#its actually so fun getting to write him like this

[gothcsz]

El Cumpleañero | Javier Peña x F!Reader | ~8.3k wc | Explicit. Minors DNI.

Summary: It's Javier's birthday, so you show up to his party and things get fun.

Tags: friends with benefits dynamic, jealous!javi (can't help myself), flirting, dancing, javi is a little ooc here but idgaf i need him (in my head he's a bit younger in this au), some untranslated spanish, smut, unprotected p in v, oral (f receiving), back shots for days, a lil bit of exhibitionism on javi's part, creampie, one use of a degrading term (slut), some dirty talk, pussy pronouns, facial, no use of y/n, reader is afab and able-bodied, little to no physical descriptions of reader, any typos/grammar mistakes are of my own doing and i apologize in advance, if i missed any other tags pls let me know okay, thanks!

A/N: hiiii everyone! this is my humble submission to @yxtkiwiyxt's never have i ever challenge with my prompt being never have i ever woken someone else because i was too loud during sex 🙈 kiwi bb tysm for hosting such a lovely writing challenge for us, i hope you enjoy this smutty fic! oh, and i am dedicating this one to @letsmeetintheafterglow, amorcito, you left such me a juicy request in my inbox for javi that i just had to write! so, i merged it with the challenge prompt 🖤 hope you dream of him tambien ☁️ also, i couldn't help but project my fantasy of wanting to dance to corrido/banda music with javier. i feel like he's actually a pretty good dancer! swinging ya around to the beat of the song with his hand at your lower back and a modelo in the other. ugh. the song la niña fresa basically inspired the nickname javi calls reader 🍓 and just sets the vibes, i think. as always, let me know that you think and thank you for reading 🖤

The backyard is buzzing with the chatter and laughter of what feels like half the town, the smoky scent of barbecue wafting through the air and the twang of a corrido blasting from oversized speakers, making the ground shake.

You walk through the fenced yard, the southern breeze grazing your skin as familiar faces nod or wave in passing. Your eyes scan the crowd, skimming past clusters of people dancing and conversing, all of them gathered to celebrate someone who swore he didn’t want a fuss.

Of course his family didn’t listen. They turned his “keep it small” request into a blowout, like they always do, inviting anyone and everyone. Not that he could stay mad—he never really does.

When you spot the man of the hour, the corner of your lips lift instinctively and your feet seem to move on their own accord, pulling you toward him.

He’s by the bonfire, the glow of the flames painting his chiseled features in shades of gold and shadow. He stands with his hip jutting out, a cigarette balanced between his fingers, sharing it lazily with two girls you barely recognize.

They hang on to his every little move, trying to soak up whatever attention he might spare. It’s a scene you’ve witnessed too many times, and you really can’t blame them.

You’ve been in their shoes (still are, truth be told), waiting for even a flicker of his focus to land on you, and you know all too well where that desperation led.

To his bed, on his tongue, his cock—you shiver at the memory, your nipples pulling taut.

He’s the kind of man who doesn’t have to try to make hearts ache; it’s just who he is.

A walking daydream wrapped in leather and indifference, with that devil-may-care grin that promises trouble and delivers every time.

You roll your eyes and huff sassily, detouring toward one of the coolers instead. You grab a drink, making polite small talk with a couple of acquaintances, though you can’t keep your gaze from wandering back to him.

He’s already looking at you.

It stops you mid-sentence the way his brown eyes are fixed on you, heavy with intention.

The cigarette is at his lips, the faint glow of its cherry pulses when he sucks in then lets out a ribbon of smoke. 

He makes it look so damn hot, it’s almost enough to persuade you into picking up the bad habit.

The curly haired beauty next to him is chattering a mile a minute, but it’s clear he isn’t listening.

His focus remains locked on you, sweeping slowly—mischievously—down the length of your body. You can feel it, as sure as a touch, lingering at the deep neckline of your sweater then on the way your jeans hug your curves. It’s shameless, but that’s him, isn’t it?

Your smile tilts into a puckish smirk. Lifting your hand, you wiggle your fingers in a small wave.

It’s like striking a match. His gaze narrows slightly as if he’s trying to decide his next move.

He hands off the cigarette with a casual flick of his wrist and shifts his focus back to the girl beside him. She’s still rambling, her words tumbling over each other in an eager attempt to hold his attention.

He doesn’t bother pretending to care. Instead, he lets out an indulgent chuckle, shaking his head like whatever nonsense just came out of her mouth is equal parts adorable and absurd.

You almost feel bad for her. It’s hard not to fall for that sleazy charm—especially when it’s attached to a man so fucking handsome.

When she swivels to chat with her friend, his eyes immediately find yours again. A cocky expression paints his countenance, one that practically asks: What the hell are you doing all the way over there?

You entertain the idea of making him wait, savoring the power in holding his attention hostage for just a moment longer. But who are you kidding? The magnetic pull he has over you is impossible to resist. It always is.

The small box tucked snugly in the back pocket of your jeans presses against you as you weave through the crowd, sidestepping a few overly tipsy guests and slipping past the fold-out tables scattered across the lawn. 

“Hey,” you say, sliding yourself effortlessly between the two girls, not caring about interrupting their conversation. Immediately, their sharp side-eyes practically stab you with twin daggers of irritation.

You don’t flinch. You’re not here for them, anyway.

You only care about the pair of deep brown eyes that make you feel like you’re the only person in the world when he looks at you. “Happy Birthday, Javier.”

A flicker of what looks like smugness and amusement crosses his face as he licks his lips, taking another measured drag.

He’s dressed in a variant of his signature look—a white button-up with a few buttons let loose to show off his neck and the top of his chest, despite the brisk autumn air, and a worn brown leather jacket accentuating his broad shoulders.

However, it’s the ridiculous tiara perched atop his head that catches your eye, and the sight makes you frown ever so slightly when you notice the matching glittery ones on his groupies, like it’s some inside joke you’re not a part of.

For some inexplicable reason—it rubs you the wrong way. You can’t believe you’re slightly jealous of it. How stupid.

“Thank you, fresita.” 

Ugh, that infuriating nickname. You’d been charmed by it at first, assuming it was something sweet and impish. It wasn’t until Chucho let it slip that it’s also used to describe a woman that’s spoiled and picky that you realized it wasn’t just affectionate; it was also dig at your finer tastes.

And so what if you are a little high maintenance?

You don’t give him the satisfaction of a reaction, even though he loves coaxing it out of you. Instead, you tilt your head slightly, letting a soft undercurrent of flirtation lace your voice as you ask, “Mind if I pull you aside? I’d like to give you your gift.”

His interest is evident in the way his brow raises and the girls bristle slightly, their expressions shifting to thinly veiled jealousy once they realize he’s no longer focused on them. You captured him the moment he saw you amidst the crowd.

“We were just finishin’ up,” Javi says casually, dropping the cigarette and crushing it beneath his boot. He flicks a glance at the two disappointed faces, his smirk widening. “Con permiso, chicas. Thanks for the smoke.”

As he steps away from them, you feel a little triumphant thrill surge in your chest. They look deflated, their pouty expressions almost comical as they watch him leave with you, muttering goodbyes under their breaths.

The curly haired woman stares you down, and you try not to let the smug victory of whisking him away be too obvious… though you can’t help but smile condescendingly before fully turning away. 

“Some fan club you’ve got,” you tease once the two of you are finally alone, near the entrance of the sun room that’s a part of the house.

He smirks, leaning against the siding and tilting his head, once more eyeing you down like you’re the finest thing he’s ever seen. “You jealous?” 

You scoff, shaking your head in mock disbelief. “Absolutely not.” It’s a little white lie, since you had felt a twinge of that pesky envy, but you don’t want him to know that. He’d either give you shit for it, or on the more extreme end, rethink this arrangement he currently has with you.

And you’d rather not lose it. Not right now, at least. You’re having too much fun letting Javier fuck your brains out on a consistent basis. 

Slowly, you close the space between you, your fingers darting up to flick the tacky tiara perched on his head. “Cute.”

Before you can step back, his hands are on you—big and warm as they grip your waist and pull you flush against his chest.

The force of it has you sighing out in satisfaction. There’s something wholly fucking addictive about the way he handles you.

His hands know exactly where to place themselves, his fingers applying the perfect amount of pressure to set the butterflies in your stomach into a frenzy.

“No need to be, baby. You know you’re my favorite.” If your friends knew you were hooking up with the town slut, they’d definitely stage an intervention before you could finish your next sentence. Laying out all the reasons why letting Javier Peña into your bed was a one-way ticket to heartbreak city.

They’d call it desperation. They’d call it lowering your standards.

But what they don’t know is that standards start to feel awfully overrated when Javier has you pinned to a mattress, whispering filthy promises in your ear as his hands map every inch of your body. They don’t know what it’s like to have his full attention—his lips trailing worshipful kisses down your skin, his gravelly voice murmuring sweet nothings in Spanish that you don’t fully understand from how he slurs them together but feel all the same.

Being around him is electric, intoxicating, a high you’re not quite ready to give up.

So no, your friends don’t know. And as long as you can keep this thing between you and Javier your little secret, they never will.

“You gonna let me unwrap my gift or what?” His hand slides lower to cup your right cheek with shameless familiarity, giving it a frisky spank that makes you giggle.

This man and his obsession with your ass—it’s borderline ridiculous, and yet, you’re absolutely here for it.

“Later, maybe,” you reply with faux coyness, your finger dragging along his mustache then over to his pouty lips. He purses them, placing a kiss to the tip of your finger, “if you’re not too busy.”

His hold on your backside tightens, voice morphing into something more sultry, raspier, which is your absolute weakness. It makes your thighs rub together. “You know I always make time for you.”

You laugh softly at that. More often than not, you’re the one initiating while he only reaches out when it suits him. It’s not ideal at times, but you don’t get hung up on it.

You’re not about to ruin this by asking more of someone who doesn’t have it in him.

You reach back and pull the small box from your pocket. “Here’s your real gift,” you say, holding it out to him. Your voice softens, but there’s still a playful inflection. “Hope you like it.”

Curiosity fills those dark eyes as he takes the box, eyeing the tacky birthday wrapping paper with a soft smile. The sight of that grin on his face has your eyes morphing into hearts.

“You didn’t have to get me anything.”

“I know,” you reply with a shrug. “But I saw it at the thrift store and just knew it had to go to you.”

You angle yourself to press a light kiss to the tip of his chin, your lips brushing against the stubble before you nip at it gently with your teeth. “Open it.”

His nimble fingers pull apart the crinkled folds of the wrapping paper to reveal the small box inside. When he opens it, you see his immediate delight, and your heart does a traitorous little flip.

The golden chain bracelet glints under the string lights strung along the roof’s edge, somehow making it look nicer out here than how it had been displayed at the store.

“Damn, this is nice,” he says, genuinely appreciative. The praise sends a faint thrill up your spine, your bottom lip caught between your teeth as you watch him lift the bracelet out of the box to inspect it.

You’ve imagined how good the gold would look while his wrist is flexing as he grips your thighs, holding you open for him. Or when he’s feeling you up, rough and greedy, fingers digging into your soft hips as he takes your pussy how he wants.

“Put it on,” he holds his wrist and the bracelet out toward you. His tone carries that easy confidence, like he already knows you’ll obey without question.

Which you do, obviously. You carefully clasp it around his wrist, your fingers brushing his skin as you secure it, and that little brush feels like you’ve just snorted a line of adrenaline with how amped up your body gets.

“Looks good on you,” you admire your handiwork, though the truth is; he’d make anything look good. Even a paper crown. Or, you know, a tacky tiara.

“Gracias, fresita,” he replies smoothly, that familiar nickname rolling off his tongue.

“Are you ever going to stop calling me that?”

“Nah.”

Before you can come up with a witty retort, he pulls you against him again, One hand at your lower back, the other tucked into the back pocket of your jeans. His lips capture yours in a kiss that’s eager and completely unapologetic.

“Easy there, birthday boy—”

“Can’t help it,” he cuts you off, his voice rough against your lips. “Been waiting for you to show up all night.”

You can’t help but chase after that tasty mouth of his, your tongue licking against his, teeth biting into his lower lip and the slight tickle of his mustache makes you shiver. Then his hips grind against your thigh, his erection prominent which in turn has heat flaring all over your body. 

“Let’s go inside,” he breaks away, tugging you toward the small steps leading into the sunroom.

You weren’t expecting to fuck him so early on in the night but you’re not about to complain about it. Every fiber of your body yearns for this man—but specifically your cunt. She’s obsessed.

The room looks like it’s in the middle of a renovation—a man cave in progress.

One wall boasts an unfinished bar, complete with half-empty bottles and shot glasses scattered across the surface. A brand-new pool table sits in the center of the room, its felt pristine, untouched by drunken games or spilled drinks. 

At the far end, a set of leather couches and a recliner face the large television set and entertainment center.

The double doors to the house are shut tight, leaving the room dim and private, save for the warmness of the string lights spilling in through the windows.

You’re caught up taking it all in when Javier sneaks up behind you, pressing hot, greedy kisses against your neck as his hands roam your body.

There’s nothing tentative about his touch—he cups your tits with both hands, squeezing them over your sweater as a deep groan rumbles in his throat. His need for you is palpable, a force that makes your knees weak even as he maneuvers you toward the pool table.

“Here, Javi?” you pant when he sucks at your weak spot under your jaw. “Let’s just go up to your room—”

“No,” he growls, spinning you around to face him, his dark eyes alight with lust. “Want you right here on this table.”

Before you can argue, his lips are on yours again. You let yourself melt into it, your hands reaching up to pluck the ridiculous tiara off his head and tossing it aside with a flick of your wrist.

His hair is soft under your fingers as you card through it, tugging lightly just to feel the way his body reacts, the way his kisses deepen in response.

When his tongue slides into your mouth, you surprise even yourself by wrapping your lips around it, sucking gently. You’re greedy and he loves it.

Javier’s grunt prompts your thighs to clench instinctively around him. His jacket hits the floor as he shrugs it off, lips trailing down your neck. You kick off your boots, his hands lifting you with ease to place you on the sturdy pool table.

Your sweater is gone before you know it. He’s in the middle of working on the button of your jeans, his fingers deft and impatient, when your eyes land on something that makes you freeze.

Or better yet, someone. There’s a figure slumped in one of the recliners at the far end of the room.

Your breath hitches, your body tensing. “Javi, stop.” Your words falter into a moan as his lips find your collarbone, sucking on your skin.

“What’s wrong?” he murmurs, barely pausing as he tugs your pants down your hips. Despite yourself, you lift slightly to help him, even as you frantically nudge your head toward the recliner.

“There’s someone here,” you whisper.

He stops, his head snapping up to follow your gaze. His expression shifts into a frustrated scowl when he sees the figure sprawled in the chair. “Goddamnit,” he mutters, reluctantly pulling away from you and heading over to investigate.

You watch as he approaches, his boots heavy on the hardwood. It’s his cousin Danny, completely passed out, his head lolling to the side and his mouth hanging open. Javier whistles sharply, snapping his fingers in front of his face. Nothing. He gives his shoulder a firm nudge once, twice—still nothing.

“Out cold,” Javier says, his tone both annoyed and amused as he turns back to you. “Took down almost a whole bottle of tequila earlier. He’s not gonna bother us.”

You hesitate, your eyes darting to the unconscious form. The idea of hooking up with someone uninvited in the room feels... complicated�� exhilarating, maybe? You’ve never done it before.

But your reluctance evaporates the moment Javier closes the distance between you again, his hands sliding your jeans clean off, leaving you in nothing but your mismatched bra and panties.

He drinks you in, and the rest of the party—including the slumped figure in the corner—melts away under the weight of his attention.

No words are needed, not when he roughly tugs the cups of your bra down, letting your breasts spill free, nor when he dips his head, his stubble grazing your skin as his warm mouth captures one of your nipples.

Your breath catches, back arching your breasts into his warm, wet mouth. His tongue lazily circles and flicks over the hardened bud. Then he sucks harder, pulling a drawn-out moan from you before switching to the other side.

You bite your lip, determined to stifle the sighs of pleasure threatening to break. His knocked out cousin in the corner keeps you cautious, even as your body aches to let go.

Javier notices. Always does. He pulls away with a pop, a thin string of saliva connecting his pouty lips to your nipple. “Nu-uh,” he chides. “Don’t hold back.”

“I’m not trying to wake him up,” you counter, though your voice wavers from how good his mouth felt.

“You won’t,” he replies, almost dismissively, giving you a peck on the lips before he drops to his knees before you. He starts at your calves, leaving slow, deliberate kisses that send sparks dancing along your skin.

The faint scrape of his facial hair adds to the wonderful torment as his mouth works its way up, switching from leg to leg.

When he reaches the inside of your right knee, he kisses it almost sweetly, before dragging his tongue slowly in a hot stripe up to your inner thigh. You can’t stop the small shiver that ripples through you, your hands gripping the edge of the pool table for balance.

Javier finally reaches your pussy and you shudder as he presses an open-mouthed kiss to your clothed clit. The heat of his breath and the firm pressure of his lips through the cotton of your panties makes your back arch.

He hooks a finger into the fabric and pulls it to the side, diving in immediately. His tongue parts your folds, curling and slithering against your pearly clit before moving lower.

“Fuck,” you sigh, your hips bucking involuntarily, pressing yourself harder against his mouth.

He groans, enjoying how reactive you are, his fingers digging into the soft meat of your thighs while he holds you firmly in place. His mouth works with a singular focus, his tongue swirling and dipping into your entrance, then sliding back up to flick over your clit.

The feeling of his stupid mustache makes it that much better, scratching at your cunt lusciously. 

You can’t help it now—a soft, keening moan slips out of you, echoing faintly in the dimly lit room. Your head lolls around on your shoulders as pleasure coils at the pit of your stomach, the tension winding tighter with each stroke of his tongue.

“That’s it,” he practically purrs. “Let me hear you.”

His lips seal around your clit, sucking gently, and you swear it feels like you’ve been possessed—holding back is impossible. Another moan escapes you, louder this time, your thighs shaking in his grip as he devours you.

Javi pushes you over the edge so effortlessly that a cry of his name spits out of your throat before you can stop it, cutting through the room.

You're grateful this area of the house is directed away from the backyard, where the party celebrating him outside continues on, oblivious of his absence as he indulges in you.

Your orgasm settles like a heavy current, fingers nearly going numb from holding on to the pool table for dear life.

You’re still disoriented and flustered when Javier stands, looming over you, cupping the back of your head and bringing you in to passionately make out.

His mouth is coated in your tangy essence, making you taste yourself as he slips his tongue down your throat.

You whimper, clawing at his chest for more and he pulls away to turn you around, manhandling you onto your stomach on the table.

