#it just sounds so made up. a fantasy. someone could be so overjoyed as to both hoot AND holler? hold on lemme search this up on the web

[stonyponyofficial]

as a n expert in both hollering And hooting, i'm taking this one with a grain of salt.

[ckygetsjobs]

Just one dance?

Brandon Dicamillo x reader

A/N: part 2 of all I wanted fic I made a few days ago. Screaming and crying over this… kinda based off this song a little.

You were looking for new job opportunities after your previous employer had fallen through and they had to quit the business. You weren’t sure exactly what you were doing, it had been rough, but you hadn’t gotten any better by any means, if anything your heart ached more. But you were an adult, you had to face real life, stop living in the past, and what could of been, and live in the moment. 

When you woke up the next day, you made breakfast for the first time in who knows how long, reading the paper and sipping on hot chocolate that was cheap and had little marshmallows. You had another job interview at a local diner in your small down. The one everyone went to, at least when you still had a friend group. Every other day someone was getting kicked out for something, you even got kicked out before, because one of the workers found you and dico having sex in the bathroom. 

You still were allowed back, well kind of. Bam bribed one of them to keep their mouth shut in exchange for an autograph or something? You were unsure of the exact details but it had you and Dico laughing for weeks. You really hated Bam cleaning up the mess or whatever but how extra happy Dico was when you got to go back was worth it. He wasn’t that excited about the building itself or whatever, he was overjoyed because of the thing Bam did to get you guys back and not kicked out indefinitely. 

You smiled, how much ease you had back then, even if you gotten into fights a lot because Dico was a fucking idiot who always said the wrong thing or something smartass. He always got caught up in bar fights or fights out in an alley. You were always cheering him on, telling him to kick his opponent’s ass. Ryan would be so close to you, you were touching arms, and just laughing because of how stupid he was being. Raab would be on the other side of Ryan cheering him on as Novak was either naked a little bit away, or somehow getting his ass caught in the fight. 

When you got done with the interview you stayed and ate lunch there, you wouldn’t get your results on how you did for probably another few days at least. As you were sipping on the drink of your choice, waiting on your food to arrive when the sound of someone’s voice caught your ear. It couldn’t be… you hadn’t heard that voice in years…. and it sounded deeper. But you knew in your heart it was him, and you prepared yourself for an awkward conversation you were sure he’d leave because that’s what he did before. 

You aren’t sure exactly what he was saying, it was hard to hear over the music and the noise of the people conversing. You caught some things he had said, but they weren’t relevant and didn’t really matter, at least not to you. When he had gotten up for whatever reason, you assumed it was to hunt down the waiter or to use the bathroom. He seen you while he was walking to his destination. He was star struck, like he couldn’t believe it was you. He just stared wide eyed and embarrassed…. and you knew that met he wasn’t comfortable around you and you assumed he’d react that way of course. It would have been a bigger surprise if he reacted a different way, but it he didn’t, and now he was right in front of your fucking face and you didn’t know what to say to him, even after pining after his fucking ass this long, god you were stupid.

You told him to sit down, you don’t know why, because it only made it more awkward than it was when he was standing there, but you weren’t really in control anymore. You were also too shocked, just as he was, to say anything. Then you felt a touch, a soft graze that hardly felt real, like a dream, like you just finally woken up, that or you were living a fantasy. “You really are real,” he whispered, his finger still touching your face and slowing lowered his hand, staring in awe like you were a famous painting just out of reach or the really old composer, Beethoven, that he really liked.

You had never been in a position like this before, the biggest opportunity of your life, and you were wasting it by staring at his eyes and dumbass cap, he looked exactly the same since the last time you saw him. You weren’t sure who made the move first, you didn’t care, but your hands were clasped together and he was rubbing his fingers against yours. “And you are too,” you answered back, sighing in relief, like you forgot he was real, like you felt like you dreamed up everything. He seemed to feel the same way, but when you said that, his face turned up just a little, he wasn’t smiling, but he was a little more comfortable than he was before.

Then he looked behind him and seen the beaten up jukebox that was in the corner, obviously looking it’s age. He stood up and held out a hand to you “just one dance,” he asked. You didn’t say a word, you just took it, and that’s the only thing he needed, he didn’t need words. The song playing was a classic, probably something Dico was extremely into, he always knew about the classics. You just stood up next to the booth next to him, nobody was really seated next to the both of you, so it was just you guys. He put his arms in their respected spots, and started slow dancing, neither of you were great at it, but that didn’t matter. That was the fun of it, you were both so bad it was hilarious. It was a fucking laugh for the two of you. 

There was one time where Dico skipped out on the school dance and told you beforehand, and you agreed with his idea. He wanted to build a fort instead, and he was great at building them. You thought he was joking at first but then the way his eyes lit up when you showed up at his house and he shown you all his shitty drawn blueprints, you could tell he wasn’t. That was one of the instances that made you fall deeper in love with him, him skipping out on some stupid typical teenage outing in favor of fun things he actually enjoyed. He didn’t get pressured by stuff other classmates were doing, he was living the moment. He always did, it just took you longer to be able to do so, but he was here again, dancing with you, holding you, smiling at you as you stepped on his feet a few times. 

You were so caught up in the moment you didn’t even realize when he had stopped dancing, he was getting ready to say something, “can I kiss you,” he asked, you just nodded and his lips were against yours, urgently and hungrily. You had been waiting on this moment, practically every day for all these years. And it was better than you remembered, he was better than you remembered. As your lips were moving against his in a messy form you knew he was the missing piece of your life, and he wasn’t getting away easy this time. Especially after he asked you to dance, and he asked to kiss you, he could of just left, he didn’t have to sit down, he didn’t even have to acknowledge you, but he did. You were glad you were in his arms again, and hopefully his heart too, as you smiled and placed your head on his chest, just being in the moment.

[crow-talks-hockey]

Victory - an 829 fic from Nate's POV

Nate had Cale in his arms and it was perfect. He could hardly bear it. They’d done it, they’d won. They had actually won. It was amazing, but right now all he could focus on was Cale. He could practically feel the twenty-three year old’s smile as Nate closed his eyes and buried his face into Cale’s neck, not ever wanting to let go. He wanted to stay in this joy forever. He could hear everyone else celebrating around him, he didn’t care. Cale pulled away first, his cheeks even more pink now, his brown hair spiky and a mess. He was smiling so wide, Nate studied him with loving intensity.

Then, out of nowhere they were giggling. Giggling for hell’s sake. Like kids. Nate wiped tears of joy from the corners of his eyes and he sighed. “We actually did it,” he stated, the moment so real but so dreamy, like he could wake up at any moment and discover that this was still just a fantasy.

“Yeah…” Cale agreed, looking around Amalie Arena with the same expression as Nate.

Landy was skating towards them and they welcomed his embrace. “Lovebirds,” muttered Landy as he held them tight.

Nate had never seen Landy this radiant, energized by this win and by his undying love for all his teammates. Landy skated back a bit and he winked at them before turning and skating into EJ’s open arms. Nate shook his head, about to reply to what Landy had said. Cale got to it first. “He’s one to talk,” Cale laughed.

“Talk about it.”

The two chuckled again and Nate had the urge to find somewhere private just so he could finally give Cale the affection he wanted. He’d settle for this, though. After all, they  hadn’t even brought out the Cup yet and Nate would be lying if he said that he’d ever want to miss that. So they stayed and celebrated on the ice with each other even more, Cale eventually skating off to join some of the others, Devon probably. Nate himself made his way through all of them, congratulating Kadri especially on his resourcefulness throughout the playoffs.

Nate wasn’t exactly sure how long had passed, but eventually they’d all gathered around to see who would receive the Conn Smythe. Cale, Nate’s mind screamed immediately. It has to be him. I’ll be damned if it isn’t. He was right. Cale skated his way through them, smiling a bit awkwardly in true Cale fashion. Nate gave him a little nudge as he skated past and cheered for him from behind Landy, beaming at the defenseman’s accomplishment. Cale took the Smythe and was quick to hand it off to someone where they could take it safely off-ice. Before Nate knew it, Cale was back at Nate’s side. To think he calls me clingy, thought Nate.

Time flew by as Landy received the Cup, then EJ, then eventually all of them. Soon enough the on-ice ceremony ended and they all filed to the locker room where a huge party would no doubt be in store. None of them were going to sleep a wink tonight.

Nate had been too overjoyed to laugh when Landy came into that room with the Cup, dented in all of its glory thanks to Aube. The room filled with shouts of celebration and the sound of champagne or beer being cracked open. Nate had then had what might well have been the first carb in his life as he drank from the Cup, and holy shit did it feel good. The night wore on and celebration never ceased, not even when Nate had managed to sneak into the hall with Cale every so often just so they could finally kiss each other senseless. They’d even walked in on Landy and EJ once and they’d all broke into giddy laughter. “Fuck, you two,” was the first thing Nate had exclaimed upon seeing them. “He isn’t going anywhere, Gabe.”

Gabe has turned to him with a coy smile. “I know.”

EJ had stood to his full height and run a hand through his hair, readjusting his jersey. He’d laid an arm across Gabe’s shoulder with a grin. “We should get back.”

“Why? It’s not like we’re hiding much of anything. I like this,” Gabe gestured to EJ, “type of celebration.”

EJ shook his head. “Fine then, we’re leaving to give them some time. How about that?”

Landy had waved his hand in disagreement but they were already through the door and back with the others. Nate had shrugged with a small smile. “They’re worse than us,” he remarked.

“A little,” Cale agreed with a shrug before taking a seat on the floor.

Nate eyed him a bit confused but he sat and took Cale’s hand in his own. “Is there something wrong?”

“No,” Cale had laughed dryly, “no, nothing at all. I’m just… this feels like a dream. I can’t even begin to comprehend this.”

“I’ll be right back,” Nate said out of the blue. He returned a few moments later, two beers in hand, and sat back down. “I know what you mean. This has been our dream ever since we were kids, and now that it’s finally happened, it doesn’t seem real.”

Cale nodded and took a drink. He wiped sweat from his brow and closed his eyes. “I’m glad it’s real, though.”

“Me too,” Nate said and smiled when Cale rested his head on his shoulder.

“I’m so fucking exhausted now, though.”

“Oh, hell yeah,” remmarked Nate. “Absolutely… What time is it even?” Nate’s eyes widened as he checked his watch. Almost two AM, no wonder.

Landy’s head appeared out of the doorway and Nate’s focus turned to him. Landy smiled warmly at them. “We’re gonna head back to the hotel. I think everyone is ready to take this party elsewhere, you guys?”

Cale nodded and they both stood. Nate gave Cale’s hand a reassuring squeeze before going ahead and saying a quick hello to Jared. He grabbed water and, along with the others that hadn’t gotten completely out of their gear, redressed. When they all finally piled into the bus, Nate was quick to locate Cale and take his seat beside him. Nate pressed a kiss to Cale’s cheek and he leaned back against his seat. “I can’t wait to take the Cup back home.”

“Me either,” Cale replied, short and sweet as usual. 

The bus back to the hotel was anything but quiet, their tiredness from the game now translating into delirious celebration. Music blasted and by the time they had all filed into the hotel lobby, they were all bumping drunkenly into each other. It was glorious. It was about four in the morning when all of them had finally fallen into their beds again, after all, they still had a flight to catch in the next afternoon.

Nate had fallen easily asleep with Cale by his side. Life was perfect. Cale was perfect.

[shepard-ram]

Yandere!Ranboo x Reader [Headcanons]

(Request: Yandere ranboo headcanons ?)

(We had Ranbob [my god it got popular fast] now it's time for Ranboo! Tw. Yandere, stalking/obsession, kidnapping)

You were always close to him, through everything you were always there to anchor him

He always wrote about you in his memory books

He never wants to forget anything about you or what you've done together

He probably has another book just dedicated to his ramblings about anything related to you

It's also filled with fantasies of your life together, they're all written in "we will."

You are always together

Even if you don't know that, you are.

He doesn't have to worry about forgetting you when he's watching you from afar

And he can make sure you're not in danger, Win-win!

No, he doesn't want anything bad to happen to you

Whenever he finds you looking sad he "coincidentally" runs into you and asks you to hang out

He has a small collection of items you've given him

Some willingly, some without your knowledge

In return he leaves you little gifts that he knows you'll love

You never wear the necklace he gave you? Oh you must like it so much that you're keeping it somewhere extra safe!

Hey- that doesn't sound like a bad idea...

You have something that you value above all else, so you keep it somewhere no one can take or damage it

He already started working on the future home you'll have together

He makes sure it's absolutely perfect, after all he's written almost every preference and opinion you've told him (or someone else)

Then he asks you to live in the home he made for "us"

You thought nothing of it and happily agreed, especially since you've been getting the feeling you're being watched

The moment the door closes behind you you're being smothered in attention while he proclaims his love

From there it doesn't matter what you do, he's completely delusional- he's convinced you love him just as much

Crying? He's just as overjoyed that he could cry!

Trying to stay away from him? Well there's no need to rush, you'll get over the shyness soon! You have so much time together

Beg to leave? One night of cuddles and promises of safety coming up! How could you not think you deserve this?

"Aww come here. Don't worry baby, no one will even touch you again"

[cinebration]

None Like You (Geralt x Reader) [Request]

hi! can you do a geralt one shot with fem reader where she's a princess and they start falling for each other? tysm! — Request by anon

Warnings: blood

Gif Source: frodo-sam

Your mother had raised you to believe you were someone of importance, but life on the farm had said otherwise. You toiled just like everyone else, bleeding and sweating. You were soiled, not spoiled. Yet your mother insisted you were a princess and told you outrageous bedtime stories to lull you to sleep in your youth.

You should have paid better attention.

When King Henselt’s only son died, leaving only a marriage and no heirs, you woke one morning to the pounding of a mailed fist on the door. Your mother answered and then hurried into your room, fluttering about like a mad woman.

“It’s time,” she cried, shoving you into your best dress and raking her fingers through your hair.

“For what?”

“To be someone.”

Then she bundled you out the door into the arms of a military escort carrying the Kaedwan sigil on their shields and tunics: a red-horned unicorn on a yellow field.

It took you the whole day to finally coax information out of your escort regarding the whole ordeal. When they told you what you were, you nearly fell out of your saddle in disbelief.

The king must be desperate, you thought as you tried to fall asleep beside the campfire.

Then the night turned bloody.

~~

Something crunched underfoot to your right. You huddled deeper in the hollowed tree, clutching the steel in your hands. The edges had sliced open your palms, but you didn’t care. It afforded you some protection, even if the creature had snapped the blade it came from like a twig.

Tensing, you waited for the sound to draw nearer, coiling to spring. It was just like killing chickens, you told yourself. One neat slice to the throat.

You leapt out of the hollow, slashing up and across.

The witcher caught your wrist easily, flinging the steel out of your hand. Stifling a cry, you cradled the injured hand to your chest, backed away from him. His eerie yellow eyes tracked you as you pressed yourself against the tree trunk, searching for an escape.

“What happened?” His voice rasped like feet dragged over gravel.

“Death,” you whispered, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the massacre. “Some…thing.”

“It’s dead now.”

You fixed him with a wary glance. “Truly?”

He grunted.

You nearly sank to your knees in relief. Pressing a hand to your mouth, you felt the cuts in your hand spasm. Fresh blood wept from the slashes, trickling down your arms. The witcher swept his gaze over you, eyeing the wounds. You fumbled with the hem of your dress, trying to rip the dirty fabric into strips.

“Did you fight it?” The surprise in the witcher’s voice drew your ear.

You wheezed. “I slashed it, yes, but fight? No.”

Rummaging around in the leaves on the forest floor, the witcher retrieved the broken steel, examined it. He swore.

Unease coiled within you. “What is it?”

“Come here.”

You hesitated. The witcher rolled his eyes and strode over to you, grabbing you by the wrist. His touch was firm but not tight, much to your surprise. You followed after him, feeling a little dizzy as he led you over to the road. A horse stood idly there, kind eyes inquisitive. It didn’t shy away as you drew near despite the smell of blood.

“Good horse,” you murmured, appraising it.

The witcher fumbled through a saddlebag, searching for something. At last he pulled out a vial and took your hands, tearing off the strips to get to your wounds. He poured the grey contents of the vial out before you could protest.

You nearly screamed, the pain in your hands was so excruciating. Lighting shot up your arms as the vial’s contents fizzed on your palms and in your wounds.

“To prevent the venom from killing you,” the witcher explained.

“If the pain doesn’t kill me first,” you hissed through gritted teeth.

A smirk tugged on the witcher’s lips, followed quickly by a frown. “What were you doing traveling with those soldiers?”

You hesitated again. What had you heard about witchers? That they fought for coin and hunted monsters. You had no coin, but neither did you know where you were or how to get home.

“King Henselt sent them,” you confided slowly. “They believe I am his bastard daughter.”

“A princess.”

You elected to ignore the mild groan in the man’s voice. “Can you take me home? The farm, not Aed Carraigh.”

His yellow eyes fixed on you again, white eyebrows beetling together. “You don’t want to go to the castle?”

“Is it safe? As safe as home?”

His lips pressed into a thin line.

“Then take me home,” you insisted. “I’m no princess.”

~~

The witcher smelled. You couldn’t ignore it, not with your face pressed into his back. He wasn’t made for traveling with someone sitting behind him. You could feel it in the tension of his shoulders and back, as though he couldn’t relax beneath the touch of your arms. You did your best to relax your own tense grasp.

You had run nigh over a mile before collapsing in the hollowed tree trunk. The horse covered the distance easily, passing by the smoldering, bloody encampment you had settled down in the night before. You watched it pass, glimpsing the heaps of bodies scattered about.

It took several hours to draw near home. Joy fluttered in your chest as you approached.

You crested the ridge overlooking home and went still, horror rolling through you. The farm house was ash and rubble, still smoking. The animals had been let from their pens, taken for livestock by whatever had rolled through the farm.

“Bandits,” the witcher noted.

Fighting nausea, you wandered down to the burnt house, searching in the ruins. The ash burned your hands and legs, but you sifted through it, yanking aside a crumbling beam.

Beneath lay your mother. What was left of her.

You retched off to the side, stumbling through the ash. You stood bent at the waist for an eternity before you felt the witcher watching you. Turning to face him, you wiped the sick from your chin. “I can’t stay here.”

He frowned.

Your mother had raised a practical woman, fantastic fantasies about your lineage aside. It was all you could think to do as you stood in the ashes of your dead life. One foot in front of the other.

“I have no money,” you confessed, “but if King Henselt sent for me, he can pay you to ensure my arrival.”

The witcher considered it. At last he growled and nodded.

~~

It would take four days to reach Aed Carraigh. The horse—named Roach, you learned—could only manage that distance in a shorter time if not burdened with two riders.

You sat close to the campfire, warming yourself in the flames, shaking not from cold but from fear as the night closed in around you. The night held terrors untold, but until the night before, you had never seen them in the flesh. Knowing they lingered out in the dark set your teeth on edge.

“I’m sorry to burden you,” you told the witcher, the silence too much to bear. You watched the horse warily for signs of attack, knowing the animal was likely to hear or sense it before you.

“Why don’t you want to be a princess?”

Taken aback by the unexpected question, you shrugged. “Why would I want to be one?”

“Riches. A comfortable life.”

“I had a comfortable life with riches untold. They just weren’t gold.”

“Gold is necessary.”

“Gold means nothing if your life is miserable.”

The words hung heavy in the air. The witcher averted his gaze, surprising you. Frowning, you rubbed at your arms, trying to make the hair on your arms stand down. His averted face gave you the opportunity to study his features. They were rough and worn, his brow creased from excessive glowering. He was all hard edges, a larger man than even the largest farmer you had seen. He appeared both comfortable and uncomfortable in his own skin, or perhaps your presence was upsetting him.

“Am I keeping you from work?”

“Are you always so concerned for witchers?”

You shook your head. “I don’t want to be a burden.”

“Yet there you sit.”

You bit your tongue, surprised by the sting of his barb. Something flickered across his stern features as you ducked your head. “Then tell me where to go and I will get there myself.”

“The road is dangerous.”

“Being a woman is dangerous.”

He almost smiled in surprise. You could see it dancing on his lips.

“So tell me where to go,” you insisted. “Then I can leave your remarkable hair.”

