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skimmingmilk · 2 days ago

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can’t put time on hold (my arms are full)

Sonic had never considered it before.

The life he’d led thus far had been a bit unconventional, to be fair, so when it came to certain sentiments—especially those of parents—Sonic could freely admit he was a good deal in the dark and content to be there. Not much applied as far as he was concerned, especially at this point in his (and Tails’s) lives, so he didn’t ever go out of his way to engage in those kinds of conversations.

It was only by pure happenstance that one of his runs took him past a park in Seaside City, where a small group of mothers were chatting. He’d paused at the proverbial water cooler, a park drinking fountain to get a sip of water before he continued on his way, but his ears twitched as he picked up their rather boisterous conversation from where they sat clustered on a nearby bench.

“You know what Notch said to guilt trip me the other day?” a finch mobian was saying. “That eventually you’ll pick up your child for the last time and you won’t even know it.”

“Oh, I’ve heard that one before,” a sheep mother laughed. “I’ve offered to carry Linen, but she just brushes me off and tells me I’m embarrassing her. She’s six.”

“No,” a monkey mother clutched at her heart. “That’s so sad! I can’t imagine not carrying my little ones around with me. Simone still climbs on my back every chance she gets.”

“Enjoy it while it lasts,” the finch told her. “If your kid doesn’t make you stop sooner or later, then your back definitely will.”

Sonic snorted, nearly getting water up his nose in the process. He wiped his muzzle off with his forearm, an amused brow arched as he glanced over at the mothers commiserating over the passage of time and their kids growing up. What a thing to fuss about. It was just the nature of the world. Growth and change were part of living life to the fullest, and all anyone could do was roll with the punches and try to keep up.

Shaking his head, Sonic sped off to finish the rest of his run, then made a pit stop to pick up some takeout on his way back to the Central City workshop—his and Tails’s current base of operations. While in line for chili dogs, he stood behind a family of fennec foxes, a dad with his two kids in tow. The little one was balanced on the dad’s hip, only to be set down when he needed to get his wallet out to pay for their food. The older brother glanced down as the younger started fussing, quietly shushing them. Turning their big-eyed stare on the older brother, the little one lifted their arms in a silent request to be picked back up. Though the older brother rolled his eyes, he crouched down and scooped up the kid anyway, letting them cling to his front with a long-suffering sigh.

“You’re getting a little too big for this, aren’t ya, keed?”

“Oh, but I can keep going, Sonic! I’m not tired yet, honest!”

“Heh, oh yeah? Tell that to your tails, Tails!”

Sonic’s brow furrowed as he watched the fennec fox family get their food and leave, the older brother eventually trading his younger sibling for the bag of food so their dad could take over. The frown remained as the bell over the door rang and Sonic stepped up to the counter to give his order, rattling it off from sheer muscle memory alone while his mind wandered elsewhere.

When was the last time he’d picked up Tails?

Probably to put him to bed after catching him asleep at his desk in the Mystic Ruins workshop, but it had admittedly been a while since that had happened. Not because Tails’s sleeping habits had improved—more like they’d worsened—but he was better at keeping himself awake late into the night and Sonic had been away traveling a lot more lately. A lot more…

Sometimes he’d pick him up to get him out of danger in a fight, but it had been a while since anything like that had happened, too. Tails was usually careful and Sonic was usually fast enough to just bust up whatever was putting him at risk. Or he’d grab him by the wrist and drag him out of harm’s way if it really came down to it. He remembered carrying him plenty during his transformations into the werehog, but that had been months ago at this point.

Had it really been months since he’d picked Tails up?

It wasn’t like he needed to be—kid was eight, nearly nine, after all—but a dense pit in his stomach dragged down his entire mood at the thought that Tails was like one of the kids those moms were talking about. Not because he was growing up; heck, nothing was more exciting than seeing all the ways his little bro changed every day. No, it was because it had already happened to him.

Tails’s parents—whoever they were and wherever they’d gone—put him down one day and never picked him up again. Whatever safety, comfort, and love came from being held by someone he was supposed to trust had been lost to him long before Sonic had ever met him. And one day it would happen again.

One day he’d be set down for the last time and never picked back up.

The thought stayed with him all the way back to the workshop, frown still etched onto his face as he stood in the doorway to Tails’s lab. He watched him tinker at his work table, music playing from the surround sound speakers hooked up throughout the workshop. His legs still kicked back and forth where they dangled in the air, much like they had when he’d been little, and his teeth still gnawed little indents into the end of his pencil as he hummed along to the melody, deep in concentration.

Until that concentration was promptly shattered.

“Woah!” Tails yelped, suddenly finding himself hoisted in the air from behind, pencil falling to the floor. “Sonic! What gives? Lemme go!”

Both of Sonic’s arms wrapped around Tails’s middle. The bag of takeout abandoned on the floor somewhere behind him, so he could focus entirely on holding his little brother. His squirmy, huffy, unamused little brother.

“Just checking something,” Sonic chuckled, resting his brow at the nap of Tails’s neck as the crease that had been embedded there finally faded away.

The fight left Tails as confusion replaced indignation. “Sonic?” He craned his neck back to try and check on him.

“Eh, don’t mind me.” Sonic tilted his head up and grinned shamelessly. “Knuckles just bet me that I wasn’t strong enough to carry you anymore. Had to prove him wrong!”

Tails rolled his eyes. “You interrupted my work to manhandle me because of a bet with Knuckles?”

“Well, yeah! My credibility as your big bro was on the line!”

“What credibility? It’s not like this is something you still need to be able to do. I’m not a little kid anymore.”

“Don’t I know it.” Sonic finally set him down, but he couldn’t keep from ruffling the fur between his ears. “Just means I’ll have to keep getting stronger, huh? Keep pace with ya! Trade in one of my leg days for arm days maybe. Or combine ‘em! Heh, I can carry you around while I run up the walls.”

Tails batted his hand away. “What are you even talking about? You don’t need to do that. Actually, please don’t do that.”

“C’mon, it’ll be fun! Used to carry you like that all the time when you were just a little guy! You’d practically beg me to whisk you around at top speeds!”

“Are you trying to embarrass me on purpose?” Tails grumbled, stooping down to pick up his fallen pencil.

“Aw, what’s there to be embarrassed about? And, heck, you still carry me around when I need a lift. That's part of our whole teamwork thing. How’s what I’m doing any different?”

“Because it’s actually useful for you from a tactical standpoint. You can’t fly. Having me carry you can be a strategic advantage in various circumstances. But I don’t need you to carry me, especially if it's just to use me as dead weight. There are plenty of more efficient ways for you to strength train that don’t involve lugging me around like a sack of potatoes.” Tails pointed out, jabbing the lead point of his pencil at Sonic.

Sonic’s grin wavered. “I guess. Sure.”

“Besides, if you’re looking for volunteers, I bet Amy’ll be more than willing.”

“Yeah…”

“Or ask Knuckles since you’re so eager to prove to him how strong you are,” Tails scoffed, hopping back onto his chair. “Heck, you can just carry around weights or a giant rock or an actual sack of potatoes and you’d get the same results.” With a shake of his head, he turned his back on him. “Sometimes your competitiveness can really blind you to the dozens of more logical options that don’t involve dragging me into whatever show you’ve gotta put on. But congratulations, I guess. You win. If Knuckles asks, I’ll let him know you sure showed him.”

Sonic rubbed the back of his quills, glancing away. “No, that’s not… I just made that up on the spot, bud, I wasn’t—” He cut himself off with a wince when Tails turned to look at him. “There was no bet with Knuckles. I just wanted to pick you up.”

Tails stared at him. “And you didn't just say that because…?”

Sonic’s ears lowered. “While I was on my run, I overheard this conversation. About how everyone gets put down one day as a kid and never picked up again. Just got me thinking, that’s all. Couldn’t remember the last time I carried you.”

“Seriously?” Tails arched his brow in disbelief, but at least whatever irritable storm clouds that had been hanging over his head cleared up and an amused grin stretched his muzzle. “Jeez. Since when did you get so sappy?”

Sonic shrugged half-heartedly, still refusing to look at him as he crossed his arms. Embarrassment prickled along his spine, but it paled in comparison to the sting of rejection. Maybe this was what those mothers meant. It wasn’t so much the growing up that hurt as it was the growing apart. Not that they didn’t need you anymore, but that they didn’t want you either.

A heavy sigh broke the silence, then Tails hopped out of his seat to stand in front of him again. “Two weeks ago.”

One of Sonic’s ears swiveled towards him. “Huh?”

“You picked me up two weeks ago after I fixed your Extreme Gear,” he sighed, but exasperated fondness was reflected on his face. “You hefted me up on your shoulder and paraded me around the workshop until you tripped and I had to catch you before you fell flat on your face. And a week before that, you picked me up off the couch and carried me to bed when I fell asleep during movie night. I told you I could go to bed by myself and you said, ‘nice try, spaghetti legs. You can’t fool me with those limp noodles ya call limbs.’”

“Heh.” Sonic’s muzzle quirked up, the impersonation of him terrible on purpose. “Yeah, that… that sounds about right.”

Tails’s expression softened as he reassured him, “You haven’t put me down for the last time yet, but if I ever feel like it’s been too long, I’ll let you know.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it.” Sonic immediately brushed it off, the prickle of embarrassment escalating into an all-out itch with the realization that he’d shown too much of his hand. “It’s not that big a deal. Just something that got into my head, that’s all. I bet I won’t even be thinking about it in a few days. Won’t even remember this conversation even happened!”

“Okay, well… what if I don’t think I’m ready for it to have been the last time?” Tails glanced away as he shifted to hold onto one arm; and Sonic could see his little buddy was fighting against every independent instinct in his body to let him know that. The desire to be seen as grown-up and capable always at odds with his too-big heart. “I mean, like I said, I don’t need to be carried or anything, but… sometimes it’s nice.”

Hope reignited in an instant. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Tails shrugged, the same jerky motion Sonic had just displayed moments again. “Not as strength training or to prove a point or anything, just sometimes... I dunno. Just feels like I haven’t been forgotten.”

Sonic’s grin grew and for the second time he scooped his little brother up into his arms and held him up off the ground, only this time it got a surprised giggle out of him instead. “That’s ‘cuz you’re unforgettable, little bro!” he declared.

Tails latched onto his shoulders to steady himself, even if he knew Sonic wouldn’t let him fall. “Shut up,” he laughed, removing one hand to playfully bop him on the nose. “I was being serious, you know.”

“So was I.” Sonic stopped his whirlwind to focus on the kid he knew he’d always be able to carry with ease. “I know you don’t need it, too, but you’re right. It is nice sometimes.”

“Finally, we’re on the same page again,” Tails snickered. “And about time, too. Our lunch is probably getting cold.”

He pointed at the takeaway bag still sitting on the floor and Sonic’s smile turned sheepish. “Whoops. Eh, I’m sure it’s fine.” He gave Tails a little bounce as a warning, then tossed him in the air so he could start hovering with a whirl of his tails. “Race ya to the kitchen, spaghetti legs!”

“I’ll make you eat those words!” Tails zoomed after him.

Sonic had never considered the idea that he'd one day put Tails down for the last time before, because there was nothing to consider. He could always count on Tails to have his back and lift him up when he needed it. And as long as he could help it, Sonic would always be there to return the favor. They’d keep changing and growing as time went by, but that was one thing that would remain a constant.

One thing they’d never have to doubt.

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A/N: This is just a little something I wrote a while back that I've been sitting on, lol. These kinds of fics are always fun to play out, but they definitely feel like shameless indulgence on my part xD But it's been a minute and the fic I was hoping to have done this week isn't ready yet, so thought this would be a cute, silly thing to have in the meantime. Might put this on AO3 in the Little Gestures set? Since Sonic needed the reassurance here a bit more than Tails, lol. But we'll see!

#sonic fanfiction #sonic the hedgehog #miles tails prower #sonic and tails #they're brothers your honor #unbreakable bond #the picket fence timeline #the growing pains of a child raising a child lol #best friend big bro and mom dad and picket fence <3 #family fluff #~2000 words #skimmilk stories #wholesome sonic and tails wednesday

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grandline-fics · 14 hours ago

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hello can I request Luffy for true loves kiss for ur valentine's event? ur prompts are super cute btw!! I literally was stressing over which character to pick for this prompt 😭

DESCRIPTION: True Love's Kiss- The moment they realise they're in love

WARNINGS: none

CHARACTERS: Luffy

WORDS: 1,046

A/N: This was also requested by @destynelseclipsa. I hope you both like what I came up with for this one and that it's to your liking. Thank you for the request and Happy Valentine's day guys

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST | KO-FI | VALENTINES EVENT MASTERLIST

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When the Strawhats docked at the island that morning the crew became confused about being told they wouldn’t be allowed to enter properly just yet. The explanation given was that there was a festival being prepared in the city’s centre for the evening and it would be too difficult to get everything ready in time with outsiders getting in the way. Most of the crew understood and settled in for an afternoon on the ship. Luffy, however became all but impossible to control. Knowing there was a city-wide party just hours away from happening left him a ball of frantic energy just wanting to sneak into the city centre and take a peek at what was to come.

Nami had been yelling at him to behave and just be patient, with Zoro and Sanji holding him firmly in place under the navigator’s instruction but still they struggled. If Luffy wanted to break free he would. You knew it was only a matter of time before he broke, with Nami soon following suit so you decided to get ahead of things to ensure everyone had a good time at the festival.

Getting up from your seat you approached your Captain and boyfriend. Even with your steps being casual against the Sunny’s deck and muted over the sounds of Sanji, Zoro, and Nami’s yelling, the second you drew near Luffy’s head turned immediately towards you and his dark but bright eyes fixed on you. Anything the others were saying, were completely drowned out by this point as he smiled happily at you.

“You can go peek if you want, Luffy but it’ll just be boring. There won’t be any cooked food ready at this point and maybe a couple stalls built.” You explained with a shrug. “If you want to see that you can just go to Franky and Usopp’s workshops and see what they’re working on right? Or we could stay here and see if Sanji would make something to tide us all over before the festival?”

Sanji jerked when Luffy effortlessly pulled out from his and Zoro’s hold. He glanced at you and quickly grinned, anything to keep Luffy content enough to be patient and even better if he had a hand in it, it would earn him more favour with Nami. “Yeah. How about a pre-festival feast?”

The island they’d found themselves and now got to fully see was bursting with life and colour. Everyone was so cheerful, infectiously so. Luffy grinned broadly as he took in the sights and sounds overwhelming his senses in every direction. Now he was glad he listened to you and stayed on the Sunny until it was time to attend the festival. Keeping one hand firmly linked with yours, he hurried from one stall to the other taking in as many games, food, and possible trinkets to buy. Through it all you grinned at his enthusiasm, soaking up the radiant positivity and excitement that Luffy brought to the already joyous atmosphere. While Luffy was buying another local delicacy to try, Chopper called your name. You told Luffy you’d be right back and hurried over to the doctor to help him pick what to buy from a souvenir stall. Immediately Luffy pouted and watched you across the street.

“Oh I know that look.” Luffy turned to see the old man in front of the stall he was at. His confusion grew when the man grinned broadly. “That’s the face of a man in love.”

“Love?” Luffy repeated, a hint of hesitation in his tone. Quickly he glanced your direction again. Yes you were both in a relationship but love was a new topic. “What makes you think that?”

“Not think. Know.” The old man clarified with a soft laugh and shake of his head. “That hopeless, lost look you got now even when they’re so close. Besides I’ve been watching you two since you got here. It’s obvious you’re in love with how you look at them. How they’re the only thing that matters above all else.” Luffy blinked at the explanation and looked over at you again, unable and unwilling to stop the smile shaping his lips when you waved him over to join you. At the smallest beckon you gave him Luffy was already moving, needing absolutely to be as close as possible. Now with the old man’s words in his head Luffy began to consider it with more seriousness than he would have without the prompting. He truly couldn’t be without you. But did you matter more than anything else?

“Luffy! Careful!” You spoke suddenly with widened eyes. You were hurrying towards him to meet him halfway. He blinked in surprise to see you leaning down to pick up his hat from the ground. In his movements and the busy city streets, the tied rope keeping the straw hat around his neck had come undone and it had fallen. He hadn’t even noticed it was loose. He didn’t even realise or felt it had fallen. You had occupied his notice completely and even seeing it had been missing from his person for just a few seconds didn’t bring him nearly as much agitation as you leaving his side had done.

His hat, his defining image and greatest treasure truly did matter less to him compared to you. Luffy smiled when you settled the hat firmly on his head and secured the rope to make sure it didn’t slip again. Meeting your gaze Luffy was struck with the confirmation that what the old man had pointed out to him was obvious. He knew people called him clueless sometimes but in this moment he fully agreed with him. “I love you!”

“For saving your hat?” You ask with a smile. Your boyfriend was a lovable and affectionate guy so you took his statement with a carefree smile. You only froze when you saw Luffy’s stare on your face was stronger and more serious than anything you’d seen before. His declaration wasn’t one being said thoughtlessly. He meant it with every fibre of his being and it shocked and warmed you instantly. Your lips parted and your took a breath before staring at him with just as much love as he was giving you. “Love you too, Luffy.”

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TAG LIST (If I’ve missed anyone or if you want to be added just let me know) @3v37773, @tsaaps , @i-am-all-love-puns-and-lazy , @sanemisnonexistenteyebrow , @fiery-captain-spider-santa, @kabloswrld , @atanukileaf , @ane5e , @stuckinthewrongworld , @deathsmajestysworld , @cloudysunset04 , @chillerkiller , @extremely-ashtridic , @decayingpizza , @liesatemyocean , @ace-for-ace , @nerium-lil , @destynelseclipsa , @dreamcastgirl99 , @my-name-is-heartache , @iamn1ya , @yunho-leeknow , @hinata7346 , @h0oouwlss , @missrandomdreamer , @sleepykittycx , @ddawn111 , @jaygrl22 , @sylum , @acehyacinth , @resident-cryptid , @treelogirl , @maellem , @its-a-dam-blue-brick , @thulhu , @appalost , @dindjarins1ut , @irumawife , @laidenbreecatchall , @redwolfxx , @jevoislesbrasdemer , @schanwow , @pao198391 , @glitchtricks94 , @nina-ya , @48daisies , @rosemary-lungs

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pinklotushere · 2 days ago

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Dick Grayson and Tim Drake are chronic fringe fixers, though they’d never say it outright. It’s not something they talk about, not in any meaningful way. It’s just… a thing they do. A habit. A reflex. Something wired into them so deeply that even in the middle of absolute chaos, their hands will still twitch toward their hair, smoothing, fixing, making sure it’s just right.