His hands are firm yet impatient as he grips one of your legs by the back of your knee and hooks it over the edge of the wooden border.

Javi stares down at your sex, partially exposed and glistening for him. Your panties are askew, one swollen pussy lip peeking out while a dark, damp patch spreads over the cotton where his tongue had devoured you moments ago.

“Fuck.” The lewd sight has him hastily undoing his belt and popping the button on his jeans, his dick hard and ready to bury himself inside your sweet cunt. 

Propping yourself up on your palms, you glance back at him over your shoulder, a teasing, blissed out smile playing on your lips despite the burning heat between your thighs. “I figured you’d want to savor me. Wait for later…” you coo, rolling your hips and causing your ass to jiggle, feeling giddy at how his eyes zero in on the motion.

“I savor you all the time, baby. Even during these nasty, quick fucks.” Him saying that has you over the fucking moon. “You can’t expect me to wait knowin’ this pussy needs me to fuck her real good.”

The hand adorned with your golden bracelet grabs your supple ass, kneading the flesh before landing a stinging spank that makes you jolt and let out a cry. The sharp sound echoes, making your eyes flick nervously toward the recliner where his cousin still lies, unaware of the debauchery happening mere feet away.

Javier seems completely unbothered, casually toying with your panties as though you have all the time in the world. He hooks his finger into the soaked fabric, dragging it back and forth against your sticky folds, smearing your slick across your pussy lips.

Your hips move on their own, chasing the friction, and you bite your lip hard, trapping the needy moan building in your throat.

“Can I come over later?”

His question is so nonchalant it nearly makes you laugh, but the way he teases you has you too far gone to do so. You grind back against his touch, desperate for more, your lips parting in a breathy moan.

“Yes.” The thought of him showing up at your doorstep at three in the morning, bourbon on his lips, just for you to sink to your knees and take him down your throat makes your pussy clench around nothing, crying out for his cock as more of your arousal leaks against your panties. “Whenever.”

He hums in satisfaction, stepping closer and reaching for your jaw, tilting your head to the side roughly and meeting you for a kiss. The fabric of his shirt grazes your bare skin and he tugs your panties to the side again while his mouth continues to hold yours captive.

His cock nudges against your waiting entrance, teasing, the flushed head dragging over the fleshy cleft of your clit in languid taps.

When he finally pushes in, there’s no preamble—just the yummy stretch of him filling you to the fucking brim, shoving a strangled whine out of your mouth as he sets a brutal pace immediately, not giving you even a moment to adjust.

Your palms slip against the velvet of the pool table as you struggle to hold yourself up, but it’s no use. The force of his thrusts sends you collapsing forward onto your chest, scattering the neatly racked pool balls across the table.

They clatter and roll in all directions, but Javier doesn’t slow for a second. His grip on your waist tightens, forcing you to fuck yourself back on his dick.

“Shit,” he growls hoarsely, already breathless as he watches your ass bounce with every stroke. “You’re makin’ a loud fuckin’ mess,” he hisses, though there’s no real malice there—just straight horniness.

In one smooth motion, he grabs both your wrists with one large hand, pinning them to your lower back. He then angles your pelvis so that your clit is grinding against the smooth wooden border of the pool table while your tender nipples rub against the green felt.

The effects of that are immediate, your body feeling like it’s burning from the inside out. “Mmm, fuck yeah, keep doing that,” you moan desperately. 

The raunchy sound of your ass clapping against his thighs fills the room, a filthy rhythm accompanied by the feeling of his heavy balls brushing against your cunt. 

The noise feels impossibly loud, your whimpers and his grunts reverberating off the walls. Surely, his cousin will wake up—surely, someone will walk in on the shameless display Javier is putting on with your body.

Or maybe not, since Javier keeps fucking you all hot and wanton, especially when he hits your sweet spot and your ribbed, gushy walls hug around his dick like a vice.

Your forehead presses against the table as you chant his name, your vision swimming.

You try to glance toward the recliner where his cousin is passed out, but your eyes can’t focus. Everything’s a blur—two of everything, indistinct shapes swimming in the haze of your arousal.

The only thing you can truly focus on is Javier: the way his cock breaches your most intimate spaces, the heat of his body against yours, the sharp bite of his belt against the backs of your thighs.

You’re soaking him, ruining the hem of his half-buttoned shirt. But you can’t bring yourself to care. Not when he’s splitting you open so perfectly, his tight grip on your wrists keeping you pinned and utterly open for him to take.

Your sore clit continues to rub against the smooth wood of the table, now sticky from how shamelessly you’ve been humping against it while chasing your pleasure.

Between the stimulation on your clit, the rough scrape of the felt against your tender nipples, and the relentless pounding of his shaft brushing your g-spot—it’s all too much. 

Your body trembles, a loud cry ripping from your throat as your orgasm slams into you.

"Javi!" you spasm in his hold, nails digging into your palms as your wrists remain trapped beneath his firm grip. shoulders burning from his rough hold.

Your pussy clamps hard around him, wet and creamy as you come, soaking his cock and leaving no doubt about how thoroughly he fucked you.

Javier curses through gritted teeth, switching between Spanish and English as he ruts into you, his rhythm stuttering. “Fuck, fresita, you’re squeezin’ me so fuckin’ tight—just like that.”

He doesn’t falter, fucking you even as your orgasm settles over you like a heavy current.

He hauls you upright, pulling your back flush against his chest, his grip on your wrists unrelenting as he traps them between your bodies.

Both of his arms wrap tightly around your trembling frame, one hand sliding up to grab your tit, kneading it roughly while the other sprawls against your stomach and waist to hold you steady as he fucks up into you.

His mouth is at your ear now, his breath ragged. “Gonna bust inside this pretty pussy baby and you’re gonna let me, aren’t you?”

You nod weakly, biting down on your lip as your eyes flutter shut. “So fuckin’ willing to take my cum like a real slut,” the degrading name makes your clit twitch because he’s right—you are a real slut. Only for him. Always hungry and ready to please, to do anything to satisfy him and he knows it.

“You’re so goddamn perfect—fuck.” His hips jerk a few times before he groans deeply, his cock pulsing as he finishes deep inside you, his hold on your body tightening to the point where you wince but it hurts so good.

“What the fuck?”

The sharp voice cuts through the haze, yanking you back to reality. Your eyes snap open, and panic floods your system as you instinctively try to shield your almost-naked body.

Across the room, Danny sits up in the recliner, his hair a mess and his bleary eyes squinting in confusion. He looks like he’s been rudely yanked out of a drunken slumber, and unfortunately, it’s your fault.

Javier, of course, remains maddeningly calm. “Relax,” his voice still thick with that post-climax rasp as he mumbles in your ear.

Meanwhile, your body is burning—part embarrassment, part leftover heat from the sinful things Javier just did to you on this pool table.

You try to wriggle out of his grip, but his arms are like iron bands, keeping you firmly in place.

Danny rubs at his eyes, blinking hard as if trying to process what’s in front of him. His head tilts slightly, and for one horrifying second, you think he’s piecing it all together. But instead, he suddenly leans over the side of the recliner and starts retching, the sound loud and wet as he empties his stomach onto the carpet.

The sharp, acidic stench of vomit hits the air, mixing unpleasantly with the heady scent of sweat and sex. It’s enough to finally get Javier to loosen his hold.

He pulls out of you with a grunt, leaving you aching and exposed, and you both watch as his release starts to spill out of you, trickling over your swollen folds and dripping onto the table with obscene little plops.

But there’s no time to dwell on the mess. You scramble to grab your clothes, your movements frantic and clumsy as you yank your jeans up your legs and shove your arms into your sweater.

Javier’s doing the same, though far less hurried, like he’s still amused by the whole situation.

When you finally look up at him, his dark eyes are sparkling with mischief, and he throws you a roguish grin that almost makes you laugh despite yourself.

Danny, meanwhile, is still groaning and gagging, his face pale as a sheet. You feel a tiny pang of guilt, but before you can even think about offering help, Javier grabs your hand and tugs you toward the door.

“Aren’t you going to help him?” you whisper, trying to keep your voice low.

“Fuck no,” Javier replies without missing a beat. “Not my fault he couldn’t handle his liquor.”

He presses a kiss to the back of your hand, his lips warm and soft against your skin, and you can’t help but follow him.

You glance back over your shoulder as you’re being pulled toward the backyard, unable to stop yourself from throwing out a half-hearted, “Sorry!”

He doesn’t respond—he’s too busy dry heaving—but you and Javier are already sneaking out, stifling your laughter as the sounds of the party grow louder around you.

The music thrums through the air, its infectious rhythm pulling you in as your dance partner tightens his grip on your waist. His hands are firm, guiding you with confidence, but the musky cologne mixed with the sour tang of sweat is enough to make your nose crinkle if you focus too hard on it.

Still, you’re here out of spite, letting the sway of your hips speak louder than words as your body molds to his. The banda song carries you both across the makeshift dance floor, your movements fluid and natural as though the music itself has taken over.

Javier is just a few paces away, entangled with the curly-haired girl from earlier. His hands rest on her lower back, his body moving with ease. 

There’s a playful challenge in both of your eyes when your gazes finally meet, knowing how this little game of yours will end. 

Neither of you looks away, both determined to outdo the other, even in this small, ridiculous way.

Your dance partner spins you abruptly, breaking the moment. The move is smooth, you’ll give him that, and you find yourself face-to-face with him once again.

He’s not bad looking, honestly—sharp jawline, nice green eyes—but the cologne is killing the vibe, and his wandering hands are starting to push it.

Thankfully, the song winds to a close just as his fingers inch a little too far down your back. The music shifts, a different tune kicking in, and you step back, offering a polite smile as he thanks you for the dance.

“Got a number I can save?” he asks, hopeful and slightly cocky.

You grin, a little too sweetly, and rattle off your number without hesitation. You’ve got no intention of responding if he uses it, but you can’t resist the temptation to stir the pot. As he finally walks away, you feel it—a scorching stare burning into your back.

You don’t even have to look to know who it’s coming from.

“Baila conmigo.”

The familiar rasp of Javier’s voice cuts through the noise as he steps into your space. He takes a swig of his beer, his leather jacket gone, leaving him in just the white button-up that hugs his chest a little too well.

You cock a brow, crossing your arms. “What happened to your dance partner?”

“Sent her away,” he replies easily, his smirk infuriatingly smug. “Poor girl couldn’t catch the rhythm.”

You let out an amused huff, rolling your eyes. Of course, he’d say that. Before you can think better of it, you take his hand, allowing him to lead you toward la pista.

The moment you’re there, he pulls you flush against him, one large hand settling at your lower back while the other still clutches his beer. You fall into the simple two-step with ease, your bodies moving in perfect sync to the music. 

His thigh slots between yours, the friction sparking something electric, and you can’t help but press closer, your breaths mingling in the intimate space between you.

“Reminds me of that night at the club,” his lips brushing your ear. It’s a miracle you can still hear him over the loud music. “When you finally let me get between those pretty legs.”

The heat in his words, combined with the faint scent of his cologne and the alcohol on his breath, floods your senses. He smells and feels like everything your last dance partner wasn’t.

Whistles and cheers ripple through the crowd as you and Javi throw yourselves into the rhythm of the song, your bodies moving like two parts of the same melody.

You hadn’t expected him to be such a good dancer the first time you shared a dance—not until that night at the club. 

And just like his dancing, the way he fucked you afterward had blown every expectation out of the water.

The song comes to an end, leaving you both flushed and slightly winded, sweat clinging to your skin despite the cool night air. The cheers die down as a new track begins, and Javi’s lips quirk into a lopsided grin.

“C’mon, give me another one,” he urges, his voice still rich and sensual despite the exertion.

You laugh, shaking your head as you step back, hands on your hips. You hadn’t planned to stay this long, and now your body is screaming for mercy. “Raincheck, handsome. I gotta head home.”

Javi’s grin falters slightly, but it doesn’t fade completely as your hand drifts down his chest, fingers savoring the firmness of his body.

His broad shoulders and toned frame are just so enchanting, and you can’t resist indulging one last time before grabbing his beer. You take a long, slow sip, your eyes flicking up to meet his as you drain the bottle and set it aside on one of the plastic fold-out tables.

“Not gonna stick around for the cake?” he asks, that boyish charm in his tone as he steps closer.

You flash him a flirty smile. “Save me a piece.”

He opens his mouth to say something else, but the rowdy chaos of his friends and cousins cuts him off. They swarm him, loud and eager, tugging at his shoulders and shouting for him to take another shot.

He laughs, but his gaze finds yours through the crowd, his warm brown eyes locking on to you one last time.

“Enjoy, Javi,” you tell him with a wink. “You know where to find me.”

That familiar smirk is at his lips as he’s pulled toward the makeshift bar. You watch him for a moment before turning to make your departure.

You’re cutting across the lawn when you hear a voice behind you.

“Need a ride home?”

It’s the guy you danced with earlier, his cologne still potent even in the open air. His gentlemanliness would’ve been charming if it weren’t for the obvious expectation in his tone.

You decline politely, offering a quick smile before brushing past him and unlocking your car.

What you don’t realize is that Javi sees the entire exchange from afar. He’d caught the tail end of the guy trailing after you, his gaze narrowing as he watched you disappear into the sea of parked cars.

A flicker of irritation tugged at his expression, but he stayed rooted to his spot, letting his friends push another shot into his hand.

Instead of following, he threw himself into his own celebration, his laugh loud and boisterous as if he hadn’t seen a damn thing. But he couldn’t stop thinking about you leaving with that guy, and the glint in his eyes that had been so bright when you were there dulled just slightly. 

Still, he let it go, for now.

He knew exactly where to find you, after all.

“Oh my god,” you mewl, your back arching against the cold tile of your kitchen floor. Javier thrusts into you with a raw, animalistic need, his cock driving so deep inside you that it feels like he’s carving himself into your very being.

The absurdity of the situation is a bit funny—you’re still fully clothed, minus your sleeping shorts having been thrown haphazardly across the room, a stark contrast to earlier when you’d been bare and spread for him on that damn pool table.

Just as you predicted, he showed up at your door in the dead of night, his silhouette illuminated by the dim porch light. You’d barely made it to the door before his desperate, insistent knocking threatened to wake the entire block.  

It felt like he might break it down if you didn’t open it fast enough. Whoever dropped him off didn’t even wait to see if you’d answer.

No words were exchanged when you finally let him in. His brown eyes, dark and searing, did all the talking.

He’d cupped your face with one rough hand, the other holding a plate with aluminum foil covering it, precariously balancing it in his palm as he kissed you with an appetite that left you breathless.

You let him back you into the kitchen, setting the plate on the counter, his body crowding yours until there was nowhere left to go.

And now, here you are, legs spread wide, the weight of him pressing you down into the tiles, his jacket still on, smelling like beer and bourbon as he ruts himself against you.

“Givin’ your number out, huh?” he growls against your lips, his words dripping with bitterness. His hand snakes up to wrap around your neck, firm but not harsh, forcing your hazy eyes to meet his. You feel the subtle coolness of the bracelet against your skin and that only makes it better. “That’s all it takes, fresita? One fuckin’ dance?”

Each word is punctuated by a sharp, punishing thrust that has you gasping for air.

Your hands scramble at the back of his jacket, trying to find some sort of anchor while his dick fucks into you over and over, your slick cunt clamping helplessly around him.

If your brain wasn’t fogged with pleasure, you’d call him out on his jealousy, tease him for letting something so trivial get under his skin. At least you were better about hiding it.

But god, it’s too fucking hot—seeing him like this, so undone, so unhinged, all because of you.

Javier, the man who always carries himself with that cool, confident swagger, who never seems to let anything faze him, is now losing his composure right here on your kitchen floor.

And all it took was watching some other guy’s attention on you to make him snap. If anyone is picky and spoiled here—it’s him.

“Answer me,” he demands, his grip on your throat tightening just enough to leave you lightheaded, his thrusts never faltering. His free hand grabs at your thigh, spreading you even wider for him, the angle forcing you to experience every inch of him.

“I—it was nothing,” you manage to cry, though your words are almost incoherent as he’s driving into you. “Javi, I—”

“You what?” he interrupts with a curt laugh, his teeth grazing the underside of your jaw before he bites down gently, making you squirm beneath him. “You think I’m gonna let you walk around, lettin’ some asshole think he’s got a chance with you?”

The thought alone seems to fuel him further, his movements growing rougher and you swear you’re on the edge of unraveling.

And as he watches the way your body responds to him—your nails digging into his back, your moans turning into screams—he knows he’s making his point loud and clear. 

Javi’s grip around your throat tightens, cutting off your breath just enough to stimulate you. The pressure makes you feel lightheaded, and somehow, impossibly, even more turned on.

“He can’t fuck you like I can,” he grinds against you, his coarse and damp pubic hairs bristling against your sensitive clit, the friction of it almost too much. “No one can.” His face hovers so close to yours that you can feel his breath on your lips.

Your mouth falls open on instinct, tiny, wheezy moans spilling out as his nose brushes against yours.

Javier’s dark eyes feel like they’re boring straight into your soul, gleaming with hunger as he watches your every twitch, every little surrender. He leans in and kisses you all demanding and vehement. 

His lips claim yours like he’s trying to eat you whole, his tongue slipping inside to taste every gasp you give him.

“Listen to that,” he murmurs mockingly as he pulls back just enough to let his gaze drop between your bodies, watching your pussy swallow his cock. “Just listen to how wet you are, baby. Think he could ever make you sound like this?”

Your cheeks burn with embarrassment—and arousal—as the obscene, sloppy sounds of his length plunging into you fill the air, amplified by his words. The drive of his hips is merciless, each stroke drawing you closer with dizzying precision.

Your nails dig into his forearms, bending your body beneath him as your vision starts to be blotched with white spots.

You can feel it, the winding of your orgasm at your core pulling taut, about to burst. When it finally does, your pussy flutters and squeezes as waves of smoldering intensity crash over you.

“Puta madre,” he snarls, his head falling back from how good it feels to have you come around him.

Pulling out, Javier pins you down with his weight to keep you from squirming away. His cock, flushed, drooling, and shiny with your juices, hovers inches from your face as you lay flat on the floor.

Your swollen lips part instinctively, the scent of your own headiness making your mouth water.

“Tongue out, baby,” he commands, his voice rough but coaxing.

You obey, sticking your tongue out lazily, your half-lidded eyes locked onto his. The sight of you like this—wrecked, pliant, and waiting for him—is enough to undo him completely. His hand pumps his cock, the golden accessory on his wrist jolting with each move. 

With a low, rasping groan, he spills over you, thick, hot ropes of cum splattering across your face and tongue.

You moan softly, savoring the warmth, licking your lips and swallowing whatever lands in your mouth. The taste of him leaves your tongue and throat buzzing, and you revel in the messy intimacy of it.