His eyebrows twitched. The silence stretched between you both for a minute, the fire crackling in the quiet. At last, he said, “I will take you.”

You almost gave away your relief with a sharp exhale.

~~

Though the witcher was a man of few words, you found you were able to read more from his face and the set of his shoulders than from anything he said. His silences were full of information, though you couldn’t be sure of what exactly. You merely knew that he radiated safety as much as he did danger.

“Do you know many princesses?” you asked him.

He grunted.

“Is that a yes or a no?”

“I know one or two,” he said. “But none like you.”

You frowned, glancing down at your soiled dress. “Yes, I suppose I’m nothing like one. The people will be overjoyed with a farmer’s daughter.” You snorted.

“I think they could use one.”

Frowning, you glanced up at him. He didn’t quite smile, but the glower on his face had shifted into something softer.

“Well, when I am princess,” you said, “I will remember at least one person believes me suited for the job. That’s all that matters.”

A faint smile touched the witcher’s lips. You matched it with a slow smile of your own.

[bloodpenned]

today i am rambling about kylar again! i had the idea of them, when they’re still too shy to talk to you face to face, they may try become an online ‘friend’ instead !!

cw: stalking, emotional manipulation

It doesn’t matter if your social media isn’t connected to your real name, they’ll find it one way or another. Maybe they hover near you while you’re definitely not using one of the library computers to procrastinate on the work you’re supposed to be doing, and catch your username that way. Regardless, Kylar isn’t going to just approach you with a simple ‘hey’. They don’t have the courage to, for one, and if the conversation bled dry they wouldn’t know what to do with themselves. Cry, probably.

They’ll analyse everything they can. What you’re posting about, who you’re following, what you’re commenting on, which posts you’re liking... Once they start, they can’t stop. Not even as their eyes start burning from the screen, not even as they start nodding off. Finding more and more little pieces of information sates a hunger they weren’t aware of yet, and simultaneously fuels it. Your typing quirks, your interests, your annoyances, your worries- You’ve never had a proper conversation, and it already feels like they’ve known you for months. 

Next, they’ll make your interests their own. Oh, you’ve been playing a certain game a lot? They’ll finish it in a time that’d qualify as a speedrun and would grind to hell and back if it’s multiplayer. (If, someday, you’d want to play with them, they’d better be prepared.) Novels are read, shows are watched, and Kylar will dive into every other relevant subject. It doesn’t matter if they wouldn’t like it otherwise. Imagining you getting excited after discovering your similar interests gives them enough of a rush to keep going. They’ll be whoever you need them to be.

Even when they do finally approach you, you won’t be able to tell it’s them. You aren’t showing your face or name either, so it doesn’t matter. It’s nervewracking. As soon as they ‘send’ they regret it, a nauseating wave of nerves slamming into them. They throw away their phone like it burns their flesh. While waiting for your response, they can’t focus on anything else, pacing in their room and jumping at every notification. When you finally do respond, and you’re nice and willing to talk, they reread the message in trembling hands. Once, twice, thrice. They take a screenshot of it too. It takes incredible restraint not to respond within seconds.

They’re overjoyed when you two hit it off! Every second of preparations had been worth it for this. The more you talk however, the more nervous they’ll get when you don’t immediately respond. Did they say something wrong? Are you talking to someone else? Are you in trouble? They’ll start rambling about something random, seperated in multiple texts. Maybe you just missed the first one! If you disappear long enough, like an entire day, and they can’t find you around town either, they’ll start spamming your phone until you respond. The best way to keep them calm would be to tell them whenever you’re gone for a while and how long for.

Using whatever coverstory they can, they’ll try to send you a file. Unless you’ve said you don’t play any, they’ll disguise it as a game you two could play together. You’d like to join? They’ll send it over right now. What, it didn’t work? Oh, that’s weird! Hmm, they’ll try again. The second time, it goes without issue. Why? The first message was just a way for them to install a keylogger onto your laptop, not that they’d tell you. Now they can read everything you search for, every message you send. Every time they check the logs, they hope to find their name mentioned, like you spilling to one of your other friends how much you like them. Just thinking about it makes their face flush.

Another one of their fantasies would be to find you in VC, alone, after having fallen asleep. Kylar would curl up and hug a pillow to their chest while listening to the soft sounds of your breathing and whatever cute noises you make while resting. (And, if they’re being self indulgent enough, imagine you mumbling their name. They’re on your mind even in your dreams, just like you appear in theirs.) If they squeeze their eyes shut, they’d almost be able to imagine you next to them.

It takes some time for Kylar to jealous enough, but if they aren’t obviously your first choice, their urge to force your other (online) friends out of the picture grows. They will get sudden influxes of hate on their accounts. Selfies will be mocked by dozens of recently made accounts, inboxes flooded with disgusting threats and false rumours spread. Like for most people, it’s even easier for Kylar to speak their mind online. None of their thoughts are pretty. They aren’t stupid enough to ever tie this back to you, though. No mention of your name will ever be made, no ‘stop talking to them and i’ll stop’. What if they’ll end up thinking you’re the one doing this for attention? You shouldn’t end up hurt because of this. Or, well, more than a little bit hurt. It’s inevitable you’ll be upset as your friends are taking breaks from or leaving social media, one by one. Aren’t you lucky to have Kylar to comfort you whenever you need them to?

Only talking to you online has never been their end goal, though. It’s just the beginning. They watch you while you’re on your phone at school, and their heart flutters when you laugh or smile at something they sent . If they weren’t certain before, having talked to you so much has solidified you in their mind as absolutely perfect. All the signs are pointing towards you loving them too. You’re having so much fun talking to them, what else could it be? All that’s left to do now, is think of a special way to reveal their identity. It’s going to be a big moment in your relationship and you’ll be so happy, they can’t just simply come out and say it. No matter how much they want to.

[teamxdark]

Mirror, Mirror

Based off of this little interaction between @damnitd and @silvermun a long time ago. It’s basically unedited, but the story I’ll end up putting on AO3/FFnet another day won’t be much different from this one here.

What can one do, when the heart is split in two? Where does one end, and the other begin? Where is the line drawn? 

Or should it be drawn at all…?

Sonic stared at the twisted heap of metal on the kitchen counter, bisected by a sword, and tried his hardest not to scream.

“Lancelot,” he said, struggling to keep his voice even, “that was a toaster.”

The knight in question wrenched his sword from the mess, causing sparks to fly and little bits and bobs, both mechanical and breadlike, to scatter across the counter and fall to the floor. “It was burning up,” he explained gravely, “achieving heats far too intense for today’s weather. I could not trust it, and when it let out a scream, I had to act.”

“That ‘scream’ was an alarm,” Sonic snapped, too tired and hungry to deal with this nonsense. “That means that the toast is done and we can eat. Which we can’t now. Because you attacked the toaster.”

The dark hedgehog turned his sword over in his hands, and Sonic braced himself for his rebuttal, and then they would argue over who was in the right, but the knight uttered a soft, “I simply wished to protect you. I am still getting used to the complex machines of this era, and I cannot bring myself to trust them. I realize that this is… unbecoming of me, and an irritation to you. I apologize, and I will try my best to keep my impulses under control.”

Sonic let out his breath in a loud exhale. It was so easy to forget, still, that this wasn’t Shadow in front of him.

No one could quite explain how the switch had come to pass; one day, Shadow and he had parted ways, the sensation that there were still words left unspoken between them that would be better saved for another time, and the next day, Lancelot had been found in his place. 

The knight was having trouble adjusting, to put it lightly. It had been weeks, but the advanced technology of contemporary times drove him to paranoia, and Sonic had seen many a monitor, vehicle, and appliance fall victim to Arondight’s wrath, much to Tails’ chagrin.

Worse, still, was that Lancelot refused to stay anywhere aside from Sonic’s home. The knight graciously declined Shadow’s place, leaving Rouge and Omega down one roommate, staying instead in any spare room he could find, so long as it was where Sonic was staying as well. Rouge had laughed it off, waving the knight away with a taunt that he was ‘Sonic’s problem now’, but the hero had seen the flash of hurt and worry in her eyes.

No one knew where Shadow was, or if he was ever coming back.

And now incidents such as these, with another appliance in pieces, were commonplace.

Sonic rubbed at his forehead, trying to put his buzzing thoughts together in his head before he spoke. “Lance, I get that you’re trying to protect me from my evil cookware and all that, but I don’t get why.”

The knight started, one ear tilting to the side in confusion. “Why would I not? I swore to do so, did I not?”

“No,” Sonic deadpanned. “You didn’t.”

That seemed to offend Lancelot, who let go of his sword for a moment to cross his arms. “I do not wish to speak out of line,” he said, sounding like he was struggling to remain calm, “but you are mistaken. A knight is loyal to the sovereign who knights him, until the last of his days.”

“But I didn’t knight you!” Sonic protested, at the end of his rope. “I’m not your king!”

In response, Lancelot pushed up his visor, and Sonic took in the set jaw, the way his pointed white teeth bared themselves in a snarl, by all means, the spitting image of Shadow, with just the smallest thing here and there that harshly reminded Sonic that the one standing before him was not the one he had spent so many years with. He saw it in the same set jaw, as it trembled with the effort to keep everything held back. He saw it in the snarl, which was more dismayed than hostile. Most of all, he saw it in Lancelot’s eyes, red and wide and so very expressive without the visor to shield them away.

Sonic was so used to seeing those eyes guarded, cut off from him, with only the smallest of opportunities to peek inside before they closed him out again.

Lancelot reached out, holding one of Sonic’s hands in both of his, delicately, like he was something infinitely valuable and the knight was afraid of sullying him with his hands. Sonic had only blinked when Lancelot dropped to his knees, his head bowed forward, and he heard him clear his throat before he spoke.

“You are him. You may not believe me, but I know it to be true. You are Arthur, my king, in this life and all others.”

Sonic sighed, unwilling to let this go but also not wanting to keep on this path of conversation, especially on an empty stomach. He tried to wrench away his hand, but Lancelot held tight, lifting his head, eyes ablaze with passionate certainty that made Sonic freeze in place.

He had never been looked at like that before…

"Every piece of you is the same,” Lancelot declared, his eyes unwavering, drawing in the hero and refusing to release him. “It is not only in image, either. I see it, I hear it, I feel it... It's more than just the body, the vision I see before me. You have his soul, free and unbound and hungry for adventure. You have his heart, strong and kind and noble. I see it in your eyes, you are him, you are who he would be if he were not burdened by his destiny! Don't you understand, Sonic? The only difference between you and Arthur are the memories you keep! You are him! You are him, and that's why I will follow you and protect you with my life. I gave you my vow, and I will not break it. No matter the time, no matter the life... I will stand by you until any and every version of us ceases to exist. That is my promise to you, as your knight!"

He said it so resolutely, so earnestly, that Sonic couldn’t find the words, nor the will to argue against him. In all his life, in all his wildest fantasies, Sonic could never have imagined those words, coming from that mouth, spoken in that voice… It was enough to get his heart pounding, that was for sure.

Sonic closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, but Lancelot’s hands clasped around his kept him anchored in this strange reality he was in. He didn’t like it; it had taken so long to get to where he had gotten with Shadow, so much time and effort and tenacity to get every last crumb from him, but Sonic had been adamant. He had wanted to break Shadow’s walls, to reach through, to understand him and be someone trusted and cared for. He had tried so hard, made so much progress… and now Shadow was gone, and in his place, Lancelot knelt before him, eagerly baring his soul for him without so much as a command.

Sonic would have been a liar if he said he didn’t like what he saw in Lancelot, either, but after all he had done for Shadow… it felt… wrong? Bad? In poor taste? Off, to be feeling similar flutters in the chest for a man who shared his face but not his past, nor his experiences.

Yet, as he opened his eyes and saw Lancelot still staring resolutely at him, as though desperate for him to understand, Sonic had to wonder if the knight had a point; Shadow had had amnesia twice, now. His memories had reset, but he had still been Shadow at his core. Sonic had never doubted that.

Did memories truly make a person who they were? And if so… were Lancelot and Shadow truly two different people?

Are you him? Sonic wanted to ask as he was burned alive by those eyes, crimson and intense, focused on him and him alone. Are you who he could have been if things had been different?

He wasn’t sure, but at least he could kind of understand where Lancelot was coming from.

Sonic heaved out an exhale, using both hands to pull Lancelot to his feet. “Okay,” he conceded. “Okay… but no more protecting me from my house or my friends. I’ll let you know when we’re in danger, okay?”

And Lancelot beamed, overjoyed, his teeth poking out through his lips and his eyes crinkling with happiness, and Sonic would be an even bigger liar if he denied that it was one of the most gorgeous sights he had ever seen.

Lancelot… I think I want to know you, too.

...

The sound of his pen scratching along the page was the only sound in the room. King Arthur sat back in his chair, stretching out his fingers, his eyes seeking out the room’s only other occupant, who was standing by with his back against the wall, looking displeased.

Shadow was silent, as always.

Arthur let out a breath, drumming a couple of fingers against his desk. “I cannot solve anything if you do not speak,” he finally remarked, much to the displeasure of the other.

“I don’t want to be out there with the others. This is the only room where no one barges in. That’s all.”

“Hm. Quite.”

It was mostly true, he supposed. Sometimes an advisor would poke their head in, but usually those weren’t the people Shadow was hiding from.

Arthur had started hearing the rumors a while ago; Sir Lancelot, his greatest and closest knight, and his longtime friend, was deeply in love with him. The rumors had followed him every day, and plagued him by night, as he wondered if they could be real, and wondered what he would do if they were real.

He had started to see and feel it, too. Lancelot’s habit of looking his way, his gaze, hidden behind his visor, lingering just a moment too long before he looked away again. The way his knight’s hand would remain on his person, his touch still warming him even after he drew his hand away. These moments had grown in number in the latest months, though their time together had remained fleeting, as the life of a king and the life of a knight were wrought with busy schedules and hardly enough time for a ‘hello’ to be exchanged.

For a while, Arthur had felt that something unsaid but reciprocated was between them, but Lancelot was gone, now, and Shadow had taken his place, and now the knights and the maids and the servants all looked at Shadow in the same way they had done to Lancelot, and the whispers and giggles followed the dark hedgehog until he ran into Arthur’s study and shut them all out behind him.

He made for some rather unsettling company, this sullen, tense man who shared his face with that of his closest friend.

Arthur missed him. Arthur missed him so much it hurt, and every day that passed he wished for the man who had stood by him from the very beginning to still be there, by his side, in a world that demanded the most he would be able to give as the bare minimum, but that didn’t mean he was allowed to take it out on Shadow. Nor was he about to dismiss the fact that Shadow was in a strange new world, and likely every bit as confused, disturbed, and frightened as he was.

“Would you like me to speak with them?” Arthur offered, figuring it was worth a try.

Yet Shadow huffed in response, the proposal seeming to offend him, and Arthur wondered why. “Don’t bother, I can handle my own problems.”

That was the other thing about Shadow: he had never, at any point, treated Arthur like he was royalty.

“It’s considered bad form to refuse the offer of a king,” Arthur pointed out, partly as a piece of advice; though he didn’t mind it himself, he knew Sir Gawain would throw a fit upon hearing that Shadow had shown such dismissal.

And the other part of him wanted to push Shadow just a little more. To get more of that strangely satisfying feeling of being treated like a man instead of a crown.

“I don’t care,” came the instant reply, and Arthur had to fight back a smile. “There are no kings where I come from, so your title means nothing to me, and even if it did, I won’t bow to you, or to anyone.”

The ‘not again’ went unsaid, but Arthur could hear it in Shadow’s voice, could read it in his body language. Arthur was always rather adept at deciphering Lancelot’s small cues and gestures, though Lancelot kept many of them hidden behind a wall of steel, but with Shadow, who bared his face and his body for the world to see, nothing could be hidden from Arthur’s discerning gaze. It was fascinating, truly, to be able to read someone new so well and so easily. Shadow was a puzzle with clear edges, but with many, many pieces that Arthur still had to search for.

All in all… a refreshing individual, despite the circumstances.

“Okay,” Arthur relented, and the sight of Shadow’s eyes narrowing in confusion only served to make fighting back his smile impossible. “In that case, I shall leave it to you.”

With that, he picked back up his pen, continuing to draft the latest ordinance on adjusting the limits of imported goods past Avalonian borders. The work was tedious, boring, dull, and even though he had just taken a break, Arthur felt his hand start to cramp with just a few words jotted down. The king sighed, rolling his wrist a few times, before getting back to work.

Just grin and bear it, he thought to himself as an involuntary noise of discomfort escaped him as his hand twinged again. You’ve done it before and you will always be able to do it. A king cannot show weakness. A king may not make excuses for poor judgement. Everyone is counting on me to do the best I can.

The thoughts only served to worsen the sense of anxiety that always seemed to cloud his mind, and Arthur grimaced, dropping his pen, holding his head in his hands and wishing for comfort for a man who was no longer with him.

His ears perked up as he heard a noise, something akin to a footstep taken in his direction, and when the king lifted his head, he noticed that Shadow no longer had his back flush against the wall. The dark hedgehog was doing his best to mask his emotions, but Arthur could still peel back every layer he put up, seeing the concern and the discomfort in the smallest things, from the slight narrowing of his eyes to the light raising of his spines. Shadow’s body language was silently screaming in empathy, something Arthur wasn’t used to receiving from others, and it intrigued him more than it should have.

“I’ll be fine,” he assured Shadow, not waiting to be prompted; he doubted the other would have asked, anyhow. “It’s simply sobering, sometimes, to remember that I have a kingdom’s worth of expectations to meet.” The king looked back down at the piles of papers on his desk; it was the same work, day in and day out, with decisions ranging from laughably easy to crushingly difficult. Yet, he had to make them all. Without thinking, he murmured aloud, “A single mistake could cost me everything I’ve done up to this moment. All the good I’ve done, all the efforts I’ve made, all the reputation that I’ve struggled to build up… it could all go up in smoke in a second, and I would be back at the beginning, needing to prove myself over and over again to people who expect everything from me.”

It was a moment of weakness, of cowardice, wherein Arthur was so tired from years of work and the loss of his most precious ally, for whom he still had almost no time to mourn. His eyes flicked back up to Shadow, and he prepared to apologize and ask that he forget all that he had just divulged 一 it was hardly fair on his guest, after all 一 but then he saw Shadow’s face, stunned and amazed, his red eyes wide and fixed on him, welling with a look that Arthur almost never saw on another person; understanding.

Shadow was looking at him with such mind-blowingly clear understanding and empathy that Arthur’s breath was taken away.

For a few more charged, heart-pounding moments, all they could do was stare, the sensation of something new connecting them becoming stronger and stronger with every passing second.

Then Shadow tore his gaze away and flung open the door, stepping outside and closing it behind him, leaving Arthur alone in his study.

As the king sat back in his chair, he stared into space as he tried to make sense of what had just happened, and what that might have meant for Shadow.

He was certain that, even though his dear friend’s face was too often hidden from view, that Lancelot had never once looked at him like that.

Shadow… what is your story, I wonder?

…

Just when Lancelot thought he couldn’t hate the odd technology of Sonic’s world any more, it came to a sudden and violent peak as the blue hero was called into action as a swarm of machines called ‘robots’ began invading Station Square. To make matters worse, they were created by some sort of mad doctor, and upon seeing an image of the man in question, Lancelot had to restrain himself from running the monitor through with his sword.

This mad doctor held a horrible resemblance to a certain ‘emperor’ that had caused Arthur far too much trouble, back at home in Avalon, and it made Lancelot desire nothing less than for this man’s complete and utter demise at his hands.

According to Sonic, these attacks weren’t anything new to him and his team, and though he knew it was a distraction or a trap, they didn’t have any options aside from stopping them quickly and efficiently, for the sake of everyone who lived in the city. He rallied his team effortlessly, leading the chase down to the battle, not bothering to bark orders because of the trust he carried in his followers…

Lancelot’s heart swam with affection. Sonic truly was Arthur, whether he believed it or not, and it showed in everything he did. He was a leader who cared not for the title, a man who cared for even the smallest life under his protection, and his bravery was unmatched, inspiring, and absolute. Someone of such immeasurable importance that needed to be protected at all costs.

So what else could Lancelot do but run to shield him when, during the battle, he saw a robot take aim at Sonic’s back?