Maybe it started as vanity once, but it’s not that anymore. It’s something closer to control, to composure, to pretending they have a handle on things when everything else is slipping between their fingers.

Dick’s been doing it since he was a kid, since before he even had a reason for it.

When he was little, his mother used to fix his hair before every performance, brushing it back with a touch so gentle it never once felt like an obligation. “You’re already perfect, my little robin,” she’d say, pressing a kiss to his forehead, “but you should still look your best.” It had been a ritual, a moment of stillness before the leap, before the spotlights, before he took to the air and did what he was born to do.

And then, suddenly, they were gone, and there was no one left to smooth his hair or press kisses to his forehead.

Bruce had never done things like that. He’d never brushed Dick’s hair back or straightened his collar or fussed over his appearance the way a parent should.

But he had expectations. He was a Wayne now, or at least, he was supposed to be. And Waynes looked the part. Waynes were always polished, always presentable, always in control.

And so, without meaning to, Dick kept the habit. If he caught his reflection in a window, his fingers would move before he even realized it, brushing his bangs back into place, fixing anything that had shifted. And in the years since, it never really stopped. Whether it was in the middle of a mission, a fight, a conversation, it didn’t matter.

He still did it. Because Dick Grayson was supposed to be effortless, wasn’t he? The easygoing one, the charismatic one, the one who never let things get to him. He had to keep looking the part, even when grief still ached beneath his ribs, even when exhaustion weighed down his bones.

Tim’s touch is sharper, more deliberate, like it’s something done out of necessity rather than comfort. His parents had never been gentle about things like appearances.

It wasn’t about affection, about soft reassurances and easy praise—it was about image. It was about always being polished, always being the best, always making sure no one had reason to criticize.

His father in particular had been meticulous about it, about making sure Tim didn’t just perform well but looked like someone who performed well. A well-groomed son was a competent son. A put-together son. A son who wouldn’t embarrass the family name.

So, Tim learned. He learned to straighten his tie before anyone could tell him to. He learned to fix his hair without needing a mirror. He learned to be perfect in the way that was expected of him, in the way that didn’t leave room for mistakes. Even now, long after his parents are gone, after everything has changed, the habit lingers.

It’s instinct. Even when he’s running on fumes, running on too much coffee and not enough sleep, his hands will still move on their own, smoothing his bangs, making sure they don’t fall too far out of place. Maybe it’s muscle memory. Maybe it’s something closer to control, to making sure he can still hold himself together even when everything else is unraveling.

Dick notices it. Of course he does. And Tim notices it in him, too.

It’s not like they say anything. Not outright. Not in a way that matters. But sometimes, in the middle of a mission, in the reflection of a shop window, or in the mirror of a rundown safe house, their eyes will meet just as they’re fixing their hair, just as their hands twitch in unison. And for a moment, there’s something unspoken between them, something that neither of them will put into words.

Then the teasing starts.

“You’re obsessed with your hair, y’know that?” Dick will say with a smirk, arms crossed, watching as Tim smooths his bangs for the third time in a minute.

Tim will roll his eyes, barely looking up. “You’re one to talk.”

And that’s as much as they’ll say about it. The teasing, the lighthearted jabs, they’re easier than admitting what it really is. That it’s habit, that it’s instinct, that it’s something they do to feel like they’re still in control.

Because some things slip. Some things fall apart. Some things get taken away before they ever get the chance to hold onto them.

But this? This, at least, is something they can still fix.

(As someone with a fringe who’s always fixing it, I saw theirs and immediately thought, “Yeah, they definitely do that too.” And then… well, it kind of spiraled into an emotional overanalysis. Oops. + if it looks like that all the time without touch ups I'll riot)

#dick grayson #tim drake #batman #they're my babies #Nightwing #red robin #robin #dc robin #timothy drake #fringe #angst #sad boys #this is what comes out when i run on 2 hours of sleep #oppsie #you cant convice me it looks like that without any touch ups

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spooklies · 2 days ago

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# Sinister - Platonic!Yan!Mark Grayson & Older!Sis!Reader

♡ ... › Her little brother saw the worst of it that night and since witnessing the death of their mother he was never the same. Gone was her sweet and joyful little brother who’s smile could rival the sun — his diminished light leaving a sinister shadow of what once was. But she has hope he could return to his former self one day, unaware of what else she lost that night.

— Words - 3.2k

♡ ... › Warning(s) - Forced imprisonment. Forced eating. Mentions of death. Dubious/nonconsensual touching (hugs, hand on jaw, etc)

She should have stayed home that night, she shouldn’t have rolled her eyes at her mother before leaving, she shouldn’t have avoided her mother when she leaned in to kiss her forehead–

But she had, and now she’ll never get the chance to make it up to her. At the age of eleven, she’d been pulled aside by her friend’s parents asking if they could drive her to the hospital to go be by Mark’s side. Initially, she had assumed Mark was the one who got hurt, possibly snuck back onto the roof despite her constant warnings of why he shouldn’t be up there, but then she was pulled into an all-encompassing embrace with the words she’ll never forget whispered into her ear sorrowfully.

Your mother had been found dead.

They’re saying your little brother had seen it all happen.

Your father hasn’t responded to any of his calls or messages either, so they’re asking if you could go be by Mark’s side since he’s all alone at the hospital right now.

The drive to the hospital was spent with her staring at her hands as tension pounded into the sides of her head. She’d done her best not to think about her mother or the way they’d left things off earlier and instead put all her focus on Mark and his well-being. She couldn’t even begin to fathom what he must be feeling if what they were saying was true – at just seven years old, he’d watched his mother be killed.

She spent the rest of the drive trying not to puke, and by the time she made it to Mark all of the adrenaline that had been building up was instantly expelled. She ran to Mark’s side and pulled him into a hug, the blanket they had him draped in the only thing between them for a moment before she felt his little arms peek out from the fabric to wrap around her in return.

“You’re okay now, Mark. I got you, everything will be okay,” She continued to whisper to him, her lips meeting the crown of his head after each sentence. The more she repeated the reassurances, the more she questioned who they were really for – him or herself. Meanwhile, Mark hadn’t uttered a sound, nor had he shed a single tear like she’d started to. She found it concerning at first, and when she was pulled away from Mark and ushered out of the room she’d asked the nurses about why her little brother wasn’t saying anything, or why he wasn’t reacting like she was.

Mark was just recently traumatized, they explained. He’s most likely suffering through the first symptom of that which is shock. And given his recent witness of events, he’ll need to receive a constant flow of attentive care and affection from here on out. As his older sister, she didn’t hesitate in promising the nurses as well as herself that night that she’d do just that. She’d take her role as his older sister more seriously, unknowing that in Mark’s mind, he’d made a similar vow; to ensure that he’ll never be so weak as to let someone he cares about be hurt ever again.

\\\

Life after their mother’s death was incomparable to what it once was. With their father stricken with grief and a new motive for revenge against the person who’d taken his wife from him, he’d begun teaching her and Mark how to fight. She’d played along with the lessons in the beginning, if only for Mark’s sake. She wanted to be someone he could rely on more thoroughly, and the other reason which she wouldn’t outwardly admit given how allergic to affection her father had become, was seeing how happy the training made Mark.

It was rare to see her little brother smile so much after that eventful night, she’d done everything in her power to bring back that spark by using methods that would’ve worked before. She got him his favorite comics and even offered to read them with him. She offered countless times to play catch with him in their backyard all the while regretting the numerous times he used to do the same and she would decline. But none of her methods worked nowadays, the only ones that did were when she asked to spar and practice a new move she learned.

Mark was competitive, more so than before. He never held back with each punch, leaving her with a bruise or two on more occasions than not. Meanwhile, she let him. She knew that with her taller frame and more developed muscles she’d be able to win each fight effortlessly, but she wanted to be the reason her little brother smiled again – whether that be in victory from a fight, or when she’d playfully throw him to the ground and begin tickling him while pretending to be an enemy called, “The Tickle Monster”.

She tried her best to give Mark that semblance of a childhood back, it’s what their mother would have wanted. But she’s not around to help guide them anymore, which left their father in full control. His way of parenting contradicted everything their mother had preached; where she was gentle, he was harsh. He’d see the bruises Mark would give her and pull her aside and out of earshot to call her weak-minded for letting someone else win a fight they shouldn’t have won in the first place. And instead of arguing back, she’d bite her tongue, making empty promises to not do it again only to break that promise the very next day.

A bridge had begun to build between them, and she had convinced herself that she was fine with it. If it meant Mark could be a kid for a little longer, then she’d make those necessary sacrifices in a heartbeat. So by the time she turned eighteen and still hadn’t developed her powers, she was cast aside by him in favor of Mark. With her bags packed and at the door, she was quick to train her expression into calm neutrality at Mark’s expected appearance.

“You’re leaving? But why?” Anger carved harsh lines across Mark’s face, hardening his jaw and turning his cheekbones into slashes of tension. She felt a pinprick of anxiety poke its way into her heart, the sound of her blood pumping making her almost dizzy.

“I have to, Mark. Dad doesn’t want me around and… and this house isn’t what it used to be.” She needed a change of pace, she’d spent so long putting all of her time and energy into keeping the family together. But after all of these years of failure, it was time she faced reality and lived for herself for once.

“You can’t just leave! What would… what would mom say?” She shut her eyes, inhaling her initial anger at his words, and then exhaling any regrets she could have possibly felt at that moment towards Mark.

“Don’t, if Mom was here then she would have scolded you for even saying that.” Mark huffed, shaking his head and then turning away from her, his fists clenched.

“You can’t survive on your own, you’re weak. You’ll regret doing this.”

Y/n took in his words, and as she processed them another realization settled in – one she’d kept buried in the recesses of her mind.

“I know, and I’m sorry.” At her confession, Mark scoffed and walked back to his room. By the time he was out of frame, she cupped her mouth and hiccuped, tears warming her eyes and causing her nose to sting as if she were breathing in water instead of air.

She had failed Mark – she’d failed as an older sister.

After she’d left her childhood home and all but abandoned what she had left of her family, she stopped receiving random texts and calls from Mark. It wasn’t until four years later that all of that would change when the world would be forced to plummet into despair when she’d see him again.

But he was different, attempting to compare him to the sweet and outgoing boy from their youth was laughable. She’d heard of him through the news before everything would be changed to “Viltrumite” propaganda, that a person dressed in yellow and black had begun enslaving humans alongside the man she recognized to be her father.

So like everybody else, she’d gone into hiding. People who resisted the Viltrumite empire were slaughtered without remorse. And after a while rumors had begun to spread that those who went into hiding were deemed rebels too. She’d carved her death sentence the moment she joined a group known as the Resistance, that fact would only be given more merit when more rumors began to spread, this time involving her specifically.

“They’re looking for a person who matches your description, Y/n. And they’ve promised a reward to the first person to turn you in.” Eve, a prominent figure in the resistance, had been the first to break the news to her. Her features were drawn into concern, but her eyes told her a different story.

She had considered it at one point.

“And you’re telling me this because..?”

“I’m trying to warn you, there are people here who wouldn’t hesitate in turning you in if it means they get to save their hide.”

A hypocrite, everyone who had considered turning her in, or currently still is was a huge hypocrite in her eyes. But she needed to hear Eve out, she knows better than to take things like this at only its surface level. And what she’s beginning to understand from her words caused dread to coil furiously inside her gut.

“You’re going to suggest I leave, aren’t you?”

Eve heaved out an exasperated sigh, her elbows which were propped on the table they sat at brought into a position where she could cover her face with her hands. “I’m sorry, Y/n. I’ll give you supplies to leave with, but you being here risks the entire foundation of this group. People could begin turning on each other, or worse, they could start killing if it meant being the person who turns you in first.”

She didn’t want to argue with her either, she’d spent a year at the resistance already and the whole time of her staying there, she’d rarely contributed to the few excursions she was sent on. It was clear she’d overstayed her welcome, and that Eve wasn’t suggesting – she was demanding that she leave.

So without bothering to argue, she did. But without a clear destination in mind, she was lost. The rations they supplied her with were just enough to get by for a few days, a small mercy to reprieve the possible guilt they felt for forcing one of their own to fend for themselves in the ruins of what once was. She kept to the shadows, never lingering in one place for long, and found clothes to keep her identity better hidden. After a week of surviving on her own, videos began to display on every screen she’d come across – Mark, in his recent attire, asking that she come back home.

She didn’t want to for numerous reasons, but then the lives of others were threatened, a dozen people would be killed each day she didn’t return. So with a heavy heart, she finally relented and returned to the one place she promised to never return to.

She went home.

Upon opening the door, she was surprised to see everything perfectly intact. The other houses in the neighborhood were either ransacked or destroyed altogether. But stepping inside her old home was akin to traveling back in time. With trembling hands, she approached a picture frame of her family, her eyes immediately zeroing in on her mother’s smiling face as she held both her and Mark in her arms.

She didn’t know how long she was standing there just staring and stuck reminiscing in nostalgia, but she’d been there long enough to hear the door open and for the setting sun to paint the living room in orange hues. His shadow somewhat blocked her view of the picture frame, his arms wrapping around her and pulling her into his chest was what blocked it entirely. He smelled of smoke and iron – she tried not to dwell on the implications of it either. His arms, which she remembered used to be barely long enough to reach the top of the counter, now held her in a vice-like grip as if she were still a flight risk. He rested his chin on top of her head and exhaled a shaky breath, a smile apparent in his voice as he said,

“I knew you’d come back,”

She wanted to curse at him, to refute his statement and defend her reasons for ever stepping foot in this place again. But Mark had become someone beyond reason – he only listened to what he wanted to hear. That day when she’d left, he claimed that she’d come to regret her decision. But Mark was wrong, she didn’t regret leaving, she regretted staying for as long as she had.

\\\

Mark never let her leave the house, claiming that she’d become all skin and bones compared to the last time he saw her, and that as a human she was more susceptible to disease given her prolonged lack of nutrients. She wanted to argue back with, “And who’s fault is that?” but bit her tongue, opting to give him the silent treatment instead. He’d tut, claiming her to be the childish one now whenever he didn’t get a response, and then he would leave her be as she remained cooped up in her old room. And like everything else in the house, nothing had changed. A few pictures of her as a kid enjoying her old hobbies had been moved around, some flipped upside down and others remained standing.

She had a guess on who had messed with her things, but she didn’t have plans to call him out on it anytime soon.

\\\

“Seriously? You haven’t touched a single thing on your plate!” Mark exclaimed, walking over to her untouched food with a scowl. “Wasn’t it you who used to scold me for skipping out on meals?”

She was bundled up in her blankets, her knees pulled to her chest as she faced away from him. She saw the irony in his words and remembered back when their mother had first died how difficult it was for Mark to finish meals if she weren’t around. It took their father reprimanding him and promising a more sure method to motivate him to eat again for Mark to change his bad habits.

She hopes Mark doesn’t resort to the same methods.

“Y/n… I even got your favorite, can’t you at least be a little bit grateful?”

She ignored him, like usual. Today it would seem that Mark wasn’t in the mood for her defiant nature. She heard the bed creak beside her, her entire body tensing at the proximity before she felt a hand grip onto her shoulder, just tight enough for the pressure to sting faintly.

“Fine, but don’t say I didn’t give you a chance to eat by yourself.”

Fingers were suddenly wrapped around her jaw, forcing her to turn in his direction. Mark was unmasked, his eyes set into a glare as his eyes followed his other hand which came up with a pinch of her discarded dinner. Her eyes widened when she realized what he was about to do, she tried to squirm out of his grasp but given their difference in strength it was futile. His fingers were forced down her throat, she gagged and tried to spit the foot back out but everything he was giving her was forcefully swallowed. He made sure it was.

By the time the food on her plate was gone, she was a mess, snot running down her nose and tears pouring out from her eyes and dripping down her chin. Mark let out a sigh and finally released his grip on her in favor of grabbing a tissue to wipe his hands clean. Y/n backed up on the bed until her back hit the wall, not letting him leave her line of sight.

“Next time, don’t make me do that, please.”

She made sure to finish her meals after that before Mark would come to visit her.

\\\

“Please… just say something!” He yelled, the bags under his eyes had been gradually becoming more prominent with the passing week. She was curious about what had been causing his recent bout of exhaustion and partly blamed herself for contributing to it if her current situation was anything to go by.

“You haven’t spoken a word since coming home! Did you lose your voice? Did… did someone do something to you?” He was pacing back and forth in front of her, a hand over his mouth as he began to mutter to himself at a speed that was incomprehensible to her. She could just barely make out, “I’ll kill them” before he stopped altogether, both of his hands covering his face now before he knelt in front of her… and wrapped his arms around her waist. She had been sitting on the edge of her bed, having just finished her meal, when Mark had entered and decided to spiral right before her.

He pressed his head against her stomach, the sounds of his breathing beginning to settle and then quiet sniffles breaking the silence between them. “Y/n… Y/n…” He whimpered, his body beginning to shake as the last of his resolve crumpled and he began to sob unapologetically. “I thought you had died… I thought you were gone forever!”

“I missed you so much, why aren’t you saying anything?”

“Do you hate me that much? Please don’t ignore me, I don’t know what to do without you.”

“I was so lost without you, please never leave again!”

“No… no you won’t– you can’t leave, I’ll make sure of it…”

His rambling didn’t take long to escalate, his fraying sanity on full display as he sobbed into her shirt and soaked the fabric. If she shut her eyes and pretended she was elsewhere, then she could pretend that Mark was still that same boy that held onto her in the hospital that one night and not the murderer who he’d later become with delusions that his actions were necessary – that keeping her locked inside the house was something he had to do, and that if he didn’t she would die out there because she was human.

“I love you, Y/n… never abandon me again…” She imagined it was her little brother from before confessing this, and in her delusions, she decided to comfort that same boy by gently stroking his hair until his sobs had settled down.

“Everything will be okay, I’m here.” She rasped, her voice not coming out right due to weeks of disuse. “I got you, you’re okay.” Mark had settled in her lap, his breathing finally evening out as he fell into a peaceful slumber.