He uses his fingers to wipe the remnants of his release from your cheeks, then pushes them into your mouth without hesitation.

“Suck,” he orders, and you comply, wrapping your lips around his fingers, swirling your tongue over them with eager enthusiasm. You get carried away, your tongue flicking and sucking greedily, and he chuckles darkly.

“Jealousy looks good on you,” you can’t help but tease, your voice carrying amusement as you both come down from the dazed fucking.

Javier sways a little, his inebriation finally catching up to him. He stumbles, but he steadies himself smoothly, like the world itself wouldn’t dare let him fall.

He wipes a hand down his face before meeting your gaze, still kneeling on the floor. “Not a fan of people playin’ with what’s mine,” he says, the statement edged with that possessiveness he tries to pretend isn’t there.

Usually, a line like that would have you rolling your eyes and telling the guy to take his ego down a notch. But with Javier? You don’t mind. At all. Something about the way he says it—like it’s a fact, not an opinion—makes your stomach flip in the worst (or best) way possible.

“Yours?” you challenge, sitting up on your forearms and arching a brow at him. “I thought this was casual.”

“It is,” he says without missing a beat, bringing his fingers up to caress the side of your face, more calm and sure, like he’s completely unaware of how contradictory his behavior is.

You narrow your eyes slightly, refusing to let him off the hook that easily despite melting under his touch. “Casual hookups don’t go into a frenzy after watching the other dance and flirt with someone else.”

He doesn’t even flinch at your words, doesn’t even bother to defend himself. Instead, he smirks—because of course he does—and stretches his arms over his head like the entire conversation is nothing but a minor inconvenience to him.

He straightens up stands, extending a hand to you, his palm open and inviting, the gold band of the bracelet glinting in the low light.

You let him pull you up and let out a sound of exertion, your muscles still a little tense from rolling around on the hard floor with him.

“Dance, flirt with whoever you want. When I want you, I’m gonna have you.”

That’s possibly the hottest thing you’ve ever heard. “That so?” You try to sound unimpressed, but your voice betrays you, just the tiniest bit giddy.

“That’s so,” he concedes vaingloriously. “Don’t forget who makes you feel like this satisfied.”

As if I could ever. “Cocky bastard,” you mutter, but the words lack any real bite.

He leans in, kissing you gently, then his voice drops into that deep, velvety murmur that makes your pussy tingle. “Yet you keep coming back.”

You don’t respond because, let’s face it, he’s not wrong. Especially not when he pairs those words with ana affectionate kiss.

Instead, you finally roll your eyes, the most predictable move in your arsenal, and step around him to grab your discarded sleeping shorts.

Sliding them back on, you make your way to the counter, where the lonely styrofoam plate of half-smashed birthday cake waits for attention. Without a word, you pull it closer, grab a fork, and dig in.

Javier watches you with a grin still plastered across his face, leaning his hip against the counter. “Didn’t even offer the birthday boy the first bite, huh? Real cold.”

You stab a piece exaggeratedly, lifting it to your mouth, and chewing slowly, giving him a look that says cry about it.

But when you see the faint pout pulling at his lips—a deliberate act, no doubt—you sigh, scoop up another forkful, and hold it out. “Fine. Even though technically it’s not your birthday anymore.”

He leans in, not breaking the eye contact, and takes the bite straight from the fork, his lips brushing the tines with an unnecessary amount of flair.

You swear he’s showing off, but you don’t call him out on it, not when he groans softly in appreciation and you can’t help but admire him like this, playful and flirty in your kitchen.

“Feliz cumpleaños, Javi,” you say after a moment, softer now.

He swallows, his smirk shifting into something a little more genuine as he meets your gaze. “Gracias, fresita.”

For a moment, the air between you shifts—gentler, almost intimate. Then he reaches for the fork still in your hand and steals another bite, flashing you a look that drags you right back to reality.

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[oogaboogasphincter]

Peace Offering

summary: An (eaten) chocolate bar causes a rift between you and Joel. Joel tries to remedy the situation. a/n: surprise! this is my first piece in months and i'm so excited 😋 i was inspired by these beautiful gifs from @ellies-enrichment! it's a silly one but i had fun writing it and i hope you have fun reading it <333 warnings: all you need to know is reader and joel are in an established relationship, they argue but they love each other nonetheless, reader is a person who menstruates | word count: 1200

“Darlin’?” He murmurs with two soft knocks of his knuckles, quiet with remorse.

“Go away,” you manage to get out through your tears, just loud enough so that he can hear the muffled inflection to put two and two together. You don't want to feel like you're actually speaking to him because you've revoked those terms until further notice.

“Sweetheart, please,” he pleads, a little more firm but still gentle. He goes to turn the knob but finds it stuck, jiggling it gently. By the tone of your voice, he knows it isn't a case of a sticky jam and that you've locked him out on purpose.

Your patience runs out, agitation being throttled with every attempt from Joel at the knob.

“I said go awayyy!!!!!”

The hallway is silent for a few moments before you hear the departing trudge of his boots. They stop at the end of the hall; not far away enough, not at all. You want to scream at him to keep going, to never come back.

All because of a chocolate bar.

You were on your period and Joel knew this. He had searched high and low on your journey to Lincoln, abandoning you outside of decrepit houses with the gruff instruction to, “Stay put.” He managed to digest your consequential irritation and remained stubborn enough to avoid explaining why you had to keep stopping, if only to keep the surprise he was concocting from you.

When he finally found one, a precious little morsel of chocolate left behind in the dark corner of a pantry closet, a watery smile formed on his tired face and so did a lump in his throat. He steeled himself and swallowed hard before he returned outside, shoving the unbeknownst treat in his pocket.

Then, night came. You were sleeping as soundly as you could on some rotting mattress on the floor while he kept watch. While Joel intermittently stole glances at you, vowing to himself that someday he would find you a real bed to sleep on, he could feel sleep nagging at him to succumb and explore dreams of better days with you. Traveling exhausted him, but going up and down all those stairs in search for a little something for you… at his age, it’s safe to say it wore him the fuck out. He needed something to keep him awake, anything…

Like an idiot, he fell asleep anyway with the damning evidence left crumpled in his lap. When he woke to your ice-cold gaze and the wrapper clenched in your tight fist, he sighed in anticipation of the roaring sea of anger that descended upon him. It took a while for him to convince you that he had originally gotten the chocolate for you and hadn't stowed it away as some secret vice for himself. Though he kept to his truth, he couldn't tell which was worse: you feeling left out of his fictitious, sugar-filled world, or robbed of something you never even got the chance to taste.

He ate your chocolate bar and right now, you don’t plan on forgiving him. Not ever.

He knows you’re pissed and rightfully so. If some old bastard ate his fucking chocolate bar, he can't even imagine — especially with the current state of the poor Earth — what hell he'd unleash on the perpetrator.

But he can’t just stand here and listen to your muffled cries anymore. He darts outside, desperate for anything to make it up to you.

He’s already checked every house in a five mile radius. The nearest convenience stores have been picked clean or the leftover chocolate has melted out of its wrappers, rotten and molding to the floor… which he’s not going to mention to you because, at this point, he’s afraid you’d eat anything out of retaliation.

He runs around, wracking his stupid, slow brain for an answer… when God intervenes for the first time in Joel's life since he met you.

He runs to the Mars Candy truck like it’s a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow and he’ll beat himself up for the rest of his miserable life if he misses it. He throws the back doors open, crossing everything he can — from his fingers down to his toes — that there’s something for you.

Maybe he’s finally lost it. It took twenty years into the apocalypse, but maybe he’s finally hit the brink of no return and gone senile.

The shelves are fully stocked, lined with unopened boxes of every flavor treat imaginable. He lets out a gruff, “Oh!” like he's just been punched in the stomach, more excited than he had ever been as a kid in a candy store.

He takes fistfuls of whatever he can, stuffing them into every pocket of his clothes. He’s still doubtful of this truck’s reality, so he’s taking everything he can while the apparition remains intact.

With his pockets crinkling and chocolate bars sticking out of his belt, he jumps down and closes the doors. He can’t risk any trespasser eyeing this haven, not in a million years. He'll come back later and try to get the truck running so he can hide it in Bill and Frank's garage.

He runs back to the house with increasing haste. Blinded by his quest to get you some sugar, he has no idea how long he's been gone and, with you on the opposite side of town, he's started to panic. Bill may have gridlocked the town with traps, but the only security Joel deems good enough to protect you are his own eyes.

Running through the open front door, he shouts your name repeatedly... unknowingly passing you in the dining room. You furrow your brow and stand, crossing your arms as you yell out to him, "In here!"

He comes jogging back, breathlessly asking, “You alright?”

You nod silently, swiping a residual tear away from your cheek with the back of your hand and a soft sniffle. Yet, your brow maintains its deep furrow of agitation as you scour Joel... until it lifts with shock. Your lips part in awe and your tongue goes dry as you eye the familiar colored wrappers catching the light. You stutter, “How did you— Where did you—?“

Joel shakes his head, handing you a replacement for the one he ate last night with a sly wink. “Don’t worry about it, baby.” His tone is way too smug for your liking, but you can't bring yourself to care as you step back and take a seat on one of the dining room chairs.

You unwrap the treat and eat it, failing to strike a balance between savoring the treat and getting it into your stomach as quickly as possible. Joel watches the faces you make, finding them oddly similar to the ones you make when he’s between your thighs…

He stifles a chuckle before asking, “So, am I forgiven?”

When you lift your eyes to meet his, he’s widened his own in mock innocence. While that trick might have gotten him out of trouble with you before, the tight coil of anger inside you has only just begun to unravel. You stand and press the empty wrapper against his chest, muttering with a sickly sweet smile, “No.”

You brush past him, knocking your shoulder against his with a little more force than necessary. At least now he has a whole truckload more of I’m sorry’s to try and win you back with.

💞gifset links💞

joel at the door x2

joel opening the truck doors

joel in disbelief

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[fangdokja]

🔞“He says he’d do anything for you. But would you believe him?”

❤︎ Synopsis. Beneath his playful smile lies a predator in waiting—muscles honed for control, a filthy mind veiled by charm, and a dark obsession that festers with every glance you give him. You think he’s harmless, but when his restraint finally snaps, you’ll learn just how wrong you’ve been.

♡ Book. Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows.

♡ Pairing. Yandere! Best Friend x Fem. Reader

♡ Headcanons. Unspoken Desires - Part 1

♡ Word Count. 5,580

♡ TW. dom + top + older + sadistic yandere, general non-con + manipulation, fear play, isolation, monitoring, non-con kissing and/or touching, forced relationship, BDSM, depression and mental illnesses, implied suicidal tendencies, unhealthy coping mechanisms, masturbation, hinted needle play, degradation, name calling, implied drugging

♡ Note. Due to Tumblr content guidelines involving mental illnesses, self-harm, and suicide, some plot details of the original story were purposefully made ambiguous to fit the platform.

♡ A/N. Actually I was trying to write wholesome, then it went to my usual writing style oop. Though, I wouldn't really say this is explicit. Seems lax for me, but that also has its own appeal.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who grew up with you in a tiny village nestled deep in the heart of a high fantasy world, where magic thrummed beneath the earth like a heartbeat and gods were whispered about in the rustling of leaves. A world where war and peace ebbed and flowed like the tides, and your childhood playgrounds were forests that spoke in riddles and rivers that glowed faintly under moonlight.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who first met you when you saved his life—or maybe he saved yours. You can’t even remember anymore. But you were just kids back then, barely old enough to wield a knife, much less survive a wolf attack in the woods. He’d laughed with bloodied teeth and sparkling eyes, like almost dying was the best day of his life.

"You’re an idiot," you’d muttered as you yanked him out of the beast’s jaws, dragging him behind a tree.

"Yeah, but you saved me," he grinned through bloodied teeth, his grin wide enough to split his face.

"Only so I don’t have to explain to everyone else why I let you die."

"Sure, sure. Keep telling yourself that."

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who was always a little too much—too fast, too loud, too bright. The kind of kid whose presence filled every corner of a room, whose schemes were impossible to ignore, and whose laugh could somehow make you feel both exhausted and alive.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who was the sun, burning at a temperature that should’ve incinerated him, and you? You were the moon, distant and cold, orbiting him only because you didn’t mind the warmth.

"You’re like a puppy," you said once, watching him pace excitedly as he rattled off yet another harebrained scheme.

"Like a what?" He froze mid-step, his eyes wide with mock offense.

"A puppy. Annoying, loud, and too full of energy."

"I am not annoying!" he exclaimed, throwing his arms out dramatically. "I’m charming."

"Sure you are."

"And loud? That’s just passion!"

"Passion’s another word for obnoxious, you know."

He gasped, clutching his chest like you’d stabbed him. "Take it back!"

"No."

"You’re heartless!"

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who was your partner in everything. You weren’t just two kids in a village—you were an unstoppable duo, a myth in the making. Climbing mountains to see if you could touch the clouds, sneaking into the elder’s home to steal forbidden scrolls, setting traps for monsters that only existed in bedtime stories.

"You’re going to get us caught," you whispered as he crouched beside the elder’s door, fiddling with the lock.

"Not if you keep watch," he replied, grinning like this was the most fun he’d ever had.

"Keep watch? I’m not an accomplice to your idiocy."

"Too late. You’re already here."

"By force."

"Uh-huh. And yet you’re still standing here, helping me."

You rolled your eyes, but your lips twitched into a reluctant smile. "I hate you sometimes."

"Only sometimes? I must be doing something right!"

Everyone else thought he was insane, but you always followed. Not because you believed in his harebrained schemes, but because his chaos made you feel alive in a way you didn’t understand.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who was terrifyingly smart in ways that shouldn’t have been possible. He didn’t just think outside the box; he dismantled it, set it on fire, and then asked why it existed in the first place. He could weave together plans and schemes that made grown adults stammer in awe—or fear.

"You’re going to blow us up one day," you deadpanned as he rigged a trap out of nothing but twigs and string.

"Not ‘blow up,’" he corrected, his hands moving deftly. "Just… scare off the bad guys."

"Bad guys? You mean the squirrels?"

"They’re shifty little things."

"You’re insane."

"And yet, you’re still standing here."

"To see how you plan to die this time."

But he was also the same boy who fell into rivers because he forgot they were slippery, or who got stuck in a tree because he didn’t think about how he’d climb back down.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who, even as a child, hated the idea of losing you. He didn’t show it in ways you’d notice—he wasn’t clingy or possessive yet—but he’d always insist on being there.

"You don’t have to follow me everywhere," you grumbled one day, watching him trail behind you.

"Yeah, but what if something happens to you?" he said, grinning like it was a joke.

"Like what? Tripping on a rock?"

"You joke, but rocks are deadly."

"You’re impossible."

"And you’re stuck with me."

Wherever you went, whatever you did, he was there. Even when he got mad at you, even when you got mad at him, the idea of being apart was something neither of you could bear.

────────────

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who, as you both grew older, turned your childhood games into full-fledged adventures.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who always made sure you had his back, just as he had yours. It didn’t matter if you were facing bandits, cursed creatures, or labyrinths that seemed impossible to escape—he would always find a way to pull you through.

And you’d do the same for him, even when he tried to stop you. Especially when he tried to stop you.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who hated how you always put yourself in danger for him.

Whether it was throwing yourself in front of an attack, volunteering to distract enemies so he could escape, or using the last of your strength to save him, it drove him absolutely insane.

He’d smile through gritted teeth, trying to play it off as his usual carefree self, but you could see the tightness in his jaw, the way his hands clenched into fists.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who started to argue with you more and more because of it.

At first, it was just teasing jabs—“You know, one day you’re going to get yourself killed pulling stunts like that.”

But when you kept doing it, his tone grew sharper, his words harsher. “Do you even care about your own life? Do you think I’d just let you throw yourself away like that?!”

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who, despite his frustration, couldn’t stop you.

No matter how many times he argued, begged, or outright yelled at you to stop risking yourself, you always brushed him off with that infuriatingly calm logic of yours.

“If I didn’t, you’d be dead. So what’s the problem?” And every time you said it, he felt like his chest was going to explode—partly from anger, but mostly from fear.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who would never admit it, but the thought of losing you terrified him more than anything else in the world.

He’d rather lose a limb, his powers, even his own mind, if it meant keeping you safe.

And the fact that you didn’t seem to value your life as much as he did made something dark and desperate coil in his chest.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who, during one of your worst arguments, snapped. His usual charm and humor vanished, replaced by raw, unfiltered rage.

“Do you think I need your sacrifices? That I’m some helpless idiot who can’t survive without you throwing yourself in harm’s way? I’m not weak, and I don’t want to watch you die for me, do you understand that?!”

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who stormed off after that, leaving you both in silence for hours, maybe even days.

But when he came back, he wasn’t angry anymore.

His voice was calm, his smile soft, but there was something unsettling about the way he looked at you, like he was trying to memorize every inch of you in case you disappeared.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who started to take more control over your adventures after that. He’d laugh and joke like normal, but he always seemed to steer you away from the most dangerous paths, even if it meant taking longer to reach your destination.

And if you ever tried to put yourself in harm’s way again, he’d find a way to stop you—whether it was with words, tricks, or, in the most extreme cases, outright forcing you to stay behind.

———

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who never thought he liked you as anything more than a best friend. You were his partner-in-crime, his constant, the only person who truly understood him. He couldn’t imagine his life without you, but that didn’t mean he liked you like that.

At least, that’s what he told himself.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who felt something strange the first time you smiled at someone else like you smiled at him.

It was during one of your adventures—a random stranger you helped along the way. They cracked a joke, and for the first time, you laughed. Not your usual quiet, wry chuckle, but something brighter, something real. He grinned along with you, but inside, something cold and heavy settled in his chest.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who didn’t understand why it bothered him so much when others got too close to you.

You’d always been his.

Not in a romantic way—just in the way best friends were.

You were his partner, his moon, the person he trusted more than anyone.

But when someone else tried to share your attention, that bad feeling in his chest twisted into something darker.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who started noticing it more and more.

The way you’d listen to someone else’s plans without questioning them, even though you always teased his. The way you didn’t hesitate to step between someone else and danger, even though you knew it would make him furious. The way your expression softened when you thought no one was watching, as if you never looked at him like that.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who told himself it was nothing, just a weird phase.

Maybe he was overthinking it.

He had no reason to be upset.

You were his best friend—you weren’t going anywhere. But the more he thought about it, the more that thought didn’t feel like enough.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who started acting without realizing it. His smiles grew sharper when others talked to you, his words more cutting, his presence heavier. He’d laugh it off when you called him out, waving his hand like it was all a joke, but deep down, he knew it wasn’t.

He just couldn’t figure out why.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who, during one of your adventures, snapped at you for the first time in a way that wasn’t about your safety.