His ears registered the sound of Sonic moving, then stumbling, but he only paid attention to the blast that came his way, soaking up the impact with his legendary strength, but he was not indestructible. Blood began dripping from a wound on his arm, and the scent of singed hair prickled in his nose in the most unpleasant way. Lancelot hissed in pain, his mind threatening to cloud with this new kind of pain, like fire but so much more unnatural, but he took pride in knowing that he had done his job. Sonic was safe. Sonic was safe and…

And he was dragging Lancelot to the side?

“What the hell was that, Lance?” Sonic demanded, panic and fury coloring his tone, and Lancelot’s feet almost froze in shock. Why was Sonic so frightened? Why did he sound so angry?

Had he done something wrong?

In a space several yards away from the battle zone, Sonic sat Lancelot down, and swore under his breath when he saw his battle wound. “Damn it Lance, I knew that robot was there! Why didn’t you just let me dodge? Oh Chaos, you’re bleeding, why did you run in like that?!”

Lancelot only gaped at him, his mind struggling to make sense of his leader’s words as Sonic inspected his arm and fretted over how it wasn’t healing.

Was he supposed to heal quicker than the average being? Lancelot supposed that maybe, with the help of his mother or Merlina, that could be possible, but the young girl who appeared to be his mother’s counterpart appeared more of a fighter than a healer, and he had not yet seen a counterpart to the royal wizard.

Lancelot wanted to ask these questions, to get some answers, but the near furious look on Sonic’s face made him hold his tongue. Such a look on someone he admired and loved so strongly… it was enough to make him feel like the scum of the earth.

The knight sat out the rest of the battle, staying in place even as Sonic left to finish the job, and the humiliating feeling of utter shame managed to overpower even his need to ensure his leader’s safety. Every time he felt the urge to stand up regardless, to charge into the battle even while wounded, and fight by his leader’s side as his sword and shield, the image of Sonic’s distraught face would flash before his eyes again, and he would remember his words, sharper and more painful than any sword, demanding why he had interfered.

Why had he failed his job as a knight?

What good was he, if he couldn’t even fulfil his one objective?

Lancelot’s head remained bowed in shame, even as he heard rapid footsteps coming his way. It remained bowed, even as he felt steady hands clean his wound and wrap a bandage around it.

It was only when Sonic lifted his chin and forced his visor up did Lancelot finally manage to look him in the eye.

“Why did you step in front of me like that?” Sonic asked, his voice calm again, though it did nothing to soothe Lancelot’s inner turmoil. The knight wanted nothing more than to no longer speak, to be swallowed by the ground and forgotten, the pathetic knight who couldn’t do his job when it mattered.

But he couldn’t refuse his leader, and so he forced himself to talk.

“It was the promise I made to you,” he said, and he struggled to keep his dismay in check as Sonic immediately looked displeased at his answer. “I am… protective by nature, and even moreso as a knight. I swore to protect Arthur, and I must protect you, too, even if that comes with my own life as a cost. That is something I must do, for I--”

“Oh stop it!” Sonic interrupted, once again looking angry and upset, and Lancelot bit back his speech, both ashamed and relieved. Had he gone even further, he might have lost control of his emotions and revealed just how deeply his affections for the blue hedgehog lied.

And then, Sonic asked something very, very strange.

“Isn’t there more to being a knight than serving a king?”

Lancelot, who up to that point had felt so certain of his standing, of his mission, of who Sonic was and what he represented, felt his heart break in two as cold reality settled over him.

“No,” he whispered in response, having never felt further away from the other than he did in that moment.

Sonic was not his king. Sonic was Arthur, but he was not his king. Sonic had no want for a knight, no desire to act as a king.

But if that were the case, what was Lancelot to do?

“Lancelot.”

Sonic’s voice was firm, and Lancelot braced himself for some hard truths.

“I’m not a king, Lance. I’m a hero, I guess. That’s what people call me, anyways. But the point is, I’m a free hedgehog. I’m not here to give orders or have people die for me, I’m just around to have a good time, to go where the wind takes me, and if I have to save a few people from some robots in the meantime, I will. I just gotta do what I gotta do… and I can’t do that if all you can do is try to protect me.”

Even with his face raised, chin still supported by his leader-- no, by Sonic’s hand, Lancelot tried his best to look away. His eyes watered treacherously, threatening to spill over. Being a knight was Lancelot’s life, his identity, the air that he breathed, the reality he lived in. It was everything he knew, but… but now it was…

The hand disappeared from his face, and then Sonic was reaching for his own hand on his uninjured arm, and Lancelot was pulled to his feet. Sonic looked him full in the eyes, their pull hypnotic, and even as Lancelot tried to choke back his tears, he felt his breath catch in his lungs.

“Hey… I need you to trust me with my own life, okay?”

Lancelot blinked, and the smallest of tears managed to escape him. Sonic didn’t think he trusted him.

In a sense, Lancelot supposed that he didn’t.

Yet when he reopened his eyes, he saw the look the other hedgehog was sending him, a look he had seen in Arthur’s eyes many times, mixed with a sense of sad resignation. Lancelot had never been able to read it perfectly, a fact which had always frustrated him to no end, for all he wanted was to be Arthur’s closest, to be the one who knew him at a level that no one else could hope to achieve.

But in Sonic’s eyes, the message was plain and clear.

He wanted to be seen as an equal, not someone above him, unattainable, on a pedestal. No, it wasn’t just that… Sonic looked determined to pull them both onto equal ground, to the same level, and the thought made Lancelot’s head spin.

“Lance… I know it’s scary, but you can choose how you want to live your life now, and trust me, it’s a good thing.”

And Lancelot, who knew nothing aside from being a knight, felt the crushing weight of the world in front of him, dark and untamed, when before he had Arthur’s light to follow. Paths were branching in front of him, too many to count and too many to walk down individually and explore. His head spun with possibility, and fright gripped at him, tempting him to deny, to refuse, to hide his face, or perhaps, to die as a knight in a world that refused to house him as he was.

Then he felt Sonic’s hand, still holding his, warm and comforting and safe, and somehow, in the midst of his existential turmoil, Lancelot felt a warm glimmer of hope.

“Okay,” he murmured in response, and Sonic’s brilliant grin soothed and delighted him more than he could properly understand.

Sonic… I shall do my best. For you… and for me, as well.

…

It hit too close to home, in this place that was about as far from home as Shadow could get.

Every day, whether he looked for him or not, Shadow saw King Arthur struggle silently. He saw him work day in and day out, endlessly trying to prove that he was worthy of being king, of being in everyone’s good graces and that he wasn’t just entitled to be there, but that he was supposed to be in his position. Even while all around him there sat obstacles and red tape and tough decisions and divides and people who were just never satisfied and…

And…

Shadow closed his eyes, recalling every debriefing he had had in G.U.N.’s headquarters. He remembered feeling as though he was on a leash, that every mission, every move he made had to be executed perfectly, otherwise he would lose his right to exist as a free being.

No… Shadow had never been free. Not since the day he was created, with the power to hurt and to heal, and every day he had to face the consequences of actions he had committed years prior. Shadow remembered the feeling of the imaginary leash shortening, tightening around his throat, reminding him that no matter what he did, it would never be enough.

Shadow would never be considered a true person by the people who saw him as a weapon.

And Arthur… Arthur seemed to be considered in the same way by the people who saw him as a king.

Shadow’s heart ached, and the dark hedgehog grit his teeth as he recalled all the times he had caught the other wincing and massaging his hand while drafting laws and messages, how he plastered a smile on his face as he met people and made addresses when he clearly would rather be anywhere else, and how he kept his voice even as he ordered his knights around, even though he obviously didn’t want to be giving orders, he just wanted to be looked at as an equal, but he was so ingrained in this life that he felt resigned, and so he stopped trying to fight where the fight could not be won. Shadow knew all these feelings, all the sensations of being worked to the bone, of putting on an act to protect himself, of accepting that there were some things that, like it or not, would simply never change…

But Arthur, unlike him, was not the Ultimate Lifeform. This man was not made of infinite power and energy, was not capable of rapid healing or boosting himself in body and mind with his own energies whenever it suited him. Arthur was a remarkable but regular hedgehog, who had been working off of nothing but his own willpower and strength of mind, and that knowledge hurt perhaps the most of all.

Arthur and himself… they both pulled a painfully similar weight, a weight that, even on his worst days, Shadow had never wished upon another person.

So what else could Shadow do but grab Arthur’s hand and run him out of there, out of the castle, yelling vague excuses at anyone who tried to stop them?

Arthur followed easily behind him, not asking a single question as Shadow ran, ran away from suffocating walls and legal obligations and the knowledge that it was never, ever enough.

Shadow was used to Sonic keeping up with him. They had always been on equal grounds, and Shadow knew it, even at the beginning stages of their rivalry when they both had asserted that they were the stronger, the faster, the more incredible hedgehog. With time, that knowledge became easier to swallow, as their rivalry held a friendlier edge to it, and especially so when their friendship and partnership had become more undeniable, and when those dumb, weird feelings started springing forward and…

And…

But with Arthur and his frightfully similar situation, Shadow’s empathy had hit him like a truck, and seeing him in so much concealed pain every day had turned into something too much to bear, and so, just for this one, Shadow decided he would be the man’s savior, even for just one evening.

They stopped in a meadow, far beyond the castle and away from the treeline where the forests began, and Shadow avoided looking at the exhausted king, unsure how to express what was in his head, in his heart, in his soul.

How was he supposed to tell him that watching him take all this weight, all this responsibility, was too much for him?

How was he supposed to say that he had similar issues, with G.U.N. and the people of the United Federation breathing down his neck and observing his every move, and that perfection was the bare minimum?

How could he express that they both deserved to live their lives without earning the right to exist without constant scrutiny, where one slip up meant everything falling apart, absolute ruin, the end of the world…

Shadow took in a deep breath, his mind spinning with thoughts and feelings he wasn’t sure he could put into words, but when he finally looked over to Arthur, the breath left him and wouldn’t return.

Arthur didn’t look angry or annoyed or anxious, even though Shadow had ripped him from his work that he couldn’t afford to fall behind on. Arthur didn’t look upset at all.

He looked grateful.

He looked serene.

Arthur looked directly into Shadow’s eyes, his own green ones reflecting the stars up above, and Shadow wanted to tell him everything, even though his body refused to breathe and his tongue refused to move.

The hand in his hold shifted, and Shadow felt Arthur squeeze his hand softly, just once.

He understood.

Chaos above, Arthur understood, and Shadow didn’t even need to say it.

Shadow swallowed, feeling overwhelmed, and Arthur seemed to understand that, too. Wordlessly, the blue hedgehog moved closer, his hand never leaving Shadow’s, and he leaned his body against Shadow’s, answering an unspoken need for comfort without smothering him, without trapping him in place with a hug or an embrace.

Shadow closed his eyes, hating how the gesture reminded him of one time Sonic had done something similar, a small shoulder check that had lingered a moment too long, and at his side, he felt Arthur breathe in deeply and hold it in, as though he were resisting the urge to sigh.

Shadow knew he was probably thinking about Lancelot.

Their hands both squeezed at the same time, and they both knew.

It was a strange feeling, as though both of them had lost a large piece of their lives, only to gain another to take its place. It was something that felt like infidelity, even though nothing warranting such a thing had been established with the other person on their minds.

Yet this closeness… this was something that Shadow had wanted for a long time, but had never been able to truly obtain. Shadow didn’t always know how to use his words, how to explain what he wanted or what he needed or what he was going through, and now here he was, with Arthur, a man who understood him without words. A man who he understood, who brought out his empathy to an almost painful degree, and Shadow wanted in that moment for nothing more than for them both to be happy.

As he felt the warmth of Arthur’s body and the beautiful comfort of being understood, even in a world that wasn’t his own, Shadow figured he might be on the right track.

Arthur… I don’t know how to thank you.

…

When Sonic first kissed Lancelot, it was after another battle, in which neither escaped without injury. Sonic could see Lancelot try his hardest to hold back his instinctive reactions, struggling to trust him and not place the blame on his shoulders, and Sonic looked out the window, knowing that life was short and uncertain and that any day might be his last.

He also did it knowing that waiting for Shadow was not going to help either of them at all.

He felt Lancelot tense up in shock, then relax, lifting his hands up to his head and burying them in his spines. Lancelot was pilant, willing, eager to receive whatever Sonic wanted to give him, and Sonic responded with his best efforts to make the kiss special, the sort of kiss that Lancelot deserved, after so many years of putting himself second. Whenever Lancelot made a noise that suggested he enjoyed what Sonic was doing, Sonic resolved himself to keep going, to deliver the indulgence that Lancelot had always been denied of.

It was completely different to how he always imagined kissing Shadow would be like. He had always imagined a competition, with both of them trying to one-up each other like they always did, but Lancelot’s sweet eagerness as their lips met again and again pushed all thoughts of Shadow from Sonic’s mind, and as they finally parted for air, it was Sonic’s name that escaped from Lancelot’s mouth.

…

When Arthur first kissed Shadow, it felt like a long time coming. The king knew he would need to take the initiative, with Shadow struggling to come to terms with his own feelings, and he felt the striped hedgehog become rigid in shock when Arthur’s hands landed lightly on his arms and he pressed their lips together.

He also did it with the knowledge that he might never see Lancelot again, and if that were the case, that Shadow was someone he couldn’t bear to let slip through his fingers as well.

When Shadow recovered from the shock, he kissed back, roughly and intensely, and Arthur found himself being pushed to keep up. It was like a battle, fueled by unspoken, deeply internalized feelings, finally being let loose until their heads swam with a lack of air and an overflow of emotion and the immeasurable feeling of connection without words.

Kissing Shadow lit a fire in Arthur’s soul, even as he felt Shadow start to calm down, finding enjoyment at being able to be vulnerable without pain for once in his life. Arthur could feel the heat flush off of the other’s face in waves, and when they finally parted, gasping for air, he was so, so glad that there was no visor or helmet to create a barrier between him and those eyes, softer than he had ever seen them, that he could read like a book.

[angstyantoinette]

Yandere! Armin Arlert Headcanons

AGED UP I REPEAT ALL CHARACTERS ARE AGED UP-

This little blonde ball of curiosity is verrryy toxic in my Yandere version. 

Armin knows how innocent he looks to other people and by playing on this, coupled with his practical and analytical genius status, boy is it so very easy for him to gain the trust of his comrades, friends and especially his Beloved. 

I feel as if Armin wouldn’t be picky with a particular type, but never being attracted to an unkind or particular person he would be disgusted by in any way. 

He may fall for someone who is slightly colder, or who doesn’t really know how to respond to kindness. In that scenario, Armin would be overjoyed, but very patient and giving with them; if he wasn’t Yandere. 

I see him as very touch-starved and wanting, but afraid to be clingy for fear he would drive his Beloved away. In this case he would dote on you as best he could in his environment, making you fall for him even more. 

You would him as endearing, and like most, innocent. Armin is smart; one might say way too smart for his own good, and being a Yandere, I feel this makes him just as dangerous as those willing to use physical violence/methods on their Beloved. 

He knows that you just love his little quirks and his way of thinking. If you tell him this, he may think you only see him as valuable because of his skill for strategizing. But when you reassure him that you just love him for him, he just falls in love with you even more. 

He’s worrisome about you. Every time he makes practise with your ODM gear until you’re bruised, and exhausted, ready to run into his awaiting arms. Rewarding you with cuddles and affection, Armin’s love isn’t exactly conditional; but it still isn’t normal.

But that’s if you accept his feelings, with Armin being a Yandere or not, and with your knowledge or ignorance. 

If you don’t accept his feelings, whether it being for your personal reasons, or because you…um, like someone else, to put it nicely; 

YOU’RE FUCKED. 

He’ll smile, nod his head, maybe try a little too hard to act like he’s okay with your decision. But you understand, after all, it’s not like you haven’t been rejected before. 

“We can always be friends, Armin! I’m here for you okay?” 

“Yeah, Y/N, whatever you say…” 

About a few weeks after his rejection, with all of the support from Eren, Mikasa and the others, Armin is slowly descending into a deep depression. 

He was so sure of his feelings for you. They were his most prized possession. You made him laugh, you made him blush and god you made his pitiful life seem so much more worth living. You were the ocean, and he just wanted to drown myself in you. Like the sun he saw so rarely, you were the ray of pure light that made his body burn. 

He lay awake at night, taunted and enthralled with the thoughts of you in so many different scenarios….maybe in particular, different positions. 

[Yes, those kinda positions. Armin’s not always that innocent, y’all.]

He knows that the more he thinks of you in these appetizing ways, in these hurtfully satisfying scenarios, he’s never going to be able to get over you. 

Rather, he’s not even going to try.

Being trapped in his fantasies, Armin is horrifically aware that these feelings are incredibly toxic, for the both of you. He just won’t let you go. Whatever it takes, Armin will commit whatever crimes he must to keep you in his life. 

He sees you as being misunderstood, especially if you’re typically a colder person, hard to read, detached. Some people compare you to Levi, but Armin just knows that you, like the Corporal, have far more depth than you let on. 

His intrigue doesn’t let up for a long while, as you’re constantly surprising him in new and amazing ways. You’re used to his deep interest in you after a while, but you still don’t understand him. 

Armin thrives on your confusion at first, but if it drives you away from him, he’ll go into tactical mode. Staying up all night,figuring out who is calling your attention to them rather than him and what his next move should be. 

With his intelligence, Armin keeps his sizzling bafflement and envy under wraps. He tells himself that maybe he had unerved you a little. He can get like that sometimes, surely you understood him well enough to know that?He obviously did find you interesting and he was willing to momentarily abandon Eren and Mikasa just to fuel his endless curiosity. 

Keep in mind, this is after you reject him, and his desperation to just know you and love you is greatly overwhelming him to the highest degree. You just won’t allow him to really see you, to understand you. 

Eventually, he snaps. Just not in the typical yandere way. We all know that Armin feels as though he is a nuisance, a self-proclaimed burden so he keeps most of his feelings inside, and lets them loose to either prove a point, or while under stress. 

It takes a minute for him to decide what to do with you, because he knows that once he has made a choice, it has to be the right choice. He has to know and map out a detailed plan, whether it’s doable, whether he’s able to pull it off by himself, etc.

His analytical skills come into play, and he plans everything from the location, time, the equipment needed at exactly what time. By this time, he will have comepletely left you alone; abrupt and brash, and just as he planned, you were surprised. Yes, he wanted to get to know you, and you couldn’t help but feel even slightly violated and maybe even disturbed. 

Your like anyone in the world, have natural curiosity and interest in just about anything. But the unfamiliar feeling of unsettlement around Armin just felt…off.

You secretly knew of his deep infatuation; people always seemed to determined to figure the silent types out, to crack them open, decipher their many secrets. In terms of this analogy, you sort of understand, maybe even sympathise with his endless novelty toward your character, but even so…just why?

Maybe it was the fact that you felt bad for him, in a sad, puppy love kinda way. Maybe you saw him as a traumatized individual, just putting his assumed coping mechanism to work, with you just in the innocent line of fire. 

If he kidnaps you at all, Armin will smother you. Telling you how much you mean to him, explaining that only he can access your wonder and intrigue. Because, after all, he worked this hard to get you; why would he ever share you with anyone else? 

Although he will be stern, he’ll always be nice about it, rewarding you or not. 

You’re an enigma to Armin Arlert, keeping him guessing, testing his patience with all of your being. You don’t know it, but soon you’ll be in his possession.

I headcanon him as seeing your refusal, your blatant rejection as some kind of ‘disease.’ You haven’t even seen the best of him yet, why make up your mind about something that you know almost nothing of? Oh well, you’ll have plenty of time to get to know each other very soon. He’ll bare his injured soul to you, and you’ll have mo choice but to do the same for him. It’s what married couples do after all, right?

Just let him love you, Y/N. Let Armin adore you. It’s the best thing to do if you want everyone to live.

Glassy, still sapphire eyes simply stared at you in the weak light of a stolen candle. You couldn’t quite pinpoint what they were saying, those beautiful, dangerous, albeit loving eyes. But yet, they also held malice in their abyss’. Endless, bottomless, simply divine they were. That was all you knew.