“Your big sisters got you…”

#yandere x reader #yandere #platonic yandere #yandere invincible #yandere invincible x reader #platonic yandere mark grayson #platonic yandere x reader #yandere mark grayson #yandere mark grayson x reader #platonic yandere mark grayson x reader

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sidekick-hero · 2 days ago

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Here it is, the third and final chapter of my fic hold me close (I'm shaking apart) - it only took me 1,5 years to finish this fic. This whole fic started off thanks to @dreaminginpencil and their amazing fanart. This chapter specifically was inspired and refers to this second piece of art from them. Also much love to @pearynice for being my cheerleader and reading this over - your comments were the best motivation 💜

Summary:

Of all the unlikely friendships Eddie had formed during the literal apocalypse, the one with Steve felt the most unlikely. Hawkins High's freak and king. But those titles had stopped meaning anything, they were just names and had nothing to do with him or with Steve.

It all came down to one simple truth: Steve Harrington was not at all what Eddie expected him to be, and it was confusing him to no end.

Or: Steve asks Eddie if he wants to experiment. Eddie wants so much more, but he takes what he can get and tries to not let it break his heart.

Have a little sneak peek under the cut and read the rest on AO3 💜

That had been another first Eddie had given his former-high-school-nemesis-turned-best-friend.

“Seriously, man, what’s going on?” Steve’s voice pulls him from the memory, grounding him back in the present. His body, however, lingers very much in the past, judging by the uncomfortable tightness in his jeans.

“Huh? Sorry.” Eddie shakes his head, trying to clear the haze of his thoughts. “I must’ve drifted off.”

Steve, honest-to-God, pouts at that. “Am I boring you?”

The absurdity of the question almost makes Eddie laugh. Steve does a lot of things—annoys him, mystifies him, terrifies him sometimes—but boring him? Never.

“Quite the contrary, Stevie,” Eddie says, a mischievous glint in his eye. He shifts closer, angling his hips deliberately so Steve can feel just how far from bored he is. “I’ve just been thinking about last week and how you blew my mind.”

That is apparently the right thing to say because Steve leans in, his eyes practically glowing with happiness. “I see. Although, if I remember correctly, neither your mind nor mine was the only thing that got blown that day.”

“Is that so?” Eddie asks, feigning innocence, though his grin betrays him.

Steve’s lips curve into a slow, deliberate smile, and Eddie realizes he’s been staring at them since the conversation veered into suggestive territory. “Mmhmm,” Steve hums. “It is. Maybe I need to refresh your memory?”

And oh, isn’t that an offer Eddie can’t refuse?

“I think you might,” Eddie murmurs, already leaning in to capture those lips in what he’s sure will be the prelude to something much more scandalous, when a blaring horn startles him so badly he nearly tumbles off the roof.

Only Steve’s quick reflexes save him, an arm snaking around Eddie’s waist and pulling him tightly against his chest.

“Jesus Christ!” Eddie yelps, his heart hammering.

“Nope,” Steve quips, unfazed. “That’s Jon and Nancy with the kids.” He glances down at the driveway, confirming it. “I almost forgot—we’re supposed to take Dustin and Max and pick up Robin on the way to the theatre.”

“Shit! You think they saw us?” Eddie’s voice pitches higher, nerves tightening his chest at the thought of their friends catching on to what exactly they’ve been doing. It isn’t that he’s ashamed, not of Steve at least. But of himself. Of how he’s taking Steve up on an offer that Steve probably doesn’t mean the same way Eddie wants it to. He wants too much—more than Steve is willing, or maybe even able, to give. Yet, he takes whatever scrapes he’s given and he’s not sure if that makes him greedy or pathetic or both.

It’s not just that, either. Eddie trusts their friends. He really does. Despite everything in him screaming not to, he knows they wouldn’t hurt him, wouldn’t out him. But they’d look at him differently, and he isn’t ready for that.

Steve shakes his head, still maddeningly relaxed. “No, I don’t think so. They probably just saw us sitting up here. That’s why Nance honked. And anyway, it’s just her and Jon and the kids.”

Eddie wisely keeps his mouth shut, clambering back inside the house through the window. At least the situation in his pants has solved itself.

Steve follows more leisurely, still unconcerned. Eddie doesn’t get it. How can he be so unbothered, so uncaring as to whether or not they get caught? Steve has more to lose than Eddie, at least from Eddie’s perspective. People already think Eddie’s a freak. Hell, they call him worse things—Satanist, murderer. What’s a little sodomy on top of it?

But Steve? The golden boy, the fallen King who rose from the ashes like a phoenix. The unsung hero, the heart of their ragtag group. He has so much more to lose, and Eddie doesn’t want that—would rather deny himself than risk Steve losing the family he’s always wanted, the one he deserves.

Eddie has it bad. He knows.

Still. “What about Wheeler?”

“What about her?” Steve’s brows furrow, his head tilting slightly, a gesture so puppy-like it almost makes Eddie melt.

“If she saw us! How are you not getting it?”

Steve steps closer, confusion deepening on his face. “I have no idea what’s going on here. What’s Nance got to do with anything?”

“So you’re not worried that she’ll think—that if she and Jon—but then she saw us and thinks—y’know, then how will you get her back?”

And okay, now that he says it out loud, it does sound…well, weird. Steve seems to think so too, because he just blinks at him a few times, clearly contemplating how to react to Eddie’s word-vomit.

Finally, he pinches the bridge of his nose and takes a deep, measured breath. “Eddie—” he starts, then stops, his eyes scanning Eddie’s face. “I never wanted to read someone’s mind before I met you, y’know? You’re a fucking enigma, driving me crazy.” The fondness creeping into his tone softens the sting of his words. “Also, I already told you: me and Nance? That’s not gonna happen. She’s happy with Jon, and I’m—happy too. Really. I think I was missing the idea of us, not the reality of Nance and me. There was a reason things didn’t work out.”

“Yeah, monster from another dimension.”

“No,” Steve says, his voice patient as ever, shaking his head. “Not the Upside Down. Sure, it sped things up, maybe, but only because I wasn’t what Nance needed in the first place. And I needed her to break my heart so I could realize what a massive dick I was. I like who I am now—someone with real friends. Friends like Nancy, Jon, Robin, and you.”

The human heart is a strange thing, Eddie thinks, because it manages to feel both warmed and utterly wrecked by the sentiment of Steve’s friendship.

“So, to answer your question, I don’t want to ‘get her back,’ so it doesn’t matter what she saw or didn’t. Would you please stop worrying so we can finally go watch that kids’ movie you and the twerps are so excited about?”

“‘Stand by Me’ is not a kids’ movie!”

The glint in Steve’s eyes tells Eddie that his outburst is exactly what Steve was aiming for. “It’s a movie about kids, so it’s a kids’ movie.”

Eddie throws his hands in the air, huffing like the Big Bad Wolf about to blow a little piggy’s house to bits. “You are so wrong, and I’m going to tell Dustin what you said so he can explain exactly how wrong you are in excruciating detail.”

“No! Eddie, please—” Steve begs, reaching for his arm, but Eddie’s already bounding down the stairs toward the front door.

“Dusty Bun, you need to hear what Steve just said!”

#steddie #steve harrington/eddie munson #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #my writing

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stxrsniolo · 3 days ago

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ㅤㅤִㅤ ݁ ꉂ no man's shadow ᴖ ֽ ㅤᷭ

ㅤ﹙ 𝟑𝟑𝟑 ﹚ㅤּㅤㅤ˻ㅤaegan is typingㅤ˺⠀⠀this is a dark, angst-driven piece centered on intense military themes and emotional conflict. expect a raw, gritty narrative exploring rage, vulnerability, and the weight of expendability in a high-stakes war zone setting.

a/n: i made sure to use structural repetition as a narrative device, repeating key phrases and ideas—like y/n's expendability and matt's inner conflict—to emphasize emotional tension, highlight trauma, and reinforce the story's themes of rage and vulnerability in this setting, so if you found repetition of some phrases, you're not going crazy babe. that was me and it was intentional.

warnings: military themes. violence. trauma. ptsd. anger issues. power dynamics. emotional conflict. dark themes. explicit language. mature content. deniability. human trafficking mention. chemical weapons mention. torture mention. death threats. emotional manipulation. training harshness.

pairings: harsh leader!matt × fresh meat!reader

you can create your own experiences with harsh leader!matt with this c.ai bot here!

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✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . 　

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶

the room smelled like stale coffee and arrogance, a stench that clung to the walls of every briefing room matt had ever been in. he sat in one of those cheap, hard-ass chairs, the kind that dug into his spine like it was trying to break him, while the brass lounged in their cushy leather armchairs, looking down at him like he was some grunt fresh out of basic.

he hated them, hated their pressed uniforms, their smug faces, their voices dripping with condescension; but he didn’t let it show. he never did, he just sat there, arms crossed, jaw tight, his eyes locked on the table in front of him, waiting for them to get to the point.

they were talking shit, as usual. «operational efficiency,» «strategic imperatives,» all the buzzwords they loved to throw around to make themselves feel important.

matt tuned most of it out, his mind drifting to the last time he’d been in a room like this, when they’d ripped into him for not being hard enough on the rookies.

fuck ‘em.

he’d trained harder units than these clowns could dream of.

but then, they dropped the bomb: a new mission. and not just any mission—this was the kind of op that left scars, the kind that chewed you up and spat you out in pieces, if it didn’t kill you outright.

this organization didn’t fuck around.

they were the shadow behind the shadow, the ones who handled the darkest, dirtiest shit on the planet: human trafficking rings, kidnapping networks, drug cartels, black-market arms deals—you name it, they dealt with it.

they sent teams into hellholes no one else would touch, places where the rules didn’t exist, where morality was just a word you laughed at over a beer. assassinations, rescues, sabotage—it didn’t matter, they did what needed to be done, no matter the cost, no matter who got caught in the crossfire,

and if you didn’t come back? tough shit. no one would know… no one could know.

this was black ops, deep cover, the kind of work where your name didn’t even make it onto a casualty list. you just disappeared.

coronel harris, the silver-star asshole with a face like a bulldog, leaned forward, his elbows on the table, his voice low and deliberate. “this op’s a big one, sturniolo: high-value target. russian arms dealer, ivan volkov. runs a network out of a compound in eastern ukraine. we’re talkin’ fortified walls, armed patrols, the works. he’s moving product; chemical weapons, nerve agents, shit that could wipe out entire cities. intel says he’s got a shipment goin’ out in seventy-two hours, so we need that shipment stopped, and we need volkov neutralized permanently."

matt didn’t flinch, but his mind was already running the numbers.

eastern ukraine.

active war zone.

russian mercs, landmines, drones, the whole nine yards.

this wasn’t just a hit—it was a suicide run.

he kept his face blank, his voice flat. “and you’re sendin’ a rookie into that shitshow? you got a death wish for ‘em, or you just tryin’ to clean house?”

harris smirked, the kind of smirk that made matt want to slam his head into the table. “that’s where you come in. you’ve got the experience, you’ve run ops in worse conditions… but we need fresh blood on this, someone expendable, someone who won’t be missed if things go south.”

major ellis, the skinny prick with glasses who always looked like he was about to piss himself, chimed in, his voice nasal and grating. “the compound’s rigged to hell. ieds on the perimeter, snipers on the rooftops, and volkov’s got a private army—ex-spetsnaz, real hard bastards, we’ve got drone footage showing tripwires, pressure plates, the works. whoever goes in needs to be fast, quiet, and disposable, no extraction plan, no backup. if they get caught, they’re on their own, deniability’s key.”

matt’s jaw tightened, his teeth grinding together. disposable. that’s what they thought of the rookies. that’s what they thought of her.

he hated them for it, hated the way they talked about lives like they were just numbers on a spreadsheet but he didn’t let it show. he couldn’t, weakness was death in this game, and he’d be damned if he let these bastards see him crack.

harris leaned back, his chair creaking under his weight. “we’ve been watching your recruits, sturniolo, most of ‘em are soft, but the girl—y/n—she’s got potential. green as hell, but she’s got fight. this could be her chance to prove herself… or not. either way, it’s not our problem.”

matt’s blood ran cold.

he didn’t move, didn’t flinch, but something deep inside him cracked, a hairline fracture in the stone.

y/n. the fresh meat. the rookie who’d gotten under his skin, who’d pushed back when he’d tried to break her, who’d taken everything he’d thrown at her and come back for more. the girl he’d fucked raw in her room, the girl he’d held onto like a lifeline when the nightmares came.

no.

that night had been a mistake, a slip, a moment of weakness he’d buried deep, locked away where it couldn’t touch him… but now, hearing her name, picturing her out there, in the dirt, bleeding out, alone—it hit him like a frag grenade to the chest.

he didn’t let it show.

“y/n?” he repeated, his voice flat, like he didn’t give a shit. “she’s not ready, she’s barely holding her own in training; you send her out there, she’s dead weight. she’ll get herself killed, and she’ll take the op down with her.”

harris smirked, leaning back in his chair. “it’s your job to make sure she’s not, you’ve been soft on her, sturniolo, maybe this’ll light a fire under her ass. she gets herself blown to hell by a tripwire, that’s on you. but we need someone expendable, and she fits the bill. no family ties, no connections. if she doesn’t come back, no one’s gonna ask questions.”

matt’s fists clenched under the table, his nails digging into his palms hard enough to draw blood, he wanted to lunge across the room, grab harris by the throat, and squeeze until his eyes popped out of his skull.

soft? fuck you. he wasn’t soft, he’d never been soft.

but y/n… she wasn’t just another rookie, she was the one who’d stood up to him, who’d stared him down when he’d pinned her against the wall, who’d taken his rage and his need and thrown it back at him. she was the one who’d seen him at his weakest, who’d held him when the nightmares came, who’d kissed away his tears like he wasn’t a monster.

and now they wanted to send her into a meat grinder, into a kill zone where the odds of coming back were zero.

“tell me more about this stupid op.” matt scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest.

ellis adjusted his glasses, his voice grating like nails on a chalkboard. “the infil’s gonna be rough, no air support, no drones, no comms once you’re past the border. you’ll be on foot, moving through contested territory. expect ambushes, sniper nests, the works. volkov’s got eyes everywhere—locals paid to rat out anyone who looks suspicious."

"if they spot you, you’re dead. if they don’t, you’ve still got to breach the compound, take out the guards, and get to the shipment. and volkov—he’s paranoid, always surrounded by his spetsnaz goons. you’ll need to be surgical, sturniolo. no room for fuck-ups.”

harris nodded, his eyes glinting with something cold and cruel. “and the girl—she’s your responsibility. she steps on a mine, gets her head blown off by a sniper, that’s on you, but if she pulls it off, maybe she’s worth keeping around. if not, well, we’ve got plenty more where she came from.”

matt’s vision tunneled, the room shrinking to a pinpoint of rage as he pictured it—y/n, her body torn apart by an ied, her blood soaking into the dirt, her eyes staring blankly at the sky.

he pictured her captured, tortured, screaming for help that would never come.

he pictured her gone, erased, just another ghost in the machine… and for the first time in years, he felt something—fear, raw and ugly, clawing at his chest. he hated it. hated her for making him feel it. hated himself for letting it happen.

matt leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, and stared harris down. “you want her out there? fine. but don’t come cryin’ to me when she doesn’t come back. i’m not babysittin’ her. she fucks this up, it’s on you.”

the room went quiet, the tension thick as smoke.

the suits exchanged looks, nodding like they’d won some kind of victory. matt loathed them for it, but he wasn’t done, he wasn’t sending her out there alone.

not because he cared—fuck that, he didn’t care. he couldn’t. but he wasn’t letting her go without backup. not her.

“i’m goin’ with her,” he said, his voice low, dangerous. “that’s the deal: you want her out there? fine, but i’m leadin’ the op. non-negotiable.”

ellis raised an eyebrow, his voice dripping with skepticism. “and why’s that, sturniolo? you don’t trust her to handle herself?”

matt smirked, but there was no humor in it. “trust? nah, i don’t trust any of you assholes, but i’m not lettin’ some rookie fuck up my record; she screws this up, it’s on me, so i’m goin’. end of story.”

harris leaned back, his chair creaking under his weight. “you’re volunteering for a suicide run, sturniolo, you know that, right? no extraction, no backup. if you go in, you’re on your own, if you get caught, we don’t know you. if you die, we don’t mourn you.”

matt didn’t flinch. “yeah, i know how this works, i’ve been doin’ your dirty work for years, but i’m goin’. you want volkov dead? you want that shipment stopped? i’ll get it done… but i’m not sendin’ her in alone.”

the suits exchanged looks again, their faces unreadable.

finally, harris nodded, his voice cold. “fine, you’re lead and she’s your shadow, but don’t expect us to pull your ass out of the fire. you’re on your own.”

when the meeting ended, matt stormed out, his boots pounding the concrete like he was marching to war, no stopping until he was outside, the cold night air hitting him like a slap.

he lit a cigarette, the flame flickering in the dark, and took a long drag, trying to shove down the thoughts clawing at his mind.

y/n. out there. in the shit. he pictured her, her defiant eyes, her stubborn jaw, the way she’d looked at him that night, soft and gentle, like he wasn’t a monster. he hated her for it. hated himself for letting it matter.

but he wasn’t letting her die out there, not because he cared but because he couldn’t let her be another ghost on his conscience. that was it. that was all.

he took another drag, the smoke burning his lungs, and muttered to himself, “fuckin’ rookie. better not get me killed.”

═══════════════════════════

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . 　

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶

the training yard was a graveyard of silence, the kind of quiet that pressed down on your chest like a boot on your throat.

the rookies stood in a loose semicircle, their faces pale, their eyes darting like they knew something was coming but didn’t want to face it.

the air was thick with the smell of sweat and fear, the kind of stench that clung to you like a second skin.

matt stood in front of them, his combat boots planted in the dirt, his arms crossed, his face a mask of cold, unyielding steel. he didn’t need to raise his voice. he didn’t need to shout. his presence was enough, a storm cloud ready to unleash hell.

y/n was there, front and center, her jaw tight, her eyes locked on him like she was bracing for a fight. she always did that—stared him down like she wasn’t scared, like she wasn’t just another piece of fresh meat waiting to be chewed up and spat out. matt hated her for it. hated the way she made him feel, the way she made him remember that night in her room, the way she’d seen him at his weakest. he hated her for making him care, even if he’d never admit it.

but right now, he wasn’t the weakling she saw that night, the man who’d held her like a lifeline. he was matt, the trainer, the leader, the asshole who’d break her if he had to.