It was something small—someone you met on the road had complimented you, and you’d actually smiled back.

He didn’t know what came over him, but before he could stop himself, he was already muttering, “You’re just going to smile at anyone now, huh? What’s next, inviting them to join us?”

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who immediately regretted it when you frowned and looked away. You didn’t argue back, didn’t tease him like usual. You just stayed quiet, which somehow felt worse than anything you could’ve said.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who started avoiding the subject entirely after that. He went back to his usual carefree self—laughing, joking, pulling you into more wild adventures.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who didn’t know why he felt this way until one night, while camping under the stars, he caught himself staring at you. The way the firelight flickered across your face, the way your usually emotionless eyes softened when you stared into the flames, the way you always sat close enough for him to feel your warmth but never closer.

Something in his chest ached, and for the first time, he realized why.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who didn’t want to admit it. Didn’t want to ruin what you had, didn’t want to think about what it might mean.

But he couldn’t stop himself from wondering. Wondering if anyone else could make you smile the way he did.

Wondering if anyone else could be your constant.

———

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who isn’t stupid—he knows you don’t see him the way he sees you.

He can tell by the way you laugh around him, carefree and unguarded, like you’re sharing a joke with an older brother. By the way you roll your eyes at his antics, always more amused than annoyed.

By the way you lean on him, not like someone who’s in love, but like someone who trusts him to always be there, no matter what.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who knows he’s just your best friend, the person who drags you on adventures and watches your back.

Nothing more, nothing less.

But that doesn’t stop the knot in his chest from tightening every time you treat him like something so casual.

Like he’s just another part of your world, instead of your entire world, the way you are to him.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who wonders sometimes if he’s being selfish, wanting more than what you’re already giving him. You let him into your life, trusted him in a way you trusted no one else. But it wasn’t enough.

It was never enough.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who pretends it doesn’t bother him, flashing his usual grin and cracking jokes whenever you call him out for being clingy.

“Can you blame me? You’re my favorite person in the world! No one else even comes close.” But underneath the laughter, his mind is racing, twisting, plotting.

Because if you couldn’t love him the way he loved you, then he’d just have to make sure no one else could either.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who starts pushing the boundaries of your friendship without you even noticing.

Casual touches linger just a second too long, playful teasing takes on a sharper edge, and his protectiveness turns into something almost suffocating. If you notice, you don’t say anything—maybe because it’s easier to brush it off as just him being his usual self. But he knows better.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who tells himself it’s fine.

That he can wait. That you’ll realize it eventually.

That you’ll see no one else will ever understand you the way he does, no one else will ever protect you the way he does, no one else will ever love you the way he does.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who grows darker, quieter, when someone else gets too close to you. The usual charm and humor are still there, but there’s something off about the way he smiles, too sharp and too cold.

He won’t say anything at first, just watching, waiting, calculating.

But if they try to take you away, to pull you out of his orbit, that’s when things start to unravel.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who starts isolating you without you even realizing it. He’s the only one who can keep up with you, the only one who knows how to handle your quirks and your flaws.

The only one who will never leave you. He plants the idea so carefully, so subtly, that you don’t even question it.

It’s just the way things are.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who knows, deep down, that you don’t love him the way he loves you.

Not yet, at least. But that’s okay.

Because he doesn’t need your love—he just needs you.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who tells himself it doesn’t matter how long it takes. Days, months, years—it’s all the same to him.

Because in the end, you’ll cave.

You’ll see that no one else could ever love you the way he does. That no one else could ever deserve you.

———

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who didn’t even realize how far gone he was until one day, when you were bathing, he accidentally walked in.

You didn’t scream, didn’t flinch, didn’t even care.

Just stared at him with those cold, emotionless eyes of yours and calmly said, “Door’s unlocked.”

As if it was nothing.

As if the sight of your bare skin, the water sliding down your body, wouldn’t haunt him for the rest of his life.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who felt his breath catch in his throat, his usual wit failing him for once.

He laughed it off awkwardly, muttered some excuse about needing something, and stumbled out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

But the image of you was burned into his mind, refusing to fade no matter how hard he tried to shake it off.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who hated himself for it, hated how much his body reacted to you.

He wasn’t supposed to think about you like this, wasn’t supposed to feel this way.

But no matter how much he tried to fight it, the memory of you kept creeping back in, setting his skin on fire and making his heart race.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who found himself lying awake that night, your image replaying in his mind on an endless loop.

He could still see the way the water glistened on your skin, the way your hair clung to your shoulders, the way you looked at him so casually, so apathetically, as if you had no idea what you were doing to him.

———

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who you’ve always seen as a goofy, harmless puppy.

Sure, he’s tall and muscular—towering over most people effortlessly—but his easygoing attitude and boyish charm have always made him seem more like a loyal guard dog than anything remotely dangerous. You’ve never thought twice about sharing space with him, leaning on him, treating him like the oversized, overprotective best friend he appears to be.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who knows exactly what you think of him. He plays his part so well: the playful idiot, the one who makes you laugh when you’re down, the one who keeps you safe without asking for anything in return.

And while some parts of that are true, they’re far from the whole story. Because the truth is, underneath that sunshine grin and those puppy-dog eyes, he’s not your harmless protector. He’s something much darker, much more dangerous, and he hides it all so well.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who doesn’t just want you—he wants to own you.

Every glance, every laugh, every little touch you give him fuels something primal inside of him, something he keeps locked away beneath layers of charm and wit. Did you think his broad shoulders and ripped physique were just for show?

That all those hours spent training, honing his body, were just about looking good? No. It was for you. It’s always been for you. To keep you safe. To keep others away.

To ensure that when the time comes, no one—not even you—could stop him from taking what’s his.

———

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who goes home after a long day with you, his head swimming with the way your body brushed against his, the way your apathetic expression softened for just a second when you cracked one of your rare, sarcastic jokes.

It’s unbearable, the tension coiling tighter and tighter in his chest, and by the time he’s alone, he’s already burning up with the need for release.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who hates how much power you have over him. Hates how weak you make him feel when he’s wrapped around your little finger, playing the role of your goofy best friend when all he really wants is to pin you down and make you look at him differently—to see him not as your protector, but as something darker.

Someone who could ruin you in ways you’ve never even imagined.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who locks himself in his room, leaning back against the door with a sharp exhale, his muscles tight with tension.

The second his hand dips into his waistband, it’s like a dam breaking. He doesn’t even try to fight it anymore. His mind goes straight to you—how you’d feel, how you’d sound, how you’d look beneath him, your apathetic mask cracking under the weight of his touch.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who starts slow, dragging his hand lazily over his length as he pictures the way you’d squirm beneath him, trying to keep your composure. He knows you’d fight him at first—of course you would—but he also knows how easily you’d give in if he played his cards right.

How easily he could shatter your walls and make you depend on him, need him, the way he needs you.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who whispers your name under his breath, his voice rough with desperation as his strokes grow faster, harder, more erratic.

His mind races with all the things he wants to do to you, all the ways he wants to mark you, claim you, destroy you so completely that no one else could ever have you the way he does.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who bites his lip to muffle the low, guttural sounds escaping his throat, his free hand gripping the edge of his desk so tightly his knuckles turn white.

He pictures you underneath him, tears welling in your eyes as you try to push him away, only to melt under his touch. The thought makes his head spin, and his hips jerk up involuntarily as he chases his release.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who finally spills with a choked groan, your name falling from his lips like a broken prayer. The pleasure rips through him like a tidal wave, leaving him trembling and breathless, his body taut with the intensity of it.

But as the high fades, a darker satisfaction settles over him, mixed with a burning hunger that refuses to be quenched.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who leans back against the wall, wiping a hand over his face as he catches his breath.

He feels no guilt, no shame—only a gnawing desire for more.

Because this isn’t enough. It’ll never be enough.

He wants you for real, not just in the dark recesses of his mind.

———

You lay there, the soft, rhythmic sound of your breathing the only thing that pierced the quiet of the night. The warmth of the small, candlelit room was comforting, a stark contrast to the cold, dark woods outside the village walls.

You were nestled in your bed, the soft fabric of your nightgown clinging to your body as you drifted in and out of consciousness, your dreams filled with the excitement of the adventures you and your best friend had shared throughout the years.

Unbeknownst to you, his eyes were fixated on your form, his gaze hungry and possessive. He'd been watching you for hours, his thoughts growing darker with every passing minute.

He knew you didn't see him the way he saw you, but that was a problem that could be rectified.

He took a deep breath, his hand moving to the bulge in his pants, and whispered to himself, "Mine. You're always mine." His grip tightened as he began to stroke himself, his eyes never leaving your peaceful face.

The sound of his zipper was the only disturbance in the stillness, and he felt his heart pound in his chest as he grew harder at the thought of you, his untouchable moon.

"Sleep tight, fucktoy," he murmured, a twisted smile playing on his lips, "because when you wake up, you'll finally know who you truly belong to."

The tension grew palpable as his strokes grew quicker, his breathing becoming ragged and erratic. He was lost in his own twisted fantasy, imagining the way your eyes would widen in shock and fear as you awoke to find him there, invading your personal space, claiming what he believed was rightfully his.

"You think you can ignore me?" he whispered harshly, the anger and frustration in his voice barely contained.

"You think I don't notice when you laugh with others, when you let them touch you?" His hand moved faster, his teeth clenched in determination. "You're mine, and you always will be. I'll make sure of it."

His eyes roved over your body, lingering on the curve of your hip, the swell of your breasts, and the delicate line of your neck. The urge to reach out and touch you, to mark you in some way, was almost overwhelming.

But no, not yet.

The anticipation was too sweet.

He sat on the edge of the bed, the soft mattress groaning slightly under his weight. The room was suffocating in its darkness, only the flickering candle on the bedside table casting dancing shadows across your peaceful face.

He could see the gentle rise and fall of your chest, the soft sound of your breaths echoing in the quiet space. It was a sound he'd become all too familiar with, a sweet melody that lulled him into a sense of security and power.

His hand moved under the covers, the fabric of his own trousers straining against his growing arousal. He gritted his teeth, trying to keep his breaths even as he touched himself.

His eyes never left you, studying every curve and line of your body as if he could burn the image into his mind. You were so close, yet so far away. It was infuriating, a constant reminder of what wasn't his.

Yet.

He corrected the thought in his head with a smirk.

You were his, had always been his, even if you didn't know it yet.

He'd make sure of it.

His hand stroked faster, the wet sounds of his self-indulgence seeming too loud in the otherwise silent room. He couldn't help but feel a twisted sense of triumph as he watched your chest rise and fall, oblivious to the dark desires that swirled around you like a tempest.

"Bitchy cumdump," he murmured under his breath, the word a vile whisper that seemed to hang in the air like a curse.

"Rape slut." He liked those names, the way they painted a picture of you that was so much more… palatable than the cold, untouchable moon you portrayed to him.

But you could also be warm, alive, full of passion and fire, and he knew it.

He just hadn't figured out how to make you burn for him alone.

His hand stroked himself roughly, his eyes never leaving your sleeping form. You had your back to him, the soft curves of your body hidden beneath the thin fabric of your nightgown.

It was almost translucent, revealing the shadowy outline of your curves, your skin so pale it seemed to glow in the moonlight filtering through the window.

His eyes roved over you greedily, taking in every detail, his mind racing with thoughts of what lay beneath that delicate exterior.

He reached out with his other hand, the one not busy with his own desires, and traced a line down your spine.

You shifted slightly, a soft sigh escaping your lips, but you remained asleep. The sound of his own breath grew heavier, his strokes more frantic as he felt the heat of your body through the fabric.

"Mine," he whispered again, his voice low and guttural.

It was a promise, a vow that echoed in the quiet of the room, a declaration of war against anyone who dared to claim you.

His breath hitched as he reached the peak of his desire, his hand moving faster and faster as he thought of claiming you, making you his in every way possible.

With a low, primal growl, he came, his seed spilling onto the bed sheets.

The warmth and wetness of his release brought him back to reality, his hand slowing as he stared at the evidence of his obsession with you.

His heart raced in his chest, a heady mix of longing and satisfaction coursing through his veins. He had never felt so alive, so powerful, so… right.

He leaned back against the headboard, his eyes still glued to your form. You hadn't stirred, hadn't woken up.

It was like you were a doll, a perfect creation made just for his amusement.

He felt a twisted sense of pride that you hadn't noticed his depravity, that his need for you was so strong it could only be expressed in the dark when you were at your most vulnerable.

But that would change.

Oh, how it would change.

As he withdraws his hand from the warmth of his climax, he was careful not to disturb you, his eyes lingering on the soft rise and fall of your chest. He reaches for a cloth beside the bed to clean up the mess he’s made, his mind racing with thoughts of what he’ll do next to claim you fully.

He’s always been the one to watch over you, the one to save you, the one who understands you better than anyone else.

But now, it’s no longer enough to just be your best friend.

He reaches under his bed, his hand brushing against the cold, rough fabric of a hidden bag.

The zipper whispers open, revealing an assortment of morally questionable items: ropes, gags, handcuffs, and a few bottles of clear liquid with handwritten labels. The scent of leather and something else—something darker—wafts out, mingling with the stale air of the room.

His breath hitches as he runs his fingers over the contents, feeling the weight of each item. They're tools of his obsession, tokens of the future he's crafting in his twisted mind.

His eyes flicker back to you, sleeping so peacefully, so utterly unaware of what's to come.

He pulls out a syringe from the bag, the cold metal glinting in the moonlight.

With practiced hands, he fills it with a pink liquid, the viscous substance swirling within the glass tube like a trapped, desperate thing.

It's a potion of his own making, something that would ensure that when the time came, you'd be too compliant to resist him.

He's not a complete monster—he doesn't want to take you by force, not yet at least.

But he knows that the path to your heart is paved with fear and obedience.

He rolls the plunger between his thumb and forefinger, feeling the liquid warm against his skin. The anticipation of using it on you makes his breath catch.

He watches you sleep, the fabric of your nightgown clinging to your body like a second skin. His eyes trace the gentle curves of your breasts and the way your hips dip before flaring out, the shadow between your thighs taunting him with what lies beneath.

The urge to claim you fully is overwhelming, but he reminds himself that patience is key.

Instead, he allows his gaze to linger, his hands straying to the syringe filled with his homemade potion—a blend of aphrodisiac and sedative that would make you pliable in his hands. He imagines pushing it into your soft flesh, watching as the liquid fills you, turning you into a vessel of his desires.

He reaches out with trembling hands, his breath shallow and ragged with anticipation. His fingertips graze the soft fabric of your nightgown, tracing the line of your slit, feeling the heat radiating from your body. You stir slightly in your sleep, but do not wake, oblivious to the violation he's about to commit. He gently parts the fabric, exposing your bare skin to the cool air of the room.

He takes one of the syringes filled with his potion and holds it up to the moonlight, admiring the way the liquid shimmers. "Soon, you'll be mine," he murmurs, his voice barely a whisper, thick with lust and possession.

He brings the needle closer, poised at the entrance of your pussy, savoring the moment. "And no one will ever be able to take you from me."

────────────

If you want to be added or removed from the tag list, just comment on the MASTERLIST of Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows. Thank you.

General TAG LIST of “Whispers In The Dark”: @keisocool , @elvabeth , @elloredef , @mjsjshhd , @lem-hhn

❤︎ Fang Dokja's Books.

♡ Book 1. A Heart Devoured (AHD): A Dark Yandere Anthology ♡ Book 2. 🔞Forbidden Fruits (FF): Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires. ♡ Book 3. World Ablaze (WA) : For You, I'd Burn the World. ♡ Book 4. Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows.

[man-i-love-fanfiction]

To Share the Space with Simple Living Things - Hozier x Fem! Florist!Reader

Chapter Five: Calla Lilies - Beauty

Summary: A sleepless night manages to bring you and Andrew together in a way neither of you would have expected.

Word Count: 3080

Author's Note: hi my darlings! hope you're all doing well. writing this fic has been so much fun so far, and this chapter was no exception, so i hope you enjoy this chapter of late-night shenanigans.

tag list: @celery-grace @gayandfairycore @deathmybride @harry-bowie-mercury @hodgepodge-musings @blue-eyed-bug @secretttytttttttttt @dinner-n-dxatribes @wub-wub-wub-wub-wub @padfootblackswh0r3

as always, fic below the cut <3

It was two in the morning and you were wide awake.

You were up against your will. There was an attempt to go to sleep, but it was a solid hour of tossing and turning that soon became futile. No matter how hard you tried you were wide awake. You wanted to go to sleep, your day being so long and exhausting you couldn’t wait until your head hit your pillow. When you tried, however, you were the most energized you had been all day. How ironic.

You had no idea what could be causing this sudden bout of insomnia. Actually, that was a lie. You had a few theories. Having coffee in the afternoon, as you did today, sometimes caused you to stay up late. There was a sort of tension your energy, though it wasn’t something that caffeine could replicate. After that, the excitement of finding your favorite movie on streaming, making yourself some popcorn and watching it in its entirety, helped you to make it to midnight.

Now there was only one thing keeping you from falling asleep.

The adrenaline from sending a stupid text. To Andrew, of all people.

It had been a month since you first met, and only three weeks since you visited his tattoo parlor, and since then you both kept your promises. You met up during lunches a few times each week, when you both were free.

It wasn't until today, however, when you realized Andrew didn't even have your number. He gave you his on the first day he met you, but that was strictly professional. Today he finally crossed over into your personal bubble. You added him to your contacts, typing in the name Andrew, but backing up upon hearing his suggestion. “You can put in Andy, if you'd like,” he had said as he peered over your shoulder. You listened to him, and now, both in your phone and your mind, he was Andy.

The rest of your day was exhausting, mentally and physically. It was one of your busiest days in a while, which in theory was fantastic, but in practice leaned more towards stressful. Not to mention one coworker was sick and the other had a family emergency, meaning everything that happened today was solely in your hands. So much running around and so many orders that most of your day was a blur of petals. There wasn't even enough time for you to use flower language., picking flowers based on aesthetic appeal and not meaning. It pained you to do it every time.

Fast forward past eating a Chinese take-out dinner and watching a comfort romcom to now. You were lying in your bed, staring at the ceiling, so hopeless you were considering even counting sheep. You were recounting the events of the day in your head. Anything to get you to sleep faster. When you arrived to Andrew— Andy — giving you his number, you paused, and in a moment on spontaneity that could have been only caused by sleep deprivation, you reached for your phone off the nightstand and unlocked it.

You opened the page for his contact, and in your tired and frankly emotionally unstable state, you thought it would be a good idea to text him. After midnight. For the first time.

It wasn't anything salacious, just a simple “hi”. Not even capitalized, which was your try at being casual. There weren't any ulterior motives, either; an attempt at starting a conversation was all that it was. Still, you regretted that text the moment it was sent.