“Why…do you lie to me?” he murmered. A small, rough palm came to rest against your hollowed cheek, fingertips gently tapping against the skin. Realising how close he truly was, you tried your hardest to get away, shifting in your place in the surprisingly plush, old bed, but all it took was a flash of blonde hair to whip past your face, before he succeeded in holding your arms down.

While he never did this explicitly to punish or harm you, Armin always knew just how to exert his power. Never mind the boundaries that he installed in you the day of your arrival; he didn’t care for them as much as you had to pretend to.

This Armin was unhinged. Normalcy could never be considered in this relationship. He could never understand the pain he put you through. To Armin, it was all in the name of his devotion. All of his interest had been rooted in one fact; you refused to love him.

Once he figured out that you wouldn’t couldn’t love him of your own accord, he became enamoured with something he just knew he could never have.

He had never even thought about taking you, drugging you, dragging you to a secluded spot in the woods, or an out of bounds room, derelict over many years.

“I never intended to take you like this, bunny.”

Swallowing hard, you tried to look him in the eyes, gently lifting your head higher and higher until his blue pools of mere unhinged insanity met your own pained orbs. Seeming to like this, he smiled.

His perfect teeth looked more like fangs in the dim, weak moonlight. It had felt like he had managed to suck every molecule of beauty from even the most simple of things.

His voice sounded like the devil; harsh, unforgiving lilting tones of false hope daring to stroke you face and make you think you had a good chance at happiness.

You didn’t know when he stopped being Armin and began being a monster. You didn’t know if the lines could be blurred any further.

“I never wanted this, Armin-” 

“Don’t play with me, bunny,” he snapped. His slender fingers wound themselves in your clean hair, twisting and searching for a soft spot to pull. When he found it, he lightly tugged; barely, but you still winced from the thought of the last time he did this. 

You still wanted to believe that he was quiet, sweet Armin who still had an unstoppable fascination with you, but he was harmless then. Or was he? Was he faking his intentions? Did he have it planned from the very beginning? 

You wanted to choke yourself for believing his simple demeanour, his dedication to the cause of the Survey Corps just like everyone else. He was a liar. He was a predator in all ways, ensnaring you, his perfect prey. 

Only now had Armin realized just how confused you were. 

You didn’t understand his love for you. You thought he hated you! 

Now that wouldn’t do.

Armin could have have kicked himself. All of his stern discipline and rules stemming from his love and protection meant that you mistook for him being cruel. He was doing this out of his devotion! 

How could he assume you would understand if he never told you, if he never proved his love?

“Armin, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean anything, I swear-” You took a deep breath, cutting yourself off. Now was not the place or time to be losing your composure; you still were trying to get used to the fact that you were being held against your will. 

“Hush”, he suddenly murmured, gently taking your chin in his fingertips, before moving them to tenderly cup your face, his eyes darting anywhere that he could lay his gaze upon.

The gestures were so tender you found your cheeks erupting with a wild blush, the burning shame hitting you moments later when your hatred and slight fear hit you like a slap to the face. 

Your embarassment only got worse when you felt his soft lips kiss your throat, his warm breath flush against your skin. His hands found themselves back in your hair again, stroking it, petting it, twisting it round and round his finger. His right hand caressed your nape, spreading his fingers so that they only just covered the width of your neck, and he pulled you closer, so that your head was nuzzled into his neck, buried beneath his love and fascination.

It all clicked. 

Armin wasn’t just interested in you. 

He was obessed with you.

Obsessively in love with you. 

You felt pathetic. You felt weak. But in a strange way, you also felt loved. 

You had no choice but to resign yourself to his touch, letting your head fall limp as he cradled you to his chest.

“Good bunny.”

[istanleyff7]

TOTP, Episode Aerith, Scene 1-4

Final Fantasy VII Remake: Traces of Two Pasts Episode 2- Aerith Scenes 1 - 4

A Light Novel by Kazushige Nojima Translated by Stanley (@istanleyff7 on twitter)

Scene 1

Aerith Gainsborough was on Shinra Ferry No. 8, and like her friends, she was wearing a Shinra's military uniform. It was her first time on the sea, as well as on a ship. The ferry connecting Junon and Costa De Sol was unexpectedly lavish. Enticed by curiosity, she looked around the ferry. However, the wealthy passengers were not welcoming towards troopers. Driven away by the cold stares, she arrived at the bottom ferry's cargo hold. The goods and luggage were all over the place. Someone was already there.

"Hey, I heard this on the deck a while ago..."

It was Tifa Lockhart, clad in Shinra's equipment. One won't expect it based on her tender smile, but she's an excellent martial artist. She is a reliable companion, equipped with her unstoppable punches, diverse kicks and jumping power. It hasn't been long since they met. However, Aerith believed that the bonds that were fostered by overcoming critical situations were genuine.

"When you feel that you're becoming seasick, it seems that it's good to chat as a distraction."

"I see. Tifa, are you feeling sick?"

"Nahhh, I'm good."

"Me, too."

The conversation ended there. Soon after, Aerith noticed that Tifa wanted to speak. She's reserved at times.

"You wanna talk? Let's talk."

"I'd like to hear about you this time."

"Me?"

"I'm a good listener. You see, I am always doing so at the bar."

She straightened her posture and pretended to polish a glass.

"Hello, it's your first time here, isn't it. Where are you from?"

"Wow."

Aerith was in admiration.

"Do you live around here?"

"Nope. I live in the slums of Sector 5."

"I see. Sector 5 seems pretty lively too. Were you born there too?"

"Well...." Aerith hesitates to say. "It's probably hard to explain."

Tifa immediately sensed it. She had already spoken about her being an Ancient and about her being the last surviving one.

"Sorry, I've gone too far."

"Oh, not at all." Aerith denies it immediately.

"I was just a little taken back. There isn't anyone who says that they want to hear it, nor is there anyone I thought of telling. Well, you wanna hear it? You wanna hear it?"

"If it's alright with you."

"I'm good! I'm good!"

Scene 2

Ifalna, Aerith's mother, was the final pure-blooded descendant of the Ancients as both of her parents were Ancients. She was under the protection of Shinra. To collaborate with the various studies concerning the Ancients, she lived on the upper floors of the Shinra building for a long time. Except for having the freedom to go outside, she had a room that provided almost everything. Aerith lived with her mother, but she couldn't remember the day when she first entered that room. Her first memory was in that room too. As everyone around was adults, the only person she could call a friend was Ronnie, the son of Ifalna's caretaker, Mariel, who brought him along. He was two years older than her.

It was the year 1992. Aerith was seven years old. Her head was suddenly flooded with images. She saw not only landscapes and people that she had never seen before, but also the figures of animals and monsters too. Aerith's Ancient powers were awakened. The inexperienced Aerith could not only control these images, but she also could not ignore them. She painted on papers, painted on the walls and showed it to anyone who wanted to see them. She thought that by doing so, these mysterious "visions" would disappear.

Scene 3

"I understand now that up till then, I was a hostage, and to protect me, my mother had no choice but to obey Hojo. But because Hojo also knew that I inherited the powers of the Ancients, he was overjoyed. Because he discovered a successor, he started doing terrible things to my mother, which he hadn't done until then. And just like that, my mother's health began to break down..."

Scene 4

Because of Hojo and his fellow staff, Ifalna's “working” hours increased. She was made to work for Hojo's studies every day from morning till evening. She was weak every day, and she could not walk on her own. There were also times when Hojo's staff pushed her back into the room in a wheelchair. At that time, Fuzz Hicks appeared and was dressed in a lab coat. Out of all the staff that Aerith knew, Fuzz had the largest physique. His eyes, nose and mouth were huge too. He was a very trustworthy figure who easily carried Ifalna with his massive arms. 

When Fuzz came over, Ifalna begged him for medicine. She had a sad, sweet voice. Aerith did not say anything, but she did not like her mother whenever she made that kind of voice. She wanted her to be cured soon if she was ill.

“Fuzz, please…”

Aerith was almost sure that Fuzz knew it. He turned his back against the surveillance camera. He left a small bottle of medicine and a syringe, reminding her to keep it a secret from the other staff, and then he left. Ifalna used it on herself. Aerith could not see her mother sticking the needle in her arm, usually hiding in the sofa's shadow. 

Aerith has little memory of the calendar dates of events regarding her childhood. It was one night when she was seven years old. She snuggled under her mother's bed as usual. It was a habit she had since she knew she was being monitored. She covered herself entirely with a blanket.

"Aerith. Want to go on an adventure?" Ifalna whispered from the other side of the blanket.

“What will we be doing?” She had a longing and a fear towards the outside world.

"I miss it."

Aerith did not understand what her mother was feeling. However, she sensed that tears were mixed in with her voice. 

Aerith did not want to see her mother's face and got out from her blanket. Ifalna covered her face with her arm. The sleeves of her loose sleepwear were turned inside out. She had plenty of painful injection marks.

"If we head out, will you be okay, Mummy? You’re not going to take any more injections?"

“Yes. I think that will be so.”

"Well, let's go. But, I wonder if we can do it. The cameras are watching."

"Fuzz will help us out."

"Why will Fuzz help us out?"

There was a brief pause.

"Because he's a good person"

↞↠

Ifalna was taken out of the room as usual and returned in the evening. Fuzz was pushing the wheelchair.

"Yo Aerith," said Fuzz with his deep voice.

"The preparations are in order. I have prepared a secret house in the Sector 3 slums. You will also have a room. It's small, but we'll be leaving here."

He only told her that, and he left the room.

The emergency bell rang in the morning. Hurried by Ifalna, Aerith changed her clothes. It was clothes she had never seen before.

"Fuzz prepared these for us," Ifalna informed as she also wore her new clothes.

"Let's go."

"We will be seen."

"Don’t think like that."

Ifalna opened the door.

"It can't be. The lock is open. Why?"

The mother did not reply, took a deep breath and dashed out to the corridor. There was not a single person there. The bell signalling a crisis rang into their ears. 

"Experimental monsters are on the loose. Staff from the Science Department evacuate to a safe location," the public announcement monotonously announced.

"That's rough."

Aerith was frightened. However, Ifalna ascertained the direction and walked. She was hobbling. Her condition was good only when she opened the door. Aerith took her hand and kept up with her.

They turned at the first corner of the corridor. No staff were seen, and there were also no signs of wandering monsters. Ifalna rushed over to a wagon carrying cleaning tools; a large metal box attached with tiny wheels, with a long brush and mop, stuck into it. She slid her hand on the side of the wagon, and a part slid open. It was empty. There were supposed to be various cleaning agents and tools in there. The shelves and dividers were also removed. 

"We will be hiding in here. I'll head in first."

Ifalna bent her body and slipped into the box.

"Come, Aerith."

Invited by her voice, Aerith went inside. Ifalna pulled her knees towards herself to make space for her daughter. The petite Aerith quickly got in.

"We are going to be here for some time, so find yourself a comfortable position."

"Okay. This position is good."

"Got it."

After Ifalna closed the door, the wagon became pitch black. The public announcement remained unchanged and announced the experimental monsters’ escape. Before long, there was an indication that someone was nearby. The wagon vibrated lightly.

"It's me."

"I'm leaving it to you, Fuzz."

"We'll get going."

The wagon started to run.

"No matter what happens, do not make any noise."

"I'll be making a turn."

"It's an elevator. We will be transferring elevators several times."

From time to time, Fuzz could be heard. While in the elevator, Aerith became nauseous.

"Mummy, I don't feel good."

"It will be over soon."

When the free-falling feeling with the wagon was over, it started running again. As Fuzz mentioned, he will be transferring elevators several times.

"We're in a parking lot."

A different and unpleasant odour, unlike before, crept into the wagon.

"I'll be stopping soon. There'll be a truck, so hurry up and hop onto its cargo bed. I'll assist the both of you."

There was likely a change in the ground surface. A rattling sound came out from the wagon as it ran. The wagon soon stopped, and the door came open.

"Well then, hurry on."

Aerith was pulled out by the large hand that went into the wagon. He held Aerith up and placed her on the cargo bed as though she was an object.

"Move inside," Fuzz said as he also lightly placed Ifalna on the cargo bed.

"There are a few wooden crates. The innermost one is empty, so hide in it. Don't forget to close the lid. My cousin will be driving the truck. After arriving at the train station, the crate will be loaded onto the freight carrier. The cargo will eventually arrive at the Sector 4 slums station, so wait for me there."

"In the box?" Ifalna asked.

"Nope. I think you both will end up waiting for me somewhere at the station. I have a friend there, so follow her instructions. I've written the details in this letter," Fuzz said as he folded the paper and passed it to Ifalna.

"Where are you going, Fuzz?" Aerith asked.

"I'm heading back up to pretend to search for the both of you. If I get caught, it's going to cost me more than my neck."

The car horn sounded, and feelings of anxiety rushed in.

"Well, later then. There is food and water in the crate."

"How long do we have to wait for you to come?"

"At worst, till the last train," Fuzz said as he kissed the back of Ifalna's hand. Aerith was surprised and looked at Fuzz and her mother one after another.

"Fuzz, thank you."

The truck moved off before Ifalna could finish her words.

↞↠

The mother and daughter crawled on all fours on the swaying cargo bed and moved to the back. There were five wooden crates, one size larger than the cleaning tool wagon. After Ifalna found the empty box, she opened the lid and placed Aerith inside.

"Smelly..."

After leaving the room, they smelled various odours, but this was unbearable.

"Endure endure. We'll get used to it soon," Ifalna uttered as she also entered the crate. 

Aerith did not overlook the frown on Ifalna's face.

"You think it stinks too, Mummy!"

Ifalna stuck out her tongue, and after gazing at each other, they laughed.

Aerith noticed the paper bag at the bottom of the crate. There was also a portable torchlight, a pouch of dried fruits and nuts, a hard bread and a water bottle when she looked inside it. There was a thin envelope, so she peeked inside and found that there was money in it.

"I have to close the lid."

After struggling to close the lid, the crate went pitch black.

"Next, uh ... let's read the letter."

In the dark, there was a dry sound of Ifalna unfolding the paper.

"Aerith, may you shine at this for me?"

"Okay."

She had difficulty operating it, but Aerith found the switch and turned on the torchlight. In the cutout of the darkness, her mother's pale face was there, and sweat was oozing out from her forehead.

"Mummy, are you alright?"

"I'll be reading it, so remember this too, Aerith."

It seems that she does not intend to reply to her question.

"Okay."

“The plate on which the Shinra Building is built and the slums are connected by rail. This crate will be carried into the freight train as it is. After the train runs for a while, the inside of the crate will glow red, and it will be glowing several times. But you don't have to worry about it, and do not mind it."

“What does this mean?”

"Fuzz... He thinks I don't know anything, and he is right about that."

"I'm scared."

"He wrote not to worry, let's believe him."

"Okay..."

"After a while, you will realise that the railroad tracks will be running on ground level rather than at a descent. You will soon hear the train stoppage announcement. Once you hear it, get out of the box. Next, stand by the doorway at the width of the carriage. The last stop is the Sector 4 Slums Station. The door will open when you arrive. Give the money in the envelope to the person who opened the door. It's a reward. Rest assured that she is a friend of mine, and follow her instructions and wait until I pick you both up..."

Ifalna violently coughed before she could read it to the end. It was a long-lasting cough. She turned her head away and covered her mouth with her arm.

"The light... turn it off..." Ifalna said so and violently coughed again.

↞↠

The truck eventually came to a stop. The truck bed shook, along with the rattling sound of the cargo hitting each other. They sensed people in the vicinity. The unloading began. The handling work was rough, and the crate was even thrown down to its' side.The mother and child endured through the shaking and pain in the crate. Ifalna embraced Aerith in her arms and held her daughter's leaking voice with her palm. 

"We got to press on."

Silence came. They were relieved in that brief moment, then the loading operation on the freight train started.

"This is going to the Sector 4 Slums."

After hearing the muffled voice of a man, the box started to move. Again, the crate was handled recklessly. They used their hands, feet, and back to anchor their bodies down and clenched their teeth.

Shortly after that, the loading came to an end. There was a heavy, loud sound as the freight car door closed. After the train started running, it began to make a periodically repeating rattling noise. Eventually, the rhythmic sound becomes pleasant. Aerith dozed off and was half asleep. She woke up suddenly and looked at her mother's face. Ifalna's profile, dimly lit by the torch that was left on, was as beautiful as usual. In her line of sight, she noticed Ifalna smiling. Aerith was relieved, and she closed her eyes again. She finally slept.

In her dream, Aerith was painting.

When she woke up, Ifalna was coughing violently again.

"Are you alright, Mummy?"

"Yup... Give me a moment," 

Her voice got hoarse. Soon after adjusting her breathing —

"It looks like the descent stopped some time ago. The red lights are over too, so perhaps we'll be arriving soon?

"Ehhhh!? I wanted to see the red lights!"

"You said you were scared of it."

Ifalna laughed.

"I want to see it even if I'm scared."

At that moment, the inside of the crate was tainted red. The two were surprised and looked at each other.

"It turned red!"

"Yup! It turned red."

"I wasn't scared at all."

"Hey, Aerith. Let's eat something. We don't know when we'll be able to eat next."

Ifalna tore up the bread in the bag into pieces, handed it to Aerith, and ripped open the pouch of dried fruits.

"I wonder if this is like a picnic."

Aerith stuck the bread on her cheek.

"What's a picnic?" Ifalna asked. 

After Aerith swallowed the bread —

"I heard from Ronnie. People would take along food, head out, walk a lot and eat. It seems that they don't eat anything sometimes. But Ronnie has never been to one before."

"Hmm. I really don't know, but walking seems to be fun."

Under the dim light shone from the portable torchlight placed on the floor, Ifalna offered her the remaining bread.

"Aren't you eating, Mummy?"

"I've already eaten. I ate it while you were sleeping with your mouth open."

She thought it was a lie. However, Aerith inflated her cheeks and showed her anger.

The train slowed down, and Ifalna coughed violently again.  She shook her shoulders violently to hold down the cough.

"I'm really okay."

"Alright."

Aerith felt even more worried as she was reminded again that her mother was ok.

"Next station,... Four Slums. Sector Fo... lums," a muffled voice could be heard. It's the train stoppage announcement.

"Let's get out of the crate, shall we?"

They flipped the lid up. Ifalna comes out first and pulls Aerith up. Although the train was slowing down, the train carriage was rattling and shaking. 

"This is fun!"

Aerith planted both her feet down to keep her balance. Ifalna held on to the crate to support herself.

“Aerith”

“Yup.”

“Never forget that feeling, okay?”

“Which feeling?”

“The feeling that you’ll enjoy anything.”

“Hmmm, I understand.”

“Hey hey, Aerith, look at this.” Ifalna pointed to the label on the crate which they were in.

"What's written on it?"

"From Shinra Company to Shinra Company. To be stored at Sector 4 Station. Dangerous goods. It is strictly prohibited to open it en-route..."

"We are dangerous goods?"

"That's rude."

Ifalna laughed, and the train slowed down again to a stop. Aerith lost her balance and clung to her mother as she almost fell over. 

"Stay silent for a moment, Aerith. Leave this to me."

She looked up at her mother to see what she meant. She wasn't smiling anymore.

It was a young woman who opened the door. She had a pouty face and wore loose-fitting overalls. Her whole body was covered in dirt.

"Are you a friend of Fuzz?" Ifalna asked.

She nodded her head.

"Here you go. It's the reward."

Ifalna held out the envelope.

"I told him I didn't need it..."

“But…”

In the end, the lady snatched the envelope and pushed it into her back pocket.

"Get off. Quickly."

The carriage floor was well above the ground, a height that anyone would need help with. However, the lady was keeping watch of the surrounding people.

"Okay. I'll head down first."

Ifalna disappeared from Aerith's line of sight as she had jumped off. A painful moan could be heard.

"Mummy!"

"Hurry up," the lady's sharp voice pierced through their ears.

Ifalna apologised as she stood up, looking back at Aerith and reached out to her with both hands. Aerith was worried whether the woman in dirty clothing would get angry again, so she hurriedly jumped on her mother's body.That force caused Ifalna to stumble. She almost fell over while holding onto Aerith but managed to get her balance after taking a few steps.

"It's already chaotic at the top. Hide in the container yard until Fuzz picks you up," The woman pointed to a place stacked up with a lot of containers. 