“listen up, maggots,” he barked, his boston accent sharp as a blade. “you’ve been playin’ soldier long enough, it's time to see if any of you are worth a damn: we’ve got an op. high-stakes, high-risk, the kind of shit that’ll make you wish you’d stayed home cryin’ to your mommies, and one of you lucky bastards is goin’ in.”

the rookies shifted, their eyes darting to each other, their breathing shallow.

matt let the silence stretch, let the fear sink in. he wanted them to feel it, to taste it, to choke on it.

he scanned the group, his gaze cold, calculating, like he was picking targets on a range. but his eyes landed on y/n, and for a split second, something flickered in his chest.

he shoved it down, buried it deep, and kept going.

“y/n,” he said, his voice low, dangerous, like the hiss of a fuse burning down. “step forward.”

she didn’t hesitate, she stepped out of the line, her boots kicking up dust, her shoulders squared, her eyes locked on him.

she didn’t flinch, didn’t blink, but matt could see the tension in her jaw, the way her hands clenched at her sides. she knew something was coming. she wasn’t stupid. but she didn’t know how bad it was, not yet.

he took a step closer, close enough to smell the sweat on her skin, close enough to see the flicker of defiance in her eyes. “you’ve been chosen,” he said, his voice flat, emotionless. “congratulations, rookie, you’re goin’ into the shit: eastern ukraine. russian arms dealer, ivan Volkov. runs a compound rigged to hell—ieds, snipers, ex-spetsnaz goons who’d slit your throat just for fun. he’s movin’ chemical weapons, nerve agents, shit that could wipe out cities. your job? breach the compound, take out the guards, stop the shipment, and put a bullet in volkov’s skull. simple, right?"

her eyes widened, just for a second, but she didn’t say anything.

matt didn’t give her the chance, he leaned in, his voice dropping to a growl, low and vicious. “but here’s the kicker, sweetheart: this ain’t a fuckin’ field trip. no air support, no drones, no comms. you’re on foot, movin’ through a war zone with landmines, tripwires, snipers waitin’ to blow your head off where you step wrong, you’re a red mist. you get caught, you’re fucked—tortured, raped, left to rot in a ditch. and if you die? tough shit. no extraction, no backup. you’re on your own and deniability’s key. you don’t come back, no one’s gonna know and no one’s gonna care. you’re just another ghost.”

the words hung in the air, heavy, suffocating. the other rookies stared, their faces pale, their eyes wide with horror.

y/n’s breath hitched, her chest rising and falling faster, but she didn’t look away. she didn’t break.

matt wanted to shake her, to scream at her, to tell her to run, to quit, to get the fuck out before it was too late. but he didn’t. he couldn’t, he had to be the asshole, the trainer, the leader, he had to break her, even if it killed him.

“you think you’re tough?” he snarled, his voice rising, cutting through the silence like a knife. “you think you can handle this? you’re nothin’. you’re fresh meat, and out there, you’re dead meat.”

“you step on a mine, your legs are gone, your guts are in the dirt. you get spotted, they’ll carve you up, make you beg for death. and me? i won’t be there to save your ass, you’re on your own, rookie. you fuck this up, you’re dead, and i’ll be the one who sent you.”

her eyes flashed, anger and fear warring in her gaze, but she didn’t back down. “i can handle it,” she said, her voice steady, but matt could hear the tremor underneath. “i’m not scared.”

he laughed, a harsh, bitter sound that echoed through the yard. “not scared? bullshit. you should be because you’re walkin’ into hell, and you’re not comin’ back. you think you’re ready? you’re not. you’re weak. you’re soft. you’re gonna die out there, and it’s gonna be on me. but you know what? i don’t give a shit, you wanted to play soldier? this is what you get.”

he turned away, his back to her, his hands clenched into fists.

he couldn’t look at her, couldn’t see the hurt in her eyes, the fear he’d just poured into her like poison.

he wanted to take it back, to tell her he was going with her, to tell her he wouldn’t let her die, but he couldn’t, he had to be the asshole, the trainer, the leader. he had to break her, even if it broke him too.

“dismissed,” he barked, his voice cold, final. the rookies scattered, their footsteps frantic, their whispers echoing in the silence.

y/n didn’t move, didn’t leave, she stood there, staring at him, her chest heaving, her eyes burning with something he couldn’t name.

he wanted to turn around, to grab her, to shake her, to kiss her, to tell her he was sorry… but he didn’t; he walked away, his boots pounding the dirt, leaving her alone in the yard, alone with the weight of what he’d just done.

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imjustatorturedpoet · 1 day ago

Text

Meet me in the Hallway

chapter 10: the secret of us?

Pairing: Hwang In-ho x Reader

also available on ao3!

word count: 5.9k

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The line for food moved steadily, but your mind was light-years away. It was still on him.

The kiss had settled into your skin, lingering, like a slow-burning fuse you couldn’t put out. Your lips still tingled, still felt sensitive in a way that made you hyper-aware of every shift, every subtle movement of your mouth. Like they weren’t entirely your own anymore.

And, of course, Young-il was right behind you.

You could feel him. Not touching, but so close the air between you felt charged, electric. It was ridiculous how aware of him you were—his presence pressed against your back like gravity itself had shifted to pull you toward him.

And the worst part? He wasn’t saying a damn thing.

Which meant he was enjoying this.

You’d think a man as cocky as Young-il would have something to say in a moment like this—but no. Not a word.

You swallowed hard, forcing your gaze forward, trying to focus on the mundane act of waiting in line, but every time the line inched forward, so did he. And every time he moved, his presence sent a ripple of heat through you. A constant reminder of the way his hands had held you, the way his mouth had—

You exhaled sharply. Not the time. Not the place.

But then, just as you stepped forward, you swore you felt the faintest brush of his hand against your back.

Your thighs pressed together instinctively, tension thrumming through you.

Oh, he was doing this on purpose. What a tease.

You risked a glance over your shoulder, certain—absolutely certain—that he’d be smirking, looking way too pleased with himself. But when your eyes met his, there was nothing but calm amusement. Perfectly neutral, as if he had no idea what he was doing.

Before you could glare at him properly, the line moved, and suddenly, you were at the front. A guard handed you your meal—a roll of food wrapped neatly in aluminium foil and a glass water bottle.

Your fingers curled around the bottle instinctively.

Glass. Not plastic like before.

A strange unease curled in your stomach. You stepped out of the line and waited at the side for Young-il. Slowly, you peeled back the foil slightly, revealing gimbap tucked neatly inside. Normal. Too normal. But then, beside it, tucked into the wrapping—

A fork. And a knife.

A knife?

You turned the blade between your fingers, feeling the cool metal against your skin. It wasn’t serrated, but it was sharp enough. Sharp enough to slip between ribs if someone was desperate enough.

Was this an accident? Or was it deliberate?

Your grip on the bottle tightened.

It wasn’t just the knife. The glass bottle was heavy. Thick. Sturdy enough to crack against someone’s skull, to be used in a fight.

And the more you thought about it, the more obvious it became—this wasn’t a mistake. This was a setup. A provocation.

The people running this place knew exactly what they were doing.

They’d already turned you all against each other during the mingle game. A dark room and a desperate mob, bodies scrambling over each other, people killing just to get the advantage. Now, they were trying something new.

They were waiting for someone to snap first.

Give them the tools. Create the opportunity. Then sit back and watch.

And when it happened—when the first blow landed, when someone finally gave in and drove that knife into flesh...—they would stand behind their cameras, taking notes, whispering about human nature like this was some sick experiment.

Your pulse thudded in your ears. You exhaled, forcing yourself to breathe.

Maybe no one would use them. Maybe you were overthinking it. Or maybe you wouldn’t sleep tonight.

You glanced at Young-il, unease curling at the edges of your mind.

Did he get one too?

You started walking toward your usual spot, so lost in thought that you barely registered that Young-il followed behind you. The moment you sat down, you caught movement from the corner of your eye—Dae-ho and Jun-hee exchanging a glance, grinning.

You narrowed your eyes immediately. “What are you two giggling about?"

"Nothing, nothing," they said, way too quickly, faces way too smug. Bullshit.

Your lips still tingled.

They couldn’t have noticed, right?

Your gaze flickered toward Young-il, searching for some kind of reaction, but—nothing. He sat down beside you, completely at ease, as if nothing had happened. As if he wasn’t the reason your entire body was still buzzing.

Dae-ho snorted. Jun-hee bit back a smile. They knew.

You exhaled sharply, shaking your head, and instead focused on unwrapping the rest of your food. But the second the knife caught your eye again, that same unease curled in your chest.

You picked it up, turning it between your fingers.

A fork. A knife. A glass bottle. A setup.

You glanced at Young-il again, trying to ignore the way his presence still felt heavy beside you. He was unwrapping his own meal, casual as ever, but when you looked down at his hands, something caught your attention.

No knife.

You hesitated, then leaned in slightly. "Did you not get one too?"

Young-il glanced at you, then at the knife in your hand, lips twitching like he was holding back a smirk.

"Just a fork," he murmured, holding it up.

Your grip on the knife tightened. "That’s weird."

“Yeah."

He was calm. Too calm. Meanwhile, your brain was running a mile a minute.

Why? Why give knives to some and not others? Was it random? Or did they choose specific people?

Your fingers ran along the smooth edge, testing the weight of it. "You think they’re hoping someone snaps tonight?"

Young-il picked up his bottle, taking a slow sip before answering.

"They don't hope. They don’t leave things to chance," he said evenly. "They already know who’ll break first."

Of course they did. They knew exactly how far they could push people before something inside them broke.

"Maybe I should just get rid of it," you muttered, more to yourself than to him.

Young-il raised an eyebrow. "And waste a perfectly good advantage?"

Your head snapped toward him, ”Excuse me?"

His smirk deepened slightly, but his voice was steady. "A weapon isn’t dangerous on its own. It’s only dangerous depending on who’s holding it." He nodded at the knife in your hand. "Better you than someone else, don’t you think?"

Your grip tightened, but not out of fear. Out of frustration. Because he was right.

You set the knife down with a sigh, rubbing your temple, “This place is really messing with my head."

Young-il hummed in agreement. "That’s kind of the point."

You rolled your eyes, but before you could say anything else, Dae-ho cleared his throat loudly.

"So," he said, leaning forward, grinning like he was enjoying this way too much. “Are we all just gonna pretend that we didn’t see the two of you acting weird all day or—"

You grabbed your fork and dug into the gimbap immediately and took a long, slow bite. Anything to not engage.

Jun-hee snorted, covering her mouth with her hand, while Dae-ho wiggled his brows, looking way too pleased with himself.

You froze mid-bite, your grip tightening on the fork. Across from you, Young-il was infuriatingly calm, casually chewing his food like he hadn't just been dragged into this conversation.

You shot Dae-ho a sharp look. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Uh-huh," he drawled, tilting his head like he was pretending to think. "Funny. Every time I go to the bathroom, I come back the same. Not looking freshly ravished."

Jun-hee outright giggled at that, nudging Dae-ho’s arm. "I told you," she whispered.

Heat crept up your neck. Dae-ho and Jun-hee weren’t even pretending to be subtle anymore. Jun-hee’s eyes practically sparkled with curiosity, and Dae-ho had the smuggest, most shit-eating grin you’d ever seen, resting his chin in his hand like he was waiting for the big reveal.

They knew. Or at least, they thought they did.

And that was the problem.

Because if you admitted it—if you even hinted that they were right—then suddenly this wasn’t just a moment anymore. Suddenly it was something real. Something that had weight. Something that you couldn’t shove into the back of your mind and pretend wasn’t eating you alive from the inside out.

Your pulse kicked up, and you forced yourself to exhale slowly, to keep your shoulders relaxed.

Control the reaction. Don’t let them see.

But even as you focused on keeping your face calm, you could feel the heat creeping higher, threatening to betray you.

You needed to shut this down. Fast.

You gave Dae-ho an unimpressed look. “For the last time, nothing happened.”

“Oh, sure,” Dae-ho said, stretching the words out like he was savouring every syllable. “Because it’s totally normal for two people who definitely didn’t do anything to act like they’re not hiding something.”

Jun-hee pointed her finger between the two of you, her eyes narrowing in exaggerated suspicion. “Exactly. There’s tension.”

You forced your expression into something neutral, willing them to lose interest. You turned back to your food, grabbing another piece of gimbap and chewing like your life depended on it.

Jun-hee gasped dramatically, slapping Dae-ho’s arm. “Did you see that? That was so—oh my god, that was something.”

“Dae-ho, if you wanted to be part of our sex life, you could’ve just said that,” Young-il interrupted smoothly, not even bothering to look up from his food. “I mean, wow, Dae-ho. Didn’t know you cared this much.”

Dae-ho choked. “Excuse me—?”

He blinked, looking vaguely horrified, then scowled, “That’s not—No! That’s not what I—”

But Jun-hee was already doubled over laughing.

Young-il finally glanced up, gaze sharp, unreadable. He rested his elbow on his knees, fork twirling lazily between his fingers, “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were jealous.”

Jun-hee clamped a hand over her mouth, eyes going wide. Dae-ho looked spooked. “What the fuck-”

Young-il raised an eyebrow. “No? Not interested? Thought so.”

You turned your head slightly, catching the faintest flicker of amusement in his eyes before he went back to his food like nothing had happened. You had to suppress the laugh bubbling in your chest.

Jun-hee blinked. Then nudged Dae-ho hard in the ribs.

“He got you so bad,” she whispered.

Dae-ho exhaled sharply, shaking his head.

The tension still clung to the air, thick and suffocating, but before it could spiral any further, movement caught your attention.

Jung-bae and Gi-hun stepped onto the stairs, their presence instantly shifting the energy around you. They weren’t alone. The mother and her son followed closely behind, their eyes darting between all of you, taking in the remnants of whatever had just happened. A few others trailed in after them—Hyun-ju, player 280, player 333, and player 246.

You weren’t sure if they had come because they trusted you, or if they just wanted to be near the people who now had the power to change their fate.

Jung-bae exhaled, his eyes finding Young-il first. “Thank you, Young-il. You gave us another chance.”

You turned your head slightly, watching for his reaction. The teasing from earlier was gone, stripped away like it had never existed.

Instead, Young-il smiled—small, almost shy, like he didn’t quite know what to do with the gratitude. “No, I just wanted to stay alive.”

Something about the way he said it settled deep in your chest.

Jung-bae and Gi-hun took their seats, sinking onto the steps with a heaviness that spoke of exhaustion more than relief. The others sat down behind you on the stairs.

Young-il leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees. “The money is enough now too,” he said simply, voice quieter than before. “So I should get out of here. Alive.”

A silent understanding passed between him and Gi-hun—something unspoken, something that didn’t need words. A shared acknowledgment of what they had just fought for, and what still stood in their way.

Then, a voice broke the moment.

Player 246. His voice was careful, uncertain. “But do you think we’ll be able to win the second vote?”

That was the real question, wasn’t it?

You had clawed your way to a tie, to a sliver of hope, but it wasn’t over yet. The people who wanted to stay still had their numbers, their desperation, their anger. They wouldn’t give up easily. The tie hadn’t saved you. It had only bought you time.

A heavy silence stretched between the group, the weight of Player 246’s question settling like a fog over the conversation.

Would they be able to win the second vote? You knew the real answer.

You straightened slightly, exhaling. “Actually, we have an advantage.”

A few heads turned toward you, brows raising in quiet curiosity. You took a breath. “When I went to the bathroom with—”

You barely got the words out before Dae-ho and Jun-hee snapped to attention, their grins practically splitting their faces in two.

Dae-ho wiggled his brows. “Oh? With who?”

Jun-hee gasped dramatically, eyes sparkling with unspoken teasing. You shut your mouth immediately, your face heating. Then, with as much dignity as you could possibly muster, you cleared your throat and corrected yourself. “When I went to the bathroom alone—”

Jun-hee burst into laughter. Dae-ho threw his hands up. “Too late. You can’t take it back. The damage is done.”

You shot them both a withering glare before continuing, “When I went to the bathroom, I overheard something. Two of the O players were talking. They’re already planning an attack tonight.”

That wiped the smirks off their faces. The atmosphere shifted instantly.

Dae-ho’s expression darkened. “Are you sure?”

You nodded. “They know they lost their advantage with the tie, so they’re going to try and force a win. If they can get rid of at least one or two of us before the second vote, then they’ll win by default.”

Jung-bae cursed under his breath. The mother wrapped an arm protectively around her son.

Young-il didn’t move, didn’t react—at least, not visibly. But you saw the shift in his posture, the way his fingers curled slightly against his knee, the flicker of something sharp in his eyes.

“They’ll wait until the lights are out,” you continued, voice steady despite the rising dread. “Just like during your games, Gi-hun.” You scanned the group. “That’s when we’re vulnerable. But now that we know, we can do something about it.”

“This is exactly how it started during my games. Knowing this time is a huge advantage,” Gi-hun muttered.

You nodded. “And it’s not the only one.”

That got their attention. You hesitated for a second, choosing your next words carefully, “We also know what the next game is.”

The tension in the room deepened. Jung-bae’s eyes narrowed. “How?”

You exhaled, tilting your head slightly toward the walls. “Because it’s been staring at us this whole time.”

They followed your gaze.

“The drawings,” you said. “The ones behind the beds.”

A few of them frowned in confusion, while others—Young-il especially—simply waited.

You continued, “They’ve been there since the start. We just never noticed because the beds were blocking them. But now? With so many people gone, you can see them clearly.”

Dae-ho leaned forward, looking at the walls properly for the first time. His brows pulled together as he took in the images—massive, unmistakable depictions of the games they had already played.

Red light, green light. The Pentathlon. Mingle.

And then, further down, the ones that hadn’t happened yet.

Monkey bars over a massive drop. A field with people standing in formation like chess pieces.

Understanding settled over the group in a slow, quiet wave.

“They’ve been showing us the games this whole time,” you said.

A hush fell over the group. Jung-bae exhaled sharply, running a hand down his face. “Jesus.”

Dae-ho groaned. “Oh, come on.”

Jung-bae shook his head in disbelief.

