucked it into the bottom drawer of my desk.

Dad opened the bedroom door without knocking. “Oh… uh… I didn’t realize you were home.”

My heart was beating as though I was tied to train tracks. “Uh… ditto.”

He squinted at me. “What are you doing?”

I stopped breathing for a second. Shit. The hair clip. I brushed my hair out of my face with my hand and found that the clip wasn’t there. I was lucky - it got pulled off with the top.

“Well…” I needed an excuse. “I was going to masturbate.”

“Alright… Maybe put a sock on the door next time.”

“Will do.” He still wasn’t leaving. “Did you need something?”

“Yeah, I left some copies of my resume in the closet. I’ll just come back later…”

“Hold on, what?” I shook my head and put my shirt back on. “Did you quit your job?”

“No, they fired me! Assholes!” He grumbled and crossed his arms. “They hate when people speak the truth.”

“What did you do?”

“Why are you assuming it’s my fault?”

“Sorry, what did they say you did?”

“Stop saying sorry. They said I was harassing the guests with conspiracy theories. I wasn’t! I was having a nice conversation with some girls here on vacation about the ancient city of Sumeria.”

My brain short-circuited. “… Why?”

“Because they don’t teach about it in schools! We need to know our history or we’re doomed to repeat it.”

“What history are we doomed to repeat from Sumeria?”

“It all has to do with the Nephilim. You ever watch Ancient Aliens?”

“No, but -”

“Let me show you the YouTube video I found today. It’s crazy shit, dude.”

“Dad.”

“What?”

“I learned about Sumeria in sixth grade.”

“Well, they didn’t teach it when I went to school.” He gestured out to the living room. “Come on, it’s only twenty minutes long.”

I sighed and followed. At least it couldn’t be as bad as some of the other stuff he’d forced me to watch.

Penned 2025.05.31

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