"When the sun sets, consignees will enter and exit the yard, so don't be discovered. That would be a pain."

"How much longer until the sun goes down?" Ifalna asked.

"In about four hours."

The woman tried to leave, but Ifalna called out to stop her and asked, "Which direction is Sector 3 in?"

The woman pointed out the direction with her chin, and as though she was escaping from them, she headed back to work.

"Mummy, let's hide quickly?"

"Yup. Let's do so."

The woman looked back once she reached the end of the train carriage and pointed towards the container yard. She was probably telling them to head over quickly.

"Aerith."

Ifalna held out her hand.

"From here on out, it's a real adventure. Let's go."

Ifalna held Aerith's hand.

"Mummy, why is your hand hot?"

"It's because I'm excited."

Ifalna laughed, and they started walking towards the rear of the carriage they had just got off. The carriage they were riding on was at the end. When they went around the carriage and crossed over the rail, they could see the station building. The woman from earlier disappeared into the station building. They saw some others in uniforms that looked like railway workers.

"Mummy, where are we going!?"

Aerith was extremely worried. However, her mother did not say a word. Instead, she held her hand firmly and started walking. They headed towards the wire mesh fence that was directly in front of them. There were a lot of people coming and going on the road over there.

"Mum!?"

"Let's climb over this fence."

"Ehhhh?"

The fence was about two metres tall.

"I can't."

"But we have to. Otherwise the adventure will be over."

In the end, they clung to the fence.

"Well, let's have fun!" Ifalna uttered.

Passers-by across the wired fence saw them, but nobody stopped walking.

"First, grab a high spot on the wired fence with both hands, and then put the toes of your left foot into the wired fence."

"Ohhh."

Aerith was confused, but she managed to be in the same position as her mother.

“Next, apply some strength to your hands and put your right toe into the fence.”

“Okay.”

"Once you can do that, move your right hand to grab the fence higher up. Then, also move your left hand to grab at the same height."

"Ah, I got it! Next will be my legs."

Aerith felt that she understood how to climb the wired fence.

"Mummy, look!"

While making a rattling noise, she climbed the fence in a blink of an eye.

"Nicely done, Aerith. Now from there, climb over."

"Hey! Get down from there!" came a piercing, angry voice.

Aerith saw a station employee running over.

"Mummy!"

Ifalna saw the station employee.

"Aerith, quickly get going!"

"You too, Mummy!"

Ifalna started climbing the wired fence. She was frustratingly slow.

"Hey!"

The station employee was getting close. The scene gathered the eyes of passers-by. At that moment...

"Hey! Hurry up!"

They looked over. A tall adult male was reaching out his hand. Aerith was confused. He was probably an acquaintance of her mother, but that should not be the case.

"Hey! Let's go!"

Before Aerith knew it, Ifalna got up to the same height and got over the fence. The station staff extended his hand out, but he barely could not reach her. Finally, Ifalna got over to the other side, reached out and grabbed the chest area of Aerith's clothes and pulled firmly. Aerith could not help but lose her balance and almost fell headfirst outwards of the fence. However, a pair of solid hands supported Aerith.

"You alright?" the man asked Ifalna while lowering Aerith to the ground. 

However, Ifalna was coughing harshly and could not answer.

"Riding without a ticket is a serious crime!"

The station employee also started to climb the fence.

"It’s a serious crime which too many people commit, and you can't catch those culprits."

"Thank... you," Ifalna finally answered.

"You're welcome."

The man then struck the fingers of the station employee, who was grabbing the wired fence, with his fist. The station staff screamed away from the wired fence.

"Shinra bastard, damn y'all!"

After hailing abuse at the station employee, the man walked away as if nothing had happened. The station employee was panting heavily and glared at the man.

"Which direction is Sector 3 in?" Ifalna abruptly asked the station employee.

Not only the station employee but Aerith was also surprised at this.

"Who would teach you!" the station employee's angry voice froze Aerith's legs.

"Very well. Pardon us for our rudeness." Ifalna calmly apologised to the station employee 

She then took Aerith's hand and left the station. When they looked back, the station employee was glaring at them. However, he was soon hidden in the flow of passers-by.

"Ahhh, that was heart-wrenching."

Ifalna coughed. When Aerith looked up, she saw the radiant face of her mother.

↞↠

There was no sign of anyone chasing them. The mother and daughter were moving away from the Sector Four Slums Station. Looking up, they could see the underside of the steel city. They were overwhelmed by the orderly combination of the steel-framed plate. Many people lived on it, there was the Shinra Building, and they were way high up on it. The scale was too large for Aerith to picture it well.

"Aerith, if you just look up, you'll fall."

"Okay."

Indeed,  none of the surrounding commuters were looking up. It's a natural sight for slum dwellers. From time to time, Aerith could hear mysterious noises. She could also hear angry voices. And as expected, nobody cares.

"Mummy, who was the person that helped us at the station?"

"I think he's someone who hates Shinra. It seems that there are many of these kinds of people in the slums."

"How do you know about the slum, Mummy?"

"I asked a lot of people. For a day like this."

"Even on how to climb a wired fence?"

"Yup. If Professor Hojo weren't around, everyone would talk to me a lot."

"Actually, everyone is a nice person."

"I wonder. Everyone sympathised and cared for me, but no one helped me out. The truly good people are those that not only say that they'll help but also act on it."

"I wonder what Fuzz is doing."

Aerith waited for a while, but her mother didn't answer.

"Hey, Aerith, I want to rest for a bit. Shall we go over there?"

Ifalna pointed towards a small plaza in front of them. They saw several benches.

↞↠ You’re on page 24/142 of Aerith’s segment of the Light Novel.  Next Scenes: Scenes 5-9 Back to Content Page (click/tap here)

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[djarinbarnes]

me olvidarás - one

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Pairings: Javier Peña x female reader

Rating: Explicit, 18+

Warnings for the chapter: vivid sex dream, masturbation... faceless javi. I apologize. I just want to get to the good stuff! :D 

Word count: 2.1k

Summary: an undeniable warm summer vacation in Bogotá. simply trying to get away from your nosey, boring parents and live for once, you meet a man who impresses you beyond where your imagination could ever take you.

a/n: first of all, I'd like to thank @demoneyesanddamagedsouls​ for being there for me through the whole writing process of this story so far. With her on the side, constantly hyping me up and giving me feedback, I've written over 5 chapters of this already. The full chapter count for this story hasn't been decided yet. I'll see where it goes <3 Second of all.... enjoy <3

series masterlist

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You hated being back. Every time you closed your eyes, all you could see was his eyes peering into yours from above. The mustache resting on his upper lip tickling your inner thighs, your neck, your forehead as he trailed kisses down your nose. You wished for the gods to take you back to Colombia. Back to him.

You remembered everything vividly - his hands on your body, the way they held you and the way they warmed your skin as they made their way over your body. There was no point in hiding it. You were completely and utterly in love with him.

It’d been no more than a week since you’d left Bogotá. Since you’d left him. You knew he was busy with his job, but the little he’d called you was somewhat unsettling. You waited for something - anything to happen to let you know he still thought of you - that you weren’t just a summer fling to him.

It came on a random Tuesday evening, and the way it showed itself… Well you could’ve avoided that. You’d just gotten home from one of your daily walks, where you found the proper time and space to think over the things that had happened, when you found your mother in the kitchen, postcard in hand.

The look on your mother’s face let you know exactly what was written on the postcard. “So that was what you were doing all summer, huh?” you felt the redness blooming in your cheeks as she waved it around. “Or should I say this,” she pointed to the scribbles. “Was who you were doing?”

Your eyes widened. Under normal circumstances your mother would’ve never addressed you like that. But you could see she was furious. She had been on your toes every day during your stay in Bogotá about the mystery guy who had drawn you away from them. “Who is he, then?”

You swallowed past the thick lump in your throat as you came to the conclusion, she had no business going through your stuff or reading your mail. “Mom!” You easily snatched the postcard from her hand, much to her dismay. “You can’t just…” you sigh before hiding the postcard behind your back. “He was… just a guy.”

The truth couldn’t be further from the words that had just left your lips. He wasn’t just a guy. No, he wasn’t a guy, he was a man. A man that had shown every crevice of your body pleasure like no one had ever done before. You felt your body react to just the thought about him, and it made you shudder.

You knew your mother would never believe any of the words you were currently trying to defend yourself with. You gave up with a sign and turned on your heel, walking through the house you called home and into the bedroom.

With the slam of your door, you finally looked properly at the postcard in your hand. You recognized the city of Bogotá easily.

Turning the card over in your hand you suck your lip in between your teeth, recollecting every feeling that flowed through your body with his lips against yours, his skin against yours, your bodies moving together as one.

You knew who had sent the card, even though there wasn’t any sender on it. The scribbled Spanish let you know, and boldly enough.

Parece que el destino nos ha juntado aposta. Yo sueño que estás cerca, tan cerca, aquí en mi camita durmiendo contigo, porque estoy pensando en ti otra vez

─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────

a month earlier

Summer break. God, how you dreaded summer break. Your parents had finally decided to leave the state for vacation, and you were excited to go somewhere you hadn’t been before.

When they had told you about the vacation, you had been overjoyed. Finally, your parents had decided to be a little lively, to go somewhere that wasn’t just safe and sound.

You felt excited when they told you the duration of the vacation as well, and you just couldn’t wait to get going.

Three weeks in Bogotá. It was like a dream come true. You knew some things about Colombia, and the whole corruption of the police and the drug trading from college. It had caught your interest then, and it still intrigued you to get to know more about the city. And since you possibly got to explore some of the city yourself, you were even happier.

You started packing right after your parents told you, to make sure you had everything you needed when you had to travel. They had let you know that the hotel had a pool, so one of the first things in your bag was, of course, your favorite bikini.

You were definitely going to suck up some rays to fill your cells with the D-vitamin. You knew the air was going to be stuffy, humid and warm, but that didn’t make any difference for you at all. You would say you had prepared yourself from home, but there were just some things you never could prepare for.

You were slowly counting down the days until your departure, and you felt more and more excited as the days passed. At the same time, you were nervous. Nervous about the people in general, nervous about meeting new people.

The whole people thing wasn’t really you, and you silently prayed that your parents wouldn’t force you into meeting people you didn’t want to, like they usually did when you were out and about.

Come and meet our friends, they have a son about your age. Maybe you could grow to like each other.

Sure thing.

What your parents didn’t know was, that boys your age didn’t turn you on in the slightest. Quite the contrary, though. There was no legitimate reason for you to be into older men, since you had barely even spoken to men. But from what you had seen in telenovelas to practice your Spanish, the men over 30 definitely spoke to you in another way than younger guys did.

There was something flawlessly sensual about men with stubbles and slight wrinkles encapsulating their eyes, and right now Rafael Novoa was occupying your mind a little bit more than necessary. The whole idea of meeting an older man, an experienced man made your toes and fingers tingle.

You often dreamed about a faceless older man, coming to rescue you for whatever reason your subconsciousness decided to make up, and you loved and cherished those dreams so much. It was wild - your body being able to make you soaking wet, bringing you on the edge of orgasms by just imagining a man in between your legs, often causing you to wake up, startled by an orgasm.

It was an all new feeling, and it kind of scared you. You didn’t really know why you suddenly imagined such raunchy and vivid sexual encounters with men you never saw the face of - but you weren’t one to complain. You secretly hoped - prayed - that your dreams would come every night.

On the very last night before you were due to leave for Colombia with your parents, you had yet another dream. One that left you wanting more, one that left nothing to the imagination. You didn’t remember how it started, but you did know exactly how it ended. And god, if you weren’t seeking that out if you got the chance.

Fingers tangled with someone elses fingers, pressed into the grass above your head - you’re moaning wantonly as the unfamiliar face hidden in the dark leaves lingering, deep kisses against your neck, their hips pressing forcefully into yours, a thick cock deeply imbedded into your core.

Your leg is drawn around their hips, urging them closer and closer, impossibly closer as you breathe out into the night, the soft squelching sound from between you filling your ears along with deep groans, letting you know just the effect you had on the person above you.

Their hips grind into yours, their pelvis grinding forcefully right into your clit, drawing sweet, sweet pleasure into your abdomen, an unfamiliar coil tightening in your belly. You whimper out as the faceless person brings their mouth on top of yours, pushing their tongue into the warmth of your mouth, searching out yours in the darkness.

Then everything turns white - and you wake up in cold sweat, your pussy forcefully convulsing around nothing as you sit up in your bed, brought back to reality, even though you weren’t ready to leave your fantasy just yet. You wanted to see the person your mind had made up, wanted to see who brought you so much pleasure you could come from just imagining it.

You tried closing your eyes, desperate to see something - anything - yet the face never showed itself. Your sheets felt clammy as they stuck to your sweaty thighs and you quickly threw them off yourself before you fan your hands in front of your face, let down by what just happened. God, you wanted to feel that again.

You dart out of bed and into your bathroom, taking in the blush creeping up your neck before you quickly discard your pyjamas, taking a hurried shower to wash the sweat off your body. You don’t want to spend much time in the bathroom that morning, simply wanting to get out into the fresh air outside.

Yet your fingers find their way between your legs as you close your eyes, imagining the same thing you had dreamt just minutes before, as you dip your finger into your wet pussy, your other hand bracing yourself against the wall. You can feel the slick that had come from your dream, and you bite your lip as another finger joins the first easily, and before you know it, yet another.

You had no idea you were able to fit three of your fingers inside of you, yet here you were, and you found yourself quickly approaching the edge where you were sure you were going to fall off. Your thumb circled your clit rapidly, causing your legs to shake as you came on your fingers, your lip tugged in between your teeth to stifle the noise. You quickly cleaned yourself and your fingers before finishing your shower, eager to get going.

The whole drive to the airport, the waiting and the stuffiness of the plane had caused your head to throb, and you silently counted down the hours until you were free of other people. The hours felt excruciatingly slow as you braced yourself on the armrests of the plane, trying to get in an hour of sleep to ease your head.

Nothing worked though. The sound of screaming from a small child had your ears ringing, and even though you felt bad for both the kid and the parents, you had no surplus energy to allow yourself to feel bad. You just felt annoyed. And your ears had popped upon ascend - that didn’t make anything better.

When the plane finally touched down on Colombian ground, you silently cheered while others clapped. Who the fuck claps on a plane? You rolled your eyes as you found your bag in the overhead storage, desperate to get out of the plane quickly. You sighed as you remembered you had to wait for your luggage inside the airport as well.

The whole waiting for your luggage thing went quickly, and within an hour you were unlocking the door to the rented apartment your parents had taken care of. It was small but charming - a tiny kitchenette, a small living room and another room where you suspected the bedroom to be. The bathroom was also tiny, but you didn’t mind. It was a beautiful place.

You pulled your luggage into your bedroom, digging through the suitcases for your sunscreen and a cardigan, pulling it on quickly before leaving your parents to settle in as you ventured out into the bustling streets of Colombia. You don’t know how much time you spent wandering around, but you found something to eat along the way before you made your way back to your apartment as it started to get dark out.

You quickly grew bored in your own company, so when you remembered a bar you had passed on your way home, you quickly went over the options you had before you decided to prep your face in the bathroom, switching your ordinary bra out with a bralette and throwing a silver, sequined top on along with a black skirt. You paired it with some flats - it was Colombia after all, and you weren’t that good at running in heels if it came to it.

You pushed a few things into your handbag before you snuck out of the dark apartment, noticing the darkness of your parent’s on the opposite side of the small garden that separated the two. The door locked easily, and you quickly ventured out into the night, desperately hoping for some adventure to find you.

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next chapter

[life-needs-a-bit-of-headcanons]

I have never asked for anything before and I don't know if this where I request. But uh can we have some fluffy yandereiplier x gender neutral reader? Like yandere gets jealous but instead of killing the person, Yandere just like, gets protective in a soft way? I don't know.

This sounds so cute :3 Thank's for the request!!

Fluffy Jealous Yandereiplier x Reader

* (y/n) = your name

*(y/f/n) = your friend's name

A/N: I'm not sure I did it right so if you have any constructive criticism or want it to be fluffier feel free to tell me and you can request something more!

• You two had been friends for a long time, you'd recently moved house and schools so you were new to the area and prepared to make new friends and Yanderipier loved every second of it, he loved you completely.

• Yandereiplier didn't love you at first sight. Looking back on it he thought he did but in all honesty? no • There was no "love-at-first-glance" or romantic music swelling or cherry blossom petals falling around you, none of that.

• Instead, it was a buildup, it was a quiet but undeniable build-up.

• He fell in love with your jokes he'd hear when he was walking by With the way he'd see you handle yourself in front of others while he was across the classroom, with the way you looked at him always so kindly when you spoke to him in class, with the way you were nice to him no matter what. And he began to get infatuated with the way he'd see your smile stretch across your face when you laughed and the corners of your eyes crinkled and he knew it was a real laugh. He fell with the way you were.

• And he fell hard.

• He even started to love how you walked, memorising how you carried yourself on different days feeling different things; Your handwriting, from the notes you'd passed to others during class and he mimicked your writing down to each letter, your 'style', and how he thinks you'd look so cute in one of his sweaters, honestly everything about you that you deemed unimportant, that you may think is nothing specifically tailored for you but since it's you doing it of course he'd love it.

• And this love for you, this infatuation of you, this want-no this need to be with you, to see you happy and make you happy planted seeds in his heart that blossomed in his chest, twining between his ribs and spreading to every fibre of his being. His chest ached every night when he was alone with his thoughts and his shrine of devotion from things he borrowed from you, little things you wouldn't miss, and made in your honour. He loved you. He loves you. He loves you, he loves you, he loves you.

• He watched you whenever he could, seeing your movements, noting who made you happy, what about them made you happy and how he could replicate that in himself. He was desperate for you to feel as good as you made him feel. And he was good at it too! Until you had sneaked up on him to properly introduce yourself, making him jump and drop his notebook adorned in love hearts and glitter.

• Your smile was so warm. Infectious. His face blew up in the deepest red blush you had ever seen, but excusing it as general anxiety you mercifully didn't comment on until later on in your friendship.

• Yandereiplier.EXE has stopped functioning. Systems overheating, blushing too furiously. Shutting down speech ability.

• The heavy aching in his chest from the flower of love you unknowingly nurtured and bloomed instantly lifted when you looked at him. He felt lighter, fuller, so so happy, feeling his rapid heartbeat pounding away. He felt as if you two were the only ones in the school, in the world, in the cosmic universe. He liked that thought.

• You had crouched down to pick up his fallen notebook but he had enough composure to beat you to it, and lo and behold you brushed hands. He wanted to never wash that hand again but knew you would probably like someone with better hygiene.

• You two were good friends from then on, joking about how that moment could have been in "Anime's top 10 most romantic scenes,"

Yandereiplier would always sputter at that.

• By now it had been a few good months, you two were inseparable. He'd always be giving you gifts, things you never knew how he'd know you liked. And sometimes things that he personally liked, like his prized hello-kitty hair clips and sticker packs that only you were allowed to touch beside himself, it was like a trust pact. You'd exchange secrets, stories and gifts, sometimes, to Yan's immense pleasure, even clothes.

• He knew everything about you, from your likes to your perfume, to your tells to your fantasies.

• He thought he knew everything about your life.

• He thought he knew everyone in it.

• But he was proved wrong. So very wrong.

• When you hadn't replied to his good morning text like you do every day he was instantly filled with worry. He knew your routine, that text message went off 5 minutes after your alarm, he always wanted to be on your mind in the morning so always texted you and if the alarm failed then the text tone would wake you.

• He was pacing around wondering if he should go to your house to check on you or if doing so would overstep any boundaries, trembling at the thought you'd finally had enough of him or were in danger.

He could barely be able to survive if you'd had enough of him but he knows he wouldn't be able to live if you were in danger and he wasn't there to protect you, the very thought sinking its claws into his mind and crawling up his skin leaving a trail of frigid goosebumps in its wake. • He grabbed his backpack and ran on out of the house way earlier than usual, sprinting to your house with the toast from breakfast in his mouth since he didn't have the time to spare to eat it at home on his way to yours.