Cursing yourself, you went to delete your message, only to find he had already seen it.

Shit. No backing down now.

You went to type an excuse, that it was meant for someone else and you were sorry to text him so late and you promised you weren't under the influence.

Until you saw three dots pop up on his side. He was texting back.

Shit. Again.

There was no way he was of sound body and mind and texting you so late. What if he was drunk (or even worse, completely sober) and thought you wanted a hookup? Would you be completely opposed to that? Of course you would be. You had morals and standards and he had hands you couldn't stop staring at and tattoos that caused your mind to wander—

Your phone buzzed, jolting you out of your thinking. He sent his text: Hey. It was followed by Is everything alright?, a valid question considering the circumstances, but a small pang of guilt ran through you at the idea of worrying him. You took a moment to think before typing out your reply.

everything is fine! i can't sleep, that's all.

just thought i’d say hello.

Hoping your explanation would suffice, you watched your screen as, almost immediately, he typed back.

Do you usually text at odd hours of the night?

You shook your head as if he could see you and typed again.

nope. you're just special.

extra perks for being such a loyal patron.

An almost immediate reply came from his end.

Right, I’m your favorite customer. I almost forgot my title.

Suddenly you were much more open to the idea of staying up. What was another hour without sleep? If anything, you could take tomorrow— today, really — off and spend the day napping and over-analyzing every text. All you’d have to do is pop in to the shop and make sure the sign said you were closed. A foolproof plan.

As you wrapped up planning your next sleep-deprived twelve hours, your phone buzzed again.

Might as well attempt to have a normal conversation, right?

How was your day?

He always was so considerate. You chose your words carefully in your reply, sugarcoating the type of day you had.

my day was crazy to say the least.

to the point that it might be why i’m losing sleep

You didn’t want to be a burden, so you kept it short and sweet. It always gave you such a guilt to lament to others if you had a bad day or an overall unpleasant experience. According to his reply, Andy hadn’t thought of it like that at all.

Would you want to call instead? To talk about it?

His question stopped you for a moment, and you debated on some pros and cons before typing out your response.

sure.

but no video calling. i look a mess.

The very large pro of getting to hear his voice outweighed the various other cons, which you now had trouble remembering.

I doubt that. I can’t imagine you not looking great.

He had to be doing this on purpose, specifically sending messages that could be considered flirting, all with the purpose of making your heart flutter. You had to acknowledge how juvenile the whole experience was. Getting flustered over a text was something you would've done as a teenager, and never would have imagined you'd be doing at your grown age.

But I’ll spare you the video call to save you from my disheveled state.

You breathed out a laugh, and positioned yourself so that you were sitting up.

You pressed the button to call him and waited with bated breath. One ring. Then another. Then another. Until he picked up.

“Hey,” he said, and you could even hear him smiling through the phone.

“Hi.”

As usual, Andrew was overthinking.

Sending him a text so late had to be a mistake. It was meant for another friend or a confidant, surely; someone you would be comfortable with knowing that you were up so late. Not him, who you'd only known for a month and yes, had gotten closer to, but not this close.

He took the opportunity he was given to get to know you better, to feel like friends instead of awkward acquaintances. He found himself smiling down at his screen, sometimes even laughing at what you were saying. But it wasn’t without its challenges.

Texting was much too confusing of a method of conversation for him, especially conversation with you. Where did banter cross the line into flirting? If such a line did exist, it felt like you both were playing jump rope with it. And why is it so hard to tell someone’s tone over text? How was he supposed to know if you truly meant what you said?

If he meant what he said?

Of course he did. Every image of you in his mind was gorgeous. He wouldn’t— he couldn’t — lie about that.

Negotiating out of a video call was a smart decision on both of your parts, considering neither of you looked your best. He certainly didn't, in an old pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt so worn-out he couldn't tell you what band logo was on it if he tried. He couldn’t help but visualize you on the other end, hair probably messy and undone, wearing only an over-sized shirt and shorts, leaving your legs and your thighs exposed—

Even though he was expecting it, the sound of his ringtone caused him to jump.

For most of his contacts, a call past midnight would be sent to voicemail and called back after ten minutes and a message saying he was “asleep” and had “just woken up from the sound of his ringtone” and various other lies he used to convince others he had a normal sleep schedule. You were an exception to this, along with seemingly every other rule Andrew had in his life.

So for your call, he accepted it, but not before letting it ring a few times at the risk of seeming too desperate.

Who had you turned him into?

There was no point in resisting the smile on his face when he finally indulged himself and answered.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

He wished there wasn’t any awkwardness between you, that there weren’t any lulls in your conversations. But life is not a romantic comedy, and he was too… tense when it came to you. It wasn’t until an uncomfortable amount of time passed that he spoke again, leaning towards his phone.

“So, how are you?”

“That's a loaded question . Why don't you start?”

“Oh, I’m grand, thank you very much.”

He couldn’t sit still, even if he tried. The (very unnecessary) nerves he was feeling wouldn’t let him. In fact, they dragged him out of his bed and to his kitchen. They took out his kettle, put some water to boil, and grabbed some teabags. His mouth helped to keep the conversation going as he rambled about his day. Your conversation went on normally, only interrupted when his kettle whistled.

“What's that I hear on the other end?”

“Oh, I’m making myself some tea. Always helps me get to sleep.”

“Wow, trying to get rid of me already, Andy?”

He raised his eyebrows, momentarily forgetting he had given you permission to call him by the nickname.

“More like trying to prevent how much I’ll hate myself in the morning if I don't go to sleep soon.”

He could hear you hum in agreement, and waited a second before speaking again.

“Anyways, tell me about this hellish day of yours.”

He could hear you exhale into the phone and prepared himself to listen intently to what would be a long rant.

“Well, first of all, work was busy. It was a Saturday, and that is usually the day when we’re at our busiest, but today was almost…abnormal. I won’t lie, it was overwhelming. In the grand scheme of things, though, it's good. We need more days like today. Otherwise…”

“Otherwise what?”

He was afraid of the answer, but he asked it anyway. Your voice lowered, like someone else could hear your conversation.

“You're the only person outside of my job I’m telling this to, so please don't spread this, but if we don't start making more sales, we might foreclose. I just found out today.”

His heart sank. It took a moment for him to sputter out a reply, initially too shocked to speak.

“You're kidding! Is there something you could do?”

“Well, I looked into it, and my options are limited. I’m not selling the property, and I’m sure as hell not giving up the deed. I’d have to negotiate something else but even then, we might not have the money to keep going.”

“That’s… horrible.”

Another silence, one that resembled a mourning period. He let you wait it out, knowing it was hard for you to even think about losing the shop.

“So, yeah. That caused a few gray hairs this morning. And then, as the cherry on top of this shitfest sundae of a day, my mom called. Usually not a problem, except she asked me the one question I dread the most.”

“And what is that?”

“‘When are you going to find a nice man and settle down? You can't do this flower thing forever.’ Like it's not my job! My job that I absolutely love, and she knows it.”

“I can only imagine how invalidated that makes you feel.”

“Thank you for recognizing that. It's extremely invalidating. As for the settling down bit, I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it. I’d need a man to be interested in me first.”

He had no idea what came over him when he started his sentence, but the words left his mouth quicker than he could think.

“I mean, if you really wanted to, I-”

All that momentary courage just to be cut off by a comment you made, likely intended as a joke, but one that still caused him to come to a stop.

“You have a friend I could try?”

He retracted away from the phone at your words, just slightly. He knew you weren't serious but just the thought of it made him nauseous.

It stayed silent for a beat. He waited for you to say something, anything, because he was not initiating that conversation. You spoke after a painstaking few seconds.

“I’m kidding.”

The silence between you hung in the air and twisted into awkwardness.

“Not funny?”

“Not funny,” he replied, shaking his head solemnly. “For the purpose of setting boundaries… I’d prefer if you didn’t make jokes like that.”

Your voice was dripping with guilt when you spoke again.

“I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry. Truly. The boundary is set, and I promise we'll return to my regular scheduled programming of being hilarious and never shutting up.”

“I accept your apology. And don’t say that kind of stuff. I like your excessive bouts of talking.”

“Even if it’s about my flowers?”

A small chuckle on your end let him know the conversation had become lighter again, and he laughed as well.

“Especially if it’s about your flowers.”

“Speaking of, how’s my beautiful bouquet doing? Is she working her magic?”

“Oh, yeah. She’s got tons of compliments.”

“Let me know if it needs a touch-up. The calla lilies typically only last two weeks, and I just got a new shipment, so if anything starts to wilt inexplicably, just tell me and I’ll be there."

“Calla lilies. Those mean beauty, right?”

He heard you let out some noise of confusion, and was afraid he had said something wrong, coming off as a weirdo for suddenly knowing about your interest or not getting his facts correct. He hadn’t even noticed his breath was suspended in throat until he exhaled, set free from the sound of your voice on the other end.

“…Yeah, they do. Not to sound rude, but… how do you know that?”

“A few weeks ago, I couldn’t sleep, so I found a website with an entire list of flora and their meanings and I was actually… really interested. It still put me to sleep, but I learned a few things along the way.”

“Andy, that’s amazing! I’m so excited, I finally have someone to talk about this with. Maybe you could even help me pick out some flowers for a bouquet.”

“I’ll leave that to you, I think.”

“Considering I get paid for it, that's a good idea.”

You keep conversing for a while, topics ranging widely, though slowly Andrew could tell you were starting to feel the effects of the night. He heard you let out a yawn, followed by you pardoning yourself. Over time, your words slowly dissolved into mumbles and deep breaths, and after waiting a moment…

Silence. He put two and two together.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

You couldn’t hear him, but he said it anyway.

There seemed to be a common sentiment among your friends that nothing good happens after two a.m. It was an idea stolen from a sitcom years ago and only proven true ever since, from long-term relationships breaking up to retching onto and completely ruining heels worth hundreds of dollars.

You bent that rule slightly. Good things can happen after two a.m., but you have to suffer the consequences, a headache only made worse by your refusal to rest being one of them. A secondary consequence being the burden of not physically seeing each other today. Overall, the remainder of your necessary day of rest was refreshing, if not filled with multiple power naps and your conversations with Andrew not leaving your head.

Andy didn't get this easy way out. He had an appointment made months beforehand, and it would be horrible of him to cancel on such short notice. He got some sleep after he hung up. Three hours to be exact. Nothing that couldn’t be balanced out by a black coffee and deluding himself into feeling awake. He’d done it so often it was almost like clockwork, training himself to run on very little sleep. Unfortunately, his one appointment of the day took almost five hours to complete, and he did feel his eyelids droop more than once. Thank goodness his work wasn’t affected.

Your conversation also carried on into the day, him texting in between breaks, not wanting to spend a moment where you two weren't communicating. He could put his past grievances with texting as a medium aside.

There was only one thing you said throughout the day that stopped him in his tracks.

i forgot to ask last night, but why were you up so late?

He took a few minutes to reply, contemplated how to tell you the truth, but not in it’s entirety

I was thinking.

He left out what he was thinking about, what caused his sleepless night.

You.

[pollux-starsz]

introduced my mama to @wyervan's slasher au, guess what

Shes insane for it just as i am (we're so swag) and EEEESSSHHH she is crushing on sun!!! Adores your art sososo much, said she eat it if it were cookies!!

Check the au out!!💗💓 stuff under the cut :3

Was doing a lot of whiteboarding lately! A ton of Kalamela stuff and whatnot, i love her sosos much.

Plus a fun art I did with @su-gu3 with their Slasher OC, Kilonova! I drew the two hanging out together and we're friends so we obviously had to make them be besties😆 they're hanging out while Kilonova crushes over Sun :3c

Yes I did have a vision of the slashy boys fighting over who gets the first dance, more on that below the art😋

Before the dance stuff, the last art piece is actually a much more like- i guess lore like piece hdodndod

The masks that Sun and Moon use plus the blood represents the killings. The heart represents Ethan, because she deep down adores that child.

(Even if she struggles to show it sometimes)

I have a feeewww other versions but they're not finished yet💔😅

Okay dance time! So Crystal Cove holds this little event every few months to raise money for charity ( the owners being a cute old couple aaugghhhh <3)

And Kalamela and basically all the other staff normally work that night to avoid any issues and also to raise support as well. She often doesn't dress up since she doesn't feel like it, that and also theres a few customers who are creeps- im actually writing about that and purposely making her beat their asses- and tries to just avoid the overall commotion and craziness! But the boys wont take no for an answer because she always spoils them so why not give her a night to have some fun eh?

More rambles below :3c

- I was thinking about this a lot but I think at some point she'd have to ask if Sun and Moon could let Ethan stay with them so he won't be witnessing a bunch of bullshit from his father, who sometimes comes over to her place just to start problems. I like to imagine she'll call them at least 30 minutes before he arrives and drives him over to their place to stay for a few hours until things calm down because she knows they'll take care of him!

- Kalamela isn't the type for romance movies, unless it's the Titanic, but I dont even know if that would be out in the very specific year the au takes place in considering it was released in 1997!! Either way😙 She often prefers horror movies and I think she'd really enjoy watching them with Sun, maybe its just so she has an excuse to cuddle up against him or just the thrill of watching some action! Who knowssss~

- She often lets Moon take Mango home for the night, he loves that parrot so much. Which usually gets an "Again?" from Sun because he always watches her whenever he gets the smallest chance.

- She definitely goes absolutely CRAZY on presents for holidays like Valentine's or Christmas for these two. I have a feeling she'd notice that they clearly didn't have the best childhood or ways growing up, and being in a similar situation because her family is extremely religious and she never had any freedom until she moved away, she often tries to make them happy and gets them as many gifts as possible. She spent all her money on them at on point and her only explanation was "I care for you guys a bit too much."

- cough wyervan ever since you mentioned that throwing a rock situation to get it through their heads that Kalamela loves them more than friends I can't help but imagine that she'd ask her friends about how to talk to them and her two friends, (Sprite and Eclipse, both guys, married gay men. They are extremely supportive. Would be great to have a beer with btw.) offer to help her, and eclipse throws a rock at both of them with a note attached to it while she just stands there in absolute shock that he actually aimed for their head. Oh and Sprite had to help Moon hold Sun back from beating his ass. Good times.

- I feel like at some point she would accidentally come across them killing someone and it results in this huge "oh shiiiitttt" moment from Sun and Moon as they drag her away into a more secluded area and then beg her not to tell anyone. (Even though her and Moon already talk about the killings, he still freaked) She doesn't rat them out because she is NOT getting slashed today, but often finds herself contemplating whether she should move and cut contact with them, despite the fact she loves them oh-so dearly!

[babyzzai]

hiii!! hewwwoooww!!! i weawwy loves ur hcs!! i juf found uw blog an i love it sm!!! i saw dat u make mostly lil!dazai hcs, but could i get lil!chuuyah hc?? if u not comfy w makin it/u no wanna do it, itz fine!!

little chuuya headcanons ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

⋆ ˚｡⋆⟡♡⟡⋆｡˚ ⋆

i actually LOVE little chuuya. hes so special to me, but my favorite character just happens to be dazai which is why i talk about him so much, but i am MORE than happy to write babychuu!! :3

⋆ ˚｡⋆⟡♡⟡⋆｡˚ ⋆

headcanons below the cut! . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ chuuya regresses to 5 years old! hes a flip with a caregiver lean! hes a very polite kiddo, and is honestly an easy kid to take care of. youd think with his confident personality when hes big hed be a bit more of a louder kid, but honestly, hes very calm and polite. he says please and thank you, he cleans up after himself, a very good baby :3

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ he LOVES those airbuds movies, i made a post about it around a month ago, those movies with all the golden retriever puppies, like santa buddies, spooky buddies, snow buddies, treasure buddies, etc. theyre his absolute favorite!! he gets so excited to see them! anything puppy themed is his go to, seeing as how much he loves puppies. i can also see him liking paw patrol, and hell get all excited and keep on saying "chase is on the case!".

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ he likes to go outside a lot! in the spring and summer hell play in the mud and get pretty dirty, but chuuya knows its not good to track mud and dirt and grass around the house, so hell allow himself to get cleaned up at the end of the day and then have a nice little treat as a reward :3

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ hes mostly verbal when regressed, hes not really a baby baby, moreso toddler/kiddo age, he can vocalize his wants and needs pretty well, but there are a few times he needs nonspeaking time, or help with big words.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ hes had a few caregivers in his lifetime.

♡ in the sheep, regression was common (i mean- theyre all kids having to act like adults with no parents, living on the streets. it makes sense that some of the sheep would use regression as a coping mechnaism). no one in the sheep really had a set caregiver, but shirase and chuuya were close, so shirase would babysit chuuya.

♡ then albatross was a caregiver for chuuya. ill admit i havent read stormbringer yet... i wanna but idk why im procrastinating 😭 i know a decent amount about it, and about the flags from fanfictions and just being in the fandom though. i dont think albatross really knew a name for what chuuya was going through, but i do think he loved and cared about chuuya, and understood he was traumatized and not doing well mentally, and figured it would make sense for chuuyas brain to seek comfort in a childlike way. he already viewed chuuya as his little brother, he didnt care what age that meant, he just wanted to be there for him! the rest of the flags would babysit for chuuya as well, doc would bandage any ouchies hed get and give him a lolipop to keep him from crying. lippman would love to dress chuuya in fun outfits, and vice versa. iceman would spend quiet time with chuuya and color with him, let him sleep on his lap, pet his hair and make him some tea while he drank his coffee (giving caffeine to a five year old doesnt go over well, lol, he didnt want chuuya too excited- that part he left for albatross lol). i hc specifically that iceman would give chuuya sleepytime tea to get him tired and to fall asleep lol, he likes a quiet environment, and though chuuya is by no means a rowdy kid, sometimes its just nice to relax with a sleeping baby in your lap! i dont know much about pianoman tbh... but he babysat for chuuya too!!

♡ i could see adam being a caregiver as well, and this is where chuuya discovered that what he experienced had a name- age regression. adam, being a robot, was able to inform and educate chuuya about it in a way that the sheep or the flags couldnt. chuuya didnt see anything wrong with it. from all of his life that he could remember he regressed, other people he knew regressed, no one had a problem with it, and if they did they could mind their own business, so help him, lol.

♡ and then ofc, dazai caregives for chuuya! whereas i headcanon chuuya as a flip, dazai is solely a regressor, and has problems accepting his own regression, but would take care of chuuya no questions asked at the drop of a hat. he knows chuuya would, and does, do the same for him, and theyre partners. having each others backs and taking care of each other is what they do. and if taking care of each other means watching paw patrol for hours, or taking chuuya to the park to pet some puppies, or cradling him as he falls asleep, drooling onto dazais chest, then thats what hes gonna do.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ the caregiver headcanons were so long... but its not my fault, everyone loves chuuya!! they all wanna take care of the baby!!