You glanced at Young-il, but he was still staring at the walls, eyes dark, unreadable. A sense of grim determination settled over you.

They thought they had the upper hand. They thought they had control. But now, you had knowledge. And that? That changed everything.

——

The soft murmur of conversation wove through the dimly lit dormitory, voices dipping in and out of focus as exhaustion settled over the group like a thick, invisible weight.

Dinner had been quiet, subdued. Not completely, of course—Dae-ho and Jun-hee had kept things lively enough, cracking jokes, trying to act like the weight of survival wasn’t pressing down on them—but even their usual banter had been tempered by the sheer toll of the day. Gi-hun sat silently, probably thinking of a plan on how to survive the night.

You were barely listening at this point.

Your limbs felt heavy, warmth curling around your body in a slow, steady pull. The sounds around you started fading at the edges, blurring into background noise. Your eyelids drooped for a fraction of a second too long before you forced them open again.

Tired. You were so, so tired. And Young-il noticed.

You felt it before you saw it—the shift in energy beside you, the subtle way his attention honed in on you. A moment later, he stood, the movement drawing your gaze before you could stop yourself.

Then, before you even had the chance to react, his hand appeared in front of you, palm facing up, waiting.

You blinked, glancing up at him. He didn’t say anything—didn’t push, didn’t tease. He just waited, expectant, the way he always did when he knew he would get what he wanted eventually.

You sighed, barely suppressing the small smile tugging at the corners of your mouth, and took his hand without a second thought.

His fingers curled around yours, warm and steady as he pulled you to your feet. He didn’t let go.

The second Young-il reached for your hand, Jun-hee’s head snapped toward Dae-ho so fast it was a miracle she didn’t give herself whiplash.

Dae-ho’s eyes went wide for half a second before narrowing, his lips pulling into something far too smug. He leaned forward slightly, watching the two of you like a predator about to pounce. Jun-hee grinned immediately. “Oh my god.”

Dae-ho let out a low whistle. “Now, where do you think they’re going?”

You shot them both the dirtiest look you could muster in your state, but that only made them more delighted.

Jun-hee gasped dramatically, grabbing Dae-ho’s arm like she had just discovered the biggest scandal of the century. “Wait, should we be concerned? Is (Y/N) in danger? Blink twice if he’s taking you away to kill you.”

“Or once if it’s for something else,” Dae-ho added, wiggling his brows.

You groaned, resisting the urge to cover your face with your hands. “For the love of—”

Young-il, unbothered as ever, simply glanced at them over his shoulder, perfectly deadpan. “If I wanted to kill her, I’d at least buy her dinner first.”

Dae-ho choked. Jun-hee shrieked.

You smacked Young-il’s arm. “That’s not helping!”

He just shrugged, eyes twinkling with amusement, and kept walking, tugging you along without a second thought.

Jun-hee cupped her hands around her mouth and called after you, voice dripping with mock betrayal. “At least have the decency to lie to us about what’s happening!”

“I’m gonna be so insufferable about this tomorrow,” Dae-ho added, grinning wide enough to split his face.

You refused to look back.

You knew if you did, you’d see them whispering to each other, exchanging knowing glances, already preparing to ambush you the second you returned.

Young-il leaned in slightly, voice low and far too amused for your liking, “They’re gonna make your life hell for this.”

You groaned. “I know.”

He smirked. “Good thing you have me to protect you.”

You rolled your eyes, pretending that didn’t make your stomach flip. “Yeah, because you’re so helpful.”

But you still didn’t let go of his hand. No matter how insufferable he was.

The warmth of his grip lingered as he guided you toward the more secluded section of your group’s area, his pace slow but deliberate, his touch light but firm—like he knew you’d try to argue if he gave you the chance. You didn’t. Not yet.

Only when he stopped and motioned toward a bed did you finally raise an eyebrow.

“Lay down,” he said simply.

You scoffed and tried to protest. “Young-il, I’m not tired.”

He gave you a look. One of those slow, deadpan looks that very clearly said: Are you seriously trying this with me right now?

You folded your arms across your chest, trying to appear more convincing, but he just tilted his head, eyes flickering to where you had been nodding off at dinner not even five minutes ago.

“Uh-huh,” he said, unimpressed. “You were practically falling asleep sitting up.”

“I was not—”

He tilted his head, unconvinced. "Really? Because I was starting to wonder if I should check your pulse."

You scoffed. “I wasn’t that bad.”

“Oh, sure,” he mused, his tone rich with sarcasm. "You looked completely awake. Definitely not doing that slow, tragic head dip people do right before they pass out in their soup." He demonstrated, dramatically nodding off, then jerking awake with exaggerated innocence.

Your lips parted. "I did not—"

“Oh, you did,” he interrupted smoothly. "Twice, actually. I thought I was going to have to catch you."

“Lies.”

Young-il clicked his tongue. “Fine. If I’m lying, then tell me why you just yawned?”

Your face heated. “I—I didn’t!”

He pointed at you, smug. “You just stifled one.”

Your face heated. “You’re exaggerating.”

Young-il sighed dramatically, as if this was a great burden on him. "Maybe I should’ve let you fall. You could’ve learned a valuable lesson about stubbornness."

You narrowed your eyes. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

His lips twitched, his voice perfectly neutral. "Immensely."

Your mouth snapped shut so fast you nearly bit your tongue.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he sighed, shaking his head. “You’re too easy.”

You glared. “I hate you.”

He smirked. “That’s not what your body language says.”

Your eye twitched harder.

He stepped forward, slow and easy, closing the space between you in a way that made your breath catch.

“Lay down,” he repeated, voice lower now, softer. “You need sleep.

Your throat tightened. He wasn’t teasing anymore. Not really. He wasn’t ordering you around, wasn’t mocking you for being exhausted. He was just… looking out for you. It wasn’t supposed to feel like this—too much, too fast, too undeniable.

You exhaled, finally relenting as you sank down onto the bed, eyeing him warily. “Fine. But I’m not gonna pass out the second I hit the mattress, if that’s what you’re thinking."

Young-il hummed like he didn’t believe you for a second. You shifted slightly, pulling the covers over yourself. He reached down, tugging the blanket higher, making sure you were completely tucked in before straightening back up. You should’ve expected it, really.

You should’ve known that Young-il wasn’t going to just say “goodnight” and leave like a normal person. No. He was going to sit down on the bed next to you. Because, of course, he would.

But just as he moved to do exactly that, you caught his wrist. He stilled immediately. Your fingers tightened around him, hesitating for a fraction of a second before you spoke.

“Can you…” Your voice came quieter than you intended. You swallowed, pushing through the lump in your throat. “Can you lie down with me?”

His expression softened. His gaze flickered over your face, reading you the way he always did, like he was looking for something unsaid.

You almost regretted saying anything. Almost.

But then, finally, he nodded.

“Yeah, of course,” he said, like it was the easiest thing in the world. Like it was obvious.

He didn’t pull away from your grip. If anything, he let you keep holding him as he moved, slipping under the covers beside you.

The bed was small. The space between you was even smaller. The warmth of him pressed against your side, solid and real, and for the first time in what felt like forever, the gnawing loneliness that had been creeping at the edges of your thoughts since the moment you stepped into this place started to ease.

The quiet between you settled like a hush before a storm, thick with something unspoken. He was warm beside you, the heat of his body radiating through the small space between you. Too close. Not close enough.

Your fingers still rested lightly around his wrist, the steady thrum of his pulse beneath your touch both grounding and electric. You traced your thumb over his skin, just barely—a ghost of a movement, a test of something neither of you had put words to yet.

His breath hitched. Barely noticeable, just a slight pause in the rise and fall of his chest. But you caught it.

Your thumb drifted lower, featherlight, tracing the delicate skin just beneath his palm. Without thinking, without planning, you let it settle over the pulse point in his wrist. And then you felt it.

Fast.

Good to know I’m not the only one losing my mind here.

For all his teasing, all his smug confidence, you could assume that his heartbeat was slow, but his heart was racing. He was calm—on the surface. But beneath it? He wasn’t unaffected.

Your thumb lingered, pressing just slightly. Testing. His fingers twitched against the blanket.

You glanced up, searching his face, but—nothing. Perfectly unreadable, perfectly composed. Like he hadn’t felt a thing.

Except you knew better now.

You pressed your lips together, barely resisting the urge to smile. “Huh.”

His eyes flicked down to yours, unreadable, cautious. “What?”

You shrugged, sliding your hand away, settling back into the warmth of him like nothing had happened. “Nothing.”

But his heart still hadn’t slowed.

Your stomach dipped.

You shifted against the thin mattress, staring up at the ceiling, willing your body to relax. But despite the exhaustion weighing down your limbs, sleep refused to come.

After a long moment, you sighed. "Young-il, I can’t sleep. This isn’t working."

You felt, rather than saw, the faint amused tilt of his head beside you.

"You didn’t even try," he murmured, his voice low, easy. "Give it a minute. Your eyes are already half-shut."

You exhaled sharply, shifting again. "I could go all night," you shot back, lifting your chin defiantly.

His expression shifted—just slightly. That smirk deepened, his eyes flicking over you with way too much interest for your liking.

“Oh?” His voice dipped, smooth as silk. "Now that’s interesting."

Your stomach flipped.

Before you could backtrack, before you could clarify, he turned onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow, his gaze settling on you like he was considering something.

"You know," he mused, tapping a finger against his chin. "If I had known you’d say something like that, I would’ve asked you to lie down with me ages ago."

Your breath caught.

It wasn’t just the words—it was the way his voice dipped just enough to make it worse, the slow drag of his eyes over you like he was committing the moment to memory.

“You’re insufferable,” you muttered, turning onto your side to face away from him.

He chuckled, the sound low and pleased. "And yet, you’re still here."

You huffed. "Unfortunately."

“Mm.” He shifted, his voice dropping just a little lower, softer. "You’re warm, though. I think I’ll keep you."

You were never going to get any sleep at this rate.

“You know,” he murmured, his voice lower now, teasing but careful. “If you wanted to be in my arms this badly, you could’ve just said so.”

Your lips parted slightly, a retort on the tip of your tongue, but before you could say anything, he moved.

In one fluid motion, he pulled you against him, closing what little space had remained between you. Your cheek landed against his chest, the scent of him wrapping around you as easily as the blankets had.

A quiet gasp left you before you could stop it. You stiffened instinctively, body caught between tension and something you didn’t want to name.

His chest rumbled beneath you, the vibrations sinking into your skin as he let out a low, knowing chuckle.

“Nervous?”

Your fingers twitched against his shirt, tightening just slightly before you could stop yourself. “Shut up,” you muttered, but it came out weaker than you intended, barely more than a breath.

He laughed, easy and warm, like he had expected exactly that response from you. “So, is this just for tonight? Or are we making this a regular thing?”

You could feel the smirk against the top of your head, completely unbothered, completely enjoying this.

You shifted slightly, tilting your chin up just enough to glance at him. “You know… maybe we should.” You let the words linger for a moment, drawing it out. Then, feigning deep contemplation, you hummed. “But something’s missing.”

He played along without missing a beat. “Oh?” His tone was light, teasing. “What is it?”

You waited a beat, just enough for anticipation to settle between you, just enough to make him think for a second that you might actually let the conversation end there.

Then, with a lazy smirk of your own, you let the words slip, soft and almost careless—

“A goodnight kiss. Or are you just going to tease me?”

The air between you shifted instantly.

His fingers curled around your waist, deliberate and steady, as he pulled you against him—not rushed, not rough, but firm enough that you could feel the heat radiating off him, the slow, measured way he was keeping himself in check.

His lips met yours, and for a moment, he didn’t move, just let them linger, let you feel the warmth of his breath, the tension coiling between you like a drawn bowstring.

And then, finally, he kissed you.

It was slow. Unhurried. The kind of kiss that made your chest ache, that made your fingers twitch with the need to hold on tighter.

But beneath the tenderness, beneath the deliberate softness, you could feel it. The restraint.

The carefully measured way his lips moved against yours, the slight tremor in his breath, the way his hands curled against you just a little too tightly before he forced himself to ease his grip.

Like he was trying so, so hard to keep himself from losing control. Like if he let himself want too much, take too much, he wouldn’t stop.

Your stomach flipped, heat pooling in your chest, in your fingertips, in every place where his body touched yours.

His fingers ghosted up your back, warmth bleeding through the fabric, trailing in their wake. His other hand stayed at your waist, grounding, steady. Holding back.

His lips moved slowly against yours, exploring, learning, taking his time. Each press, each shift was deliberate, like he was memorising you, committing every small sound, every slight movement to memory.

He pulled back just barely, just enough to breathe, but you didn’t want space. Didn’t want distance.

You chased after him, pressing your lips back against his, and you felt the sharp inhale he took, the slight tremble in his fingers as they tightened against your waist for just a second too long before he forced himself to relax.

“Impatient,” he murmured, voice low and amused, but there was something rough at the edges, something frayed.

His forehead rested against yours for a fleeting second, his breath warm against your lips, like he was steadying himself.

You dragged your fingers up his chest, feeling the slow rise and fall of it beneath your palms. “You started it.”

He smirked, but it was softer now, his gaze heavy-lidded and dark as he studied you. “You’re the one who asked for a goodnight kiss.”

“Yeah,” you murmured, lips barely brushing his. “Didn’t think you’d actually listen.”

His breath hitched—just slightly, just enough for you to notice—before he exhaled, slow and controlled.

“You should know by now,” he murmured, voice deeper now, rougher at the edges, “I always listen.”

Then, with almost excruciating patience, he leaned in and kissed you again. But only for a moment.

Slowly, reluctantly, he pulled back, his lips hovering near yours for a moment too long, like he was debating whether to kiss you again. His breath was warm against your skin, uneven in a way that betrayed just how much restraint he was using. But then, with a quiet exhale, he rested his forehead against yours, letting the tension between you settle into something quieter, something softer.

With a slow, measured movement, you let yourself sink against him, resting your head on his chest. His warmth was immediate, soothing in a way that made your entire body feel lighter, like some of the weight pressing down on you had finally been lifted. His heartbeat was steady beneath your ear, a quiet, grounding rhythm that made it harder to focus on the chaos in your mind.

For a second, he didn’t move. Then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, his arm tightened around you, holding you closer, his fingers tracing lazy patterns along your back.

Neither of you spoke. You didn’t need to.

His fingers trailed up, slow and deliberate, before settling over your eyes. The warmth of his hand, the gentle weight of it over your face—it was grounding in a way you hadn’t expected.

“You’ll fall asleep easier if it’s darker,” he murmured.

You swallowed. Because, damn it, he was right.

The exhaustion from the day clawed at your mind, the fear of what the night might bring lingering at the edges of your thoughts. The nightmares would come—of Jonah. They always did.

But right now, his heartbeat was steady beneath your ear. His warmth was real. His touch was soft.

And maybe, just for this nap, that would be enough to keep them away.

Your eyelids grew heavier, the steady rhythm of his chest rising and falling beneath you lulling you toward the inevitable. You exhaled softly, pressing just a little closer, allowing yourself this moment; this sliver of comfort in a place designed to strip it away.

“Good night, Young-il,” you whispered, the words barely more than a breath. Even if it wasn’t truly night, even if this was just a stolen moment of rest before reality came crashing back, it still felt right to say.

He was quiet for a second, his fingers absently brushing against your back, slow and steady. Then, his voice came, softer than you’d ever heard it.

“Sleep,” he murmured, voice low, warm. “I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

A promise. A reassurance.

But the dread still lingered. Lights out was coming. The attack. Another vote tomorrow. There was no telling what the night would bring.

Just a few minutes. That’s all you would allow yourself. Just until Young-il had to wake you again. Just until you and your group had to figure out how to survive another night.

Your breath hitched slightly, your fingers tensing against his chest, like some part of you still wasn’t ready to let go—still couldn’t trust that safety was something you were allowed to have.

A slow, steady hand brushed over your hair, smoothing down the strands in a quiet, repetitive motion. Soothing. Intentional. Like he knew. Like he felt the tension creeping in and was gently, wordlessly, unraveling it thread by thread.

Your limbs grew heavier. Your breathing slowed despite yourself. Your body fought it, just for a moment. A part of you clung to wakefulness, to control. But the warmth of his palm, the steady weight of him beneath you, the quiet certainty in his touch—it made resistance feel useless.

Your grip on his shirt loosened. Your chest rose and fell in time with his.

And then, finally—sleep pulled you under.

His warmth anchored you to the present, keeping the ghosts of the past at bay.

#hwang inho x reader #squid game #squid game fanfiction #ao3 #hwang inho #lee byung hun #ao3 fanfic #fluff #gi hun squid game #hwang in ho #dae ho #jun hee #tooth rotting fluff

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sturniololuvz · 2 days ago

Note

a fic where the boys are trying to vlog in the kitchen and then 4 year old sister interrupts it xx

yess omgggg

“Kitchen Chaos: Take 1”

Sturniolos x sister

Warnings : none

The triplets had set up everything perfectly for their cooking vlog. They’d planned to make their famous homemade pizza, with Chris doing the cooking, Matt handling the camera, and Nick making sure everything went smoothly. Or, at least, that was the plan.

“Alright, guys, welcome back to the channel!” Matt said, grinning as he held the camera steady. “Today, we’re making some killer homemade pizza. First, we’re gonna make the dough from scratch, and you guys are gonna watch as I—”

Smash.

The loud sound echoed through the kitchen as Chris, who had been spreading sauce on the dough, froze mid-motion.

“Uh… What was that?” Nick asked, glancing toward the doorway.

Before anyone could answer, a tiny figure ran into the kitchen at full speed, cutting through Matt’s frame and sending the camera tilting sideways.

“Y/N!” Chris yelped, looking up just in time to see their 4-year-old sister—dressed in one of his oversized sweatshirts, of course—run directly into the counter, slamming into a jar of flour that wobbled dangerously.

Y/N giggled as she tugged at the apron Chris had tied around himself. “Can I help make pizza?!” she asked enthusiastically, as if she hadn’t just interrupted the entire video.

“No, no, no,” Chris said, trying to redirect her while still holding the pizza dough in one hand. “Y/N, not right now.”

But Y/N wasn’t listening. She darted to the side, grabbed a rolling pin, and whacked it onto the counter, sending flour dust into the air.

“Y/N!” Matt groaned as he fumbled with the camera, which had slipped out of focus. “Seriously?”