• And when he got to your house, his stomach fell and the blooming flower in his heart burnt with a fire that licked at his skin, scathing his organs and clogging his lungs with thick smoke and reducing his once light and happy heart to cinders. And with the last embers he possessed, he managed to find the will to take the toast out of his mouth and say "Hey (y/n),"

• You turned around to see him, overjoyed as your two best friends will now get to meet each other! "Yan! Hi!" you said still hugging your friend, "This is (y/f/n), they surprise visited me today!"

• Yan gave a meek wave, too enraptured by the biggest smile he'd ever seen on your face, every vein in his body burning with guilt and anger he wasn't able to make you smile like that.

• (y/f/n) turned to see Yan and greeted them happily, still clinging on to you, "So you're Yan? Nice to meet you," they smiled.

• Yandereiplier would have said a curt hello, probably just ignored them completely were it not for the twitch of guilt he knows he'd feel to be seen as rude in front of you.

• "Hello (y/f/n). Nice to meet you too," he strained to smile

• And it was like that for the whole day because your friend not only had to walk you to school instead of Yan, but they furthered their surprise by spending the day at the school for some stupid transfer day and it was ruining everything. They weren't supposed to be able to touch you like that! Yan, as much as he hated the thought of you being uncomfortable, did try to look for any sign you were in discomfort but knew every conclusion was his bias.

• They had their arm around your shoulder. They made you laugh and smile all day but he loves your smile too much to be angry at that but his mind did wander to different ways to torture them should they be the cause of your smile vanishing. He watched, gripping his pen tightly in frustration as he watched from across the classroom how close you two were, how you easily talked fondly of secrets that had taken him months for you to be willing to share, you were joking, teasing each other, sitting closely, swapping stationary, whispering, the pen broke and splattered ink all over his hand and his work.

• What did they have that he didn't? What did they have he couldn't replicate in himself? What did he have to do to get you to love him as much as you obviously love them in whatever way you do.

• You were all sitting together at lunch, Yan quietly eating from his bento box while still, you and your friend talked. The rage still bubbling and blistering inside of him. But he kept quiet. He began shaking, anger coursing through his blood attacking all his thoughts. But he kept quiet. The heavy weight in his chest returning, aching for you once again despite being just a bit away, the crippiling aching. But he tried his best to keep quiet. The need to be the one by your side, to not only see you happy but make you happy, the need to be the one there making you happy because if it's not him then that means he- ... That means you don't need him. If someone else can make you happy just like you deserve to be then.. then it doesn't matter if it's him. If anyone can do it then he isn't needed specifically. You don't need him. Not like how he needs you.

• A shaky breath shook from his lungs, as he placed his chopsticks back in his lunch, the food now making him nauseous.

• His mind iitches to darker thoughts. Of hurting your friend. Of taking you far away so you rely on him; so you need him.

• ...

• No.

• No that isn't right he hates that.

• You'll never love him if he ever did anything like that.

• You deserve so much better than that.

• So, instead of waiting for you to love him as much as you do (y/f/n)

• He'll make you fall for him. No one can be him except himself and in that way, even if it's only in that way, he is irreplaceable. And you deserve someone as devoted as him.

• He marched back on out there pouting heavily as he watched you two sitting so close. He's on a mission.

• He takes all of his courage and he sits beside you, blushing like crazy to the point your friend thinks he's sick but he assures them he's fine as he offers you some of his bento, offering to feed you with his chopsticks so he can lean in close and try feel you blush too.

• Yan touches you more throughout the day, all where you're comfortable and have previously said you're okay being touched, trading books you brush fingers, he says there's a spider on your head so you can get close and "remove it and save you!", he wipes an eyelash from your cheek and smiles, saying for you blow it off his finger to make a wish, sending you notes holding compliments and doodles of hearts during class so you can once again brush fingers little things like that.

• Yan is also constantly offering you things much more than usual, he already got you little gifts, you'd help him overcome most of his anxiety about spending hours, days, even weeks worrying over picking the perfect present for you and instead giving you whatever he thinks you could possibly like, like shiny and pretty rocks, cute pencils, his favourite most prized hello kitty hair-pin, you didn't accept that last one knowing it would destroy him to part with it which hinted about what was going on.

• As much as Yan knew you, you also knew him.

• You knew his breath would get shaky when he wants something but is too scared to ask for it. You knew he was being more clingy, not that you minded in the least, except for he clearly wanted to do more.

• You knew he didn't want to burden you with his problems so he likely wouldn't say what it is, especially with someone he didn't know all too well around.

• (y/f/n) excused themself for a bit while Yan who was currently fawning over. the band you said you liked last week he memorised all their songs just so he could talk about them with you and hear the facts you knew about them that he already knew but loved the way your eyes lit up when you told him what you thought was something new.

• Thanking any gods, demons or supernatural entities for the time alone Yandereiplier engulfed you in a hug from behind, arms securely wrapped around your chest and face nuzzeling against your hair. He would have done this earlier but he didn't know if you were okay with this sort of affection in front of people so as painful as it was, he waited for so long to be alone with you.

• "Hey Yan, are you doing okay?" • "Of course! I'm with you, my darling!" • "Aww, your darling?" you teased him, his face once again exploding in a deep blush as he buried his face in the crook of your neck to hide his shame.

• He really meant his darling. No matter which way you interpreted 'darling' to be, he meant it as so much more.

• This was the last thing that tipped you off to what he was really after,

• When your friend returned, Yan was hyping himself up to be able to leave the warm hug that let you be in his arms, desperately waiting to not tear himself from you but even more desperate to not make you uncomfortable.

• "Heya y/n!" your friend called

• You held Yan's arms in place, leaning back against him, holding him in place. Yan now wasn't the only one with a mission.

• A long drawn out wheeze escaped his throat as you felt his face heat up against your shoulder through your clothes, slightly worried for him, you turned your head to him while (y/f/n) talked about something Yandereiplier couldn't bring himself to pay attention to you as he savoured the moment, memorising every feeling, every touch, every scent, everything he can as if it were his first time ever being near you, locking this memory in place so he can remember it for those cold lonely nights and for the rest of his life.

• The when saw Yan again, you saw his mouth fall open, bobbing open and closed like a fish as he struggled to articulate his thoughts while you stood before him in the sweater he left at yours a while ago. It smells of his cologne and he can smell it on you.

• His sweater. His.

• He was sure he had ascended at the very moment for the angel he saw wearing his sweater, in his clothes, his. His!!!! And he promises to worship you and treat you like the Angel you are, even if you don’t always see it in yourself. You are his Angel. And the flower bloomed in his chest all over again.

• You're his and he is yours. That's how it always will be.

• And he supposes, it's not all bad having (y/f/n) around. He'll do whatever it takes to keep you happy. He'll protect whatever makes you happy too.

• (y/f/n) also has so many good stories on you that Yan adores hearing and he gets to hear more about your life!

• Just don't forget him. Please. He loves you. So much. He'll always love you. No matter what.

[xxdragonwriterxx]

🔥Drunken Mishaps🔥

A/N: Hey guys! So as just a fun little extra to my stories, I’m going to add a music recommendation at the top of each of my fics like this! I just like to listen to music while I write and thought I might as well share some of my favs! Feel free to ignore this if you want, it’s just for fun! (Side Note: the songs may or may not have anything to do with the topic of the fics. They are just going to be random songs I like. Some of them might relate but others might not).