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ pet names!! i think chuuya would like to be called baby boy, honey, kid/kiddo, pretty common ones. dazai would ofc use chibi, mackeral, and slug, i read somewhere the hc that he calls baby chuuya neonate, which is the baby version of a slug lol, and i love that. adam calls chuuya very basic names, like sweetheart and honey. i like to imagine shirase calling chuuya little lamb, cuz they were in the sheep, and singing mary had a little lamb to him, and chuuya was the little lamb.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ speaking of the sheep, chuuya has a sheep nightlight. he uses it when not regressed too, because hes scared of the dark. it gives him nightmares and reminds him of his time in the lab. so his sheep nightlight lets him sleep easier.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ bed time is relatively easy for chuuya. hes an active baby, always wanting to get his hands onto a new activity, be it playing, coloring, tv, drawing, games, whatever. hes always a bit tuckered out by the end of the day and will easily fall asleep in his caregivers arms. he really, really likes to be cradled to sleep, or hugged in someones arms, because the warmth and safety of his caregiver's arms is a welcomed difference to the cold, loneliness he felt in the lab, or when he was afraid and breaking down all alone :(

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ chuuya is a trauma regressor (he is heavily implied to have cptsd, and i also headcanon him to have bpd). he regresses to cope with not remembering his childhood, and moreso from what he does remember of his childhood.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ chuuyas a bit of an older kid, and he doesnt usually suck his thumb, but if hes feeling especially nervous or had a bad day or is having a panic attack or flashback, i think hed start sucking his thumb for comfort (despite telling dazai not to when hes taking care of him lol). dazai never understood the sentiment of pacifiers, but he knew when he was regressed and sucked on his fingers, chuuya always made him sue a pacifier, so he thought in the long run chuuya would appreciate if he gave him a pacifier to suck on. chuuya accepts it, he has nothing against pacifiers, he just needs the sucking sensation to calm down.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ the baby loves cuddles!! even when hes not little, too, but especially when hes feeling small!! hell tuck his head under his caregivers chin and nuzzle into the neck, and he loves to sit on his caregiver's lap! and yknow whats even better than cuddles...? KISSES!! chuuya, the eversweet little guy he is, loves to give his caregiver kisses, and loves to be kissed!! he loves to shower them with kisses on their cheeks, and feels so warm and cozy when hes being put to bed for the night and his caregiver gives him a sweet, tender kiss on the forehead.

ugh i have so many more headcanons but this is getting really long... im so into little chuuya especially with the release of the stormbringer manga... like theres no way this poor child doesnt regress to cope ☹️ i lowkey had to remind myself not to make this caregiver dazai centered because im brainrotted by soukoku lol. hes there vaguely, but i wanted little chuuya to be the center of attention!!

[scpsis]

her ethereal radiance was excellent for business. as good as a kilmer-level celebrity endorsement. he'd have sat her by the window if it wasn't too obvious, like a beautiful little advertisement — hopefully a social media post or two would do the trick, if she even used that stuff. panhandle oyster co's interior design was intentionally instagram-able, all moody lighting and high-end finishes. he'd consulted professionals.

his name was honey in her mouth — judge couldn't help the way it pulled at the strings of the corners of his lips. " i see we brought out the new sauvignon blanc for you. how do you like it ? we're still trying it out. comes from an indigenous-owned winery in california. all organic and sustainably produced. " his enthusiasm for hospitality is crisp, like the wine, and so very genuine. sometimes bordering on obsessive. " you have room for dessert ? we've got cheesecake with lemon curd that would go fucking perfectly with another glass. " expletive aside — it was his restaurant after all. he could speak how he wanted, even if that same lenience wasn't offered to his employees — he may as well have asked if the girl wanted him to serve the whole world to her on a silver platter.

vedia was best at being alone when she was not entirely alone ⸺ she exceeded in solitude, in particularly spectacular fashion, when buffed on all sides by the soft cushion of glances and the hedgerow of attention. it wasn't entirely her fault ⸺ girls who prefer the centre of the room rarely come to this partiality on their own. they learn the aptitude by first being pretty creatures pinned to a corkboard, a showcase drawn up and speared through by hovering parental hands. all that to say that by the time the owner of the dim-lit leather booth vedia finds herself sitting in makes his way over to her, she's enjoyed the night immensely ... as she does every night at his restaurant.

"judge," his name comes out warm and rolled in the careless warmth so characteristic of vedia's voice. she's wine-drunk and lighthearted for it, smiling, a pink silk balloon filled to the point of shining. "i was wondering if i'd see you tonight." her eye glance over the length of him, clad in the vaguely familiar look of what she assumes to be a true seaman. though there were too many years between them for vedia to register judge as anything tangible, he had the platonic charm of a well-timed sunset or a neatly assembled cabin: a view on the roadside you enjoyed simply because it was there. "i don't know how you do it..." vedia cants her head, little fingers curling against the line of her glass, nails milky and round and clinking against the stem. like set of pearls pried from oysters they kept in the back. "if this was any better it would be positively indecent."

[lemongogo]

they should get to kill each other at least twice .i think

[sunsetsandsunshine]

~ 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚎 ~

·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚜𝚗’𝚝 𝚔𝚒𝚍𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝙸 𝚜𝚊𝚒𝚍 𝚂𝚘𝚗𝚒𝚌 𝟹 𝚋𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚖𝚢 𝚂𝚘𝚗𝚒𝚌 𝚑𝚢𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚏𝚒𝚡𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 😭👍🏾…˚*• ̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*＊·̩̩̥͙

𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: 𝙷𝚞𝚛𝚝/𝙲𝚘𝚖𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝 

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜: 𝟺,𝟸𝟽𝟻

𝙻𝚎𝚎: 𝙺𝚗𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚎𝚜 🥊❤️

𝙻𝚎𝚛: 𝙼𝚊𝚍𝚍𝚒𝚎 🥨💜

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝙴𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝙺𝚗𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚎𝚜 𝚌𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝙶𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝙷𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚜…𝚑𝚎’𝚜 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚍𝚊𝚙𝚝. 𝙵𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝, 𝚊𝚝 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚝…

(𝙰/𝙽: 𝙰 𝚖𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚘𝚗 𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚙. 𝙽𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎…𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜. 𝙳𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚋𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚐𝚞𝚢! 𝙺𝚒𝚗𝚔/𝙽𝚂𝙵𝚆 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚜 𝙳𝙽𝙸!!!)

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝚃𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚑 𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚞𝚎𝚜, 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚖 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚔!!!

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝙼𝙰𝙳𝙴 𝚃𝙷𝙸𝚂 𝙸𝙽 𝙻𝙸𝙺𝙴 𝚃𝙷𝚁𝙴𝙴 𝙳𝙰𝚈𝚂 𝙳𝙾𝙽’𝚃 𝙴𝚅𝙴𝚁 𝙿𝙻𝙰𝚈𝚈𝚈𝚈𝚈˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

Maddie almost fully leaped out of her spot on the bed her and her husband shared as she suddenly awoke, her eyes darting around the room before taking a deep breath, relaxing herself. 

She didn’t need to use the bathroom…

And she made sure all of the kids (+ Ozzie) were in their beds…

So why did she feel so…uneasy?

Tom broke through his sleep at the sudden movement from his wife, holding her hand as he rubbed it with his thumb gently, “Everything okay, love?” He mumbled out groggily. 

Maddie couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle at her husband’s sleepy voice, giving his hand a quick kiss as she got up from the bed, “I’m fine, babe. I just…I-I just…” She trailed off.

The cop yawned, raising a brow, “Having those random feelings of uneasiness again?” 

The woman in purple pajamas nodded. 

“Gonna go check up on our kids?”

She nodded once more.

“M'kay…” The famous Donut Lord yawned, drifting back to sleep, “Just call me if you need anything…” He mumbled as he closed his eyes and snored like no tomorrow.

Maddie rolled her eyes fondly, putting on her fluffy purple robe that was hoisted on a clothing hanger as put on her house slippers, going upstairs to the attic. 

The nurse quietly made her way to the attic, her heart racing with a sort of…adrenaline as she made her way to the beds…

…Although, she didn’t know why.

First, she made her way to Tails' bed, who, was soundly sleeping peacefully underneath his blankets. Maddie kissed his forehead, adjusting his noise canceling headphones on his ears as she further tucked him in as she made her way to Sonic…

And ohhhhhh, Sonic…

The kid was basically sprawled along his bed like a used up rag-doll…

…Which, Maddie didn’t know whether to mark it off as concerning or impressive. 

Maybe both.

The adult wrapped the blue hedgehog in his favorite blanket, kissing his forehead and subtly giggling as she saw him smile in his sleep at the kiss.

Lastly, she made her Knuckles' bed…

…That was missing, well…Knuckles. 

The woman took a deep breath, taking her phone out of her robe pocket as she tried to calm herself. 

He was going to absolutely GET IT if he went out 'adventuring' again. 

Maddie could not handle another week asking random people in Green Hills of the red echidna’s whereabout’s…

…Her heart just could not take that amount of stress anymore!

And if Wade was even the SLIGHTEST bit responsible he was going to GET IT too.

The brown eyed human made her way downstairs, relief washing over her as she saw the back quills of a familiar red fellow sitting at the bottom of the stairs that led to the kitchen. 

“…Knuckles?” She quietly said. 

The echidna swiftly turned around at the woman’s words, his pupils sharpening before softening upon realizing who was behind him. 

As he met her concerned yet loving gaze, he looked away, focusing on the wooden floor as if it was the most interesting thing as of right now.

Well…at least it was just Madeline. 

Or 'Pretzel Woman' as the red themed teenager liked to call her.

It honestly could have been way worse…

…The blue themed hedgehog could have awoken instead of Maddie…

…And that would have been a whole other problem Knuckles did not have the time or patience for. 

The teenager forced himself to relax slightly, his shoulders still tense in case of anything or…anyonedeciding to…surprise him.

Because he was an echidna warrior! He simply just did not get sneaked up on. 

“Pretzel Woman.” He hummed, “I would not have expected you to be awake at such hours…” 

“I wish I could say the same for you, sweetheart…” The 'Pretzel Woman' in question chuckled lightly, coming down and sitting on the stair the small teen was stifly sitting on, “What are you doing up, love?”

“I am keeping watch.” Knuckles stated simply, his seating spot remaining on the steps but his eyes darting in every which way around the house, seeming to look for a nonexistent threat. 

Or grapes. Those he will always look out for.

“Did…I wake you?” His violet eyes morphing into one of guilt, “I am sorry if that is the case…I tried to be as silent as possible whilst scouting this evening.” 

“No no! Not at all.” Maddie quickly assured, “I-I just…had a certain…feeling to get up, y'know?” 

But Knuckles did not know, only quietly nodding his head as he tried to make sense of what the chocolate eyed human was stating, “…I see.” He hummed once more, now looking up as he peered on the outside door, his eye ridges creasing together. 

Maddie fiddled with her fingers anxiously, not appreciating the sudden silence as she tried to collect her thoughts to think of what to say next.

Because, truth be told…Knuckles has been doing this…'guarding' business ever since he came to live in Green Hills. 

And it was somewhat nice the first week…

A tad bit jarring the second week…

But now it was the third week. 

And Maddie cannot recall one time she has seen Knuckles shut his eyes for more than a second.

“You are distressed.” The short teenager concluded bluntly, observing Maddie’s facial expression and body language, “Are you perhaps…cold?” 

The woman let a small smile strech to her features at that, “I’m not cold, sweetheart. But thank you for your concern.” She said gently, resting her hand on the teenager’s shoulder but drawing it back as the teeanger in question stifened further at the sudden contact. 

“But…I am worried.” The purple cladded woman stated, well…worriedly as she put her hands on her lap. 

The fifteen year old’s eye ridges knitted together in slight confusion, letting out a small: “Oh.” 

He looked up at her, “Why is that?”

The nurse started, “You’ve been staying up—”

“Scouting.” Knuckles politely corrected.

“—scouting…” She corrected herself, “…for three weeks straight, Knux. Aren’t you tired?”

“No.” The violet eyed teen uttered, “An echidna warrior is only tired when they need be. Which, I am not.” He stated, ironically burying back a small yawn that was bubbling in his throat.

Which, did not go unnoticed by Maddie. 

“Everyone gets tired eventually…” The human said, “It’s not healthy to just…skip sleep, hun. It’s not good for you.” 

“Only I know what is good and what is not good for me, Pretzel Woman.” The red echidna huffed, completely brushing off the other’s concern, “I will sleep when my duty is done.”

“Your…'duty?'” Maddie repeated.

Knuckles nodded, putting his right fist on his chest as he spoke, “I have promised you, the Lord of the Donuts, the loud hedgehog and the anxious fox to guard the Master Emerald, yes?”

“Well, yes, but—”

“And I have also promised to protect you all.” He announced proudly and matter-of-factly, “A protector never rests.” 

“Hun…I think we’ve proven we’re more than capable at protecting ourselves.” The human lightly joked as she almost immediately regretted her statement and tone as she saw the teen’s expression shift from proud to…distress. 

And there it is...

…You have such a wonderful way of words, Madeline…

…SUCH a wonderful way with words…

A flash of hurt made their way through Knuckles' eyes, though, he tried to hide it as we looked away, glaring at the floor slightly he hugged himself, which made the human feel even more guilty, “…I…I am aware of that fact.”

And immediately the adult started to backtrack at the teenager’s now almost distraught and downtrodden expression, “I-It’s not that we don’t appreciate it— appreciate you, love. I just don’t want you collapsing randomly one day because you’re staying up every single night keeping watch of us and the house.”

“I do not collapse.” The kid said in an almost defensive-like tone, “And when I eventually will, I would gladly do so knowing I have protected you all to the fullest.” 

And right then and there Maddie could have sworn she felt her heart stop at that, feeling the smallest twinge of lightheadedness as she curled her fingers, forming fists on her lap. 

“No!” The human shouted, lowering her voice as she realized she yelled a tad bit too loudly, making Knuckles flinch slightly at the sudden exclamation, “No no no! Knuckles, where is this coming from?!” 

The nurse pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to stay calm but found it really difficult due to the fact one of her kids openly stated he would be fine literally DYING if it meant he would fulfill his 'duty', “I don’t want you staying up guarding, scouting— whatever you call it! I just don’t want you doing any of those things!” 

The echidna’s face morphed to a frown, “But—“

“No, Knux…” Maddie said, her tone leaving no room for argument…

…The 'Mother voice' if you will…

“This is the last time you’re doing something like this. End of story.” The purple cladded human said, crossing her arms across her chest.

And then again, there was…a small silence that fell between the two. 

A silence neither of them liked at all. 

But the air was too thick with…all of a sudden tension that they both stayed quiet, in fear they would say the wrong thing…

…Again.

But eventually, the red echidna couldn’t take the silence; couldn’t take the tension any longer. 

He looked at the figure in front of him once more, fixing his composure to appear more confident…but ultimately just appearing to be straight up panic-stricken. 

“Then what can I do…?” He mumbled out meekly.

Maddie’s hands dropped to her sides, her eyebrows creasing together, “…What…do you mean?”

“To…To repay you all.” The violet eyed teenager further explained, mentally punching himself for sounding so completely and utterly…weak, “To make up for what I’ve done previously. T-To…guarntee my stay in the Wachowski clan.”

And those words alone spoke measures. 

The nurse’s heart might of well dropped all the way to the floor, because all of a sudden she felt like she could not breathe. 

She puts Knuckles' hand in hers, even though the echidna’s hand was obviously and ultimately TWICE her hand size…she didn’t care.

For crying out loud this was her son.

And she would never ever forgive herself if after this he would continue to think otherwise.

Then…

…Everything clicked. 

“…Sweetheart…did you…d-did you think we were going to…kick you out…?” She asked as if she already knew the answer, afraid of what the other would say. 

The short teenager picked up quickly that Maddie somehow knew now, guilt almost immediately hitting him like a train as he hugged himself with his free hand, looking down at his lap, “Yes.” He admitted, hugging himself more as he saw the other start to become teary eyed, “Before coming here to the Wachowski residance…I was responsible for so many casualties…” He muttered, “…I still am.”

The teenager’s tail droops, bringing his fist to his face to try and hide his also now tearing up expression, “I helped Robotnik seize control of your town and almost the entire planet…” 

“…I-If I had just listened to Sonic…your house would not still be under repair. You and the Lord of Donuts would not have to call that 'Uber' you always speak of every morning to simply go to your designated jobs!” He yelled, not really caring if anyone else besides Maddie heard him at this point.

“Growing up, my Father always told me to never put my hands on someone else unless they did so to me first…” He murmured, a hint of fondness in his tone speaking of his as of late Father.   

“I broke that promise when I met Sonic.” He mumbled out, ignoring the feelings of his eyes starting to become more wet, “But…B-But above all else…all my Father wanted for me was for me to be a good person…”

Knuckles let out a small sob, harshly wiping his face as his shoulder hung low…

…Out of hatred or frustration…? 

Maybe a little bit of both…? 

Maddie wasn’t sure.

“A-And I promised him. I swore on my life I would live by those two promises…” The small echidna hiccuped, yanking his arm away from the human as he gripped his arm with one hand until he couldn’t feel it anymore, “A-And I f-failed those two simple oaths b-by j-j-just acting so f-foolish…” 

The taller figure watched the other shake with sobs, swiftly scooting closer to him as she gently held his wrists to stop him from further hurting himself.  

“Oh, sweetheart���” She mumbled, her heart heavy as she saw the teenager duck his head further, “Hey…hey…” Maddie whispered, cupping the echidna’s face in her palms.

And to be completely honest? Knuckles wanted to hurt himself further as he did nothing but melt to the small but impactful form of affection…

“Can you look at me?” The nurse carefully asked. 

Knuckles quietly looked at her, his face scrunched up to try and attempt to stop the tears freely flowing down his cheeks like a waterfall. 

Maddie sighed sadly, wiping his tears with her thumb as she gently rubbed his cheeks, “I need you to listen to me, okay?”

He shakily nodded.

“You are a good person.” She emphasized sternly, “One mistake that you made doesn’t automatically define your worth.”

“This…” She said, gesturing to herself and Knuckles. “…is not a transaction. We are giving you a room to sleep in because we love you. We are giving you clothes to wear because we love you. We are giving you food to eat because we love you…”

“…Even though I would prefer you eat something other than grapes.” She tried to joke, which ended up finally working very effectively as she saw a small but genuine smile appear on the echidna’s face.

Knuckles couldn’t help but let out a soft snort, rolling his eyes before focusing on Maddie once again, “My grapes have nothing to do with this…” 

“And I do also consume Cool Ranch Doritos from time to time…” The teen mumbled, “So saying I onlyeat grapes is inaccurate.” 