The camera now pointed at the floor as Y/N happily banged the rolling pin against the dough Chris had carefully prepared.

“Hey, no—!” Chris tried again, but Y/N was quicker. She took the rolling pin and started rolling it over the dough, completely flattening it in a haphazard way that was far from the neat, professional-looking pizza dough they were supposed to be showing off.

The flour jar tipped over, spilling everywhere, and Y/N squealed in delight. “Look! I did it!” she said, holding the rolling pin like a sword, flour splattering across the entire counter.

The triplets just stood there, frozen for a second, watching their baby sister ruin the pizza dough they had spent so much time on.

“No!” Matt said, trying to salvage what was left of the shot, though his voice cracked. “This was supposed to be a cooking vlog, not a disaster.”

Chris sighed, dropping the dough. “I can’t do anything with that now.”

Y/N continued to enthusiastically destroy the pizza dough, using the rolling pin like a toy and slapping it across the counter. “Pizza!” she shouted, spinning around.

“Alright,” Nick said, with a long exhale. “I’m calling it. This is officially chaos. We’re done.”

Y/N stopped spinning for a second and looked up at him, her face lighting up. “We’re done? Yay!” she cheered, excited that she’d successfully destroyed their whole vlog plan.

Matt rubbed his temples. “Well, we were done, but now… we have no pizza.”

Y/N just grinned and tried to make a new batch of dough with the flour she had scattered everywhere.

Chris laughed despite himself. “I guess this is our pizza making 101… the ‘Y/N Edition.’”

Matt shook his head, turning the camera back to face him. “Alright, guys, we tried to make pizza. It didn’t go well. Maybe next time. But, honestly, this is just how it goes when you have a four-year-old sister in the kitchen.”

Y/N ran past him, her hands full of flour, and waved. “Bye! Pizza’s ready!” she shouted, and with that, she was out of frame.

Chris, still holding the rolling pin, raised an eyebrow. “Well, at least we can say it was… memorable?”

“Memorable?” Matt repeated. “Dude, I think we might be getting a lot of comments on this one.”

Nick was still trying to clean up the flour mess. “No kidding. Let’s just hope people find this as funny as we do.”

Chris chuckled, finally giving in. “If they don’t, at least we know we’ve created something iconic.”

With the camera still rolling, Matt let out a dramatic sigh. “And that’s it for today’s disaster vlog, folks. Thanks for watching.”

The triplets looked at each other, then at the mess in the kitchen, and laughed.

It may not have been the cooking vlog they had planned—but it was definitely one that their fans would never forget.

#chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x you #christopher sturniolo #nick sturniolo #matt stuniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #sister sturniolo #sturniolo series

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autisticshadowthehedgehog · 3 days ago

Text

A Cluster of Burning Stars - Prologue

{ao3}

“What do you think it’s like down on Earth?”

“I bet there’s lots more places to run than up here. It looks so big. All the pictures make it look so open. So much bigger than this stupid ship.”

“Don’t be rude.”

“I hope it’s just like those fairytales you read me, Maria! With magic and destiny and true love…”

“--What about you, Shadow?”

“...it doesn’t matter. If we go there, we’ll go together, and that’s what’s important.”

“...”

“...Stop being a sap, Shadow, and tell us what you actually wanna see.”

“Fine. I wanna hold a spider.”

“I knew it.”

“Ha ha.”

“Stop arguing, boys. We have to go back to lessons in a bit. Let’s just… enjoy the view.”

“It… it is a lovely view.”

“...Yeah.”

---

Knuckles the Echidna and Miles “Tails” Prower the Fox had been thorns in the side of Doctor Ivo Robotnik for way too long for him to not lose his mind the second he saw them during his most recent conquest of the planet. Of course, they wouldn’t have it any other way, this was pretty much how they get their kicks. It got a bit difficult sometimes, but that’s what the extended team was for. But for today, it’s just Knuckles and Tails. They should be fine for now.

Today’s mission brought them somewhere strange, though. When Tails picked up the signal that Robotnik’s ship had reached the general area, he was worried that he was going to a deserted island in order to capture more flickies to turn into robots-- still hadn’t gotten tired of that, apparently. But when he picked Knuckles up from Angel Island and flew over, they had to engage stealth mode incredibly quickly, as they noticed the island was, indeed, not deserted.

“Hurry it up, Tails.” Knuckles muttered, standing on the wing of the plane and staring down at the huge metallic facility taking up half the island. He could see a protected road and an arched, towering fence over it. It led a little bit off the shoreline, over to what seemed to be some form of landing pad. What drew attention the most, though, were the flashing lights and distant sound of an alarm. Robotnik must already be inside.

“I’m working on it.” Tails muttered, giving him a quick glare. “It’s a bit hard to scan government files and fly a plane at the same time.” He put a hand to the communicator in his ear, and called, “Vector, Espio, you better be working, too.”

He heard a few mutters of confirmation from the other end of the line.

Knuckles glanced down at the land below, narrowing his eyes so the lights stopped bothering him so much. “This isn’t the kind of island I like being around, Tails.”

“I know.”

“I prefer silence. Nature. Solitude. No sudden noises.”

“I’m aware… hold on, Vector got something.”

Knuckles sighed and reached to his ear, turning on his communicator; he tried to keep it off, mainly, because the static when everyone was silent annoyed him to no end. But once it was on, he could hear the Chaotix from back in Station Square, scanning whatever computer they’d managed to snag.

“–Prison Island,” Vector was saying, as Knuckles could hear Espio distantly chasing Charmy around the room; the bee seemed to have grabbed something from his fellow detective and was refusing to give it back.

“Prison Island?” Tails asked.

“Secret Military Base.” Vector affirmed. “Research facility of GUN. There’s a ton of military facilities, but that big thing in the middle should be their prison. Six levels of security. Should be completely impossible to get through.”

“Okay,” Tails said, “So how long do you think it’ll take us to bust after Robotnik in there?”

“Less than an hour.”

“Alright. We’re shutting off communications. Send the emergency alert if you need anything, you know how.” Tails switched off his communicator, and then said, “You ready to break into a government facility?”

Knuckles finally smiled, and punched his palm. “When am I not?”

---

Six levels of security, protected by the best technology and weaponry that the Guardian Units of Nations could offer, were never going to be a match for Dr Ivo Robotnik. He hadn’t even brought his best robots-- he sat in a simple Robo-Walker and blazed his way through hall after hall, hidden elevator after elevator. Security drones would come to attack, but of course they were no match for his technology. Robotnik was the genius of the century, at least according to him, so of course this would be no problem.

There were six levels of security, he knew, and the files he’d spent days hacking into were a bit more correct than what Vector dug up in a few minutes. While each level had defenses, guards, cameras… everything stopped at Level Seven. GUN never assumed that anyone would be able to get that far, and besides, they didn’t like people knowing what was in there.

Once Robotnik entered, he approached the large, shining computer in the center. And he looked underneath, to see the frozen tube, holding GUN’s dark, shameful secret within.

“So this is the military’s top secret weapon. A bit smaller than I expected.”

He was not deterred; size was no guarantee of power. His own Bokkun messenger could carry a multitude of explosives, and that stupid fox couldn’t be over 3’0, and yet he and his echidna friend had been foiling his plans for far too long. Luckily, he had a solution, thanks to the hidden files, the buried research of his brilliant grandfather. And now that he had that information, he could finally defeat those dumb animals, and proceed with his plans for the Robotnik Empire. All he had to do…

“Enter user data, aha… enter password.”

An easy password. Of course, GUN wouldn’t have guessed it. Robotnik had guessed it due to, as Tails would put it, his inflated sense of ego leading him to believe his family line was superior to all others on the planet. Robotniks had always treasured family above all else, but not always for reasons of superiority, something the girl he was using as a password had once understood.

“M-A-R-I-A.”

The computer buzzed, and then all Robotnik had to do was place the key to open the chamber, a key that GUN had haughtily assumed none but them would ever be able to find, bring to the facility, and reach level seven to utilize.

But being experienced at stealing these precious stones to power his machines (though Knuckles always somehow got them back, annoyingly), Robotnik simply removed the white chaos emerald from his pocket, and placed it into a console beside the capsule. It took only a moment before the distant hum and glow of the emerald began its work. Robotnik allowed the gunner machine he sat inside to step back as the capsule slowly began to rise, a small amount of smoke clearing from the platform. GUN and their dramatics… well, honestly, Robotnik could appreciate that. Presentation was very important.

The capsule finished rising, and lifted itself in a diagonal position, as if whatever was inside would need to sit up. Then, with another puff of smoke, the lid flipped open.

And, in confusion, Robotnik watched as a black hedgehog climbed out, shakily standing.

The hedgehog was still for a moment, eyes narrowed, clearly trying to figure out where he was. He then turned, seeing Robotnik himself. His eyes widened for just a moment, before the emotion was hidden again. Carefully, he observed the room, and then crossed his arms.

Sensing he wouldn’t speak on his own, Robotnik prompted, “So. The military’s top-secret weapon is… a hedgehog.”

The hedgehog continued to stare, and then knelt down. Eyes down, he said, in a quiet, dark voice, “My name is Shadow.” He looked up, then stood and crossed his arms again. “Since you were so kind to release me, my master, I will grant you one wish.”

Robotnik took a moment, trying to decide if the hedgehog was joking. It seemed a bit impossible to tell. But, well, with an ego like Robotnik’s, it was quite easy for him to accept that, of course, this creature would immediately want to serve one as great as him.

“Well, I could definitely use some assistance getting out of here.” Robotnik said, considering. “I’m sure GUN has already brought in more forces. And that silly echidna and his little friends will probably come in to ruin my fun.”

The hedgehog once again had a moment where his facial expression changed, a glimmer of something behind his eyes. “GUN? We’re in a GUN facility?”

“Where else would you be? If you are this ‘ultimate lifeform,’ you are a GUN weapon.”

The hedgehog watched him for a moment, and then turned and began inspecting the room. He walked to the computer, running a hand across it, before he turned to his capsule. He peered inside, almost confused.

“Is something the matter… Shadow?”

The hedgehog looked up. “Am I the only one here?”

“But of course. You’re the weapon, aren’t you?”

The hedgehog blinked once. Then twice. Then he turned, so the doctor could not see his face. A small whisper. Tiny enough that Robotnik, who wasn’t paying much attention anyway, definitely wouldn’t have heard it– and if he did, he wouldn’t have known what to do with it, or with the break in the hedgehog’s voice as he spoke.

“They killed them.”

They wouldn’t have kept them separate, would they? They’d want all their eggs in one basket. That’s why they were all on the ARK in the first place.

Maria died to keep them all safe. She died and they killed the others anyway. Of course they would. Of course they would, they’d always said that Shadow was the most useful. That’s why he’d had to protect them, that’s… that’s why it was his fault, he hadn’t protected them enough, and now they were all dead.

GUN had taken everything.

---

Shadow burst through everything in the facility, and when they reached the outside, and he stopped to take a breath, and he looked up at the Earth that had been denied to him for so long, denied to all of them, he held his tears back.

Two mobians were there, species he vaguely recognized from their textbooks on the ARK. Fox? And… porcupine? Bandicoot? Echidna? Echidna seemed right. The red echidna turned to him, eyes wide with confusion and anger.

“Hey, you!” he shouted, and Shadow resisted the urge to cover his ears, the noise of the collapsing building inside and the distant gunshots already thundering in his head. “What do you think you’re doing?”

The fox gave him some kind of chiding, but Shadow didn’t listen. He just gave them both a fiery glare. “I’m granting my family justice.” he whispered, not caring if they could or could not hear him.

He leapt forwards, then, spinning and ramming into the echidna. It sent the red mobian flying back, and Shadow took no time in turning and swinging a kick, sending the fox flying away from him. He heard the echidna leap back up, shouting something in an excited tone– someone who liked to fight, then. The fox said nothing, but Shadow could see him get back to his feet, steadying himself.

But as Shadow turned to continue the brawl, he wasn’t thinking about them. He was thinking about that first night.

“I can’t sleep.”

“Why?”

“It’s a new room. I don’t know how.”

“So why bother me?”

“It’s your room. How do you sleep here?”

“I just… do. Other hedgehog, help me out here.”

“No, I’m with her on this. I feel weird.”

“...you want to cuddle, don’t you?”

Two little voices, muttering, “Maybe.”

“Fine. Come here.”

He remembered that feeling. He had to be ten years old then, they were all so young. He’d scooted back on the bottom bunk, and then the blue hedgehog had crawled up, cautiously curling up on the bed’s edge, but then the youngest leapt on, bounced, and dragged them all together. She laid inbetween them, hugging them to her, refusing to let go. She had her head on Shadow’s shoulder, then, and whispered, “Night-night.”

Both of the others had been uncomfortable at first, not used to touch. But they’d realized fast that she needed this, and, well, maybe they needed it, too. Just someone to hold.

I’m sorry.

They were gone now. Because he’d failed them.

I’m sorry, Maria.

I’m sorry, Amy.

I’m sorry, Sonic.

I won’t fail your memory.

---

Hundreds of miles away, on a deserted island, a second pod let out a long beep, before falling silent again.

#sonic fanfiction #sth #sonic the hedgehog #a cluster of burning stars #shadow the hedgehog #connie writes #mine #SURPRISE! this was the au that reared its head at me after like 3 years and kicked me in the nuts #and now im obsessed

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intothedysphoria · 3 days ago

Note

Needed on this cold winter morning: Steve and his roommate billy have a snow day and maybe confess their feelings 🥺

Steve had plans for the day. Work for a start. The snow, thickly laid outside, did not seem to want to cooperate.

He woke to Jinkx and Pepper vigorously batting at the window, staring out at the snow with their huge green eyes. Billy, asleep on the chair beside the window, was unaware of the fact that Jinkx was sitting on his hair.

That is until he removed her and she started yowling. Not even Billy could sleep through the pitiful meows of an overly spoiled orange cat.

Billy squinted, looking vaguely annoyed and completely asleep. Then his eyes landed on the culprit. Followed by craning his neck back to see the shimmering white scene outside.

He muttered something about cats thinking they could get away with anything, then wandered into the kitchen.

Steve had not signed up to spend possibly a full 24 hours indoors with Billy Hargrove. Not because he was particularly difficult company but more because Steve was very slightly in love.

For reasons like this, Billy handing him coffee just the way Steve liked it. Without even having to be asked. He’d just do things for people. Genuinely completely selfless.

He’d even given his seat up for Pepper. She curled up in a ball and purred, eyes closed and whiskers twitching.

It was almost like they were a couple. Especially when Billy signalled Steve onto his lap and Steve just climbed on, letting Billy be his own personal hot water bottle.

Billy checked his phone.

“Ugh, gonna be snowing all day. X Files time?”

And there was another running joke from when they’d dressed as Mulder and Scully for Halloween two years prior.

They’d made out just a little. For the bit. It wasn’t like gay or anything.

Sure, they were both gay but Billy wasn’t gay for him. His type was like Jason Carver or something. Someone blonde.

Pepper wailed beneath them and Billy scooped her up, letting her chase her tail on Steve’s lap.

Billy ran his hands over her fur, gently detangling her claws from when she swiped at strands of blonde ringlets.

“You gonna stop being such a menace to me and my boyfriend, pretty girl? Hmmmm?”

Steve’s brain literally had a scratch on a record moment.

“B-boyfriend?”

Billy stared at him. And stared. And stared.

“Do you prefer partner? I mean we are 27 and 28, I guess that sounds more mature.”

Steve’s brain ground to a halt more and he asked how long they’d been in a relationship.

The answer was apparently two years from the Halloween they made out.

All Steve could seem to say was “oh”

Then they watched an entire season of Buffy with Steve still on Billy’s lap. It was a lot nicer than being stuck outside in the cold.

For @shieldofiron and our love for Pepper and Jinkx the cats

#billy hargrove #steve harrington #harringrove #harringrove ficlet #silly and cold boys

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tiki-was-here · 1 day ago

Text

Billy Butcher x GN Reader-Valentines Edition

Word Count: 2k

Pretend that this isnt rushed because i forgot about it lol. also if its not clear reader cancels the reservation when they make the phone call butcher just doesnt hear

Valentines Event

Masterlist

You weren’t exactly the kind of person to get all starry-eyed about Valentine’s Day. The whole thing was a corporate cash grab, anyway—overpriced chocolates, gaudy heart-shaped decorations, and forced declarations of love. Yeah, you weren’t that type.

But still.

You glanced down at the confirmation email on your phone, the words practically glowing with your shame. "Your reservation for two at Le Château Noir has been confirmed for February 14th, 7:30 PM."

It wasn’t anything crazy. Just a nice dinner at a fancy place you wouldn’t normally splurge on. A way to say, Hey, I actually care about you, and I like spending time with you, even though you’re an absolute dickhead.

Because whatever was happening between you and Butcher—this thing that was built on stolen moments and rough hands on quiet nights —you didn’t know what to call it.The two of you hadn’t talked about what any of it meant.

And maybe it didn’t mean anything at all.

Still, you had scraped together enough money to make the reservation—partly from your own savings, partly from “borrowing” a bit of cash from Frenchie and MM. They’d get over it. Probably.

Shoving the thought to the back of your mind, you focused on the present—walking beside Butcher, hands shoved deep in your coat pockets, the two of you wandering through the city. No destination, for the sake of it.

The streets were packed with people, moving in and out of stores with bags of chocolate and teddy bears in their arms. Heart-shaped A-Train mugs, Queen Maeve teddy bears, little action figures of the Deep holding bouquets of roses. It was ridiculous.

Half-listening as Billy muttered about some new Vought scandal, something caught your eye—a massive, over-the-top billboard featuring the Seven.

They were all posed dramatically, dressed in shades of red and gold. Starlight stood front and center with a megawatt smile, Homelander beside her, eyes glowing faintly like he was about to laser the next person who so much as breathed wrong. The text at the bottom read: “Make this Valentine’s one to remember. Diamonds are forever! – The Seven’s Valentine’s Special!”

You snorted. “Jesus. They’re really milking the holiday for all it’s worth.”

You glanced at Butcher, smirking a little while nodding your head towards the board. “What do you say, Butch? Gonna get me a nice rock? Maybe pop the question while you’re at it?”

Butcher scoffed, barely sparing the display a glance. “Not bloody likely.”