🐉 Song Recommendation: “One Night in Bangkok” By: Murray Head 🐉

~~~

(Y/N) grumbled to herself as she drove to the bar down the street from her apartment building, her movements stiff with frustration. She had told him several times to drive himself to the bar with his friends, knowing he would get bored halfway through and want to come back home, but Hanji and Erwin had insisted on carpooling together, bringing her grumpy flatmate Levi with them. She would’ve gone with them, but she had a big test the next day she needed to study for. Hence her frustration at being pulled from her study session to pick up her sour roommate when all of this could’ve been solved by simply having him drive alone.

(Y/N) parked and wasted no time in entering the surprisingly well kept establishment, the only bar that was clean enough for Levi’s standards, fuming as she made her way up to her friends.

“Oh hey, (Y/N)! Finally decided to join the party, huh?” Hanji asked when she saw the angry girl, making (Y/N) pause.

“Hanji…, you were the one who called me to tell me that Levi wanted a ride home because his phone was dead and he was bored. If this was all some trick to get me to come here, I’m going to kill you.”

“Oh no, no, no, nothing like that, I know how busy you are,” Hanji said, waving her hands in front of her. “I was just happy to see you, that’s all.”

(Y/N) growled something under her breath that all three of her friends ignored and stalked over to them, her eyes flashing when she caught sight of Levi leaning against the bar, slumped over in his seat.

“This is why I told you to drive yourself,” (Y/N) said by way of greeting when she finally reached them, slapping the wooden surface of the bar with her palm to emphasize her frustration.

To her surprise, the normally observant raven-haired man snapped his head up in shock with a quiet yell, almost as if he hadn’t known she was there, despite her being two feet in front of him.

“Levi? Are you okay?”

The sudden dazzling smile that broke out across his face left a very bewildered (Y/N) reeling, his eyes softening when they focused on her.

“Hey, princess! I was wondering when you’d finally meet me here. I missed you.”

(Y/N) let out a squawk of surprise when Levi suddenly latched onto her arm and pulled her into him, nuzzling his face into her neck and breathing in her scent as if he had done this a thousand times. Her blush intensified tenfold when she heard him quietly mumble, “so warm…” into her skin. Turning to Hanji and Erwin, who were struggling to hide their laughter behind their hands, (Y/N) gritted her teeth and silently wondered why she put up with them sometimes.

“You guys seriously had to get him drunk?” (Y/N) hissed.

“Well yeah!” Hanji said in between barely suppressed giggles. “He needed to relax, you know how he is, always so pent up all the time. He needed some time to really unwind so we challenged him to a drinking contest. You know how good I am at holding my liquor.”

“You better not be driving, Hanji…,” (Y/N) mumbled, still glaring at her friends.

“Oh don’t worry, I didn’t drink tonight, I just wanted to watch the chaos unfold,” Erwin said with a wink, wrapping a large arm around his girlfriend’s shoulders. “I’ll make sure we both get home safe and sound.”

Hanji beamed at her boyfriend before turning back to (Y/N), her grin widening. “Besides, he was being stubborn and wouldn’t admit his feelings for you even though it’s super obvious he loves you. So we decided to…, loosen his tongue a little.”

(Y/N) blushed but shook her head. She knew Levi had absolutely no interest in her, they had nothing in common. She was a psychology major while he was aiming to become an accountant, the two of them only meeting in their shared statistics class in the second semester of freshman year. They were only roommates because they worked well together, having done several projects together for their shared classes that ended in success, eventually leading to a surprisingly sturdy friendship between the two. He was sarcastic and grumpy while she was sassy and cheerful. He was cold and isolated while she was warm and confident. She had always found him undeniably attractive, but she knew that he would never look at her in the same way. He had even told her himself once that his attractions leaned more into the quiet, anti-social type, the kind of girls who were cold and reserved like him so he wouldn’t have to think of pretty words to say.

“Hanji, that’s stupid.”

“But true!” her friend cooed in a singsong voice, smiling even more when Levi suddenly wrapped his arms around (Y/N)’s waist, holding her tightly against him with a happy sigh.

“I’ve got to be honest (Y/N), when Hanji first brought it up, I didn’t think much of it either, but look at how he is acting now. And he’s only done that with you so far. Even drunk, when Hanji tried to give him a hug, he pushed her off of him, grumbling about how she wasn’t the one he was waiting for,” Erwin said, chuckling at the uncharacteristic behavior of the normally reserved young man.

“Guys, he’s only doing this because we share an apartment. We’ve sat together to watch movies before, he’s let me lean on him when I’ve had a long day at work or in class and needed a break, he’s sat in my bed beside me when helping me study and vice versa. He’s only latching onto me like this because I’m the only person he can remember being even remotely close to physically.”

“Sure, whatever you say (Y/N),” Erwin said, huffing a laugh at the thunderous look (Y/N) threw him.

“(Y/N), you seem so tense, are you feeling okay? I bet I can make it better, if you let me…,” Levi’s words stole (Y/N)’s attention away from Hanji and Erwin again, her eyes widening at the sight of Levi leaning in to caress her neck with his lips, even letting his tongue dart out to swirl along her soft skin, forcing a squeak from (Y/N)’s lips.

“Umm, Levi? Why don’t we continue this at home? I’ll ummm, drive us back to the apartment and then we can hang out there, okay?” (Y/N) said in hopes that he’d buy it and let her go long enough for her to bundle him into her car.

“Ooooh! Gonna continue at home, (Y/N)? Shameless.”

(Y/N) flipped Hanji off then, her blush turning her entire face red as her friends laughed at her expense. Levi groaned in frustration but peeled himself away from (Y/N), allowing her to help him to his feet and leaning on her once he was finally up. Praying that he wouldn’t vomit all over her, (Y/N) kept her movements slow as she told her friends goodbye and helped Levi to her car, stuffing him in the passenger seat before getting behind the wheel and pulling away from the bar.

Thankfully, Levi was mostly quiet on the drive home, keeping his hands to himself and merely looking out the window at the buildings that passed, only speaking to occasionally point out a pretty light he saw, or a dog being walked as their owner took advantage of the cool evening air to be outside. (Y/N) couldn’t help but giggle at his drunk antics, her traitorous heart thumping loudly in her chest when he flashed her a smile in response. She had never seen him smile so many times in one night, and it was getting harder and harder to keep her composure when those normally rare smiles were directed at her.

Although he kept mostly to himself in the car, (Y/N) was once again thrown head first into shock and embarrassment as soon as she had helped Levi into their apartment building, her roommate immediately clinging to her like a lost puppy. 

“Mmmm, (Y/N),” Levi purred, rubbing his face into the space between her shoulder and  her neck, making it hard for her to focus on getting the door unlocked. Her face was rivalling that of molten lava as he groaned, his eyelashes tickling her neck when his eyes fluttered closed. “You’re so soft…”

(Y/N) finally got the door open and shoved him inside, quickly locking the door behind them. Once she was sure the deadbolt was secure, she went to turn around only to find Levi pressed against her again, his tongue once more coming out to flick along her throat down to her collarbones, making (Y/N) freeze at the feeling.

“Gods kitten, you have no idea how long I’ve waited for you,” Levi murmured in between licks and kisses.

“Levi, you were only out of the house for a few hours, we haven’t been away from each other that long.”

“That can’t be right,” Levi said with a shake of his head. “I’ve been waiting for you for years, not hours.”

Suddenly (Y/N) understood what he meant and felt the flames immediately rekindle in her cheeks. While part of her was overjoyed that he shared her affections, the other part of her knew it was too good to be true. He was drunk, he had no idea what he was talking about, he was just spewing bullshit, saying what the alcohol was telling him to say. Hell, for all she knew, he could be imagining she was a different woman entirely. He had yet to say her name, he could be thinking that she was someone else from one of his classes, and was using her to realize his fantasy since the star of his desires couldn’t be here.

“Levi, I don’t think you have the right person, you’re drunk and obviously not in the right state of mind, why don’t you just go to sleep so you can have a clear head in the morning?” (Y/N) said, trying to guide him to the couch.

“No, I know it’s you,” Levi said with a frown, leaning to drop another kiss on the dip between her collarbones, his lips lingering after he parted from her skin. “I’ve waited too long for this, I’d never mistaken you for anyone else. You’re the one I want.”

(Y/N) felt like squealing and crying at the same time but she swallowed both impulses.

“Levi, you’re dreaming. I’m not who you think I am, so stop kissing me. I’m the wrong person, and the last thing I want is to ruin our friendship because of some stupid drunk mishap!”

“No, I know you’re (Y/N). I could never forget you. I love you, there’s no way I’d ever not recognize you.”

(Y/N) breath hitched at his words, even when she had to suppress the smile that tried to appear on her lips when he gave a cute little hiccup after his impassioned speech. So he really was fantasizing about her. She wanted to leap on him and smother him with kisses but she held herself back. She knew better. Just as she had told her friends at the bar, this was all just some drunken whim spurred on by her close friendship and living situation with the young man, the alcohol taking advantage of his hazy memories to make her seem like some kind of long lost lover to him. She smiled as she thought about all of the teasing she was going to be able to do in the morning, even while her heart simultaneously broke at the thought of his disgusted face when he heard about kissing her when he was finally sober.

“Levi, you need to go to bed now. You’re going to need all the sleep you can get for when you have to deal with your hangover in the morning,” (Y/N) said. To her surprise, he stubbornly shook his head again.

“Not a chance. I finally get to have you after all this time. I’m not letting you leave this bed until you’re screaming my name.”

Gods, he was so far gone. (Y/N) opened her mouth to respond when all of a sudden, she felt his hips press into hers, her eyes widening almost comically when she felt his arousal nudge against her. Immediately, her entire face turned red, the color even creeping down to her neck and spreading out over her collarbones where Levi was still leaving small nip marks, soothing them over with his tongue before moving back up her throat.

“L-L-Levi!” (Y/N) squeaked.

His smirk against her skin made her spine tingle. “Now you’re starting to get the right idea.”

His words were followed by another hiccup, making (Y/N) snap out of it again. He’s drunk. He had no idea what he was saying and doing. As his roommate and friend, she knew he hadn’t had a lover in ages, at least not since he was dumped in his first semester of sophomore year. This was all just the result of the whiskey in his system combined with his pent up sexual frustrations, his body instinctively looking for an outlet. She just happened to be close by.

(Y/N) had to bite on her lip to keep from moaning as Levi dug his hips into hers again, his length pulsing a little through his pants as he ground against her, his panting moan sending her stomach into a state of butterflies. But this was wrong. Quickly pulling herself together, (Y/N) shoved aside her own needs and placed her hands on his chest just as he reached for her shirt.

“Levi, stop. You need to go to sleep.”

“(Y/N)? What are you-”

“Levi, it’s time to go to bed, come on.”

“(Y/N), wait! Please don’t leave me, I’m sorry if I was being too forward, I just want to show you how much I love you. If you aren’t ready-” He was interrupted by yet another hiccup. “If you’re not ready then we don’t have to take that step yet.”

(Y/N) felt the tears spring to her eyes, anger and sadness flooding her system. She knew he had no idea what he was doing, but she was starting to get tired of him toying with her feelings, even if it wasn’t on purpose. Gritting her teeth, (Y/N) ignored his protests and slapped his hands away, pushing him into his room.

Her heart clenched at the hurt look he gave her when she pushed his hands away but she ignored that too, pulling off his shirt, pants, and shoes, leaving him in his boxers, and tucked him into his bed. To her relief, his eyes finally started to flutter closed as she made sure the sheets were wrapped securely around his body. When she was finished getting him ready for bed, (Y/N) yawned and cast one last look at him before turning to leave, knowing her late night study session was already thrown out the window for the night, more than ready to just get to sleep.

His hand quickly grasping her wrist stopped her and she turned around to see a sad, lonely look on his face, one that made her want to kiss him until her lips turned blue.

“If you’re comfortable, will you stay with me tonight? E-Even if you don’t want me, I just want to h-hold you, even if it’s just for tonight.”

(Y/N) swallowed hard. She knew he was drunk but that clearly didn’t change how he was feeling at the moment, and it was clear he needed someone to be close to right now. Besides, he would have no right to be upset with her in the morning when he woke up to find her next to him, considering he was the one who asked her to stay.

Nodding her head, (Y/N) snatched one of his shirts and quickly changed in his adjourning bathroom, leaving her in just his shirt and her panties. She knew it wasn’t the most appropriate outfit at the moment, but she didn’t have the motivation to go back to her room to change. And again, he had asked her to stay with him, if he had a problem with her wearing comfy clothes to bed, then he could fuck off.

Slipping under the covers with him, (Y/N) had to force herself not to smile when Levi immediately clung to her, his arms looping around her neck and his leg throwing itself over her hip like he owned it as he buried his face in her chest, humming contentedly.

“Goodnight, Levi. You’re going to have one hell of a hangover in the morning,” (Y/N) said, leaning down to give him a quick, self-indulgent kiss on the forehead before settling down to sleep.

________________________________

Levi groaned in pain as the light from the window shone in his eyes, his pounding head doing nothing to help his already growing irritation. What had happened last night? He couldn’t remember anything, but something must’ve happened considering he felt like shit. He had an awful taste in his mouth and he felt like he was going to be sick. Lifting a hand to his face, he was massaging the bridge of his nose when a voice beside him made him freeze.

“Morning, Levi. Sleep well?”

“(Y/N)!!!” Levi cried out in shock, shooting up and scooting back to the edge of the bed in shock. “What the fuck are you doing in my bed!?”

“What? Don’t remember last night?” (Y/N) teased, her eyes flashing mischievously as she smiled.

“No! What the fuck did I do?” Levi asked, dread creeping into his belly as he scrambled to remember what had gone down the night before.

“Hmm, well, let’s see, first you went and got shit-faced with Erwin and Hanji, apparently it was some sort of drinking competition you and Hanji did. Then when Hanji called me to come get you, you kept nuzzling me and kissing my neck and calling me pet names. Finally, when we got back to the apartment, you kissed all over my neck and told me all about how I was finally going to be yours and you were going to make me scream your name. Oh! And you may or may not have, um…,  ground against me,” (Y/N) said, her smile only growing wider at the horror on his face. She loved to tease him sometimes, and this time, it was a good distraction from her aching heart.

Levi, on the other hand, wanted nothing more than to have a giant black hole swallow him up, making him disappear. Or to have a truck run him over. Or to slit his own throat. He knew going out with Eyebrows and Shitty Glasses had been a bad idea, but he had never expected it to go this downhill. He felt like throwing up, and this time it wasn’t just from what he now knew was a hangover. He was absolutely mortified. He had loved (Y/N) pretty much since the day they had met, his small little crush on her developing into full blown desire until he was head over heels for her. He had been looking for a way to tell her, his sanity starting to fray that the seams the longer he waited, but this was NOT how he had expected nor wanted her to find out. Then he suddenly remembered that she was here in bed with him in nothing but his shirt and some panties.

“I-I didn’t f-force you into anything, did I? We didn’t do anything, right?” Levi asked, cursing himself for stuttering.

(Y/N) immediately dropped her teasing manner and looked at him in shock and disbelief.

“Oh gods Levi, no! You were just drunk, that’s all. You were actually being really sweet for most of it, I’m only here because you said you didn’t want to be alone last night. That’s all, nothing happened between us. You’d never force yourself on me, and I’d never take advantage of you like that, when you were incapable of making your own decisions and retaining memory the next day.”

Levi sighed at that, relief washing over him. He didn’t think he could handle it if something like that had happened to (Y/N) and it had been his fault. Soon enough though, that  relief was replaced with embarrassment again, his head falling into his hands with a groan as he prayed for someone to just end his misery.

“(Y/N), I am so sorry, I can’t believe I did something like that. Just forget it ever happened, okay? I promise, I will have Shitty Glasses’ head on a stake for this.”

“Does that mean you really didn’t mean it?” (Y/N) asked, the words slipping out before she could stop them. Levi’s head snapped up to look at her.

“What?”

“Nothing! Just ignore me, please.”

“No, did you just ask if I meant it?”

(Y/N) nodded her head slowly, her teeth reaching out to bite at her bottom lip, dragging the plump flesh in her nervousness, making Levi have to suppress a moan at her cute expression.

“Does that mean…, you maybe feel something similar?” Levi asked boldly, trying to ask her before the rest of his confidence faded away, his body practically trembling with the pressure.

(Y/N) hesitated before she nodded slowly again, her eyes darting around the room as she suddenly found the plain ceiling of his bedroom to be very fascinating. Then, his words really sank in. Something similar…

“Wait a minute, you have feelings for me? None of it was an act last night?”

“I don’t lie when I’m drunk, I actually become more honest. Usually to the point where I lose what little filter I have on my tongue. I meant every word of what I said last night, at least, just so long as all of them were about how much I care about you.”

(Y/N) could hardly breathe. She was just waiting to wake up and find Levi still asleep, or in the bathroom vomiting his guts up. This had to be a dream, her brain playing tricks on her.

“What?” (Y/N) asked, her voice shaky and breathless.

“I love you, (Y/N). I’m sober now, and I can tell you with full certainty that I love you. I’m sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable last night, I wish I had gotten the chance to tell you in a more modest manner, but I guess that point is moot now. I love you, and I have for a long time.”

“Oh thank gods! I love you too,” (Y/N) sighed, launching herself at him to plaster her lips to his. Levi chuckled at her response and held her close as he deepened the kiss, groaning at the taste of her paired with the feeling of her body against his and her tongue fighting his for dominance.

Breaking away, (Y/N) gave Levi a coy smile that sent his heart pounding against his rib cage, his silver eyes staring at her intently as she ran a finger down his shirtless chest.

“You know, Levi. Now that I know we are both on the same page, and you’re sober now, do you think I could take you up on the offer you gave me last night for a certain activity you had planned?” (Y/N) asked, a different kind of teasing tone in her voice, her hues sparkling as she eyed the light dusting of pink that accented his cheeks.

Levi growled, his chest swelling with love and pride as he looked at the woman he had wanted for so long. Arousal immediately stirred in his loins at her words, but his hands were gentle as they wrapped around her hips and dragged her into his lap.

“Fuck yes, now that I’ll remember it, I’ll do anything you ask,” Levi purred, looking into her eyes for one last confirmation of permission before swooping down to devour her lips with his own.

The two were so mixed up in each other that neither of them noticed both of their phones go off on the bedside table, two messages sent to each of them from a certain four-eyed freak and tall ass tree that read: 

“You’re welcome.”

[willgrahymn]

Strangely Estranged

this is my gift to @romansandersprotectionsquad for the @sanderssidesgiftxchange!! I really hope you like it :]

Description: Remus just wants to make his art, but Roman is still distressed by the events of SvS Redux/POF and it's affecting both of their abilities to create. When Remus goes to confront him about it, he gets a little more than he bargained for. Content warnings: Some Remus being Remus-y type lines, blood mentions (again, Remus), a good amount of swearing, and throwing some shade at Janus. Word count: 2747 I’ll rb with the ao3 link :]

- ’Honestly,’ Remus thought, ‘this painting could use more blood.’

He stared at the incomplete project. It was at least the 7th time he started on something today, but no matter what he always came to a pause.

Roman, that motherfucker, he probably had a creative block. Remus didn’t care much about only being half of Creativity, hell, it was fun coming up with the most gory stories he could imagine, but it seemed like whenever Roman hit a block he just had to drag him down with him.

He leaned back against his wall, tossing his paintbrush and catching it again. He stuck the brush in his mouth. Blue paint didn’t taste as good as green, but maybe he was just biased.

Remus glared at the painting. If it had eyes, he was sure they would be staring back, mocking him. Maybe he’d scrap the thing and use it as a target next time he played with his throwing stars.

He ground his foot into the stained carpet. Whether it was paint or blood didn’t matter. Come to think of it, he’d been at a pause for some time now. Roman hadn’t left his room nearly as much either. The only people he’d seen Roman hang out with recently were Virgil, Logan, and (inescapably) Thomas. Then there was Patton and Janus who hardly spent time together before. Now they never left each other's sides. Remus would be a liar if he said it wasn’t somewhat upsetting.

Remus loved drama. He loved watching people fight and be seconds from either murdering each other or making out right then and there. It was exciting to see people so close to their limit. Roman’s drama wasn’t fun though, it was just fucking sad.

He was pretty sure it would stay that way unless he took matters into his own hands. He grabbed his morningstar. He didn’t think he’d actually use it, but if he had to literally knock some sense into his dear brother, then so be it.

Walking down the hall of the mind palace the lighting got brighter. Silently, he wondered how the hell Virgil had managed to live with the other three for so long. With Roman’s obnoxiously loud personality and old villain accusations, he doubted the rogue raccoon could’ve slept the day away like he did when he tried to avoid him.

He stood in front of a tall, white door. It looked like something you’d find in a children’s movie or fairy tale that told the protagonist there was some sort of grand adventure on the other side… 

How boring.

Without bothering to knock, Remus opened the door to his brother's room. Maybe for Janus, he would have knocked. There was hardly anything that could truly shock him anymore with all the fun little fantasies that ran through his head, but Janus’ wrath was something he would save for a day when he needed that extra kick.

Then again, maybe he was wrong to say that he couldn't be shocked. Not when Prince Perfect’s room was such a mess. Not when one of his mirrors had been knocked to the floor. And certainly not when he took in the sight of the other half of Creativity, sitting there at the side of his bed in his black undershirt and dress pants.

Something in Remus’ guts told him there was something wrong here, and this time it wasn’t because he had been impaled or ate something Logan and Janus insisted he shouldn’t have. No, this was something else. Something he hadn’t been allowed to see since the two split up. One brother deciding he needed to be pure as white, and the other allowing himself to be the darkest black imaginable.

He stepped closer. Roman hadn’t made a sound, not yet, but it felt like approaching a lion. A lion that stood for courage yet fell to shattered pieces of what it once was.

And maybe if he hadn’t been feeling real, genuine concern for something other than Thomas’ lack of flare in his art, he would have laughed when his mind went to Scar and Mufasa.

It wasn’t like he cared though. Concern, maybe. But he couldn’t be bothered to care for his brother who he hardly ever spoke to for purposes other than making him uncomfortable with his ideas.

Roman shifted on his bed, still not bothering to look to see who entered. “I already told you I don’t want to talk about it.”

Remus rolled his eyes. Of course his brother would choose to be a little bitch about this.

“First off, you didn’t tell me shit.” He said. Roman sat up, looking at him. A mix of defense and curiosity in his glare. “Second, I’m not the one making your life any harder than I normally would.” His brother scoffed. “Aren’t you though?”

“You’re the one affecting my work!”

Roman huffed, pulling his legs up to his chest and hugging them closely. He liked the pressure. Logan would probably be able to tell him why if he asked. He remembered hearing a conversation between him and Virgil when the darker first showed up. Something about pressure was a stress reliever.

At the same time, Remus crossed his arms, tapping his boots and rubbing his fingers against his sleeves. Whatever response he had been waiting for didn’t come. Maybe he should leave. Pretend whatever this was wasn’t happening and go focus on something else until the other half got his shit together. That would be a lot easier than standing here, the air of the room suffocating him into silence.

Either way, neither brother knew what to say. It would be easy for the pensive prince to turn around, to tell the other not to speak to him and to go back to wherever he came from. At least it should have been.

Remus bit down on his lip not minding the pain. It wouldn’t do any good to try to beat at what was already broken. “I can go find someone else.” It was more of a statement than an offer.

His twin tensed. “Please don’t.”

Remus just nodded. He didn’t know what to do or what to say. Normally he didn’t have to think this hard. He didn’t want to care about his brother and his problems. He knew at least part of the reason behind the other’s mood was because of him because Roman hated him and being compared to him. Yet still, despite being twins he couldn’t help but feel like he had to care for his baby brother.

‘What the fuck am I supposed to do now?’

He was Dark Creativity, the embodiment of intrusive thoughts and other so-called disturbing ideas and imagery. It wasn’t something that ever upset him, and hell it was fun making the other Sides and Thomas uncomfortable. It was fun telling Patton things that would make him shift in his seat and try to change the topic as if nothing had happened. It was fun to create thoughts that would fuel anxiety and haunt the sad little Side who harbored them. It was more than amusing to sit beside Roman, watching as he tried to do his work and ignore his bothersome brother’s constant suggestions that ruined his fairytale fantasies.

If Thomas didn’t want to use all the available ingredients he gave him to create that was fine. He could manage just fine! Really, the repression only made him stronger.

But Roman knew how to make people feel those warm fuzzy feelings that were like caterpillars in your ribs. Something that looking at it now, maybe Remus regretted not trying to pick up on the wholesome little messages that his brother always cared about. At least maybe then he’d have a better idea how to deal with all of these emotions going on. Even Logan would have done better in this situation.

His brother sighed, sitting up and turning to finally face him. He looked worse than expected. No wonder he didn’t want to see anyone else. Remus couldn’t tell what he was feeling, taking in the sight of this mess. Roman’s brow furrowed, his jaw clenched. He leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, his nails digging into his skin.

“Why are you still here?” He asked.

Remus bit his lip and chose to ignore the question. “I know you’re pissed about Jan being accepted.”

“Yeah duh,” Roman scoffed. He sounded like a dam ready to break. “Excuse me for not being absolutely overjoyed at this… Manipulative Malefactor being accepted by our very own Moralidad.”

The Duke nodded. Sure, you could call him friends with Double D, but he wasn’t going to be like him and lie and deny that Janus certainly had… a way… of getting what he wanted, whether it meant using others as a stepping stone or not.

“I never should have trusted him.” Roman continued. “I mean, I never even liked him. Hell, right after he revealed himself to Thomas I said I hated him… I only went along with what he wanted because he pretended to be someone I’m supposed to be able to trust, and then he used me again by flattering me with fake love and bringing up Thomas’ dreams. And I just– I just keep falling for it because I’m an idiot and I keep fucking everything u—”

He hadn’t noticed Remus approaching him or pulling him into a hug until it happened.

It was tense at first. Roman froze at contact. Slowly, he sunk into his brother's arms, not caring about the way the material scratched against his face. He just wanted to feel safe.

“What’s happening?” He asked.

Remus wasn’t sure he had an answer.

“I think Patton would refer to it as brotherly bonding, but I really don’t know.” Remus laughed lightly.

Eventually, Remus slowly pushed his brother off of him, still holding onto his shoulders and smiling in a way he could only hope came off as sympathetic. On any other occasion, Roman would despise the fact that his brother was just the tiniest bit taller than him, but right now he didn’t care. He wouldn’t tell him it was good for hugs though, he hadn’t lost all of his dignity.