The nurse gently squished his cheek playfully, “And this?” She gestured as she wiped away his tears once again, “Is because I love you. Not because I’m expecting something in return.” She explained as she now put his hands in her’s as if the size meant nothing to her…

…Because it didn’t.

“Robotnik tricked you. He tricked you into thinking he was a nice man. That isn’t your fault.” The human sternly announced once again. 

The red furred echidna shook his head, “But I endangered everyone—”

“—But you also saved everyone.” The purple pajama wearing woman quickly added, “You tried to fix your mistakes…don’t think I didn’t see you punching those egg robot thingies, hun. You weren’t messing around.” 

“I am not prone to be one who 'messes around…'” He said, his eyes almost jumping out of their sockets as Maddie planted a small kiss on his forehead.

“And that? That is because…” She gently urged on.

“You…Y-You love me...” Knuckles finished, almost choking on his own words, before lightly pushing her away in an attempt to get her to leave…

…Because she would eventually…

…Right?

“…Y-You hardly even know me.” The violet eyed echidna whispered, looking up at the taller figure as she gently bumped her shoulder with his.

“Doesn’t mean I can’t love you.” Maddie exclaimed as she smiled warmly, the warmness somehow making its way to the echidna warrior as his heart fluttered in his chest.

A small, subtle blush appeared on his muzzle as he looked away, trying to hide his expression. 

He cleared his throat, “I…suppose that is true, Pretzel Woman…”

“Just 'Maddie' is fine, sweetie.”

The fifteen year old swallowed, wiping his eyes with his arm as he finally looked at the taller.

And if Maddie squinted…she was almost 100% sure she saw a small sparkle in the child’s eyes. 

“Alright…Maddie.” The teenager announced shyly but proudly, resting his head on the other’s shoulder.

The nurse had to keep in literally every single fiber in her body to stop herself from squealing like a high-school preppy girl. 

“You don’t owe us anything…okay?” The brown eyed woman stated, “You’re apart of a family, Knux. And one doesn’t protect the whole family…we all protect each other.” She rubbed Knuckles' knuckles gently and comfortingly with her thumb, “You’re a Wachowski. And the Wachowski’s stick together.”

And just like that, another silence fell among the two…although, this one was less tense which Maddie could not be more grateful for. 

But the nurse couldn’t shake the feeling that something was being left…unsaid and undone.

And if you knew her…you knew dang well those two words were just simply not apart of her dictionary. 

“May I give you a hug?” She asked somewhat hesitantly, but couldn’t stop the smile spreading to her face as she saw the echidna perk up at the mention. 

The red echidna collected himself, clearing his throat again as he glanced up at her, “You may.” 

The human wrapped the echidna in her arms, her smile doubling in size as she felt the teen wrap his own arms around her…somewhat stifly and awkwardly. 

But hey, he was trying.

“I love you, Knux.” The chocolate eyed woman hummed, “And you don’t have to say it back if you aren’t ready.” 

The violet eyed echidna nodded, shyly burying his face into the other’s shoulder as they continued to embrace.

“Do you…want to go back to your room…?” Maddie asked in a tone signifying she was alright with a 'yes' or a 'no'. 

The warrior only held Maddie tighter at that, shaking his head as he buried his face into her shoulder harder, “In…I-In a little bit…” He answered honestly, “I do not want to go just yet…” 

“That’s fine.” The human assured, “How about…we stay on the couch for a while? I bet it’s way more comfy than these old stairs.”

The red furred echidna nodded, “…Alright.” 

He followed the taller to the living room, sitting on the couch as she did, watching her as she flipped through the channels.

“You okay with watching 'F.R.I.E.N.D.S.?'” The woman asked as she flipped to the Nick-at-Nite channel, relaxing on the couch cushion. 

“I am very fond of my companions, yes.” The young warrior nodded, resting his eyes on the TV as this so called….'F.R.I.E.N.D.S.' show started to play.

The two sat on the couch for a while, small chuckles and snickers being shared as they reacted to the show in front of them. 

Knuckles yawned, crossing his arms as he rested his head on Maddie’s arm which the older did not pay any mind to, subconsciously scratching his quills.

The younger’s eyes widened, not moving away from the touch but seeming genuinely shocked by it, “What are you doing?”

At that, the human quickly drew her hand away.

Shit.

“O-Oh, I’m sorry, baby.” She said apologetically, cursing herself for making it seem like she was trying to rush him with anything…

“It’s just a thing I do with Sonic and Tails— they find it calming. I’m sorry, I should’ve asked. It’s just…kind of an instinct…” Maddie said to Knuckles as he looked down, fiddling with his gloved fingers as he looked anywhere but the person beside him, “You do not…have to stop if you do not wish.” He admitted quietly, “It feels nice…”

The nurse tried (and failed) to hide yet another dorky grin that spread to her face as she gently ruffled Knuckles quills once more, cooing on the inside as the echidna subtly leaned into the touch, trying his absolute best to concentrate on the television but obviously clearly enjoying the affection as his tail wagged softly against the couch. 

As the TV ran, Maddie moved her hand to scratch where Knuckles' ears would be and the young warrior absolutely melted at the new touch, his tail wagging faster.

The purple cladded woman fondly smiled at the reaction, moving her fingers to gently scratch the back of the echidna’s neck but nothing would have prepared her for the loud shriek the teenager let out as she did so.

The violet eyed fifteen year old covered his mouth in shock as the human retreated her hand back, her face morphing to worry once more, “A-Are you alright? Are you hurt?” 

The echidna swallowed, not even trying to hide the small blush that appeared on his muzzle now as he put his hand to the side, “I-I am…uninjured.” He said as calmly as he could muster, “I apologize for startling you…I also startled myself…” 

“It’s okay, sweetheart…” The purple cladded human said, “…But what happened?”

“I am…not sure.” Knuckles explained as he rubbed the back of his neck as if to redo the feeling he just felt, “You touched the back of my neck and it felt…odd.” 

“Odd?” Maddie repeated. 

“Odd.” Knuckles said again.

The nurse raised a curious brow, lightly poking the red furred echidna where she was once scratching him as he burst into surprised and confused giggles.

The fifteen year old shook his head back and forth, scrunching up his shoulders as he lightly tried to pry the other’s hand away.

What…was this?

And why did it make him feel so…giddy and carefree?!

“C-Cease thihis s-sohorcery ahahat once!” The violet eyed echidna giggly demanded, hugging himself and falling down on the couch, “Ceeheease ceeheease ceeheeheeheease!!” He snickered as Maddie gently started to spider her finger nails along his sides. 

“It isn’t sorcery, love. Your just ticklish.” The adult chuckled, putting one and one together. 

“N-Nohohoh Ihi ahahaham nohot!” The red furred teen denied through his chorus of laughs, “Ahan ehechidna waharrior woHOULD neHEHEver hahave suhuHUCH AHA c-chihildish weeheeakness!” 

“Really?” Maddie smiled, intrigued as she gently prodded the other’s lower ribs, causing the other in question to automatically jerk, throwing his head back as he buried his heels in the couches cushions, “NOHOH thIHIs ihihis CHIHIHILDIHISH!!” He desperately squealed. 

The woman in purple pajamas couldn’t help the small coo she let out at the teenager’s adorable reactions…

…And Knuckles didn’t even need to look at her to know she found his once-in-a-full-moon flustered expression very amusing.

“Awe, Knux���” The nurse lightly teased as her fingers continued their ticklish torment on the echidna’s ribs. 

“NOHOH— snrk! DOHOHON’T!!” The echidna in question cried as his cheeks started to match his fur color, internally cursing his natural body movements as his tail wagged happily once more.

“Don’t what~? Don’t tickle you?” Maddie sweetly asked, only receiving a small but LOUD snort from the other as she moved down to gently scratch along his stomach, “Looks like I found a bad spot, huh, bud~?”

“IHIHIT IHISN’T snrt BAHAD!!” The teen insisted, banging his fists on the couch, “IHAT JUHAH—! SNRT! JUHUST FEEHEELS OHODD!!”

“Interesting…” The adult hummed, pretending she was pondering something as he dug her hand’s into the violet eyed echidna’s underarms, wincing slightly as he let out a sharp scream before descending into loud cackles.

“This feel odd too?” She asked innocently. 

“IHIHAT’S snrt snrt EEHEEVEN WOHOHORSE!!!” Knuckles laughed, “G-GEHAT snrt AHAHOUT OHOF THERE!” 

“Get out of where~?”

“THEHEHEHERE!” The teen quickly retorted, trying to gesture to his underarm but anytime he tried to the other would just simply make her touches even lighter, “MAHADDIE DAHAHON’T AHACT snrt STUPID!” 

“'Stupid~?'” The nurse dramatically gasped, “And here I thought we bonded!” She huffed as she fluttered her fingers in the crooks of the teen’s neck and under his chin.

And truth be told…Knuckles was absolutely, positively embarrassed of this whole ordeal.

And to be honest…he could have gotten up anytime he wanted…

…But he didn’t.

He hadn’t thought he’d ever feel such…happiness and carefreeness ever again…

…But it’s like Sonic always said…

'Hope is a hedgehog’s greatest weapon.' 

“SNRT! NOHOH!! STOHOP SNRT IHAT!!!” The echidna wheezed out, his legs frantically kicking behind Maddie.

“Guess this is your sweet spot…” The woman smiled brightly. 

“NAHAHAH! SNRT! NOHAHOTHING AHABOHOUT SNRT SNRT MY NECK IHIHIS SWEEHEEHEET!!!” The young warrior cackled loudly, tears welling up in his eyes…

…And for the first time in…well, forever…they were happy ones. 

“AHALRIGHT!! AHAHALRIHIGHT!!!” He relented, lightly pushing on her hands, “IHI SURRENDER! IHIHIHI SURRENDER!!” 

And just like that Maddie immediately let up, sitting back as Knuckles let out a couple more aftermath giggles.

“You okay, baby?” The human asked, wiping away the rest of his happy tears. 

“Y-Yehes. I aham snrt fine…” The red echidna hummed, sitting back on the couch as he layed his head on the figure’s shoulder again. 

“Thank you, Mo—“ Knuckles' eyes widened, quickly catching his slip-up, “M-Maddie. Maddie. Thank you, Maddie.” He exclaimed quickly, quietly praying to his echidna ancestors that the purple pajama wearing woman did not catch his mistake.

But judging by her wide eyes and agape mouth…she most likely did.

“Uhm…I-I must go to my sleeping quarters now…g-goodnight.” Knuckles stammered under his breath quickly and quiety, not waiting for the other to give an answer as he basically sprinted to the attic, quietly closing the door to not disturb his brothers whom were soundly fast asleep. 

Maddie slowly got out of her state of shock, her heart basically leaping out of her chest as she fondly smiled, shutting off all the lights in the living room and kitchen before taking one small glance at the closed attic door.

She felt…so warm and…so fuzzy…

Instead of her heart dropping…she honestly felt like it just soared to heaven. 

“Goodnight, son.” She whispered, wiping her eyes as she slipped into her and Tom’s bedroom, going under the covers next to her husband and going back to sleep. 

·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝙵𝙸𝙽˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙ 

(𝙿.𝚂.: 𝙸𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚌, 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐!!!)

[sappho-rose]

"The world doesn't know me yet."

[pyrobot1cs]

i dont get how people can call sollux a loser he wins so much in the comic. i will now refresh some of these wins in the form of a greentext

> be me, goldblood mutant with x-men powers

> restore world-altering video game my powerful girlfriend found scraps of through just my knowledge of code

> form two teams to play this game. pitch flirt with my cute hemo-anon friend about it

> predict i will die

> die from vast glub

> hot fuschia princess kisses me back to life

> i have double the amount of extra lives. on account of my swagger

> beat sgrub with the rest of my session

> transported to meteor in The Veil

> be the most tech savvy troll on the meteor, explaining timeline communication on Trollian to other trolls

> robot ex apologizes to me and explodes

> in a red relationship with aforementioned princess

> princesses violet ex goes berserk

> get knocked out

> im the only survivor from the trolls that he attacked

> cute hemo-anon friend protects my knocked out body

> he drops me down a flight of stairs

> wake up

> lisp gone

> voices of the doomed gone

> fuck yes

> talk to hot girlfriend whos now a time god in the dream bubbles

> drive the meteor into The Green Sun with my x-men powers

> die again. only a little bit this time though

> half ghost now hanging out with my time god girlfriend

> fuck off from the meteor to chill with her in paradox space

> somewhere my half corpse gets prototyped

> fully alive again, also fully blind

> chilling

> mfw

[beiyuanism]

au where fadel has a cooking blog under a fake name where he posts his recipes. every entry has that typical long, oddly personal introduction, except he assumes no one ever reads them anyway so he uses it as a diary of sorts. like, "growing up, mother would often be gone for weeks at a time, unless it was time for my younger brother and i to train to become assassins, so i was the one to cook in our household most of the time. this is the dish i would make on the days when i had no energy to cook after spending them at the shooting range" or "i developed this recipe for my late boyfriend a few years ago. he was the love of my life, so it really hurt me when i had to kill him on mother's orders, and i haven't made this dish again since then, but it's honestly a really good recipe and it would be a shame not to share it".

at some point, someone posts about it on twitter and it goes viral. people think it's just a very good bit and the author is extremely committed to it, because through the pieces of information you can actually piece together a full story of his life since childhood to most recent events, and it's so bizarre that no one considers it could be anything but a creative writing exercise for a bored housewife whose name he publishes under. that is, until someone accidentally remembers that a recent recipe on that one cooking blog had a story scarily similar to the assassination they're just hearing about on the news now, and people start connecting the blog posts to other unsolved assassinations. in the end, the consensus is that this is either a very dedicated expert in politics who is coincidentally crazy enough to cosplay as a killer in a niche cooking blog, or someone who knows enough about the mechanics of political killings to accidentally predict things. anyone who thinks the infamous assassin who's managed to escape dozens of times is writing about this on a public blog in his free time is treated as a conspiracy theorist, because, really, you have to be stupid to think that.

[paperbackfable]

Erend: they don't Id me at the liquor store anymore because they see the light has left my eyes

-

Erend: We're playing Scrabble. It's a nightmare.

Alva: Scrabble? Scrabble's great.

Erend: Not when you're playing with Zo, it's not. They put words like "ephemeral" and I put "dog".

-

Varl: You're ignoring all your problems.

Aloy: I know.

Varl: You also know it's an unhealthy coping mechanism?

Aloy: I'm ignoring that fact as well.

Varl:

-

Zo: In your opinion, what's the height of stupidity?

Aloy: turning to Sylens How tall are you?

-

Aloy: You lying, cheating, piece of shit!

Sylens: Oh yeah? You're the idiot who thinks you can get away with everything you do. WELCOME TO THE REAL WORLD.

Aloy: I'm leaving you, and I'm TAKING BETA WITH ME!

Varl, picking up the strike board: I think we're gonna stop playing now.

-

Aloy: Want do you want to be for "Halloween"?

Beta: Loved.

Aloy: Don't do this.

-

Sylens: I will not stand to be disrespected like this!

Aloy: Then sit.

-

Alva: Imagine if someone handed you a box full of all the things you lost throughout your life...

Zo: It would be nice to have my sense of purpose back.

Aloy: Oh wow, my childhood innocence! Thank you for finding this.

Beta: My will to live! I haven't seen this in years.

Erend: I knew I lost that potential somewhere.

Varl: Mental stability, my old friend!

Alva: Ancestors, could you guys lighten up a little?

-

Varl: What do you think Kotallo will do for a distraction?

Aloy: Probably, like, whistle or throw a rock. That's what I would do.

Building explodes and several car alarms go off

Aloy: ...or they could do that.

-

OK THAT'S ENOUGH I SHOULD PROABLY STOP NOW BYE

[puhpandas]

Rabbit Burrow

(3,785 words) Part 1 (part 2 found here)

Tony Becker, one year after surviving the attack from GGY, tracks down Gregory post-SB. But he has to get through Vanessa before he can get to Gregory.

Tony likes to think his detective skills are pretty good. So when he swings a leg over the seat of his bike and wheels it near the entrance, he hopes it's the right place.

He'd tracked down Gregory to this apartment complex somewhere in Gale county. It's still in Hurricane, and Tony had been able to reach it with just a bus ride. The apartment is somewhat run-down, but clean enough to where you can tell it's well kept, just old. The air conditioning units he passes on the way to the front door are brand new.

He'd taken the closest bus to Gale county right after school let out. He'd been restless all day up until finally acting on his findings. Tony has been searching for Gregory for a year. Finally finding something and having to wait for his middle school day to end was agonizing. He just hopes his Mom and Grandma wont be too mad at him.

He'd wrestled his bike he'd ridden to school that day discreetly onto the bus and wedged it in-between his legs and the seat in front of him. The air had been humid and thick all day with the signs of a storm, and Tony had seen the dark clouds and heard the thunder peeking over the treeline outside the bus window on the way here. He ducks inside the front door and beats the rain by seconds.

"Can I help you?" The receptionist asks him, giving him a weird look when he steps inside. Shes a lady with long, styled black hair and covered in jewelry. Tony tries not to look too suspicious as he sends her a polite smile, heading to the elevator on the wall to the left. He would also be wary if someone he'd never seen walked into a resident building.

"Just seeing an old friend." He tells her. He presses the button to the third floor and tries to break her gaze by stepping behind the closing doors. The elevator shakes a bit before moving up.

He tries to take a deep breath. Theres some kind of excitement floating around in his chest at the fact that he's done it, but he pushes it down, lowering his expectations.

Despite his theories, he really has no clue what to expect. Theres some sort of worry mixing with the excitement, and all he decides is that if he escaped once, he can do it again.

It both took too long and not fast enough when he finally reaches the third floor. He double checks his crumpled sheet of notebook paper in his hand once, then a second time, something nervous but anticipating thrumming in his veins.

He steps onto the beige carpet of the long hallway, fresh vacuum marks in it, and follows the number plates by each door before coming to a stop near the middle of the hall.

3-05 The plate reads back to him. He quadruple checks his paper again. Its right.

He sighs out deeply, not even realizing he was holding his breath. Despite himself, his brows crease ever so slightly.

He shakes it away, pushing past it. Maybe digging too deep is what got him into trouble before, but its different now. Tony... Tony's learned things during his search for Gregorys location. If there was any point during his investigation that he would call digging too deep, it would have been months earlier from now.

Besides. Tony has always been bad at staving off his curiosity.

He thunks his knuckles on the white wood of the door quickly after that, three times in succession. He kind of bluescreens for a second when he realizes what he just did, then shakes it off. Waiting with wide eyes at the door, watching for a rattling of a doorknob or listening for incoming footsteps.