“Oh, c’mon. Not even a lil’ something?” You smled, poking fun at him. “I’ll get you a Black Noir keychain in return. Real sentimental.”

“Romance is a bloody scam.”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, here we go.”

“Think about it,” he continued, gesturing vaguely at the streets. “Whole thing’s just a racket. They guilt you into spending’ a fortune on chocolates and all that shit, just to prove you give a shit about someone.”

You raised a brow. “Right, because God forbid.”

He kept walking, jaw set. “I don’t see why people make such a big deal about it. It’s just another day.”

You rolled your eyes, but the sting was still there. “Right. Yeah. Stupid holiday.”

You hadn’t expected him to be enthusiastic about it, but the way he dismissed it so quickly—it kind of hurt. Because you had been excited, just a little. And now you just felt dumb.

The rest of the walk home was quiet, tension clinging to the air between you.

Later that night, when you were alone in your room, you pulled out your phone and scrolled to your reservation.

Maybe you had been jumping the gun with the whole fancy-dinner thing. Maybe it had been stupid to think that Butcher would ever entertain something like that.

You sat on the edge of your bed, phone in hand, staring at the screen longer than necessary before finally pressing the call button. The restaurant picked up on the second ring, a professional yet pleasant voice greeting you.

“Hello, thank you for calling Le Château Noir. How can I assist you this evening?”

You inhaled sharply. Just do it. It’s not a big deal.

“Hi, I’m calling about my reservation for tomorrow night,” you said, voice steady but distant, as if saying the words out loud made them more real. “The table for two at seven thrity?”

Down the hall, Butcher had been walking past your door, intending to grab a beer from the fridge. But your voice caught his attention, and something made him pause just outside the room.

A table for two at eight?

“For two, yes,” you confirmed, nodding even though they couldn’t see you.

Butcher frowned, shifting his weight. You never mentioned anything about it to him.

“Under what name?” the receptionist asked.

You gave them your name, confirming all the details, and Butcher had heard enough. He turned away, walking briskly toward the kitchen.

What the bloody hell were you thinking?

He grabbed a beer from the fridge, popped the cap off with a little too much force, and took a long swig.

You had planned a fancy dinner. For him. After everything he had said earlier about Valentine’s Day being a joke. He didn’t know what to make of it. Part of him was irritated—you hadn’t even told him, and now he was expected to sit through some overpriced meal, pretending not to hate every second of it.

But another part of him—one he refused to acknowledge—felt something else entirely.

Something warm. Something suspiciously close to endearment.

Despite himself, the thought of you planning something like that, of you wanting to spend the day with him like it actually meant something…

He set the beer down a little too hard.

He didn’t know what to make of it, so he wasn’t going to make anything of it.

The day started off strange.

For one, Butcher was still here.

You fully expected to wake up alone, but instead when you rolled over, he was in bed scrolling on his phone, one arm folded behind his head. His eyes flicked to you the moment you stirred, something unreadable passing through them before he exhaled and looked away.

“Morning,” he muttered.

You blinked at him, still groggy. “You’re still here.”

“Brilliant observation, love.”

You frowned, pushing yourself up on your elbows. “Thought you had shit to do today.”

He shrugged, barely glancing at you. “Plans changed.”

Weird.

But you kne better than to question him— especially so early in the morning.

Instead, you dragged yourself out of bed, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you shuffled toward the kitchen, figuring you’d have to scrounge around for whatever scraps were left from the last grocery run.

But then—

There was coffee.

A full pot. Fresh. Still hot.

Your brow furrowed as you hesitated near the counter, eyeing the mug waiting beside it. You didn’t even have to ask to know that it was for you.

Still, you didn’t comment on it. Just poured yourself a cup, and leaned against the counter,

When Butcher finally strolled in, you watched him out of the corner of your eye. He grabbed his own mug—black, of course—and leaned against the opposite counter, arms crossed, staring at you like he was waiting for something.

You blinked. “Did you poison this?”

He smirked. “Drink it and find out.”

You just scoffed at him and took your glass to your room.

The whole morning was like that. A light touch on the small of your back when you passed him in the hallway. The way he didn’t snap at you when you stole the last piece of toast off his plate. The fact that he stayed.

Usually, Butcher had somewhere to be. Always on the move, always planning, always chasing the next lead.

But today, he lingered

It should’ve made you happy. A day ago, maybe it would have. Now it just made the ache in your chest worse.

And now, he was sitting beside you on the couch, one arm draped across the back, fingers lazily playing with the ends of your hair while you scrolled through your phone.

“Not even gonna look at me today, then?” he mused.

You shrugged. “Dunno. Nothing to look at.”

His fingers stilled. “Bit rude, innit?”

“Only returning the favor.”

It slipped out before you could stop yourself, and you weren’t even sure what you meant by it. But he let it go—for now.

By the time evening rolled around, you had fully settled into your mood. It wasn’t even intentional—it was just there.

And it must have gotten to him too, because by the time seven-thirty hit, he was clearly restless.So when he finally stretched, exhaling through his nose, and said, “Well, I’m gonna take a shower,care to join?” you barely acknowledged it.

You just shrugged, staring at the TV. “I’ll take one in the morning.”

“Not even if I promise to make it special?”

Your fingers twitched around the remote.

Usually, that would work. You’d roll your eyes but still let him pull you in, let him distract you.

But not today.

You didn’t even look at him. “Not in the mood, Butcher.”

His face darkened, his usual sharp smirk twisting into something meaner. “Christ, what’s with you today?”

You turned your head, finally looking at him fully. “What’s with me?”

“Yeah.” His hands went to his hips. “You’ve been sulkin’ all day. Thought you’d be happy I’m stickin’ around, but you’re actin’ like I kicked your bloody dog.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “It’s nothing.”

“Bullshit,” he snapped. “Isn’t it supposed to be Valentine’s or something? ”

You glanced at him, brow raising. “And?”

He met your eyes, something simmering there, something edged. “And you’re actin’ like it’s just any other bloody day.You’re supposed to be all over me, right?”

You stared at him for a moment, then let out a short, humorless laugh. “You don’t even like Valentine’s Day, so why do you look so upset that I didn’t plan anything?”

“Tch.” He scoffed, shaking his head. “Ain’t upset.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

He huffed, looking away for a moment before muttering, “Just figured—” But then he cut himself off, exhaling sharply like he’d already said too much.

You folded your arms. “You figured what?”

He didn’t answer right away. Just sat there, staring at the TV like it suddenly had all the answers he needed. But his grip on his knee was just a little too tight, his shoulders just a little too tense.

“…Figured you would’ve still gone to that dinner.”

So that was it.

He knew.

Your stomach twisted. “I—” You let out a breath. “I canceled it.”

He stiffened slightly. “Right.”

“You made it pretty clear how you felt about Valentine’s, so I figured there wasn’t much point.”

There was a beat of silence. Then, in a low voice:

“That’s different.”

Your breath hitched. “What?”

Butcher ran a hand down his face, looking uncharacteristically frustrated. “It’s different when it’s you.When its us i mean…”

The words weren’t particularly soft. They weren’t overly romantic. But from Butcher? They might as well have been a love confession.

Your fingers tightened around the remote once more“You’re an idiot,” you muttered, shaking your head.

Something in his expression shifted. “You still wanna go?”

You gave him a wry look. “You think I can get the reservation back?”

He sighed, glancing at the clock. 7:09.His lips twitched, just barely.

“Guess not.”

There was another pause before you sighed, rubbing your temples.

“Fine,” you mumbled. “Let’s order pizza and watch something stupid.”

Butcher snorted. “That’s your idea of a Valentine’s date?”

“It is now.”

He didn’t argue. Just plopped down next to you on the couch as you placed the order.

The pizza arrived, you put on the cheesiest rom-com you could find, and somehow, between bites of greasy food and sarcastic commentary, you found yourself leaning against him, head on his shoulder.

He reached into his pocket, then tossed something onto your lap.

You frowned, picking it up. It was… a keychain. A tiny, dumb-looking Black Noir keychain.

Your lips parted in surprise. “Wait—”

He looked away, feigning nonchalance. “Didn’t wanna show up empty-handed.”

You stared at it for a moment, something warm flickering in your chest. Then, shaking your head, you muttered, “You’re impossible.”

He grinned. “And yet, here we are.”

And when his arm slung around your waist, tugging you just a little closer, you didn’t pull away.

#tiki try not to put everything in a new line to try and seem like u can write challenge #𐌕𐌉𐌊𐌉 ᯓᡣ𐭩 #billy butcher x male reader #top male reader #x male reader #billy butcher #male reader #billy butcher x reader #bottom male reader #the boys x male reader #billy butcher x you #billy butcher x y/n #the boys x reader #billy butcher x gn reader #the boys x gn reader #.°.ᡣ𐭩° Valentines Event °ᡣ𐭩 .° .

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averagemoxxiestan · 17 hours ago

Text

Readers Valentine Spree

Valentine’s Day special❤️‼️ YEAUH

Reader is gender neutral until specified otherwise (warning: I’m indulging in my headcanons in this and I switch between They/Them and You/Yours pronouns for Reader/You.)

Reader was in their room and was lying down in bed, bundled up in a blanket like a burrito, they had to use the bathroom but didn’t want to get out of bed but they knew they had to or else they’d piss the bed. They’ve been feeling sluggish for two weeks now and have been bed rotting ever since, they rolled until they fell off of their bed and stayed on the floor for a few seconds before unwrapping themselves from their blanket and standing up to walk to the bathroom.

They looked at their calendar filled with their favorite fictional characters and get ready to cross out the previous day, you grab the marker and cross the previous day out and then their eyes caught something

‘Valentine’s Day’

…

Oh my fucking god it’s almost Valentine’s Day.

They had to give gifts to their friends.

A sudden surge of energy thrives in them and they immediately become aware of their smelly and messy self, they quickly run into the bathroom and go through everything to refresh themselves.

Using the bathroom, brushing their teeth, taking a shower and washing their hair, taking their medication, and then finally putting on some clothes.

They get their wallet and phone before walking out of their room and passing by their mom, who was in the kitchen making breakfast

“Bye mom, gotta go!” They quickly said before opening the front door and exiting the house, closing the door behind them, not being able to see the shocked and confused expression of their mom

Reader was speed walking through the street, they loved holidays and loved celebrating them so just the bare mention of Valentine’s Day approaching was enough to immediately drag them out of their depressive state for a while, they looked up and find themselves in front of Dollar Tree.

They browse through the isles to get some baskets to place gifts in, they did get distracted a little bit which made the trip take a bit longer than expected but they found some baskets, now it’s time for the gifts.

First up is IronJaw

You liked the guy, he had a good fashion sense and has good taste in music but he spits a lot, which is a problem. You thrifted a couple of cassette tapes and decided to record some hip-hop songs on the tapes for him so he can listen to his favorite artists, you also wrote a list of helpful tips to help him stop spitting everything, and got his favorite snacks (gum and Hot Cheetos.) you place all the gifts into the basket and ran to IronJaw’s house.

IronJaw was in sitting near his desk while writing lyrics for a song he was making but then yelped when he heard something hit his window, he got up and opened the window and looked down to yell at the bastard that threw something at his window only to see you.

“What are you doing here, need to borrow my headphones again?” IronJaw asked with playful annoyance “nope! I have a gift for you” you responded as you lift up the gift basket with a smile, IronJaw then focused his attention on the gift basket with interest and suspicion “why?” “It’s almost Valentine’s Day dumbass!” You yelled

IronJaw quickly took a look at his calendar and you were right, it was almost Valentine’s Day. “Oh” he muttered before looking back at you “send it up!” He held his arms out, ready to catch the basket. You carefully threw the basket into the air and sighed in relief when IronJaw caught it, you saw him take a quick look in the basket and smile

“You got me Cheetos” he said gleefully and you smiled back “yup, I know how much you love them! Even though it’s a rule that you can’t eat them” you teased him before quickly saying a goodbye “okay, got more presents to give, bye! Happy Valentine’s Day!” IronJaw waved to you as you ran away, when you were out of view he sighed softly as he blushes.

Next person, Ward Willoughby

You didn’t mind the little dude, he was annoying at times, sure, but he was really nice and had lots of knowledge about stuff. You bought some crocheting products and made a crocheted replica of Ward, you also added coloring pencils and a sketchbook.

You knocked on the door and rung the doorbell of Ward’s fancy house, you didn’t know how Ward’s parents had so much money and no one knew their jobs. You were snapped out of your thoughts when the door opened and Ward was in the doorway “[REDACTED], What are you doing here?” He asked before seeing the basket in your hand and smiling “is that for me?”

“It is! How’d you know?” You asked with a playful tone as you handed the gift basket to him, he quickly shuffled through the things in the basket before looking back at you “because you’re the only person I know that likes me enough to get me gifts”

You stared at him when those words came out of his mouth, you didn’t know what to say.

“Thank you” Ward said before shutting the door, you stood still for a moment before walking away

Poor guy.

Next up is Bill Dickey

He was your friend(sort of?) and didn’t really deserve a gift basket but if you skip a single person you’ll go all day thinking you forgot something, so you kind of have to.

You never really cared about his interests but you know he likes comics and sci-fi shit but he kept rewatching the same things over and over again, might as well get him something new, you grabbed a Invader Zim dvd case and put it in the basket.

You then put a pack of Twizzlers in the basket because you picked up on the fact he would have empty Twizzler wrappers in his room and a Rockstar energy drink because he wanted to try one but never got to.

Bill entered his room after arguing with his mom and saw a gift basket on his bed, he rolled his eyes and walked towards his bed before reading the note that was leaning against the gift basket

‘Hey Bill,

I know I’m probably the last person you want to get a gift from but I don’t care and wanted to wish you a Happy Valentine’s Day.

Love, [REDACTED]’

Bill’s heart skipped a beat but he ignored the warm fuzzy feeling inside him and crumbled the note up and threw it to the side, he looks inside the basket and immediately grabbed the Twizzlers and ripped them open before seeing the Invader Zim dvd “looks childish, do they think I’m some child or something?” Bill muttered, trying to ignore that small feeling of curiosity.

Next person is Josh Levy

You like when Josh talks to you about something because you know that he’s almost never mad about your opinion of stuff because you see it from his point of view and other’s point of view and don’t really choose sides.

You decided to make a custom cardboard cutout of Superman because you know he secretly has a crush on him, you then put a big bag of Bissli Onion chips into the basket because you thought he should try them. You were struggling to find something else he might like but then an idea hit you, free comic book coupons.

You were let into Josh’s house by his mother and was kind enough to get a glass of water for you as you waited for Josh to come downstairs, once he did he looked at you with confusion because seeing the gift basket and tall Superman cardboard cutout. “Is that a cardboard cutout of Superman?” he asked as he reached for the Onion chips “yeah because I know you have a crush on him!” You said with an innocent smile

“NO I DON’T-“

Next contestant is Pete Dinunzino

You never really liked Pete due to his loud self but he was a funny guy even if he was messed up in the head.

You were in a VHS store and was looking for some type of horror film to buy but you just couldn’t settle with one that’d match Pete’s messed up fantasies, you then got the idea to sneak into the back of the store and search for a few snuff films they haven’t put on the shelves yet.

You were back at home after buying some ingredients to make a batch of Frollino Con Cacao E Nocciole, (look it up I am not translating it for you ^3^) after numerous attempts and fails of underbaked and burnt goods, you made the perfect batch and placed them in a small bag full of hearts.

You were at Pete’s house and could hear a lot of people talking, you remember that he mentioned that he he was a big family, especially in the brother department. You knocked on the door and a second later some older guy (who you guessed was one of Pete’s older brothers) answered the door with a rude “What.”

You handed him the gift basket and a polite smile “Can you give this to Pete please? I wanted to give him something since it’s almost Valentine’s Day” you asked, Pete’s older brother took the basket and smirked, already planning to tease Pete about this “of course.” He replied before closing the door.

You stood there for a second because you felt like something bad is going to happen before shrugging that feeling off as anxiety

(Pete then jumped you the next day.)

Last person is Jerry Stokes

You tolerated Jerry the most out of that stupid Eltingville Club gang because he had minimal standards and would try to stop most fights even though he would sometimes join said fights but he’s okay (for now..)

You decided to draw Jerry in a fantasy setting, making him look cool and adding a simple ‘you’re cool ♡’ to finish the drawing off. You also got him a tech deck and a secret gift that you know he’ll like.

Jerry was sitting at his desk and was writing a script for his next DND session with his friends but then he heard a knock on his room door, he looks up and sees his mom in the doorway holding a gift basket “Hey sweetie, one of your friends came by and wanted me to give you this” she then put the gift basket on the desk before leaving with a quick ‘love you’.

Jerry saw the card on the basket and immediately smiled when he saw that the gift was from you, he reached inside and pulled out a drawing of him with armor and elf ears and he flaps his hands in happiness. He then reaches back into the basket, his eyes not leaving the drawing, he pulls out something that feels like a book and he shifts his gaze towards it, only to see a 18+ yaoi manga.

Jerry slowly put the drawing down ad stared at the cover of the manga before getting up and going towards his door to lock it, getting ready to read the manga.

Reader finally arrived home and plopped themselves down on the couch, the energy they had throughout the day was already drained and their social battery was at 5 percent. Their mom then went into the living room and sat next to Reader before putting on a show they both liked, Reader sat up and had their eyes glued to the tv.

Their mom gave them hot chocolate before they stayed on the couch together for a few minutes

You liked Valentine’s Day.

GREAT GOD I’M DONE!!!

Fact!: ‘your’ mom is inspired by my mom because my mom is cool 😼

Hey guyyyssss, hope you guys have a Valentine but if you don’t then that’s fine! Not everyone can have one and that’s okay, just try and treat yourself or spend time with your family for it!!!

Love you guys so muxhh

K bye mwah ^3^💋

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witchygagirlwrites · 2 days ago

Text

Sin So Sweet

Matt Casey x Severide Sister Reader (Nicknamed Sunshine)

You're younger than him and Kelly's half sister. Matt should know better

Warnings: age gap, NSFW

You glanced out the window at the road signs flashing by. Chicago. When your friend Eliza called you about an opening in her precinct you figured the move was the next step in your life. A phone call with the house sergeant Trudy Platt later and you were packing up what little you owned into your jeep and leaving your hometown in the rearview.