“Listen, Ro-bro, we’re twins. What affects you affects me too. I know it might not change much, and you might still not want to be around me. That’s fine. Just… remember that we’re two Sides in a trenchcoat trying to make up for one, got it?” Roman nodded, rubbing at his eyes and smiling slightly. “I would have expected a darker way of phrasing that from you.”

Remus shook his head. “I may not think much, but I do know enough to understand it’s probably not the best timing for it.”

He smiled, watching as his brother lightened up a bit.

The room was still a mess. They’d have to fix it up later. Not right now though, he didn’t think his brother was ready enough to face his own destruction.

“C’mon, get your outfit on.” “Huh?” “You weren’t planning to stay locked up in here like Rapunzel all day, were you?” “I mean… kind of, yeah?” Remus shook his head. “Not happening,” He said. “We gotta do some dumb shit to make you feel better.” “Ree, I’m fine now, really.”

He ignored him, grabbing Roman’s stupidly bright white shirt off the floor and throwing it at him. Checking around for his sash afterwards.

“You at least gotta put yourself together! I know how you are about your looks– even if mine are better.”

Roman rolled his eyes before pulling his shirt on, grabbing his sash from under his pillow. “I can’t stand you.” They both knew it wasn’t the truth. Not right now at least.

“I’m going to fix… this.” Roman said as he waved his hand in front of his face.

The prince left to his bathroom, grabbing some of his makeup from his desk as he went. Remus flopped onto his brother's bed. This wasn’t exactly where he expected his day to go. It was fine though. Actually, it probably went a lot better than whatever he originally planned. Bitching at Roman could be fun, but he doubted it would have made anything better. Hopefully getting rid of some emotional block would stop the art block too. It sounded like something Logic would approve of.

Remus stared up at the glow in the dark stars that littered his brother’s ceiling. Roman’s room was less loud than usual. More quiet. Like a heartbeat that once echoed so loudly had suddenly stopped, or a fire which finally died out leaving nothing but smoke and ash behind.

He heard it when the faucet turned on, when a hairbrush hit the floor, and when Roman cursed at his eyeliner.

‘His hands must be shaky.’ They’d have to fix that.

Remus got up again, half-assedly making his brother’s bed and tidying up the place. He didn’t know where everything went, so he could only hope he was putting stuff where it shouldn’t have ever been. Even if he was trying to cheer up his brother now didn’t mean he couldn’t work in advance to cause trouble for him later.

When Roman came out he looked as if nothing had happened. Like nobody would be able to look at him and think twice of if he was okay. It was an art in itself to be a raging storm and to settle down to the tranquility of dewdrops on flower petals within a matter of minutes.

When had he learned to do that?

Or maybe it was just that he didn’t spend enough time around the other to know. Maybe if one of the other Sides saw Roman now, they wouldn’t even have to study his movements or expression to know he had been upset. It would be as easy as looking at  him and recognizing the scripted smiles and rehearsed words for what they were. Was he really that bad at being a brother to fall for his own twins’ tricks?

Roman shifted on his feet. “So… What are we doing?”

“Oh!” Remus bounced, the beads on his shirt clicking together. “Well I was thinking about it earlier and since Papa Patton and Daddy Dee are spending so much time together–” “Never call them that ever again.” “You never let me have fun! But fine. You know how those two have been hanging out more.”

“I can’t let you do anything mean to Patton, he’s off limits.”

Remus pouted. “I thought you were mad at him!” “He’s Patton!” Remus glared, and Roman glared back.

Remus sighed. “You’re so lame, but I guess we can just focus on the snake. Oh! And don’t worry, I can take the fault. Besides, I haven’t fucked around with him in a while and have been waiting for a good day to do it.” He grinned. Roman would have considered it evil, but this, this was pure sibling mischief. “I was thinking we could start subtle like moving his shit 2 inches to the left and work our way up from there. I was thinking about leaving my pet rats in his room and letting them go wild, but he is a snake and I don’t trust like that…”

Roman tried to stifle a laugh. Remus tried not to smile. Remus turned away, heading to his room to put his abandoned work away before anything else. Roman, he noticed, hadn’t followed. Slowly, he turned to him. “Are you coming?” “Oh, yeah I just...“ Roman paused, taking a deep breath and smiling softly. A real smile, not the mask he had given before. “Thank you. For doing all this.” Remus’ eyes softened, nodding as he spoke again. “Don’t go getting too soft on me, Ro-bro. I’m still going to attack your side of the Imagination.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less.” The two brothers stood there, an awkward yet comfortable quiet moment of understanding neither wanted to interrupt. “C’mon,” Remus said, waving his brother along. “We have vengeance in our hearts and glitter in our pockets. Let’s fuck shit up.”

The prince glanced to himself in the mirror. Now wasn’t the time to focus on his shattered world view, or how his brother may not be as horrible as he thought. Now was the time to have fun messing with the one who had messed with him.

He looked to his brother, eyes sparkling. “Let’s do it.”

[angstyclowns]

Alpha! Izuku Midoriya x Omega! Reader (Ft.Omega! Ochako)

ANd I saId AhHaHHAHHA AHHHAHHA 

I SaID HeY WhaT’s GOiNg On~~~~

I’m as useless as the G in lasagna on this page I swear.

 I also swear I’m super sorry for the inactivity but I’ve been going on hardcore isolation for four weeks (FUcK TruDEaU HaS A CaCTUs DILdO In My AsS) and I’m losing motivation fast, but I’ll try to get some asks done as soon as possible!

Anyway-

I now present my first attempt at a fic on this page-

Warning! Cheating and alpha heart break. Poor IzUwU.

Heartbreak kid

He knew deep down that she wasn’t the omega for him. He knew it, his inner alpha knew it, hell, he was sure deep down, even she knew it. But something in them kept them together. Neither were sure as to what is was, but it raged like an angry forest fire in both of them, keeping them at each others side even if they knew that something- no, someone- was out there, just aching to be a better match. 

Izuku knew he didn’t want to keep this relationship going, but the girl -He’d say omega, but that would imply his alpha viewed her as such, when in reality,it barely saw her as a person- was adamant on keeping him within arms reach. But lately, it’s taken such a turn, not even the alpha was sure he could keep up. 

Her nest was no longer an acceptable zone, the male not even allowed within a fifteen feet radius of the nest of bed sheets and pillows, her purrs no longer rang throughout the room whenever he cuddled with her, hell, cuddling alone- something both alphas and omegas needed- was so rare, Izuku was shocked beyond words. 

“Are you okay?”

 The words broke his train of though as the sudden coldness of ink disappeared from his bicep. Bright (E/C) orbs peaked up at him, bangs of (H/C) intruding every so often before she brushed them away. Her scent was vanilla sweet and surrounded him so nicely, making purrs erupt from deep within his chest. Her own purrs echoed around him reciprocation, making his alpha yip in joy. 

“I guess. Just thinking...”

The (H/C)ette hummed, resuming her work on his bicep. Somehow the omega below him convinced him to allow her to draw and doodle all over his arm, using skin safe markers of course, acting therapeutic in a way to both of them. 

“About Uraraka?”

He nodded as his purrs immediately softened, nearly disappearing completely. The click of the marker cap shutting tightly rung through his ears but, he remained stoic, eyes tracing over line after line etching onto his arm. Beautiful orchids and leaves trailed up and down his upper arm, highlighting the muscles he worked so hard to get. She even went as far as incorporating the scars into part of the piece of work, making them look like veins trailing up and down the petals of a primrose- the centerpiece of the artwork. The peice was beautiful in every way, and if he could, he’d get it tattoo’d permanently. Hell, his inner alpha was debating buying a tattoo machine just so he could have it done permanently. 

The soft hand on his un-inked arm brought his attention full circle once more, his emerald orbs snapping forward to meet (E/C) ones. Her facial features were lax and calm, and made him smile.  Her mouth moved but he couldn’t hear the words coming out of her mouth. He was too busy watching her facial features, how her eyes shined with whatever she was saying, brows raising in the cutest way, he barely even saw her stop talking. 

“-Zuku? Izuku? Izuku!” 

The alpha shook his head at the sound of his name, quickly flushing red as she giggled, waving him off as he furiously apologized. When he shyly asked her to repeat himself she did so with little hesitation. Thinking back, if he had done the same to his now girlfriend, she’d snap at him.

“I was saying that maybe you and Uraraka should have a movie night tonight. Maybe some time alone would do you both some good. I could help you set up!” Your smile was bright and it made Izuku’s inner alpha whimper at the thought of him and Uraraka alone. He wanted to have movie night with you. Laughing with you as you flawlessly recited lyric after lyric, holding you when the climax of the movie would hit and you would inevitably feel sympathetic for the main character, carrying you to bed after you fell asleep during the credits, cuddling with you until day break. All of these things were things he wanted to do with you. Not her. 

Nodding, he followed you into the dorms (Both of you sitting on the outside porch for some fresh air), thinking back onto his relationship with the brunette. She had asked him to scent something for her about two months back, and he was overjoyed. His inner alpha couldn’t care less, as he had already seen you as his omega, but Izuku knew deep down he wouldn’t get that chance. You were gorgeous in every way and he adored you for your kind hearted attitude. He adored you. But that was a far away fantasy in his mind so he settled for Uraraka. 

In the first few days, his alpha completely ignored the omega, only recently coming around to even think about her as a suitable omega; and then it was if a flip was switched and they were all back at square one. But this wasn’t his alpha’s fault. Uraraka changed completely, making even Izuku question if he wanted to keep the relationship going. And he was going to break things with her, but he didn’t have a reasonable excuse. 

No matter, maybe he could rekindle this dying light with your help. 

Or so he thought. Watching as your skipping form abruptly stopped at the kitchen entrance. His brows furrowed as his alpha pushed to the surface, immediately rushing to your side. His heart dropped at the sight. 

Iida and Uraraka were hurriedly trying to clean themselves up, the appearance of you obviously disrupting their previous activities (Izuku shuddering at  thought of what that could be. But between their disheveled hair and clothes, he could make a pretty good guess). His alpha was snarling wildly and growling, begging to be let out and put that damned omega in her place. Playing with an alpha like that was shameful that in olden days, it was punishable by death. 

But Izuku knew that would nothing but scare you, and he didn’t want that. So sucking up his tears and clearing his throat, he merely let the alpha relish in the look of horror that crossed their faces.  Clutching his hands into fists, he growled lowly before opening his mouth to speak. Yet the words he heard weren’t his. 

They were yours.

“You pitiful excuse of an omega! How in the world could you even think about cheating on an alpha, let alone one as sweet as Izuku?!” You spat the words, snarling as you stepped forward, anger apparent in your words, actions and scent. “Your pathetic doing so! I’m so ashamed of your actions, you almost make me ashamed to be an omega. God, there aren’t enough words in any language to describe how inexcusable your actions have been, much less disgraceful.”

You snapped viciously before turning to face Iida. “And you! How could you do this to one of your best friends?! This is deplorable and surely is enough to tarnish the Iida family name don’t you think?!”

The shocked look the two gave you was enough for you to deem this a triumphant victory before pulling Izuku, who looked seconds away from breaking down to his room. You watched as he let the rivers upon rivers of tears escape the corners of his eyes, eventually leaving him to his own devices, as an angry and upset alpha was also an unpredictable one.

<>~<>~<>~<>

Five days. It had been five days since anyone had seen Izuku. You left him food by his door everyday for every meal, praying he was eating it. Since the stench of death wasn’t constantly wafting from his room, you would say he was. 

You had been in his room once within those five days, hoping to collect the dishes he was obviously compiling. He let you in, but holy shit did he look like death hit him with an iron mallet. His hair was greasy and his shirt had stains all over it; eyes puffy from days of crying. It made your omega whine in agony. You ended up making him a makeshift nest that day before leaving with the dishes. 

Right now, you were wishing you had stayed with him though. Recovery girl and Aizawa stood in front of you, each looking incredibly disappointed.

Uraraka had challenged you to a fight in the middle of the night, and with your omega still being incredibly angry at her, you didn’t get the chance to decline. It had been a long and tedious battle- mainly because she just wouldn’t give up- but you won in the end; with a price however. 

Your eye was swollen and turning darker by the second and the bottom right of your lower jaw was bandaged, and you had numerous other bandages covering cuts all over your body (She had thrown you through a window). 

“I’m sure you both realize how incredibly foolish this was-”

“Y/N!” 

Your head snapped up at the sound of your name, green hair quickly entering your line of vision as a body collided with yours. Pain seared through your side but you pushed through it, just happy to see the alpha out of his room. Your omega purred loudly before you could stop it, Izuku holding you close to his chest, almost in fear of letting you go. A small cough from the male teacher behind you quickly made him let go, but he still kept a hand on your shoulder. 

He sat silently as Aizawa dealt out reprimendments and  punishments, turning to you once more after he left.

If you thought he looked bad before, he looked much worse now. Bags set under his eyes, heavy and deep, and his eyes were much more bloodshot. Tear tracks reflected off of the light above you and you could see the nearly gone remnants of the drawing on his arm. 

You didn’t get to ponder more on it before he laid his head on top of yours, hiccuping as his breaths came in short gulps of air. It didn’t seem as if he were crying, but you’ve been wrong before. 

“Please. Never do that again. When I heard you got into a fight, I- I thought I had failed you again and you were seriously hurt.” His voice cracked, but his arms remained firm, keeping you tightly against him. 

“What about me, Deku?” That very voice. The one that started this mess seemed to make Izuku grip you even tighter.

“What about you?” For a normally docile alpha, the growl that escaped him would send shivers down even Bakugo’s spine. You arms instinctively wrapped around the alpha’s ribs as you nuzzled into his chest. You know he’d never hurt you, but your omega would be damned if he wasn’t surrounding by his scent right this minute. 

He purred lowly before turning his head to face the brunette beside you two, “I trusted you, Uraraka. And you broke that trust. As far as I’m concerned your nothing but a classmate right now. Maybe one day, we could rebuild a friendship, but I don’t see that day happening anytime soon. I may be partially to blame for trusting you so easily, but even then, cheating on me in downright implorable, even for a villain. You destroyed our friendship, destroyed our relationship and tried fighting Y/N. If you knew what was good for you, you’d shut up and leave me and my omega alone right now.”

Without another word, Izuku picked you up bridal style, quickly carrying you out of Recovery girl’s office. 

Deep down, you both knew he wasn’t ready for a relationship just yet- it would take a while for him to get over the harsh reality of a heartbreak. But now, Izuku could look forward knowing you were there to help him on his journey, and when he was ready...

You’d be waiting with open arms and a smile on your face.

[fancytrinkets]

First kiss cutscene (Dorian/Trevelyan - location changed)

The sun is low in the sky when Dorian approaches the gates of Redcliffe.

"You didn't have to wait for me," he says. "I would've made my way back to camp on my own."

He sounds exhausted.

"I know," Trevelyan says as he hops down from the stone wall where he's been sitting. "But Cassandra asked me to check this place thoroughly, so I've been talking to the locals. I helped a few of them and got a free lunch out of it. Not bad, for a day."

Dorian doesn't answer. He seems inclined towards silence. Understandable, Trevelyan thinks, for someone who's just spent hours in conversation with the parent who would have forcibly altered him by way of blood magic. Trevelyan follows his lead and stays quiet. As they pass through the gates, the long shadows of late afternoon stretch out on the road before them. The day fades to evening so beautifully in this wild, green countryside. Trevelyan is content to take in the landscape, not saying another word.

Once they've walked for a while — more than halfway to their campsite — it's Dorian who breaks the silence between them.

"So let me see if I understand this properly," he says. "You're telling me that the leader of the Inquisition spent his time running frivolous errands for villagers all day long?"

Trevelyan grins at him, thoroughly overjoyed to be teased so unexpectedly.

"Frivolous errands? How dare you — I assisted the locals in an adventurous fashion," he says.

"Adventurously gathered elfroot, did you?"

"The mockery hurts," Trevelyan says, entirely insincerely. "I'm a sensitive man."

"Oh, are you? I'll bear that in mind," Dorian says.

Trevelyan doesn't fail to notice the look Dorian gives him — a quick, appreciative once over — before turning his attention back to the road ahead.

"I'll have you know, my adventures took me all over the Hinterlands. I gathered quite a few varieties of herb — not only elfroot. And after that I tracked down a lost sheep for its distraught human companion."

"How thrilling that must have been for you."

"Mmhm. Lord Woolsley. May he rest in peace." Trevelyan presses his hand to his chest as though he's sincerely moved by the loss.

This has the intended effect of piquing Dorian's curiosity.

"Wait — the sheep died?" he asks. "After you rescued it? Or did you somehow manage to kill it in the attempt?"

Trevelyan grins and evades the question by heaping rapturous praise upon Lord Woolsley.

"Dorian, you should have seen this majestic animal. Wool like the color of the sky at sunset — reds and oranges, a hint of purple. He was wily, too, but I tracked him down, way high up in the hills. He didn't want to go home, but I figured out how to nudge him along with a spell or two."

"So you accidentally killed this animal with your magic?"

Trevelyan gasps in mock indignation.

"Don't insult me, I have better control than that!" he says. "I killed him on purpose because he turned out to be a rage demon in disguise."

Dorian groans. "Were you sitting around all afternoon thinking up this ridiculous story?"

Trevelyan's about to explain that it really happened. It sounds like a fabrication, to be sure — but like most things that have occurred so far in Redcliffe, the truth is stranger than stories. He pauses, however, when he sees that Dorian's expression has shifted. The amiable facade falters, and beneath it, he looks truly devastated.

"Are you alright?" Trevelyan asks.

"No," Dorian says. "Not really."

And Trevelyan would leave it at that, if asked. But instead Dorian stops at the edge of the empty road, turns towards him, and opens up about all of it — how it felt, and still feels, to have been rejected and betrayed so thoroughly by his own father. And then, to Trevelyan's utter surprise, he apologizes — both for dragging the Inquisition into a private issue and for the things Halward said and assumed about Trevelyan personally. He apologizes for putting his own rage on display in a humiliating spectacle.

"I can't imagine what you must think of me now."

For a second, Trevelyan's left at a loss for words.

How could Dorian possibly think that any of this reflects badly on him? To Trevelyan, it's quite the opposite — a true measure of his strength and resolve. It's also the confirmation of everything he's been feeling towards Dorian thus far. Attraction and camaraderie are wonderful things, but his feelings go well beyond both — Trevelyan deeply admires this man. 

It's time to tell him so.

He puts his thoughts to words, not as eloquently as he'd like, but he manages to convey the sentiment. The effect of those words upon Dorian is immediate. His troubled expression changes to relief. He smiles, and looks genuinely hopeful. The next thing Dorian says is about the importance of staying true to what's in your heart. It's fucking romantic, is what it is — and Trevelyan's not about to let the moment pass unanswered. He steps forward, palms up, entreating. He's not even sure what he's asking for until Dorian meets him halfway. 

Before Trevelyan's thoughts can catch up with him, he's holding the man and being held. Standing at the edge of the road under a darkening sky, he kisses Dorian for the first time. It's more gentle than anything he's imagined. Trevelyan's fantasies — when he's alone at night with the privacy to indulge himself — have been lustful and unrestrained. He's imagined nothing of the soft, almost tentative way they take hold of each other. Dorian seems cautious in this, and Trevelyan meets that caution with a kiss that's well-paced to be careful and slow. Their mouths open not to devour in a passionate frenzy, but to taste and to savor. 

Oh, Trevelyan thinks, I've missed this.

Because while he does remember the last time that kissing someone lit a spark in him with this same intensity, it's been years since it's happened. 

Trevelyan pulls back, not because he wants it to stop — quite the opposite in fact. He'd like to begin moving lower, kissing along the line of that beautiful jaw, learning what sounds of pleasure he can wring from this man by kissing his throat. But he steps back to check in and make sure this isn't too much too fast on an already overwhelming day.

Dorian doesn't look troubled at all. But he shivers as Trevelyan pulls away, and it's unfortunately not from the good kind of chills. With the sun gone down, the temperature has dropped precipitously.

"You know, I'm much more skillful at this when I'm not freezing half to death in the wilderness."

"We can pick this up again back at Skyhold," Trevelyan says. "I mean, if you'd like?"

"I would like."

"Good," Trevelyan says. "So would I."

(I really love these two in a solid, friendship-based romance. Read more of my long, weird fic here if you like)

[teamxdark]

A WIP of the beginning of Mirror, Mirror, since it’s taking me longer than I’d hoped.

Sonic stared at the twisted heap of metal on the kitchen counter, bisected by a sword, and tried his hardest not to scream.

“Lancelot,” he said, struggling to keep his voice even, “that was a toaster.”

The knight in question wrenched his sword from the mess, causing sparks to fly and little bits and bobs, both mechanical and breadlike, to scatter across the counter and fall to the floor. “It was burning up,” he explained gravely, “achieving heats far too intense for today’s weather. I could not trust it, and when it let out a scream, I had to act.”

“That ‘scream’ was an alarm,” Sonic snapped, too tired and hungry to deal with this right then. “That means that the toast is done and we can eat. Which we can’t now. Because you attacked the toaster.”

The dark hedgehog turned his sword over in his hands, and Sonic braced himself for his rebuttal, and then they would argue over who was in the right, but the knight uttered a soft, “I simply wished to protect you. I am still getting used to the complex machines of this era, and I cannot bring myself to trust them. I realize that this is… unbecoming of me, and an irritation to you. I apologize, and I will try my best to keep my impulses under control.”

Sonic let out his breath in a loud exhale. It was so easy to forget, still, that this wasn’t Shadow in front of him.

No one could quite explain how the switch had come to pass; one day, Shadow and he had parted ways, the sensation that there were still words left unspoken between them that would be better saved for another time, and the next day, Lancelot had been found in his place. 

The knight was having trouble adjusting, to put it lightly. It had been weeks, but the advanced technology of contemporary times drove him to paranoia, and Sonic had seen many a monitor, vehicle, and appliance fall victim to Arondight’s wrath, much to Tails’ chagrin.

Worse, still, was that Lancelot refused to stay anywhere aside from Sonic’s home. The knight graciously declined Shadow’s place, leaving Rouge and Omega down one roommate, staying instead in any spare room he could find, so long as it was where Sonic was staying as well. Rouge had laughed it off, waving the knight away with a taunt that he was ‘Sonic’s problem now’, but the hero had seen the flash of hurt and worry in her eyes.

No one knew where Shadow was, or if he was ever coming back.

And now incidents such as these, with another appliance in pieces, were commonplace.

Sonic rubbed at his forehead, trying to put his buzzing thoughts together in his head before he spoke. “Lance, I get that you’re trying to protect me from my evil cookware and all that, but I don’t get why.”

The knight started, one ear tilting to the side in confusion. “Why would I not? I swore to do so, did I not?”

“No,” Sonic deadpanned. “You didn’t.”

That seemed to offend Lancelot, who let go of his sword for a moment to cross his arms. “I do not wish to speak out of line,” he said, sounding like he was struggling to remain calm, “but you are mistaken. A knight is loyal to the sovereign who knights him, until the last of his days.”

“But I didn’t knight you!” Sonic protested, at the end of his rope. “I’m not your king!”

In response, Lancelot pushed up his visor, and Sonic took in the set jaw, the way his pointed white teeth bared themselves in a snarl, by all means, the spitting image of Shadow, with just the smallest thing here and there that harshly reminded Sonic that the one standing before him was not the one he had spent so many years with.

He saw it in the same set jaw, as it trembled with the effort to keep everything held back. He saw it in the snarl, which was more dismayed than hostile. Most of all, he saw it in Lancelot’s eyes, red and wide and so very expressive without the visor to shield them away.

Sonic was so used to seeing those eyes guarded, cut off from him, with only the smallest of opportunities to peek inside before they closed him out again.

Lancelot reached out, holding one of Sonic’s hands in both of his, delicately, like he was something infinitely valuable and the knight was afraid of sullying him with his hands. Sonic had only blinked when Lancelot dropped to his knees, his head bowed forward, and he heard him clear his throat before he spoke.

“You are him. You may not believe me, but I know it to be true. You are Arthur, my king, in this life and all others.”

Sonic sighed, unwilling to let this go but also not wanting to keep on this path of conversation, especially on an empty stomach. He tried to wrench away his hand, but Lancelot held tight, lifting his head, eyes ablaze with passionate certainty that made Sonic freeze in place.

He had never been looked at like that before…

"Every piece of you is the same,” Lancelot declared, his eyes unwavering, drawing in the hero and refusing to release him. “It is not only in image, either. I see it, I hear it, I feel it... It's more than just the body, the vision I see before me. You have his soul, free and unbound and hungry for adventure. You have his heart, strong and kind and noble. I see it in your eyes, you are him, you are who he would be if he were not burdened by his destiny! Don't you understand, Sonic? The only difference between you and Arthur are the memories you keep! You are him! You are him, and that's why I will follow you and protect you with my life. I gave you my vow, and I will not break it. No matter the time, no matter the life... I will stand by you until any and every version of us ceases to exist. That is my promise to you, as your knight!"

He said it so resolutely, so earnestly, that Sonic couldn’t find the words, nor the will to argue against him. In all his life, in all his wildest fantasies, Sonic could never have imagined those words, coming from that mouth, spoken in that voice… It was enough to get his heart pounding, that was for sure.

Sonic closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, but Lancelot’s hands clasped around his kept him anchored in this strange reality he was in. He didn’t like it; it had taken so long to get to where he had gotten with Shadow, so much time and effort and tenacity to get every last crumb from him, but Sonic had been adamant. He had wanted to break Shadow’s walls, to reach through, to understand him and be someone trusted and cared for. He had tried so hard, made so much progress… and now Shadow was gone, and in his place, Lancelot knelt before him, eagerly baring his soul for him without so much as a command.

Sonic would have been a liar if he said he didn’t like what he saw in Lancelot, either, but after all he had done for Shadow… it felt… wrong? Bad? In poor taste? Off, to be feeling similar flutters in the chest for a man who shared his face but not his past, nor his experiences.

Yet, as he opened his eyes and saw Lancelot still staring resolutely at him, as though desperate for him to understand, Sonic had to wonder if the knight had a point; Shadow had had amnesia twice, now. His memories had reset, but he had still been Shadow at his core. Sonic had never doubted that.

Did memories truly make a person who they were? And if so… were Lancelot and Shadow truly two different people?

Are you him? Sonic wanted to ask as he was burned alive by those eyes, crimson and intense, focused on him and him alone. Are you who he could have been if things had been different?

He wasn’t sure, but at least he could kind of understand where Lancelot was coming from.

Sonic heaved out an exhale, using both hands to pull Lancelot to his feet. “Okay,” he conceded. “Okay… but no more protecting me from my house or my friends. I’ll let you know when we’re in danger, okay?”

And Lancelot beamed, overjoyed, his teeth poking out through his lips and his eyes crinkling with happiness, and Sonic would be an even bigger liar if he denied that it was one of the most gorgeous sights he had ever seen.

Lancelot… I think I want to know you, too.