Nothing. He waits a few more minutes before knocking again, this time a little louder and harder.

Tony perks up when footsteps finally near the door, and his lips part prematurely when the doorknob rattles, not even put-together words yet on his tongue. They fall away immediately when a woman with blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail opens the door, one of those chain locks keeping it open maximum of three inches. "Hello?"

He stutters for a moment, words lost on his tongue, before he clears his throat, putting on a polite smile. "Hi, there." He says. "Um. Who are you?"

"I should be asking you that, kid." The woman raises a brow at him, never opening the door more than the chain lock allows it. She peers at him through the gap, and Tony tries as discreetly as possible to look past her head and shoulder into the apartment itself. "What are you doing here?"

When he looks back, shes still looking at him in a way Tony can only describe as cautious. The light in the hallway on the ceiling is flickering, and it casts split second shadows on the womans face that makes the bags under her eyes that much more prominent and her face that much more intimidating. "Well?"

Tony realizes he hasnt answered, and coughs slighty. "Oh. Sorry." He says, reluctant to continue. "I'm... I'm looking for Gregory."

Tony watches intensely to see if the name rings a bell or catches her attention. Just as he expects, her face twists ever so slightly in recognition. Tony catches something adjacent to panic or fear in her eyes until it's gone not half a second later.

"Who's asking?" She asks eventually, voice carefully even after a what appeared to Tony to be a mini conundrum in her head.

"His friend." He answers honestly. He ducks his head when the woman scrutinizes him, looking almost angry, but restrained enough to not show it. "I mean it," He says earnestly. "he and I... we were best friends. Last year. I came here to look for him."

Her eyes widen ever so slightly at that, and she studies him, eyes flicking back and forth over his face and his clothes and his hair. Tony doesnt miss the way her eyes linger for a millisecond on his scars. Its silent in the hall save for the two looking at eachother, and the buzzing of the flickering light on the ceiling is enough to save him from hearing his own heartbeat.

"Okay." She says eventually, and Tony subconsciously feels himself sag a bit at the relief that he won't turned away right as he was this close. She shuts the door without a word, and all Tony can do is stare at the peeling landlord white paint on the door as the sounds of the woman unlatching the multiple locks on the other side reach his ears. He waits patiently, until she cracks the door open not much wider than it had been with the lock, but just enough to fit his body in. "Come in. But no word to anyone. Got it?"

About what? Tony's about to ask, but then he steps through the door and the words die on his tongue.

"Oh." He says outwardly when Glamrock Freddy Fazbear sits on the couch. His body is adjacent to the patchwork quilt Tony has on his bed that his Grandma made him, and any of the makeup he had been painted with has long since scratched off.

His eyes are shut, and theres two jump cables attached to his ears that are plugged into a portable something. He doesn't so much as twitch when Tony enters the room.

The woman gives him a look after she re-locks only the deadbolt behind him and passes him into the apartment. "Oh." He repeats. "Not a word."

She nods at him, and it's only now that Tony can see the rest of her that isnt just her face. Shes in her twenties, if he had to guess, and she has a white tank top on with some sort of stain near the collar along with Hello Kitty fleece pajama pants. Her socks are mismatched and her nails are painted a purple color that could rival the deep bags under her eyes.

She collapses into an armchair (which hes pretty sure has a mismatched leg attached to it half-hazardously) and only looks at him silently as he steps further into the house, not so discreetly angling his body to get a peek past walls and open doors across the house.

Shes about to speak when Tony does first, "Wheres Greg?" He asks straight up. "Can I see him?"

Her lips twitch, and she just leans further back into the chair. The TV is playing some sort of Spring baking show, and the droning of the host mixes with the pattering of the rain on the window on the wall by the TV.

Anticipation and impatient-ness buzzes under his skin at being right here, and this woman undoubtedly knowing Gregory certainly doesnt help.

She only hesitates for a moment, but Tony can see the influx of thoughts that undoubtedly ran through her mind. She opens her mouth, taking a slow breath, before, "At school."

"He goes to school?" Tony gasps slightly, eyes widening. He moves to the couch, toeing past Freddy Fazbear as to not touch him even with just a brush of his jeans before sitting down, facing her. "What school?"

"He goes to Raindrop." The woman tells him, seemingly not hesitating this time.

It doesn't ring a bell, but it must be a middle school in Gale county. "...I go to Hailstorm." Tony says. "We both did. Or used to."

She stares at him after that, fingers drumming on the arm of her chair. She says nothing, just scrutinizing him, before, "You sure have a lot of cryptic ways of telling me how you used to know Gregory."

He wants to apologize, because it seems like what to do in response to that statement, but for some reason, that feeling in his gut he's learned to trust as his Detective sense tells him that he shouldn't.

Shes still looking at him intensely, and the rain outside pattering on the window somehow feels louder. There's some thunder outside that rumbles the floor, and the lighting casts a shadow on the living room. A few white lines across the coffee table caused by the blinds covering the window.

Her face doesnt so much as twitch, he notices, and she doesn't blink when she looks at him. Her green eyes bore into him, almost glowing in the shadow cast beneath her bangs. It reminds him of how he'd done to her not minutes ago. What he does to people he wants to analyze. To see how they react to something.

That's what shes waiting for, he realizes. He has a feeling that if he doesnt match her cryptic bluntness and instead apologizes and caves that easily, that it will somehow result in her turning him away.

Theres a glint in her eye when he becomes aware of reality again enough to look, and he thinks she somehow just came to the conclusion that Tony figured it out.

Then, he tries to sit up a bit straighter, and muster up that same glint mirroring back at him. "You sure have a cryptic way of letting me know you dont trust me."

Her mouth twitches slightly, but its all Tony needs to know he'd guessed correctly.

Its silent for a moment, and the woman grabs the remote on the next arm over and pauses the baking show she'd been watching. She shifts in the red velvet seat, as if getting comfortable, before, "Tell me how you know Gregory, and I'll tell you how I know him."

He has a feeling he isnt getting to Gregory unless he gets through this woman first, so he clears his throat, leaning his forearms on his knees.

"Me and Gregory met early last year at the beginning of the school year." He begins. "Right after summer ended in August. He was the new kid, and he sat at our table at lunch since it was mostly empty. Me and my friend arent the most popular, so there was room to spare."

She waves a hand, signaling him to stop. "Your friend?" She asks. He nods. "How many of there were you?"

"...Just me and E-- my friend." He says. "There were two of us, and when Greg sat at our table, we remembered how he looked a little lost earlier in class and we introduced ourselves. Then we just... clicked, I guess. He would partner with us in creative writing."

"Writing, huh?" She smiles slightly.

"Yeah." He replies. "Then, it was just business as usual for the months afterwards." He pauses, fidgeting with the hem of his jacket he loves so much that reminds him of the trenchcoats big city investigators wear. "Then... I had gotten wrapped up in this mystery."

She shifts, crossing a leg over the over and holding her hands together. "A mystery?"

Tony nods, remembering it like it was yesterday. He thumbs the part of arm where a scar is on his arm that his jacket covers. "The three of us would always go to the arcade in the Pizzaplex." He tells her. "And one day, I noticed high scores that seemed impossible to reach, and I became obsessed with solving who it was who had gotten there."

Tony thinks hes very good at reading people. So he doesn't think it's just his imagination when the woman in front of him goes a little rigid in her seat.

Theres some sort of creases under her eyes, Tony notices, that weren't there before.

"What did you do?" She asks.

Tony has a feeling that she somehow knows already. So he doesnt beat around the bush.

"I solved the mystery, eventually." Tony says. "Because GGY had been Gregory, and he'd invited me to the Pizzaplex and tried to kill me."

She sags a bit, looking somehow infinitely more tired, but no surprise detected. "But you survived."

"Not..." He shakes his head, picking at the skin by his fingernails. "I wouldn't have. If not for Greg saving me."

"Huh?"

"He--" Tony searches for the words, looking at the carpet between his knees and remembering that afternoon in every vivid detail he'd looked over countless times before. "He'd tried to kill me, yeah, but... he was almost fighting himself as he did it. He was like having a fistfight with himself."

He doesn't look up at her, he just keeps remembering how Gregory had gone rigid right before plunging the knife into Tony's gut a second time and stopped himself. How it had looked like somebody yanked Gregory backwards, but it had been his own self throwing his body. Just so he didnt hurt Tony again.

"He looked like he was a malfunctioning robot." He recalls. "He was like, hitting himself, and was making noises like he was fighting something. I was too frozen to move at the time, but then he threw me a really high security pass for the Pizzaplex and told me to run."

Then he had collapsed in front of him, like he was holding himself down. He doesn't tell the woman, though.

He looks back up to see her staring, eyes wide in suprise. She looks deep in thought for all but a few moments before shaking herself out of it. "So what did you do?"

"I ran." Tony says. "He had got me already. He stabbed me in the back, the first time. That was how I knew he was attacking me in the first place. But I ran away with the pass, and I went to a room with a ton of monitors and erased the security footage."

Her eyes blow wide as saucers, that time. "You got stabbed," she begins. "and instead of getting help, you erase the security footage?"

"Yeah." Tony nods. "Greg would have gotten in trouble if I didnt."

She's silent, after that. Tony just keeps picking at the skin on his fingers. "I somehow knew that Gregory didnt deserve to be. He just..." Tony trails off. "He didnt seem..."

"Seem like himself?" She suddenly cuts in, and Tony's eyes widen.

He nods, a small tilt of his head, and the woman sighs. "That's what being mind controlled will do to you."

A year ago, probably longer by now, Tony would have never believed that. He would have never thought something so outlandish that is only ever shown in fiction could be a possibility.

Not that he was wrong, to. Really, anyone in their right mind wouldnt think so. But things have changed since then.

And Tony has seen a lot of things during his search that probably nobody else has. Plus, This woman has been so cryptic up to this point. If she told him this straight up, and it's clear that she knows Gregory...

Suddenly, everything that day seems to make perfect sense. And everything he'd found that he'd filed away into his little mental Gregory crazy wall.

(He'd used to call it evidence wall, like normal people do. But, well, at some point, maybe Tony had thought the things he'd been finding were a bit too crazy to deem as normal.)

Theres been a stretch of silence while Tony had been taking that in, and he only breaks it to say, "Is mind control a topic you're familiar with in this house?"

Her eye twitches, a bit. And now that Tony is looking for it, he notices that same strange sheen on her eyes that Gregory had during their friendship. That weird red tinted film that makes their eyes turn a completely different color when the light hits them right.

Tony doesnt yet understand how the mind control Gregory had been under works, but all he can hope is that there are some side effects.

She stares at him, eyes narrow, and theres another roar of thunder outside the window.

"Who are you?"

"Tony." He answers. "Tony Becker. Ring a bell?"

She hums, and she looks at him in a way where he feels like he's being dissected.

"He didnt remember anything for a while." She says eventually. "But hes been having dreams, lately. Sometimes he talks about two kids he used to be friends with."

"Me and Ellis." Tony's eyes widen. It doesn't even occur to him that he shouldn't share Ellis's name.

"He worries about you." She says. "I've heard him say he hopes you're okay. You and that other kid. You must have been close if he remembers being that good of friends with the two of you."

"We were." Tony replies. Memories of him, Ellis, and Greg going to the Pizzaplex and trying to get the most dunks in the basketball hoops flash in his mind. He thinks about when Gregory would come over to Tony's little run down house that he shares with his Grandma, and they write graphic novels together for the fun of it.

Gregory liked to call them comics before he'd suddenly decided that stuff wasnt cool anymore and stopped coming over. It had been like everything Tony saw him enjoy that wasnt painfully average for a child suddenly didn't mean anything to him anymore.

And then Gregory tried to kill him in a dusty back room.

Everything hed given up seems to make more sense now. It wasnt willingly at all.

"He doesn't remember your names." She speaks up suddenly, ripping Tony out of his thoughts. "But he remembers more and more every time he has a dream. Something reminded him of you one day, I guess. That must have been when it started."

Tony opens his mouth, but the beeping of a digital clock interrupts him. He follows the womans arm as it reaches across the seat to turn it off.

The time reads 5:00pm.

He watches as she looks over at him, and nods to the door. "After school activity." She informs him, getting up out of the seat. His eyes follow her as she moves towards the front door. "I'm his ride."

Tony's eyes widen at the implications. "So I just--"

"Stay here." She tells him. She grabs a flannel off of the small coat rack by the front door and slips it on, sliding some Adidas sandals on top of her socks and reaching in the pocket of the coat to grab car keys. She pulls them out, and Tony notices that theres a keychain of a white rabbit dangling from the key ring.

The breath is suddenly stolen from his lungs, and he bolts off of the couch, a buzzing under his skin. "You're bringing him?"

She nods to Freddy Fazbear. "If you can wait." She smiles at him, and it's the first time Tony has seen her smile, instead of the carefully kept nonchalant-ness. "He'll wake up pretty soon once he's done charging. So you won't be completely alone."

Tony doesnt know what to say to that. Thousands of words spawned from the thousands of thoughts hes had about finding and tracking down Gregory are on the tip of his tongue, but he only gets any out when the woman begins to leave the house.

"Wait!" Tony reaches out a hand. She turns around, a brow raised. The door is still slightly ajar, and the sound of heavy rain reaches his ears. "What's your name?"

She smiles a bit at the question. "Vanessa."

"Vanessa," He asks, oddly desperate. "Dont tell him I'm here." He swallows. "I want to see him remember me."

Vanessa tilts her head, but nods after a moment. "Sure, kid."

She smiles one last time on her way out, and says, "Tony Becker."

The sound of the rain outside disperses when the door shuts and locks, and Tony doesnt move for a long while. He just stares at the landlord white door, electricity under his skin and something floaty in his stomach.

Greg. He thinks in his mind when he finally rips himself away and looks around some more, seeing a door propped slightly open down the hall with a bed and a desk with pencils and paper strewn all about. He doesn't dare go in, but stares at what he can see. Its been a while.

The silence is numbing, when he can only hear the faint whirring of Freddy Fazbear on the couch next to him and the rain on the window, he plants himself on the couch cushion next to the animatronic, grabbing the remote and resuming the baking show Vanessa had been watching.

He doesn't listen to a word. He just trembles with anticipation and bobs his leg up and down as he stares at a random corner of the screen.

ao3 link

[skitskatdacat63]

"To dream the impossible dream, that is my quest." - Prince Fernando of Asturias

+ Seb not getting what he ordered

+ the usual

Hello yes, look! It's baby Renault Fernando, isn't he so cute??? Who wouldn't want to force him into an arranged marriage, like cmon man be real. Here is the progress as usual, as well as his suit without the design, cause I'm pretty proud of it just blank even!

Okay so this is pure Fernando, innocent Fernando, before he had his apirations ripped way from him. Well not fully ripped away tbf, because that's the crux of his character: is it more humiliating to never succeed or to only succeed because someone handed it to you with concessions? I guess that's up for him to decide though ;;;

The thing I love about this drawing and young Fernando in general is how much easier it is to see his and Seb's similarities. Look how similar they look! Seb is just a bit more evil.

I think that's a big part as to why his feelings about Seb are so complicated. He both loves and hates how similar they are. From an egotistical point, he can appreciate and respect the familiar traits in Seb, the hunger, the exuberance, the pride, the ego. But also we hate seeing our own traits in other people, it's almost like turning a mirror on your worst traits and suddenly being able to see yourself from a new perspective. The biggest point here though is that Fernando turns that resentment onto Seb, as a way to clamp down on self hatred.

He becomes more bitter and resentful as he grows older, and loses a lot of his whimsy and joy. So it hurts him to see Seb, who in addition to getting everything he's ever wanted, also retain his whimsy. He, wrongly, just sees it as something that had to happen in order for him to grow up fully. It's more of a survival tactic, it started becoming unbefitting for him to have that level of unfounded confidence. That's the main reason he sees Seb as childish, immature and undeserving. He hasn't fully grown out of his capacity for whimsy and joy, and thus is below Fernando.

Well that was depressing oops! As the chibi art represents, this is probably a painting Seb got sent in the early days of planning their marriage. This is the Fernando who is still prideful, the Fernando who is still confident, the Fernando Seb vaguely remembers meeting his youth. Seeing this definitely pushes him even further towards the marriage(though tbf it's not like he even has a choice either.) Though when the time to actually start courting comes around, Fernando looks very uh different. This is both a joke about how different Fernando was in his first renault stint vs his second. But also I think he does show up very moody and disheveled, as a sort of last chance way to try and turn everyone on Seb's side, including Seb, off from the marriage. However, it's pretty much a done deal by that point.

Seb is uh, definitely confused, but I think he would be drawn to Fernando regardless. Actually, this might make Fernando even more appealing. Seb gets to push him all the time, try to break down his walls and get a glimpse at the real Fernando, if even just for a moment. Seb wishes he had more that just a blurry, vague recollection of Fernando at his peak confidence. Fernando definitely grows into something resembling his past self, after recovering from all the hurt, but there's just something about youthful exuberance that can't really be fully replicated.

Okay so about the quote. I went with Don Quixote this time instead of the typical Napoleon, because I thought it'd be funny. Fernando picks up the book at some point during his youth, and it inspires him a lot. He doesn't really see the satire in it, and comes to really admire Don Quixote's mentality, he's like "wow he never gives up! That's so admirable!" It definitely helps him through dark times to aspire to never give up no matter what. Though later Seb definitely rags on him for not knowing it was satire, and Fernando is like "wh-what do you mean satire?" But he's mentally strong enough atp for it to not cause his whole worldview collapse. About the quote specifically, there's definitely some part of him, even when young, that knows his aspirations are borderline impossible. I wonder if that part of him feels weirdly safe and comforted about the marriage. Yes, it's not ideal, but it's safe and secure. He gets what he wants, and there's no chance of anyone taking it away from him, no matter what.

I think his title would be Prince of Asturias? It was either that or duke, and I think prince fits him bettee(Machiavelli reference?) That title is currently the title for the heir to the Spanish throne. In this time period, it's also commonly used for the heir, but for Fernando it's a bit unsure. Like in real life, he's not directly the offspring, but he's still the most obvious choice for heir. But there's still enough room for Seb and his house to try to vie for the throne themselves, so it makes it all complicated.

[mantisgodsdomain]

We think the very unintended manner in which we are experiencing BG3 (datamining the game and then reading all of the dialogue by manually going through the game files and reading the text) may be altering our impressions of the game slightly. If we ever release most of this shit we are probably going to need to stick a "disclaimer: author of this fanfiction mostly experienced this game via datamining, and may not be an accurate source on things like maps, because the wizard's computer cannot run BG3" on there. Unrelatedly, if any of you Tumblr users out there who are capable of running BG3 happen to be willing to hop on call with us and do nothing but take a freecam around the scenery for a while, we're open.