You didn’t have any close family. When your mom passed when you were seventeen your aunt and uncle had taken you in so you could finish high school and helped you get through the academy, after that you slid them some money for everything you knew they’d footed out over the years that they really didn’t have to foot out but did so because the only thing your dad had ever given you was his last name and a couple birthday presents.

Now you needed a new start and maybe just maybe this was it. You checked the directions to Eliza’s once more and hit your blinker to follow them. You changed lanes just fine and went under a green light. You saw the truck blast through the stop sign but didn’t have time to react before it smashed into you and everything went black.

________________________

When the alarm rang through firehouse fifty one for a multiple vehicle accident the truck, rescue squad and the ambulance responded. When they rolled on scene they were met with a car that was badly dented, a mini van with a crumpled front end, the truck that was clearly the offending vehicle and a bright yellow jeep that still had someone stuck inside that would require the jaws to get them out of.

“Grab the jaws” Kelly ordered and walked over to the jeep, trying to get a look inside. A woman was semi conscious in the driver’s seat, blood pouring out of a cut on her head “BRETT” he hollered then leaned into the jeep. Before he could say anything however the woman’s eyes focused on him for a second and a clear look of confusion spread across her face “Benny?” then her head drooped over to the side. Benny? She called him his father’s name.

“Kelly” Sylvie was at his side trying to check on the woman. “She lost consciousness” he told her and she nodded, looking at the jeep “I need to get in to stabilize her while you work to get her out” he helped Sylvie in then him and the rescue squad went to work.

Once the woman was free and out on a gurney Stella walked over and leaned in the jeep, sunflowers decorated the seats and steering wheel cover. She spotted a purse down on the floorboard and whistled at Kelly “I’m checking for ID” he nodded “Go ahead” she picked up the purse and found a wallet then called his name again. “What?” he asked and she turned to license around to show him the woman’s photo and her name Y/N Severide

“Do you know her?” Stella asked and he shook his head “No, but she called me Benny before she passed out” Stella watched the ambulance pull away then climbed out of the jeep “You need to go to the hospital Kelly” He nodded slowly “Yeah, I need to find out just who she is”

Everything hurt. Your head, your side, your back. You had some weird ass dream about some guy who had your dead beat father’s eyes, except that guy’s eyes actually held some care in them.

You groaned as you tried to sit up and felt a hand reach out for your arm and a voice say “Let me help you” your eyes flew open at the very masculine voice and there was the guy from your dream “Who the hell are you and why do you look like my deadbeat father?”

He grinned slightly “Well hello to you too Sunshine. Y/N Severide. Can I ask who your father is?” you shrugged “Benny Severide” he stared at you for a second before asking how old you were when you told him he nodded “You’re about ten years younger than me, makes sense with when he left” you raised an eyebrow “What are you saying here?” he stepped a little closer and offered his hand “My name’s Kelly. I’m your older half brother”

“I have a brother?” you all but whispered and he shrugged “Yeah?” and despite the pain you were in, a small smile slipped onto your face “and just this morning I thought I had no close family left” a look crossed his face “None? Who was your mom?” “Penelope Killian. She died when I was seventeen and until about five minutes ago I thought I was an old child” you laughed.

He nodded “I responded to your wreck” the wreck. Fuck, your jeep. “My baby” you whispered and his eyes widened then he laughed slightly “You mean your jeep” you nodded “That was the only thing I owned” “You had insurance didn’t you?” you nodded then admitted “I’ve never had to file a claim” he laughed “I can help you?” you shook your head “Kelly, you’ve known me five minutes”

He cut his eyes at the clock “Seven” “Excuse me big brother. Seven” you laughed, holding your side then groaned “Fuck i was supposed to start work monday” he raised his eyebrows “Where?” “As a patrolman at the twenty first precinct” he grinned “I can help you with that. I work with the house sergeant’s husband” you raised an eyebrow “Damn”

He nodded “Um, Can I call my wife? She’s going to want to meet you” you ran a hand over your hair and he smiled “She was there when you got pulled out sunshine. She works with the fire department too” you nodded “In that case, call her down” he smiled “Ok” and walked out to call her.

You sat there staring at the door. Christ, you needed to call Eliza too and where the hell was all your stuff out of your jeep? You could ask Kelly you guessed. Kelly you had a big brother and apparently a sister in law. What was life? This morning you were an only child moving cities looking for a new start, now you had a totaled jeep and a brother. You were worried for tomorrow.

____________________

The knock on your door made you cut your eyes at Kelly “Well I mean I’d get it but..” you shrugged and he laughed “You damn sure have the same attitude as me” you cracked a smirk “That a good or bad thing?” he shrugged “Guess we’ll see” and walked over to the door.

When he opened it a pretty woman wearing a CFD uniform came walking in. She smiled at you as Kelly said “Y/N this is my wife Stella, Stella this is Y/N…my younger sister apparently. I called Benny’s sister and turns out she knew about her but never told me because he told her not to”

“That bitch” you and Stella gasped in unison then turned and grinned at each other. Kelly laughed slightly “Well you two are getting along” “While we’re at it, where’s all my stuff out of my jeep? That was literally everything I own” you questioned and Stella cut her eyes at Kelly before she shrugged “I took it back to the station house after I saw the last name Severide on your license”

You let out a sigh of relief “I love you already Stella” and she grinned. “Can I borrow someone’s phone? I was supposed to be meeting a friend to look at extended stay motels until I could get a place and she’s probably freaking out” Stella handed you her phone then cut her eyes at Kelly “Let’s give her some privacy”

_________________

The moment Stella and Kelly stepped into the hall she spun around to face him “Oh my god. You have a little sister!” he nodded “And she’s a cop. She was supposed to start at the twenty-first monday. I got Mouch to call Trudy” her eyes widened “That’s handy. How do you feel?”

He looked back towards your hospital room “She acts like me, it’s weird how I can see that and we just met” she slipped her arms around his waist and laid her head over on his shoulder “You do know there’s no way I’m letting my sister-in-law stay at a extended stay motel without at least trying to get her to stay with us, right?”

He laughed and tucked her into his side tighter “I had some idea” she cut her eyes up at him and smiled “So, we calling her sunshine still?” he nodded “Definitely” and she shook her head with a laugh.

When you were released from the hospital two days later Stella had talked you into staying in hers and Kelly’s spare room. “At least for a few days. Heal up, start working and get to know us” she’d said.

Considering you needed a ride just to meet with the local office of your insurance carrier wasn’t like you could turn her down besides you wanted to get to know Kelly. He seemed genuine about wanting to know you.

You followed them out of the hospital and laughed when you realized Stella drove a jeep as well. She cut her eyes back at you and grinned “It’s not yellow but it’ll do right?” you nodded “Yeah, it’ll do” Kelly shook his head “After we meet with the insurance they should have you a rental car ready in the next day or so. Then we’ll take you by the twenty first to meet Platt then if you want to meet the rest of fifty one?” you nodded “Of course.They work with you two and saved my life”

___________________________

Considering your age you felt a little ridiculous sitting back and letting Kelly handle your insurance agents but he stepped in without a second thought and honestly Benny had never been a father and having Kelly be protective over you even in something that simple? It made you smile.

They were going to cover your jeep in full and drop a rental car off at Stella and Kelly’s until the check hit your account. After that they took you to the twenty first where you met Sergeant Platt, your house sergeant and even ended up meeting the whole of the intelligence unit. They were all welcoming even if they were a little curious about Kelly having a half sister no one had known about until now.

You were set to start work the following Monday now. You sat in the back of Stella’s jeep as she parked in front of their firehouse. You climbed out and fell in behind her and Kelly. “I’m nervous” you laughed and Kelly shook his head “Don’t be.They’ll be nice”

You followed the two of them into the bays and every eye turned towards you. Your eyes landed on one person in particular. He was freaking gorgeous, blue eyes, Kelly’s height and when he smiled at you damn. He was older than you of course. Damn near everyone here was. Kelly pulled you to the front “This is Y/N Severide. My younger half sister. She’s gonna be staying with me and Stella while she finds a place and Monday she’ll be starting as a patrolman at the twenty first. You can also call her sunshine” you shot him a glare and he smirk “Be welcoming or else”

Everyone introduced themselves with handshakes from the men and hugs from the few women.When the man who got your attention from the start introduced himself Kelly told you “This is the house captain Matt Casey, my best friend” of course. You’d get the hots for your newly founded older brother’s best friend. That was one guy code you knew. Little sisters were off limits and Stella had already pointed out that in her words “Kelly is in big brother mode isn’t he?”

Matt smiled at you as he shook your hand “Nice to meet you sunshine” “Nice meeting you Matt” you told him with a small smile yourself.

Kelly put his hand on your shoulder “Come on. I want to introduce you to Boden too” you laughed and cut your eyes up at Matt “I feel like a shiny new toy to my brother” he grinned “He’s proud to have you though?” you laughed lightly “First time in my life I think anyone has been proud to have me so I guess I should enjoy it” and let Kelly drag you away but not before cutting your eyes back at Matt again and felt your heart flip when he was already looking at you and winked before walking away.

It was so weird having family that cared about you for no other reason than you were you. Kelly was really everything you ever would’ve wanted out a big brother and Stella was the best sister in law that ever existed. You’d been in Chicago a couple weeks and really it felt like you’d known Kelly for years. You were still staying at their loft while you tried to find your own place but you had finally talked them into an agreement that you were splitting bills and groceries with them.

“I’m not staying for free Kel” you’d argued one night while you and Stella sipped wine around the island while he chopped vegetables for supper. He cut his eyes up at you and grinned when you called him Kel instead of Kelly and nodded “Ok sunshine. That’s fine” and that was that. It made you feel better about staying with them and in all honesty you loved staying with them anyways.

_____________________

You were slowly finding your footing, even if some things were still shaky. The gaps of anger towards Benny at the fact that you truly could have known Kelly your entire life if he would’ve just been a little less shitty. You wouldn’t have been alone so many years. It wouldn’t have taken you totaling your jeep for you to find a new start.

When you started at the twenty first you were partnered with Kiara O’Rourke. She was a lively brunette who kept everyone on their toes. You and her got along beautifully from day one to the point even Platt and Voight commented on how well you two partnered. You had a new jeep, this one was a burnt orange color to Kelly’s delight because he still insisted on calling you sunshine and it had stuck with everyone it seemed. Even officers around the precinct were picking it up.

Matt still plagued your mind every time you saw him because he gave you that damn smile that spelled trouble but he was your brother’s best friend. You weren’t going to do that. No matter if he was gorgeous and older than you and could probably wear you out in all the best ways.

“So you’re going out with Kiara and Eliza?” Stella asked as you tried to find the keys to your jeep. She whistled and held them up from the counter. You grinned and took them from her outstretched hand “Yeah, it’s Eliza’s birthday and before Kelly freaks I have a strict rule of no more than two drinks then switch it out” she nodded “Good, because you know he’d freak”

You laughed “It’s sweet really. I’ve never had people care about me like I do now” she smiled “You’re family sweetie. We’re gonna care. Text me when you get to Eliza’s later tho.Just so I know you didn’t get in a bar fight. You do have that Severide temper” you cut your eyes at her with a smirk “Who was born one and who married one?” she nodded “Good point”

You slipped your jacket on and blew her a kiss “Love ya Stel. See you tomorrow” and hurried out of the door.

__________________

“I’m telling you, the look on their faces when they realized two women took em down! Voight even cracked a smile” you laughed and Eliza shook her head “It’s good to see the changes in it since you’ve moved here Y/N” Kiara grinned “Yeah, I’m glad we got sunshine here” you rolled your eyes “I love Kelly but that nickname” she shook her head “You love it” you shrugged “Maybe” and they both started laughing.

You glanced up and saw Matt walk in the door of the bar and a smile slipped onto your face “Ohh” they both cooed and looked around “Who did you spot?” you shook your head “No one” Eliza nodded slowly then cut her eyes at Kiara “Twenty bucks says she goes to the bathroom then texts me in twenty saying she’ll be back in the morning” you felt your face warm “Will not”

But about that time you glanced up and made eye contact with Matt who nodded towards the barstool next to him so you looked between the two of them “I’ll be right back” they cracked up laughing as you walked away and you heard them go into another conversation.

You headed for Matt and he grinned when you slipped onto the barstool next to you “You summoning people now Captain?” he raised an eyebrow “Well if it works officer Severide” you grinned “How ya been?” he nodded “Decent. This has got to be the first time I’ve managed to catch you for five minutes without Kelly or Stella around” you waved a hand back towards where your friends were “Out with a couple friends or well friend and partner”

He nodded, eyes never leaving you “Glad to have caught you” you moved a little closer “And why’s that Matthew?” his eyes went from yours down to your lips then back up and you felt your face warm as he said “Because you are so damn gorgeous” you grinned “Thank you, you’re pretty good looking yourself”

“Sunshine, I think you need to go back to your friends” he said after staring at you for a minute. You felt your face fall. “And why’s that?” “Because you’re my best friend’s little sister. You’re ten years younger than me. I should not be thinking about doing the things to you that I want to do” you swallowed hard, your thighs clenching together just from his words “I’m not some little naive school girl Matt. What if I want you to do those things to me?” his eyes met yours and he smirked slightly “Your brother will fucking kill me” you shrugged “Not if we don’t tell him” “Did you drive here?” he asked and you shook your head “I rode with Eliza” “Text her you’ll see her in the morning” he said then grabbed your hand and pulled you to your feet.

_____________________

The moment you stepped foot into Matt’s apartment he had you pushed against the door, his mouth against yours, his hands slipping under your shirt. “So fucking beautiful. Wanted you from the first day Kelly introduced you” he muttered, pulling back to slip your shirt over your head then attacked your neck, kissing the skin there and biting gently “No marks Matt” you gasped and he grinned against your neck “Don’t want big brother seeing, do we?” as he caught your legs behind the thighs and scooped you up into his arms, forcing you to wrap your legs around his thighs.

He walked through his place and the moment he laid you back on his bed his lips were back on yours. You moaned out his name as his hands explored your body, fingers finding the buckle of your jeans. “Lift your hips babygirl” he whispered and you did what he said which earned you a smile as he pulled them down your hips.

“Matt, you’re still fully dressed” you whined and he chuckled lightly “Sorry” and pulled his shirt over his head to toss it. He started at your left ankle,kissing his way up your leg, stopping just shy of where you wanted him the most then moved to the right leg to do the same. “Matt please” you begged, your hips lifting off the bed.

He pinned them down with one strong arm and grinned at you “Damn that patience” then lowered his mouth to your core. The first lick had your head falling back against the pillows and a low moan of his name falling from your lips. He plunged his tongue into you hitting that spot deep inside of you and you felt your eyes roll back slightly, fingers finding his hair to tug at the short locks. He moaned against you when you did before slipping a finger into you quickly followed by a second. His fingers worked at that spongy spot deep inside of you while his tongue and teeth worked at your clit pushing you closer and closer to that edge. When he rolled your clit into his mouth and sucked it between his teeth you felt that building pressure burst as you came, soaking his chin and the bed underneath you.

He kept working at you until you shoved his head away “Fuck Matt I gotta breathe!” he rocked back on his heels, laughing “Poor thing, can’t take it?” you glared weakly at him “That was fucking amazing” he grinned “You’re welcome” you shook your head “Come here” he crawled up your body, kissing and biting every inch of skin along the way until he got to your mouth, claiming it with a rough kiss. “Take your jeans off Matt, fuck do you have condoms?” he nodded and reached into the table next to his bed to pull a box of condoms out.

He grabbed one and tossed the rest back in before pushing his jeans and boxers off his hips. You cut your eyes down and knew your eyes got big “Fuck” he grinned “Dont worry, I won’t hurt you” you shrugged, cutting your eyes up at him and letting your fingers explore the skin of his chest “I mean I’d probably enjoy it”

He shook his head and rolled the condom down his hard length before lining himself up with your opening. He looked at you for the ok and when you nodded he pushed into you causing a moan to leave you both. He caught your lips in a lingering kiss, rolling his tongue against yours. You felt his hand slip down to hook your leg up around his waist before he looked up to you. “You can move Matt. Fuck me, hard” you begged and he groaned,dropping his head down to your chest as he gave a deep roll of his hips into yours and when your reaction was for your fingers to dig into his shoulders he groaned “Fuck Sunshine, you feel fucking amazing” should it feel weird your brothers best friend fucking you and calling you by the nickname your brother started? Probably. Did you care? Not as long as Matt Casey was that deep inside of you.

His hips snapped into yours, hard and fast. He was damn near pushing you up with the bed with every thrust but you could’ve cared less. It felt fucking amazing. “Please don't stop, please” you begged and he nipped at your neck “I got you babygirl”

You could feel that pressure building inside of you with every snap of Matt’s hips and he must have been close too because he slipped his hand between you to rub tight circles onto your clit. Your orgasm slammed into you and you vaguely felt your nails bite into his shoulders as your legs clenched down around his waist and he chuckled, hips never slowly “There ya go sunshine, ride it out baby” his thrust got a little sharper, little harder until he buried himself deep inside of you with one final thrust and came with a light moan of your name.

Your heart was pounding in your ears, you felt like you’d just ran a marathon. Matt was holding himself up on one arm, looking at you “What?” you asked with a grin and he shook his head “You’re beautiful dressed up but holy shit are you gorgeous all fucked out”

You just fucked your brothers best friend. Not only that but it was the best sex you’d ever had. What the fuck were you gonna do now? He pressed a quick kiss to your lips then pulled out slowly, apologizing when you grimaced slightly “Sorry”

He got up to throw the condom away then came back with a warm rag and bottle of water. He cleaned you up then helped you sit up to drink the water before laying down next to you “Can I?” he asked and you nodded so he pulled you over onto his chest before laughing lightly “If your brother kills me for sleeping with you just makes sure my headstone says died doing what he enjoyed”

@desimarie12

You shook your head “You’re insane” he grinned “You must like something to be in my bed” you rolled your eyes “I said you were insane, not that you were ugly” which in turn made him crack up before he said “Does this have to be a one time thing or?” you raised an eyebrow “I don’t think it does” and he grinned “Good, do you need to go right now?” you shook your head “They think I’m staying with Eliza” he pulled you over to be laying on top of him, hands spreading across your back “Lucky me”

Play with Fire

#matt casey smut #matt casey x you #matt casey x reader #chicago fire imagine #chicago fire fanfic #chicago fire fanfiction

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